《The Eighth Warden》Book 2: Chapter Ten
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He did this on purpose, Razai fumed to herself after she’d returned to the room she’d rented. He wanted the warden to bond me! She was once again back in her Aden persona, since the cityfolk didn’t know the demons were dead. Plus, that was how the innkeeper knew her.
What was she going to do? She’d spied on her target’s conversations enough times to know that he and his friends were looking for a way to end the warden bond, but if she went with them, she’d be playing her father’s game. What did Vatarxis want? Surely he didn’t think a warden would aid him in his schemes, did he? She scratched at the itch on her forehead until she realized what she was doing.
There was a knock at her door and she opened it to find her quarry. After all the time she’d spent tracking him in the shadows, it felt wrong to come face to face, despite the brief conversation they’d had back at the warehouse.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He peered at her curiously. “You look like Aden again.”
Razai grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the room, then shut the door before releasing her disguise. “Those people out there are scared, and I’ve been chased by enough angry mobs in my lifetime. I’m not the only demonborn keeping out of sight.”
“How are you doing that? Are you a wizard?”
“No.” She didn’t elaborate. “How did you find me?”
“The binding spell tells me where you are. Or what direction you’re in, at least.”
She stared at him. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”
“No. I’m sorry. It works in reverse too, but it’ll probably take you a few weeks to get a feel for it.” He looked uncertain. “You rushed off earlier. I wanted to make sure you understood what happened.”
“I know what a warden is, all right? I told you that. I just don’t want to have anything to do with one.”
“But how did you know about it before I told you?”
“What I know really isn’t any of your business.” She had to keep him on the defensive so he wouldn’t realize she’d been following him. “Besides, it doesn’t matter—we’ll never see each other again.”
He sighed and nodded. “If that’s what you want. I just wanted to apologize again, and make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, so you can go now.”
“We’re looking for a way to end the binding spells. If I can do it on my own, I will. If you need to be there for it, I’ll find you.”
She nodded curtly, not wanting to give away that she already knew about their plans.
He waited, but when she didn’t say anything else, he finally left. She closed the door behind him, then took a deep breath as she heard his footsteps move down the hall, toward the stairs.
What game was Vatarxis playing at? She doubted the warden was in on it, though she couldn’t dismiss the idea just yet. Whatever was going on, she didn’t intend to be part of it. The warden was going north, and he didn’t seem inclined to chase after her. Her decision seemed simple enough. She’d go south at first light, as quickly as she could.
#
Two days later, Corec faced Yelena across a table, uncomfortably reminded of the way he’d felt when he was a boy and had failed to do the reading his tutors had assigned him. Yelena’s ship had arrived the night before, and Venni had told her the whole story.
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“You’ve got to get this under control,” the woman said with a resigned sigh.
“I know,” Corec said. “I was so surprised that I was able to recognize her as a mage, I didn’t realize what was going on. Why didn’t you tell me wardens could identify mages?”
She scowled at him. “Don’t try to pin this on me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just wasn’t paying enough attention, and I should have been. I thought I’d stopped the spell, but then it started again.”
“How did you not know we can recognize mages? I didn’t mention it because there’s no way you could have bonded four—five—people without knowing they were mages first.”
“I guess I must have been doing it without realizing. It felt familiar, once I figured out what it was.”
Yelena shook her head. “You’re doing everything backwards. I’m starting to think the First is right—someone’s messing with the normal order of things.”
“You’ve talked to the First?”
“Not recently, but between you and Seven being chosen so closely together and you not knowing what the hell you’re doing, something odd is going on. I wonder if someone’s figured out how to take control of the abandoned spell that chooses the wardens, so it’s no longer picking people randomly.”
“But if it’s not random, then why pick me?”
“That’s a good question.” Then she frowned at him. “And what’s with only bonding women? Young, attractive women…at least the ones I’ve met.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if you’re doing this without realizing it, you probably need to take a good look at yourself and figure out why. You’ve almost certainly crossed paths with just as many male mages, so why pick the ones you did?”
“I…don’t know. I never thought about that.” The idea was disturbing. Corec had just assumed he’d cast the binding spell on any mage he’d encountered except for the ones he’d already known were mages, like the wizards he’d consulted. But if he’d had enough control to only target women, he didn’t like to think about what that suggested.
Yelena gave him a moment, then said, “Now, this demonborn…what did you say her name was?”
“Razai.”
“Razai, then. How did she react?”
“She laughed so hard she started crying,” Venni said, coming into the room and taking a seat.
“Laughed?” Yelena asked.
“She wasn’t just laughing, though,” Corec said. “She realized what happened before I told her. She knew I was a warden and that I’d cast a binding spell on her.”
“She did? How?”
“She refused to tell me anything helpful.”
Venni nodded. “I got the impression that someone sent her to help with the demons, but I don’t know how she recognized Corec as a warden. Especially since the rune didn’t appear.”
“Didn’t appear?” Yelena said. “Oh, that itch again? That’s really not supposed to happen. The rune is meant to show up as soon as the spell is complete, not a week or two later. I’d hoped you’d be able to fix that after the practicing we did.”
Corec said, “Maybe if I’d cast the spell on purpose, it would have worked right.”
“In any case, this is disturbing. There aren’t many people who would know the signs of the warden bond, particularly without the rune. Where is she now?”
“She’s gone. I went to speak to her again after the fight, but she didn’t want to talk. She practically slammed the door in my face. The next morning, she went south, and she’s still heading that way.”
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“You may have to consider that she targeted you on purpose. She got you to bond her and now she’s gone—that could be exactly what she wanted. That’s one pick you wasted. Or maybe two or three, depending on what the others decide. Do you see why you need to be careful? You only get eight.”
“I didn’t know that, but the First had eight runes. Well, four runes and four scars.”
“He’s lost a few over the years.” Yelena looked down. “Don’t ever ask him about them.”
“I won’t.”
“Do you think Jakar might know Razai?” Venni asked Yelena.
“Jakar?” Corec said.
“He’s one of my bondmates,” Yelena said. “He keeps some contacts among the demonborn in Tyrsall. Their community is pretty tight-knit, so I can’t just go talk to them myself, but he’s in Terevas right now, trying to find out what’s going on there. The queen is ill and she’s named her younger daughter as heir. There have been rumors of infighting within the High Council.”
Corec frowned. “Does it matter? Terevas is two thousand miles away.”
“Everything is connected. The current queen has kept borders and trade open to outsiders, and both the duke and I have business interests there that’ll be affected if there’s a coup. You need to be aware of what’s happening around you. Don’t you have a concubine to keep track of this sort of thing?”
“You mean Treya? She’s not my concubine.”
“She’s still your bondmate, isn’t she? You have to learn to take advantage of everyone’s abilities—that’s part of being a warden.”
“He needs a little time to get used to the idea,” Venni said. “You remember what it was like back at the beginning.”
“Hmm. I suppose.” Yelena pulled out a coin pouch. “Anyway, here you go. The baron gave me your pay this morning.”
“Pay?” Corec asked, taking the pouch and peeking inside. “This is all gold!”
“Fifty gold pieces.”
“I didn’t even know we were getting paid. This is a lot of money.”
“It’s not that much—Anders is one of the richest men in the kingdom, and it’s his responsibility to protect High Cove.”
Venni grinned. “I told you you weren’t a caravan guard anymore. You need to remember you’re a mage, and mages don’t come cheap.”
Corec nodded. “There were eight of us there, so I guess that comes to six gold and ten silver each? I’ll hold on to Razai’s share in case I see her again.” He pulled six of the coins from the pouch and passed them to Venni, then dug in his own belt pouch for the silver.
“I hardly need the money,” Venni said.
“You did most of the work. You, Boktar, and Ellerie. The rest of us wouldn’t have had a chance without you three.”
“Speaking of which,” Yelena said, glaring at her wife, “you couldn’t have waited one more day for me to get here?”
“And let more people die?” Venni asked. It sounded like an argument they’d had before.
Yelena shook her head in annoyance. “What if there had been more demons?”
“I was with a warden and four of his bondmates.”
“All of them barely trained!”
“Nobody can live forever,” Venni said.
Yelena’s eyes flashed with anger.
Corec stood up before she could reply. “Why don’t I leave the two of you alone,” he said, and quickly left the room.
In the hallway, he found Boktar and showed him the coin purse. “We got paid for taking care of the demons. It’ll be enough to keep us going for quite a while.”
“That’ll be helpful,” the dwarf said. “Elle and I haven’t had any money coming in since we left Matagor. Oh, and I asked around and got a recommendation for another weapon smith.”
“Great. I’ll go check it out now.”
#
Corec browsed through the shop. “Are these the only ones you have?” he asked the clerk, who was hovering by his side. There were only two greatswords, and one looked ceremonial—too large and heavy to wield in a fight.
“If you need something special, you can ask the smith,” the clerk replied.
“I won’t be in town long enough for that.” Corec pointed to the usable blade. “What do you call that?” Near the end of the ricasso—the unsharpened part of the blade closest to the hilt—there was what looked like a second, smaller crossguard.
“Those are parrying hooks. Do you grip the ricasso when you’re fighting close up?”
“Of course.”
“They’ll help you parry, and they’ll protect your fingers on the ricasso. The style started in the northern plains, but it’s been spreading for a few years now.”
“Do you have a scabbard for it?”
“For a sword this large? No. Who would carry it around like that?”
“I keep it attached to a harness on my back, and detach it when I need to draw it.”
The clerk shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t help you with that.”
“How much for just the sword, then?”
“Thirty-five silver.”
Corec managed to keep from coughing in surprise. He could probably bargain that down to thirty, but he’d only paid twenty for his last sword. The weapon looked impressive, but he didn’t have enough knowledge about smithing to know if it was truly worth that much. There wasn’t much choice though, since this was the first smith he’d found who had a greatsword for sale. It wasn’t a common weapon.
Every smith he’d spoken to had been willing to make one for him, but for a blade of the size he used, it would take at least a week, even without any decoration, and the group was planning to leave High Cove the next morning.
“I’ll give you twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five?” the clerk said in an offended tone. “Just look here at the metalwork…”
#
A few days after they’d left High Cove, Boktar brought the procession to a halt in the middle of the afternoon. Shavala rode Socks up to the front of the group so she could listen in on his conversation with Corec and Ellerie.
“I saw a stream right up ahead,” Boktar said, “and the map doesn’t mention any settlements in the next twenty miles. I think we should go ahead and stop early for the day.”
“That sounds good to me,” Corec said.
Shavala nodded. It was still light out, so she could do some foraging. The shorter the days grew, the less often she had a chance to do so.
Ellerie sighed. “I suppose we need to get used to camping in the cold anyway. There’ll be fewer towns and villages once we get closer to the mountains.”
After the group had moved to a clearing near the stream, Shavala dismounted and removed her saddle and tack, then ran her hands up and down Socks’s legs and checked his shoes for pebbles and caked-up mud.
When she was finished, she spoke to the horse. “Go wait for Corec. He’ll take you to water and brush you. Be good or he’ll put your halter on. I’ll be back after dark.” Socks gave her a look, but then trotted off in Corec’s direction. While the horse couldn’t understand other people the way he could with Shavala, he did know enough voice commands that Corec would let him stay loose as long as he behaved himself.
Shavala leaned her bags against a tree, but didn’t start setting up her tent. She could do that later, under the mage lights Corec and Ellerie would cast. If she wanted to get any foraging done, it was best to get to it while there was still light out. Bobo was busy setting up a fire pit, so she cast her eyes around for Katrin, finding the other woman laying out out the tent she shared with Corec.
Shavala helped Katrin stretch the canvas to its full length, then said, “Did you still want to go out foraging with me? I think Bobo’s going to be too busy to come.”
Katrin looked down at the disassembled tent. “I suppose I can finish this later.”
Before they left, Shavala picked up her bow, and slung her quiver over her shoulder once more. She liked to keep them with her when she was exploring, in case she ran into trouble or saw anything worth hunting.
On their way out, they passed by Ellerie, who stood peering to the west through a break between the trees. “I thought we’d be able to see the mountains from here,” the nilvasta woman said.
“No,” Boktar said. “We’re two hundred miles away. There should be a road heading west once we reach Lanport.”
“Should we have taken the Mountain Road instead?”
“I figured it was better to approach from the east. If the city was here, it’s more likely to have been between the mountains and the sea than out on the northern plains. We can head south along the mountains, and if we find it, it’ll save us a trip up the other side. Otherwise, we’ll go back up north along the plains side, and hopefully find a route through the Heights so we can avoid backtracking afterward.”
Shavala waved to the two of them, and then she and Katrin continued out of the camp.
“What are we looking for?” Katrin asked once they’d reached the tree line. “Can you really find much in the winter?”
“Yes, many things. I’m not looking for anything specific, but if there are crab apples, we should try them out.”
“Crab apples?”
“Some types become less sour after a few freezing nights, and even the sour ones are better if we cook them. It would give us some variety from the dried fruit we bought in High Cove. Stay away from the bitter ones, though.”
“Oh—” Katrin started, but she’d turned her head to reply, and walked straight into a branch full of pine needles. She grimaced with distaste and held it back with two fingers to keep it out of her way.
“You’ve never wanted to come out here with me before,” Shavala mentioned, hiding a smile. Her friend preferred cities to wilderness.
“I wanted to talk to you without everyone else around. You’ve been really quiet lately. More than usual, I mean.”
Shavala shrugged. “Sometimes there’s too much going on in the group,” she said. “Too many people talking at once. I’d rather not add to it unless I have something to say.”
“It’s not that many people. It’s less than the place where we found you.”
“The border outpost? That was different.” Shavala wasn’t sure how to explain it. In a group of dorvasta, everyone knew who would speak next…and they’d have a good idea of what that person would say. It was different with these others—even with Ellerie, though Shavala wasn’t sure if that was because the other woman was nilvasta or because she’d lived among the humans for so long. Shavala enjoyed the differences when she was just speaking to Corec and Katrin, but the larger the group grew, the harder it was for her to figure out when to interject something.
“You’re sure you’re all right, though?”
Shavala hugged her friend’s shoulders. “I’m fine. And look,” she said, pointing. “A rose bush.”
Katrin’s brow furrowed. “What about it?”
The rose petals had long since died and fallen to the ground, but small, bulb-like fruits still adorned the bush.
“Bobo wanted me to look for rose hips. He thinks he can make a tea that’ll help with an upset stomach.”
“Oh. How many does he need?”
“Probably not many, but we should get extra so we have them.” Shavala handed over one of the thin cloth bags she used for her gathering. “Fill this about half full. I see some chicory, so I’m going to dig up the roots.”
“For that drink you and Boktar like? I don’t know how you can stand it.”
Shavala shrugged. “It reminds me of home.” The chicory brew had been a favorite of hers since she’d first gone to the border camp to study under Meritia. The rangers drank it all the time, and she’d picked up the habit herself.
Katrin was quiet for a moment as she worked, but then spoke up again. “Is that what’s been bothering you? If you want to go home, it would be all right. You don’t have to stay just because of this whole warden thing. Corec would understand.”
“I’m not ready to go back yet—I want to keep traveling. I miss home, but Meritia says that’s normal. Maybe I’ll send some letters to my family, letting them know what I’ve been doing.”
“I was thinking of doing that too, but Barz and Felix will just get mad when I tell them I’m not settling down in Tyrsall after all, so I’ll probably wait a bit.”
“And I’m not worried about the binding spell,” Shavala said. “Venni mentioned that she and the others don’t spend all their time with Yelena. They go off on their own when they want to.”
“They do? That demonborn woman did, but I thought she was different. If it’s normal, we should tell Treya and Ellerie. They’ll be relieved.”
Shavala cocked her head to the side. “I hadn’t considered that. I should have mentioned it earlier.” To Shavala’s mind, what was done was done, and there was no sense worrying about it, but she should have remembered that the others were less accepting of the warden bond. She needed to pay more attention to what was going on around her. “We talked about something else, too—about how old she is.”
Katrin grew still.
When the redhead didn’t reply, Shavala continued. “I believe her.”
“It’s not that I didn’t believe them,” Katrin said. “I just don’t know what to think about it. What do you say to something like that?”
“It’s not that weird. Even that elven warden—Shayliel—is only a thousand years old, according to Venni. It’s not that much older than other elves.”
Katrin laughed. “I think you and I have a different perspective on that sort of thing. But if she is telling the truth…the reason you decided not to tell Corec you were interested in him was because humans don’t live as long as elves.”
“And because you didn’t like the idea,” Shavala pointed out. Katrin had been shocked to find out that elves sometimes shared their lovers with their friends. Apparently humans didn’t usually follow the same custom.
“Umm, well, if you still want to, it might be all right.” Katrin looked down, blushing in embarrassment.
“I don’t know,” Shavala said. “I’ll think about it.” She was still attracted to Corec, but would it make things awkward if the warden bond linked them together for the next thousand years? And why had Katrin changed her mind? “Perhaps we can discuss it later. Someone’s coming.”
“Who?”
Shavala pointed toward a thicker batch of trees to the south. “Not who. What. Don’t make any sudden moves.”
“What’s going on?” Katrin asked.
“There’s a wolf out there.”
“Again?”
“Come closer!” Shavala called out to the animal.
“Not closer!” Katrin hissed. “Scare it off!”
“We’ll be all right.”
As the wolf approached, Shavala examined it with her elder senses. It was a male, nearly full grown, and seemed familiar somehow. When it came into view and saw her, it wagged its tail.
“You?” she said, startled. “How did you get here?”
The wolf didn’t answer, of course, but Katrin said, “What are you talking about?”
“It’s the same one we saw before, but we’re too far away. Wolves can go far when they’re looking for a new territory, but not this far.” She spoke to the wolf again. “Have you learned how to hunt yet?”
He stretched his front legs out before him and wagged his tail again.
“Well,” she said, “I suppose I could go with you for a little while.” She handed her bag of chicory root to Katrin. “Could you take this back to the camp?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to hunt with him. I’ll be back in a few hours, and if we find enough, I’ll try to bring back something for tomorrow.”
“Shavala! Are you crazy?”
“I’ve hunted with him before. He’s not as scrawny as he was, so he must have learned something, but a single wolf can’t bring down larger prey by himself. They like to hunt as a pack, and he hasn’t started a pack yet. Save me some supper.”
#
Leena stalked out of the shallow marsh, glaring at Sarlo, who was trying to hide his laughter.
“You said that would be safe!” she exclaimed. She’d followed him in teleporting across a meadow to a spot she’d been able to see from where she started. Now, her feet and shoes were soaked up to the ankles with icy water.
“It was, wasn’t it?” he replied. “I admit, maybe we should have walked over here first to check out the ground more closely, but you ended up where you wanted to. Come on, we’d better get a fire started so your feet don’t freeze.”
She just grunted and followed him to look for firewood. Hopefully if she dried her new shoes out soon enough, she’d be able to save them.
Once the fire was going, they took a break for their midday meal, though they stuck to cold trail rations rather than cooking.
“I’m never going to learn this,” she complained. Being able to teleport at all had come as a surprise. This was their fifth day of attempting the small hops, and it was the first time she’d been successful. Sarlo was convinced that she’d built up a block in her mind due to fear after her previous attempts, so he’d made her keep at it until it worked.
“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re learning the same way I did. If you stick to these short jumps so you can see where you’re going, it eliminates the danger from the training. Uh…mostly.”
“But what’s the point? If I can only do it once or twice a day, I’m saving, what, ten or twenty minutes of walking?”
“Once you get more comfortable, then you can start trying longer jumps. And it’s easier to teleport to a place you know well. I can’t go very far, but if you can go from Sanvar to Larso in a single jump, then you can return the same way.”
She shivered in fear. “Maybe these little hops are better after all.”
“With how much you hate Traveling, how did you end up in Larso at all? It doesn’t seem like you’d have just tried to teleport on a whim.”
Leena stared into the fire, trying to ignore the images that flooded her mind. “I was walking home from the bakery and a group of men chased me into an alley. They had knives, and they were wearing sand veils so I couldn’t see their faces. I thought they were thieves, so I gave them my coin pouch, but then they tried to stab me.” She rubbed her shoulder in remembrance. She’d jerked away, so the cut hadn’t been deep, but when the same fellow had raised his knife again, she’d teleported in desperation. She’d been aiming for home, but had ended up about as far away from it as possible without crossing the sea.
“Sand veils?” Sarlo asked. “I thought you lived in Sanvara City.”
“A town just outside there, but yes, it’s nowhere near the desert. I don’t know why they had the veils.”
“Except to make sure anyone who saw them couldn’t identify them.” Sarlo shook his head. “Which makes it even more important for you to learn this. What if you run into them again?”
“Matihar is a safe place,” Leena insisted, “at least since the war ended. And they weren’t dwarves or lizardfolk, so it wasn’t that. It was just a random attack. Besides, it’s not like Larso was any better.”
Sarlo nodded. “Larso doesn’t like mages. You’re sure the fellows who came for you said they were taking you to somebody who’d protect you from the church?”
“Only if I served someone. They spoke in trade tongue, not Western, so I understood them fine.”
“But they were wearing guard uniforms?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose one of the nobles in Telfort might be recruiting mages for some reason. I’ll have to tell…some friends of mine. They like to keep an eye on things in the area. Speaking of that, I may know someone who could help you with your magic.”
“Another Traveler?”
“No, this is different. She’s…another type of mage. She can make it so that it’s easier for you to use your magic, and easier to learn how to use it. She did it for me a long time ago. I wasn’t much of a Seeker or a Traveler before that. All she would ask in return is that after you master your skills, you help us out occasionally. As a Traveler, you’d be able to do that even living in Sanvar, at least once we figured out a way to communicate with you. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I just want to go home and never think about magic again.”
Sarlo looked disappointed, but nodded. “Well, I’ll write down how to find us in case you ever change your mind. For now, though, let’s get back to it. I wonder if we might be going about this all wrong. What if we have you Seek a safe place to Travel?”
“I’m not a Seeker.”
“There’s a reason why Seeing, Seeking, and Traveling are related—they all rely on finding something far away. There’s often some overlap between the three gifts. The Zidari just don’t bother training the weak gifts because they usually have someone stronger nearby. You’re on your own now, though, so if you can do a bit of Seeking, it would be a big help.”
“How do I do it?” she asked.
Sarlo thought for a moment, then rummaged around in his belt pouch before holding his hands out in front of him, clenched into fists. “Which hand is the coin in?”
She pointed to the right. “That one, maybe?”
“Are you guessing or Seeking?”
“Guessing.”
“Good, because you’re wrong.” He opened his left hand to show her a copper coin. “Where’s your favorite hairbrush?”
“I suppose it’s back home. No, wait, it’s been more than a month, and I didn’t pay my rent in advance. The landlord must have thrown my things out by now, unless my parents got there first.”
“That gives you three places it can be. Which one is the truth?”
“How do I tell?”
“More practice,” Sarlo said with a grin.
Leena sighed. It looked like her run-in with magic was going to continue for a while longer.
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The Umbrae Lunae existed before man, beautiful abominations birthed in the nightmares of mad gods. They wait for humanity to misstep, for the angels to look away. For the moment when they can cloak the world in moon shadows once again. But even horrors have children. Even nightmares must feed. One child, unlike the others, finds his way to a school for young abominations. Will he be a sheep cast before the wolves, or a terror that wears the skin of wool to entice the wolf close? The flesh of his body was his only coin, strips cut to pay debts that never ended. Everyone has scars, stories in a life led, lessons learned, and licks taken. Luminous bodies touched by darkness. There are a cursed few that are the opposite, black shadows consumed by scars, twisted minds devoured by diseased hungers, bodies tortured misshapen works of gouged flesh, silver lines of blade thin cuts, ragged tears of teeth and glass. For them, the scars are marks of homecoming, the mangled wasteland the only place they feel at peace. Hell is a place. It's made of concrete, steel and glass. It's the sounds of starving kids crying themselves to sleep, huddling into small balls as creepers come and take their due of innocence and tender meat. It's eating rotten food and carrying ticks in your hair. It’s having no one and nothing while surrounded by everything. It's the life of a street kid. What abomination was birthed in the corrupt womb of man’s cast-off shit? Pretty people don't know the power of ugly. They can't see the strength in a broken soul or the power in a calloused heart. Those secrets are for the discarded alone. Only the broken understand the grace of darkness. The blessed folds that hide scars and tears, the protection of its concealing umbra. E-Begging: Character Sheets, Racial Character Classes, of both side characters, villains, and main characters as well as short stories can be found on my Patreon. Eldrik Lewis This story is cross-posted to Scribble Hub. Same cover and synopsis.
8 66The Pieces of a Broken Heart: a Jeid fanfic
JJ and Spencer have been friends for years. Close friends. They have the same job and understand each other very well.Will is JJ's long term boyfriend. He is a cop as JJ is an FBI agent. They get each other well, but not that much. They've had multiple arguments about their jobs, but this last one was the worst. JJ decided that it was time to move on.JJ and Spencer have a strong friendship, but will it get stronger when their boss (Hotch) puts them as an undercover couple for a case in Florida...for a whole weekend? Find out in: "The Pieces of a Broken Heart" (this book)
8 191F.T.Willz poems (prolly frank iero no one knows)
i've scoured the internet for these lol
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