“Come ‘ere… come ‘ere, lovely…. That’s it…. —Wait, no! No…. Ah, Damn it.” An emaciated man pulled his arm back into his cell. “Next time, next time…” he muttered, ruefully watching a rodent skitter off to parts unknown. The man was known as Ratbreath. “Was a fat one, too,” he said, smiling at Minerva through two sets of bars.

But perhaps it couldn’t be called a smile when there was only a few teeth. Just another thought she got to ponder during her stay at Fort Gaine, she supposed. It seemed it was the first time her crime had come up in Colme, so there was some ambiguity as to how long her sentence would be.

She counted the minutes, though not out of anticipation; jailor regulations stated that a walkthrough of the cells should be done every fifteen minutes. The guards here barely managed twice an hour. Coupled with the weathering of the stonework and the degradation of the bars meant there was real opportunity for clever convicts. She mentioned all this to the soldiers here - she might not like being locked up, but damn it if she wasn’t going to be sure it was done right.

“They’re all playing hard to get, today,” said Ratbreath, conversationally.

Minerva didn’t respond.

With a shrug, Ratbreath squatted back down and reached coaxingly through the bars. Unable to keep looking at the horrid sight, she fell back onto her hay pile. A little light shown through the rusty window bars that kept the outside at bay.

“Come ‘ere… come ‘ere….”

It wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. She shut her eyes in a prolonged wince. Stuck in a five by eight cell, with nothing but a pile of hay and a bucket. She was convinced the real prisoner’s dilemma was how much hay should be used to cover the bucket.

She couldn’t even rest her head in her hands - they’d put her in manacles. Magic-dampening manacles, specifically. An unnecessary precaution, though she understood that they couldn’t take her at her word. Any time here wasn’t going to be pleasant.

She opened her eyes and watched how the dust played in what little light came from outside; tiny specks, slowly floating to their own whims, disappearing into shadow, reemerging, choosing which way to go whenever and wherever it suited them. She saw it as a beautiful incarnation of erraticism.

She exhaled, sending a puff of air into the light. The dust, seemingly still for a moment, erupted in activity - some rode the gust as far as it would go, some dashed away, others shook then moved into the wake - all within a modicum of predictability.

There was no way to avoid thinking about it. She knew her choices had brought her here. What would’ve happened if she’d detained those self proclaimed adventurers the first time she met them? Everan could’ve spoken to them when he came to Woodsedge. Would that’ve been enough? Wasn’t the only reason they got a free pass was so Everan could talk to them without intimidation? Would he have confirmed their guilt after extracting the information he needed? Then again, he did say they saved the child of his friend. Did he know they were guilty, and just wanted to pay them back for the rescue? Or what if they turned out to be innocent - just the unluckiest bystanders in history? Would they have gone on to get involved with goblins if they hadn’t been running?

Innocent or guilty, arresting them back in Woodsedge would’ve saved her from this. Probably. There was the chance they might’ve escaped custody before Everan could talk to them, but it wasn’t likely. They’d have been in the care of her soldiers. AUTC soldiers. The only reason they slipped away from the goblin deal was the gross incompetence of—

Footsteps approached as if to finish her thought. Stupid, unprofessional Colme fodder.

A soldier marched through the hall between the cells, briefly checking them as he went. Minerva made sure he made eye contact when he looked in her cell.

“The last walkthrough was more than thirty minutes ago - less than half as often as regulations dictate, private Uller,” she said.

The soldier, who hadn’t lingered on her gaze in hopes of a brisk escape, visibly deflated. “Again with this, inmate?” The last word irked her, and he knew it. “You know that the more you criticize us about protocol, the more we suspect you’re up to something, right?”

“Good,” she said. “Then you’ll likely start doing this job correctly, like your induction oath swears you to do.”

He spun to face her. “Look, lady, if you want to bitch about how things are run here, you can take it up with the Fort Commander, okay?”

“Gladly. Bring him to me.”

The soldier stood straight and ground his teeth with as much menace as he could. Minerva was not intimidated. “Alright,” he said, mentally sighing. “Tell me your… concerns, okay?”

List prepared, Minerva rose a finger. “First, we should be seeing a guard four times every hour. You’ve been getting later and later in your rounds.”

“Well, maybe I’m just trying to keep it random, to catch you off your feet.”

Her face darkened. “Randomness doesn’t matter when we can hear you coming from thirty paces away. Frequency will keep illicit activity down, nothing else. Unless you just want to stay here all night….”

“I could use the company,” said Ratbreath, casually watching. “She isn’t fun to talk to,” he added, whispering loudly through a cupped hand.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” said Uller, ignoring the smell. “Anything else?”

She pointed to several cracks in the floor and walls. “The stonework is failing. Someone determined, either inside or outside, could compromise it. You’ll need to rework it all and update the window bars so they can’t be pulled out individually.”

“Next staff meeting, I’ll bring it up. That it?”

“Hardly,” she said, plowing through all disrespect. She pointed to a corner. “The rats need to be exterminated.”

“Rats? Rats?” All sense of Uller's patience disappeared. “Do you honestly think we care if you inmates sleep with vermin, or how healthy you are? Get over yourself, lady. There’s no one around who gives a damn about you. Besides,” he looked around. “They add to the… what’s it called… ambiance.”

Minerva quietly waited for him to finish. “Regulations state that all holding facilities are to be free of rodents.” She spoke slowly out of deference to his lack of intellect. “They can be trained to retrieve metallic objects, like keys.”

Ratbreath broke into laughter, but then frowned. “Wait, really?”

“Shut up,” barked Uller, causing Ratbreath to shrink away. He turned to Minerva. “Would you stop giving other inmates ideas on how to escape?”

“What? Afraid the prisoners will take these ideas seriously?” she asked. “Doesn’t that show how much you should be taking them seriously?”

The look on Uller’s face showed he didn’t much care for being humbled with logic. “Didn’t you work for the AUTC?” he asked, barely masking disgust. “Isn’t this far away from your ‘make people disappear’ duties? How do you even supposedly know all these?”

“I know them because I’m a damn fine officer!” she screamed, tensing. Several rats fled the vicinity.

Uller leaned in, calmly raised an eyebrow. “An officer? Do you really think you’re still an officer after all that shit you pulled?”

Minerva seethed, desperately trying to vent rage through forceful breaths.

“I’m leaving,” said Uller, turning to make good on his word. “I’m not stopping next time. Maybe you can talk with the rats.”

Minerva watched him go until her head was resting on the cold iron bars, which seemed much more sturdy up close. They drained the warmth from her face and hands. In moments, she was on the verge of shivering. Would no one think of her as a captain anymore? Did she really mess up so badly that she’d be forever labeled a criminal? How long would she be in here? Would she be reinstated when she got out? If she got out? How many people back home would miss her? How many people would be happy that she might not come back?

You must’ve ruffled some feathers on your rise to prominence.

That bard. Him and his terrible friends, they must’ve known what would…

No. She couldn’t blame them for her choices.

“So,” said Ratbreath. Minerva slowly maneuvered her gaze towards him. “How would one go about training rats?”

With what fire she had left, she pushed away from the bars. “I’m not here to help you,” she said, falling onto her hay pile.

She looked up in time to see the dust quiver from her sudden movement. The light had dimmed in just the few minutes since she last watched it, but it still revealed the errant paths of particles.

Her choices… Her choices…

Why hadn’t she apprehended them in Woodsedge? Poor judgement was the quick answer, but she didn’t quite believe that.

She looked back to when that bard smiled at her from ear to ear in the tavern. Like there couldn’t be anything wrong in the world, he smiled with reckless abandon. She hated that smile.

Although, at the time, she didn’t mind it. Had he cast a spell to make her like him? No, she definitely would’ve noticed. Her jaw clenched. Why, why didn’t that smile trigger in her all the alarms it should’ve?

She blinked. That last thought was off. She brought her hands to her temples, only to have her chin hit by the manacles. She hated this place, too.

That bard… That fat bard… Jack.

She let out a sigh. It was his music. She didn’t want to admit it before, but she couldn’t get past this until she really started being honest with herself. His music was wonderful. She hated herself for letting something so… so silly affect her, but there it was.

She had led Hogges and four others to that tavern, every intention of taking the slightest hint of suspicion as cause for sequestering and interrogation (even so much as a startled look in the direction of six soldiers entering a room). The circumstantial evidence hardly even required a hint of suspicion for incarceration, but she liked to be thorough.

Hogges had been the first to notice it. “Do you hear that?” he asked, not even referring to her by rank or ma’am.

She was about to correct him when the notes hit her. She couldn’t tell what it was, at first. That is, she knew it was music, but it felt… like there might be something more. As if the notes she wasn’t able to hear could’ve been filled in with her soul. It was indescribable. It spoke to her.

She learned about how spells could be carried by music, but this didn’t seem like magic. Not in the traditional sense. To be safe, she told the others to wait while she cast a detection spell. Cautiously, she walked along the tavern’s stone wall and to the open door.

There was magic, but it was linked to a bow equipped by the elf. The music was just that - music. She couldn’t believe it. Music had never sounded like that before, in style or impact. Every note danced around like it was happy. The music itself was pure, simple happiness - not schadenfreude or smug satisfaction, but joy in and of itself.

She had stood there, staring at this instrumentalist. The tavern rang out in applause when the last chord faded. It startled him - like he never expected anyone to hear it, let alone appreciate it. The whole thing was… well, adorable.

A song. A song made her lower her guard, let criminals - alleged criminals, at the time - talk their way out of an arrest. A song ended up putting her in prison.

She shook her head - not a song, her choices led her here, she reiterated. She knew it was her own fault that she let music affect her. She chose to let them walk freely, regardless of the factors that precipitated the decision. Her choices led her here. She repeated the thought like a mantra.

She felt the straw stick into her back, heard the gentle cajoling of Ratbreath. That event wasn’t the only reason why she ended up here. Letting them go wasn’t the only choice that ended with her jailed.

She hunted them down, ignored orders, waited until she knew she could nail them, then even offered them a false chance to escape so she could pile more dirt onto their graves. While she really did like to be thorough, that was a bit much.

Why’d she go to those lengths? She had recently seen the bodies that weren’t wholly disintegrated by the blast - that was enough to put anyone in a vengeful frame of mind. She was also upset at losing command of the case in Woodsedge - frustrating, when still in a vindictive mood. Then to have a damned hero show up and say that she couldn’t know what happened, and then went on to extend pardons to her first choice of suspects. Regardless of what he’d done in the past, Everan wasn’t a member of the military now, and was never a part of the AUTC. Her orders had never interfered with justice until he got involved.

The whole thing felt wrong. Had Everan subverted the military’s authority to take control of the investigation? That wouldn’t end well for anyone.

But she knew that wasn’t the entire reason. She hounded those adventurers because she hated them, not Everan. There had to be something else. She wondered if it traced back to the music.

Searching her heart, however, showed that she didn’t have any hatred for the music. She hated herself for letting it affect her, but that wasn’t why she hated them. She kept searching for what it was about them that made her rage boil.

It wasn’t them, she realized. Not in the collective sense. She hated Jack. The others weren’t on her good side, of course, but they only ranked with other criminals. It was Jack she had to track down. Jack she had to punish. Jack she—

Footsteps came from down the hall. Minerva opened her eyes to find the light from outside had finally disappeared, the dust invisible without it. She couldn’t be certain, but rain might’ve been heading her way.

She sat up. “Well, that was less than ten minutes. I suppose you were being serious about randomizing your patrol times.” There was only a little ambient twilight from outside. “You didn’t forget to bring a torch, did you?”

“Praecantatio.”

Fire rose from a nearby wall sconce. A tall, slender man in black finery looked down at Minerva.

He smirked. “Hello, Kylie,” he said. “Been a while.”

Minerva went numb. A small bit of air escaped her lungs, carrying with it a name.

“Heller….”

******************************************

Reun looked through the forest canopy. “Dark ceiling means that water will fall soon, right?”

Thrip was too busy examining the charred remains of fellow goblins to look up. “Clouds. Dark clouds in the sky means there’ll be rain. So, yes.”

Reun nodded. “Everyone from Drek’s team accounted for?”

“Plus one more,” said Thrip. “Drek had fourteen, including himself. But there’s fifteen bodies here.”

“You’re sure they’re all goblin?”

Thrip made a face. “As I can be….”

Shaking his head, Reun said, “Well, dead is dead. Let’s move on.”

“That’s two of our teams gone,” said Thrip, dusting his knees off and moving to catch up. “Are we sure this is still a good idea?”

Reun’s fist swung unerringly into Thrip’s face, knocking him off his feet. Reun was big, for a goblin, and was usually quite ready to prove it. “We will not let their deaths be in vain,” he said.

Thrip cradled his jaw. “Right. Of course. Back to raiding, then.”

“Not the raiding.”

“What…?”

Reun sped up his stride. “The surfacers will be punished for this. We’ll strike them hard and fast.”

“You want an actual battle?”

“Eventually,” said Reun. “But first we’ll hit them where it’ll pain them. There are a few targets around the city we can start with.”

Thrip didn’t like where this was going, but knew better than to mention his feelings. “Like what? They’re almost finished building that tower thing - destroying it now would be frustrating, to say the least.”

“No. The tower is made of stone - we’d need too much time to carry and use a battering ram.” Reun made a thoughtful face. “Though destroying the machines could be good, but that’ll have to wait. We saw them setting up large tents just outside the city, yes?”

“Yes. Quite large. Shall we hit those?”

“We will,” said Reun. “But first we’ll wait. Wait until the… rain, you said? Wait until that stops. Wait until those tents are up. Wait until they’re full. Then watch as they burn to the ground.”

*******

Heller switched his smirk from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Of all people, Kylie, you were the… second to last one I expected to see in a cell. Before me, of course.”

Minerva was still numb. In all the hours she’d spent fantasizing about how this encounter would be, she never expected any scenario that had her stuck in a cage, powerless. It was horrifying.

“This a friend of yours?” asked Ratbreath, crooked face squeezed between bars. “This isn’t… a conjugal visit, is it?” He laughed, though it was more of a stuttered wheeze that whistled through large gaps between teeth.

Heller’s smirk twitched to neutral. He turned to Ratbreath. “Been in here a long time? Guess so, judging by the sight of you. No one visiting from the outside to look good for, either. That must be terrible, having no connection to anyone or anything in the real world. Maybe you should quietly think about the true depths of how meaningless your life was.”

Another rasping laugh started up from Ratbreath, but it didn’t last. A soft green shimmered through his eyes. In stages, his face shifted from cheery, to puzzled, to thoughtful, to concerned, and finally, to silent dread.

“Guards! Uller!” Minerva broke from her shock. “Anybody!”

“Save your breath, Kylie,” said Heller. “They know better than to disturb me.”

She watched as Ratbreath stumbled back into his hay pile and curled up, cradling his head in his hands. A line of cold sweat snaked along her spine.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” added Heller. “He should be quiet for the next eight hours or so.”

“Why are you here?” asked Minerva.

His smirk was reaffixed. “What? Can’t I see an old friend?”

“I’m not your friend, Heller.”

“Oh, Kylie,” he said. “We should be on a first name basis. We were so close, after all….”

Minerva bolted from the hay. A loud metallic clank rang out when her manacles caught on the bars, her hands inches from his throat.

“There’s that fire,” he cooed in a velvet whisper. “I was worried prison might’ve changed you.”

“I will get out of here, Heller,” she said. “You won’t be so smug, then.”

Heller was very adept at making a simple nod seem condescending. “It’s good that you think they’ll let you out. I hear hope is necessary to survive jail.”

“I’ll break out if I have to.”

His smirk widened. “Oh? You’d risk digging your hole deeper, just for me? I’m flattered.” He leaned back against the bars of Ratbreath’s cell, arms crossed. “I heard you used your authority to force the nice soldiers of Colme to help you with something illicit. I was so proud.”

Minerva glared.

Heller’s eyes intensified, as well. “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, voice and manner suddenly smooth and sweet - completely different from the rest of the conversation. “I’m always here if you need me.”

All the muscles in her neck and shoulders tensed. She shut her eyes, hoping to better withstand the assault of memories those words brought. By the time they passed, her cheeks were glistening with tears.

She opened her eyes to see Heller hadn’t shifted his focus off her. “I really did take everything from you that day, didn’t I?” he said, voice back to its usual quiet menace. “Well,” he added, sliding his gaze over all of her. “Some of it you gave freely, didn’t you?”

Minerva charged him again, hurting her wrists on the manacles. “Through skies of fire!” she screamed, opening the palm of her hand. A spark, smaller than a firefly light, sputtered between her and Heller. It lazily found its way to his boot.

Heller watched the spark die, tapped his boot to remove any ash. “So eager to touch me. You were also quite handsy the last time, remember?”

Minerva gripped the bars. “What do you want, Heller? I might be serving time, but I'm not using any of it to reminisce with you.”

He hummed amusedly, watching her loathe him. “I’m here for business.”

“Then go about it and leave me alone. Be kind enough to leave a trail to follow, though.”

He tisked. “But you’re my business, Kylie.”

“What, are you going to kill me like you—“ Her throat closed, and her eyes burned as fresh tears surfaced.

“Oh, no.” He waved a hand. “Killing isn’t my business - too wasteful, if you catch my meaning.”

“Then why did you—“ She choked again.

Heller leaned a little closer, suddenly quite interested. “Wait, are you talking about…“

“Don’t say his name.” Rage broke through her tears. “Don’t you dare say his name.”

His brow lowered and his smirk rose. “Heh,” he breathed, triumphantly. “This is good news - I didn’t realize you’d still be so hung up on… that.” He leaned back again. “I was worried it’d be hard to find what was needed to break you.”

Minerva fought to control herself. “…Break me?”

“My business,” said Heller, calmly. “I’ve been asked to see if you’d be marketable. Having an inroad towards making you docile is a really big point in the ‘yes’ column.”

Minerva grabbed and shook the bars. “Fuck you. If you think I’m going to fucking break because an asshole like you—“

“Kylie, please. Mind your language.” Heller shook his head. “Imagine what Kaeden would think.”

“Shut up! I said don’t say it! You don’t deserve to speak his name!” Minerva almost doubled over, screaming as hard as she could. Try as she might, she couldn’t drown out her memories.

It eventually stopped. Heller had been politely silent while she shook the foundations of Fort Gaine. After a few heavy breaths, she looked up.

Heller was smiling. Not a smirk, but a full, ear to ear smile.

A smile that suggested there couldn’t be anything wrong in the world.

A smile of reckless abandon.

Just like Jack’s.

“No…” Each of her extremities went cold. She started stumbling backwards. “No, you… It was you?” She collided with the far wall, though she seemed to be trying to meld into it. “You were him this whole time? You played that music? You…” Her heart started thundering. “You made me chase you! You made me get those soldiers! You knew I’d get locked up! You knew you could sell me! You—“

Heller’s face had changed. The smile had gone, but in its place was delighted surprise. “Kylie!” he beamed. “Are you telling me you’re in prison because of a man?”

She covered her mouth.

Clutching his stomach, Heller was laughing hysterically. It echoed and doubled upon itself, until every corner of every cell resounded with it. A rodent abandoned its plans to study Ratbreath’s catatonia and scurried for the nearest hole.

Minerva watched in horror. No, she knew Heller wasn’t Jack - he couldn’t be Jack. He couldn’t be, because… just because. She refused to think about it.

But that smile…

“Sorry,” said Heller, barely holding back enough to get a few words out at a time. “But the thought of you—losing everything again—because of a man—who reminds you of me!” The laugh roared out of him again.

“Shut up! Shut up!” In a frenzy, she charged the bars again. “I’m not here because you… I’m not…” She couldn’t think. All she could hear was that laugh. She shoved a hand as far as it would go. “Through skies of fire! Stop laughing! Through skies of fire! I will kill you, Heller! Through skies of fire! Through skies of fire!” Sparks flitted from her hand, but none of them survived the trip to him. She tried to rend the bars, but also to no avail.

Heller wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, wow,” he said. “I haven’t had such a good laugh in a long time. Thank you for that, Kylie.” He stepped toward her. “You know what? I’ll tell my associates that you’re too feisty to tame. Tell them there are better opportunities. How does that sound?”

“I will drag you down to the Hells myself.”

“Not for nothing, of course,” he said. “The thought of you being stuck here will always make me smile. That, and we can say it’s also out of respect for all the time you, me and dear Kaeden spent together.”

She rattled the bars again. “Don’t you dare. He’s too good to have his name defiled by—”

“Goodbye, Kylie.” He turned to walk away, but then he gave her a quick smile. “At least we’ll always have our one night together.”

“No! Heller! I’ll kill you!” Her voice couldn’t reach the air without being grated by her throat. “Get back here and let me kill you! I’ll make you suffer!”

“Praecantatio,” invoked Heller, snuffing out the wall sconce. “And my condolences,” came his voice from the dark. “It’s a shame Kaeden isn’t around to see exactly what you’ve become.”

“Stop saying his name! He was better than all of us! He deserved a life! Heller! One day I’ll finish this! You can’t run from me forever! Whatever it takes! I’ll cross the globe! I’ll drain the oceans! I’ll break the mountains! I’ll be the end of all things if it lets me destroy you! Through skies of fire! Through skies of fire!”

Minerva fell to the floor, her screams changing to wailing sobs. She cried for hours into the night. Everyone heard her - the guards, the officers, the inmates, the rats. Not one of them cared. Her breath could only move the unseen dust, and only then within a modicum of predictability.