Janaxia commanded Mavrosa to stop, Semari and Vrintar skidding to a stop alongside her. The journey had been mercifully uneventful, nothing more than a few tiresome bandit attacks, and a relaxing stop-off with a relative of Kalmaris, thankful for any company in her isolated domain. Now their destination was ahead of them – the sprawling mess of Saltstone, where the border between ‘land’ and ‘sea’ was hazy at the best of times, buildings set upon stilts as they slowly sunk into the bog or the sea. The air was heavy with the scent of rotting vegetation, fish, and salt. There was no wall or other demarcation to show where the edge of the town was, no-one caring enough to bother, just a messy sprawl of rotting wood.

Janaxia cleared her throat, trying to think of the right phrasing. While having some support was better than the alternative, this affair was likely to get unpleasant, especially if certain of her siblings were also present, to say nothing of her mother. She clenched the wand protectively – the thing had taken to whimpering now, having stopped its attempts to suborn her will, although the sounds were almost pathetic. It was useful though, boosting the power of her spells somewhat. It had more power as well, but whenever she tried to communicate with it, it fled, sealing itself away.

She spoke to Semari and Vrintar. ‘I’m sure you are aware that my blood, the Uth Tremari, are one of the pre-eminent in the world when it comes to matter of the arcane and especially to do with matter relating to the dead. This means that the ancestral home, or at least this ancestral home, is home to certain… entities that you may find unsettling.’

Semari shrugged. ‘Yeah, dead ancestors and stuff. Probably not as friendly as Kinnevar, right? And, like, skele-servants and stuff?’

‘Well, yes. Some find it a little unnerving.’

Vrintar spoke. ‘I have feasted with my ancestors. I am sure I will be able to endure. From what I have heard, your mother may be more of an issue. As I doubt you have been travelling the lands under her orders all this time, how will she take your arrival? I have little wish to stand between two wizards that wish to destroy each other.’

‘Ah, well...’ Janaxia resisted the urge to look away from Vrintar’s unflinching gaze. ‘There may be a certain amount of awkwardness. But I’m sure she will be proud, when she sees how powerful I have become!’ She cringed at the memories of past punishments, her body and soul getting thrashed and punished, wounds inflicted that were long in the healing. But that wouldn’t happen again, she was sure of it! ‘There may also be a certain amount of politicking – each of my siblings will be jockeying for position and will be desperate to curry favour. I have little desire to engage in such things, but there may be a certain amount of… conflict needed to secure a safe position.’

‘Of course. But, Janaxia, what are your greater plans? While there may be some brief safety here, it seems likely you will remain a target. Being here offers some level of protection, but it sounds as though they may wish you harm themselves. So what are your intentions?’

Semari drew her leg back, punting a lump of mud as hard as she could, sending it splatting into a wetter patch of bog. ‘Yeah, this place is shit, and we’re not even here yet! So, you going to, like,’ she drew a finger across her throat, ‘your family? Probably won’t get you back in Carissia’s good books, but might, I dunno, give you power to juice up and bring Stathis back or something? Or find out what happened? You’re kinda vampy, but you’re not actually a vampire, so you probably didn’t eat her soul, like the rumours say. And you’re pretty crap as a wizard, so you didn’t disintegrate her, ’cos you don’t know how, and I’m pretty sure I saw her body there still, before having to run away. So you probably did some freaky soul-shit or something.’

‘While I must confess that the thought of putting a few of my siblings to the blade is certainly tempting, they would likely band together against me in such an event. Unless they were to be disposed of quietly, during the night, perhaps? Hmmm, that is something for future thought. But no, for now, we are wanted fugitives, and a life on the run sounds decidedly draining. So here offers at least a modicum of safety, and where the danger is more from my own kin, rather than any number of unknown attackers. This applies to the two of you as well – while I regret that you have been dragged into this business, then it seems we may be forced to work together for the duration.’

‘That is not what I asked though.’ Vrintar was steady and patient, as she pressed her point. ‘Will you aid your blood, despite their dislike of you? Were you obey your mother, or strike out on your own path?’

‘I… do not know.’ Janaxia shivered, not wanting to dwell on such thoughts.

‘You may wish to ponder upon your future, “Darkbinder”. I will aid you, but urge you to think, rather than fall into simple obedience.’

Semari jumped, vaulting onto the back of Mavrosa, who skittered uncertainly at the extra weight, strong arms wrapping themselves around Janaxia’s waist. ‘Yeah, if we’re here, at least we should, like, do something. Stathis would probably want to, like, kill them all or something? Or at least the nasty ones. Or get glowy at them and try to make them be less shit.’

Janaxia tried to ignore the increasing pressure around her waist as Semari squeezed, wondering what would Stathis do in this scenario? It was still somewhat hazy as to quite what had occurred – some strange energy had enveloped Stathis, her body falling to the ground as though soul-rapt. Certainly not something she had done – there was magic capable of tearing a soul from a body and trapping it elsewhere, such was beyond her capabilities. But then she had somehow managed to transport herself, along with Semari and Vrintar, something that she had never been able to do before, and had no idea how to do again. It seemed best not to think about it, the memories too painful, in red and black, stark and harsh.

Semari’s hands were suddenly underneath her top, pulling the material up before she could react, air soggy against her skin, Semari’s hands rough against her body. ‘This thing’s growing as well.’ There was a snapping sound, dark energy spitting from her tattoo into Semari. ‘It’s gotten sparkly, looks like there’s stars in it now!’ Semari was so close it was impossible to shake her off, the tattoo snarling again as Janaxia found herself grappled. ‘It’s, like, all proper eldritch and stuff!’

‘Would you stop manhandling me!?’ The temptation to summon up darkness was strong, but with Semari firmly attached, likely wouldn’t help at all. ‘While I am unsure of its full provenance, it is not, I believe, harmful.’ Semari managed to wrestle her off the horse, although mercifully held her up so she didn’t splatter into the mud face-first.

‘You don’t know where it came from?’

Vrintar approached. ‘That is indeed concerning. I assumed it to be a decoration, but it seems to have a will of its own.’ She didn’t move to help Janaxia, as Semari kept her locked in a grapple, Vrintar peering closely into her eyes. ‘How did you acquire such markings?’

Janaxia squirmed uncomfortably, as Semari answered. ‘Probably doesn’t remember, right?’

‘It is simply a mark expressing the incomparable excellence of my magical prowess.’ In truth, it was something of a blur. It was receptive to control, mostly, but did seem to have something of a mind of its own at times, shifting over her body until she noticed and drew it back to its normal position, over her heart. And it did grow as she mastered herself arcane arts to a greater degree – it was definitely a touch unusual, compared to the tomes and reagents of more traditional wizards, but not entirely unknown. Certain magical lineages kept their powers in such markings, inking themselves as mnemonic devices to assist with new spells, and she was simply so attuned to magic that it happened innately, like those of draconic or fae ancestry.

Semari let her go and she staggered forward, before spun her around and grabbed her by one shoulder. Just as Janaxia sucked in a breath to talk, Semari punched her, full force, in the stomach. She fell to her knees, gasping in pain, her knees starting to soak up the wetness from the ground. She managed to raise a hand, squinting through tears of pain, bolts of darkness streaking out and hitting Semari, slamming her backwards.

Janaxia managed to rise, pain still rippling through her as Semari skidded across the water, somehow not falling into it before jumping onto a tree stump.

‘I thought it might, like, move to protect you or something. You know, turn into a shield or whatever.’

Janaxia looked down at the tattoo as she magically cleaned dirty water from her clothing. It was now larger than her hand spread as wide as she could make it, an increasingly-complicated whorl of black curves and slashes, set around a central spiral, itself a deep, jet black, that made it look as though there was a hole in her skin to some celestial void. Amongst the black there were a few streaks of light, appearing like distant stars, twinkling and bright. She pushed a finger against it – despite the darkness, it was her skin, soft, supple and warm, rather than a hole in the world. Then she flung a bolt at Semari.

Semari jumped and ducked around, sending up splashes of water as she manoeuvred for another attack, weaving between Janaxia’s bolts. She launched into a flying kick, Janaxia just barely dodging aside in time, feeling the rush of air push past her face. Semari spun, a hand chopping across Janaxia’s neck, sending her staggering backwards and unable to breath, before she found herself sucked into a headlock with Semari’s forearm tight across her neck. Janaxia tried butting her with a horn, scraping a point across Semari’s skin, with no effect beyond a scratch.

‘I reckon she just got, like, possessed or something, but the thing’s lazy or dead, so she’s just weird, but not, like, demon-weird, y’know? Well, other than the horns.’

Vrintar came close, tapping one of Janaxia’s horns. ‘She is indeed an oddity.’ She knelt as Semari grabbed up Janaxia’s arms, trapping them and preventing her casting any spells, and leaving her exposed as Vrintar examined the tattoo for herself. Janaxia struggled impotently, powerless against Semari’s strength, feeling her face get red and flushed.

There was a shout from behind them, Semari turning and dragging Janaxia along with her. Bright streaks were appearing in front of her eyes from the tightness of Semari’s grip, her lungs heaving for breath. A group were moving towards them along what passed for a road, a loose group of roughly-armoured soldiers, led by a mounted figure, dark robes flapping ominously, an ornate wand in wand.

A painfully familiar voice rang out, shrill tones not improved by the years of separation. ‘To be accosted by bandits, sister? Tempting though it is to let you be ravaged and slain, Mother has plans for you.’

Janaxia managed to slip a hand free of Semari’s grapple, holding it out as the soldiers drew their swords, Vrintar readying her axes. It was painful to speak, but through the choke she managed to squeak out a few words. ‘Hold! This isn’t… these aren’t bandits.’

Mercifully, Semari let her go, and the soldiers held off attacking as she tried to gulp in air. When she had recovered a little poise, she snapped her fingers, making dark energy blossom around her hand. ‘Greetings, Kivata, my sister. I was not expecting to be greeted in person, although an honour guard is certainly gratifying. Nevertheless, these are my honoured travelling companions, we were simply engaging in some sparring. If you would kindly escort both myself and my companions to Mother, I have succeeded in my mission.’

She called Mavrosa over, feeling more comfortable when she was mounted and on the same level as Kivata, trotting over. She made sure to restore her robes to their clean state, flicking water into the surrounding marsh – her sister, of course, was dressed in a serviceable but tattered robe, although from the sigils embroidered onto it, she had progressed her own learning, somewhat further than the woman from Davash’s domain. Kivata looked at her, scorn on her face.

‘You have been gone long, my sister. It was believed you were dead, lost in some ancient barrow. It came as something of a surprise to us all that you were still alive. But you appear to have been successful. And you have managed to acquire the Skull of Grishmoor, I presume, or you wouldn’t have dared show your face? Mother will be pleased. You will likely escape more than light punishment for your errant ways.’

Kivata’s robes covered her hands, making it impossible to see if her hands bore the signs of recent punishment herself – Mother was likely as strict as ever, and Kivata had never been more than mildly competent herself.

‘I have done as commanded. Now, convey us to the manor.’ She tried to sound commanding, but her throat was still sore from Semari’s grappling.

Kivata’s smile was far from pleasant. ‘Yes, Mother will wish to see you. I’m sure she will have much she wishes to discuss. At quite some length. I’m sure quarters can be found for your… companions.’ She and Janaxia both turned to look at Semari and Vrintar – it was true, better dressed companions would be preferable, with a little more dash and style, although Vrintar had a certain savage charm to her.

‘Of course, I would expect nothing less. Now, shall we depart?’ Without giving Kivata a chance to respond, she spurred Mavrosa forward, leading the way, Semari and Vrintar easily able to keep up.