”By and large I have never met people more studious than the Order of Vesper (Formerly the Brothers of Vesper). They are the most knowledgeable persons you’ll ever come across, pity their lack of social graces make them off-putting at the best of times. Though, if you do happen to catch them at their best behavior, they can rattle off a trove of knowledge so rich you’ll feel your mind stuffed like a good evening meal. These followers of Vesper, the Lord of Mysteries will forever have my gratitude for their contribution and preservation of ancient Lore, else I wouldn’t be half the bard I was today.” from Saelethil Greatstrider’s Wanderlusts: Peoples and Places

A wyvern gondola set down on a glade. It sported the livery of one of the Court of Season's elders. Around it, a wing of faerie wyverns perched on some of the rougewood branches high above, ready to swoop down in case of anything.

It was a tight net, even the beasts of the Shallows knew to keep away. There was a sylvani private guard standing around the gondola, bows primed and pointed outwards for anything that moved.

All that was non-sequitur compared to what was going on inside the privacy wards of the gondola.

”Won't you go with them, Szephia?”

““No”” both a male and female voice cried out. One sounded indignant, the other sounded weary.

“I want no part of your schemes, Elder Selessia look at where the last one got us,” the female voice added.

“Awh, I'm no longer Auntie Sel now,” the elder woman mock-gasped. “You wound me!”

The owner of the male voice was staring outside the one-way glass at the retinue scanning the forest. He looked mentally worn out.

On the other hand, his other female companion was beside herself with complicated emotions. On her lap, she carried a small basket holding a napping, purring grimalkin thrown onto her , for reasons that held no sway over their situation.

It was compensation for the trouble she'd gone through. Resigned, and also tired, the girl petted the little faerie-beast. A grimalkin cub of the shadowcat species.

“Now now, before you leave, the Pendant of Verwandeln,” the older sylvani said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Come hither Nora Angustifolia '' she called.

Nora scooted towards the woman, skeptical in every sense of the word.

She clutched the little pendant, in the shape of an oak leaf. There was an amber gem where it was attached to invisible ethereal chains.

“I trust you know how to attune magical items? Just send a trickle of mana of mana and let the magic take.”

‘Schizzes, why didn't I think of that earlier,” Arthur gawked. ‘Why does everyone have to be so cryptic?’ He lamented the way he'd been pushing himself to get the [Appraisal] skill, only for it to be of no use against the Pendant of Verwandeln.

The only information he'd gotten when he used the skill was its name and nothing else. Like the way the dungeon shard communicated to his mind, the skill projected the particulars of what he was looking at.

It was like a tooltip, if he concentrated on the skill and viewed anything it would show any unobfuscated information about an item or artifact. Most of them only told him who the thing was made by and nothing else.

Looking to Arthur for direction, Nors complied pressing her index finger against the pendant which lay on her bosom. It flared up like a sparkler, overtaking Nora’s whole body with its light.

Arthur and Szephia had to squint to adjust to the sudden illumination. After the light show receded, they found themselves looking at a ruby haired sylvani woman with silver irises. Her complexion was less pale, closer to Selessia’s even. Still, she was no less beautiful than she had been before.

“The Pendant of Verwandeln,” Selessia drew their attention to the artifact even as they continued being awed by the transformation. Even the wearer themselves, knew not what to make of it.

“Your little day walker here can’t go traipsing in a human city with hair the colour of winter and eyes as crimson as rougewood without attracting enmity. You didn’t think to plan for that did you?”

Arthur and Nora ducked their heads in embarrassment. The grimalkin cub napping in its little basket chirped at the transformation sounding her approval.

“Seriously you two,” elder Selessia shook her head ruefully. “ Well then, I have nothing more to say, save imparting you with Oonaris’ blessings and letting you be on your way.”

She sank back into her chair and magicked a cup of steaming tea. “Now shoo shoo, ” she waved them off. “…Szephia, be a dear and take them to the faerie way?,” she sipped her tea.

Not a few par’quarts later, three individuals descended from the wyvern gondola. The sylvani guard became even more alert.

Some of them would occasionally catch sidelong glances of the dragon-touched but they were under oath not to reveal the whereabouts of him and his companion.

Ahead of them, was a familiar swirling elliptical phenomenon. It floated in the space where a large tree grew suspended on two parting roots. The faerie way.

The day was waning. It was just the hour before dusk when the boundary between the day and the night blurred into one another like a faint blush of dusk oranges.

The pastel of colors shafting through the trees would have made a lover of nature swoon and in a word, no—a feeling it encapsulated komorebi.

Such a time aroused introspections of a day’s events as the sun went down for many as souls that toiled during the day. It was also the time when the veil between life and quietus was so thin it took little to slip into either side; if you had the magic and inclination for it. For some, it was the beginning of work; bane of the living.

Likewise, for those teetering on the edge of life by threads, it was the time most feared— from the cold that ate away at vitality and that which numbed the extremities and chilled life’s breath.

For the woman drifting on the edge of unconsciousness, life’s candle was burning low and so close to snuffing out as she lay on a frigid and damp floor. Help at this time was running too close to call, wherever it was to be found—

At the same time, on the other side of a faerie way, three people said their last words.

”Dragon-touched,” Szephia regarded Arthur. Arthur quirked a brow. The haughty sylvani tweenager had never called him by that appellation not even once.

Arthur relaxed; he needn't have braced for some high-nosing from the girl. Szephia looked over at Nora and gave the girl a nod of an unspoken message.

“I might have misjudged you harshly on our first encounter,” Szephia started. She sighed. “Either way, I am pleased that we did not turn out to be enemies and that you do not hold it against me.”

‘Huh, is that an apology I hear?’ Arthur wanted to smirk. But now was not the time to be sarcastic.

“Also, I have correspondence from Elder Wintersheart.”

“Huh? What did he say?”

“It's for your eyes only, I think,” Szephia said as she extracted an envelope from her satchel. The thing was wax sealed and embossed on top, was Elder Volemhir Wintersheart's insignia.

Arthur received the envelope with a questioning look, and put it inside his knapsack to be perused later.

“With that, my job here is done,” the sylvani girl smiled wanly.

“I envy you, you're not the ones putting up with my Aunt. Fair winds to you nonetheless,” Szephia mumbled as she stepped back into the faerie way. The translocation magic disappeared as soon as she was spirited away.

“That went well,” the ruby haired Nora sniggered as she petted her feline companion.

“Yea right. If something else tops, I’ll eat my hat.”

“But you don’t have a hat,”

“Exactly…” Arthur snorted. “Anyway—,” he patted the Azure Surfer’s main body. “Daylight’s a-wastin’. We have to get a move on.”

“What’s the hurry?” Nora asked, looking around them. “Didn’t Szephia's aunt say we'd arrive in the Shallows? That’s barely two days away from civilization.”

“Huh, when?— Never mind, I tuned the woman out as soon as she started coaxing you to stay behind,” Arthur replied.

“Maybe we should have—” Nora said with a sigh as she picked a direction and started walking.

“Hey, what’s the big idea? I thought my hover board would cover more ground.” Arthur said, following after his companion.

“As your healer, I recommend exercise,” Nora said over her shoulder as she waved her index finger around.

“Are you saying I’m la—”

The grimalkin on Nora’s shoulder suddenly raised her hackles and hissed in alarm. The rest of Arthurs retort died in his throat Arthur’s instincts also shored up his situational awareness and he went mum.

“Arthur, I smell blood,” Nora whispered.

“What kind?” Arthur voiced quietly, as he lowered himself to a crouch whilst stowing away his hoverboard. It would not do to lug the thing around when he wanted to be stealthy.

“It's non-human. Equine…”

“So an animal then?”

“No. for all we know, it could be a centaur…” Nora said, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes as he walked in step with her strides.

They walked in the underbrush, towards the place the dhampir felt the smell of iron heavy in the evening air. Getting closer, even Arthur could feel it; the saliva dried in his throat as he recalled their brush with the sloth bear.

“Don’t worry, these are the Shallows, there should be no predator that you can’t confront head on and come out on top,” Nora muttered putting one of her hands on his wrist.

“Sometimes I feel like you sensing how a heart is beating or smelling fear on people is just cheating. Haha, I can’t even pretend to be brave in front of you.”

“Bravery is not the absence of fear—we’re near…” she turned back to the direction they were walking to.

They emerged into a clearing to the weak whinnies of horses. One of them lay on the ground, bleeding from a fatal wound to its flank as its breaths came out in painful rasps. Its pupils were dilated and unmoving as it stared upwards to the sky. The rest of the herd watched on, pawing at the ground warningly.

“Primals above she’s hurt, and badly” Nora whispered feeling sorry for the poor animal.

“Can you heal her?”

“I can try, but she’s lost a lot of blood…unless—” she handed over the grimalkin cub to Arthur so as not to startle the rest of the horses. She approached them at an angle with her hands raised ahead of her.

“Unless?” Arthur lowered his voice.

“Unless I have some blood at hand, even just a little, the more magically potent it is the better…give me time to calm the rest.”

Arthur looked on as the dhampir girl approached the horses, mumbling sweet nothings to pacify the visibly agitated equines. The grimalkin cub in his hands had gone still, purring in a comfortable nap when she saw there was no danger to be had.

It took less than a par'quart to calm the horses and tie them down so they wouldn’t bolt before Nora came back to Arthur.

“Well, how can we save the horse?”

“Hmm,” Nora mumbled, “If you are willing, I could just have some of your blood, just a little. Your blood is so magically potent, the little I take would be able to heal her right up.” She blushed whilst drawing her gaze away.

“Fine, go ahead.” Arthur bent down so he was level with the shorter girl, offering the side of his neck.

“Uh, Arthur, what are you doing?” Nora’s eyes darted all over the place.

“Offering my blood, what else?”

Instead he heard a giggle before his wrist was pricked by a sharp claw.

“Ow!” he pulled back his arm. He spotted a scratch which was stitching itself back together. Nora meanwhile manipulated a ball of his blood which had a brighter shade of red than it had to be to her lips.

“Turn around, it’s embarrassing…”

Arthur turned around just in time to hear Nora let out a sweet little cry. Under different circumstances it would have been misconstrued for something less…prim.

“You can look now,” she called out. The silver glamor of her eyes had fallen away to reveal glowing crimson irises and her pupils were dilated like someone high on ecstasy.

Her cheeks were flushed as if intoxicated and her voice was almost slurred but she bit down the feeling. She knelt near the horse, now silent but not dead because of the rise and fall of its chest.

With her hands over the wound she muttered, “[Blood Art: Creation], [Knit Flesh]”. The injury glowed crimson before it started closing up at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The mare’s breath steadied before her pupil returned to normal. Nora stood back to let the horse get its hooves under itself.

“I can still feel your magic in me,” Nora mumbled. “[Blood Art: Emulate],” crimson lightning sprang up around the palms of her hand. Arthur did not foresee such an occurrence coming.

He stared goggle-eyed as the lightning changed colors from crimson to red-orange, yellow and then electric blue before Nora dropped the spell. She winced when she saw some burns on the back of her hands, fortunately those healed over.

“Wow…can you do that again?”

“I would think so…but your lightning magic is harder than It looks. I can only use its diminished form,” she met his gaze.

“What about air and water magic? That aside, what kind of monster would’ve injured the horse in the Shallows anyway?” Arthur diverted his gaze from the dhampir to the other horses.

“Eh, maybe some other time. It’s really hard to control borrowed abilities—”

The healed mare interrupted her by nudging her with its muzzle.

“I think she wants us to follow her… I think we got so caught up we forgot saddled horses are supposed to have owners.” Arthur retrieved his hoverboard.

“Oh, yea…” she replied. She went to untie the rest of the horses and let them follow behind her.

“I’ll lead the way,” she said as she mounted the horse

“Right behind you,” Arthur replied. The grimalkin cub woke up and as if anticipating movement, it clambered up his shoulders on its six paws and used its protracted claws to find purchase on his knapsack.

“Hiya!” Nora spurred the horse as she leaned into the gallop.

It was cold, yet Elena felt feverish. Her limbs were still unresponsive; even in her fugue state, she felt where her joints connected to her body was a gap of nothingness as if she was disembodied. Her body was failing and her mind knew that. Tears had long dried as had her saliva.

Severe dehydration was setting in and her skin was turning pale. Yet—yet her guild satchel containing drinkable liquids was just a hand span away from her nose.

At least her jaw could move a little, she even considered herself lucky that her tongue didn’t become numb to the point of choking her as she slid it across her cracking lips

Dusk was falling, and falling fast and it would soon be difficult to see where Nora was galloping off to. Neither of them had light spells but the lead mare Nora rode was surefooted.

She knew the way like she’d passed this route many times before; as a matter of course she did, she was raised by Vylora—Vylora did not breed dumb horses.

Right behind her galloped the rest of the herd, with Arthur in the midst of them, kicking up dust with his hoverboard soaring close to the ground. They were pushing it—

No saliva, wetting her lips did nothing but expose her tongue to the foul atmosphere of the Fetid Woods Dungeon. Her chest was sore and it hurt to even retch.

That she thanked her inadequate mounds spoke volumes to the level of morbidity her thoughts were spiraling into. Had she been like her guild co-worker, she’d be in a world of pain from lying for uncountable quarts on the hard ground.

Better that than suffocate on her own vomit with the prone position she was in. Her thoughts slowly degenerated into a muddle and her awareness of her surroundings was clouded.

Casion by crawling casion, the darkness encroached the edges of her vision. Perhaps, there was respite to be found elsewhere beyond the reach of her senses. Elena let go—

The duo, five horses and a grimalkin cub came to a stop in front of the dungeon. The sun had fallen beyond the trees but, with supernatural vision bordering on the magical, who needed light when the moons were out? Nora dismounted as Arthur pulled alongside.

“Got anything on your sniffer?” Arthur smirked, as he let his hoverboard idle by his side.

“Save for a dungeon that smells like swamp? No,” Nora shook her head. Her countenance was serious. In fact, the most serious Arthur had seen her so he put his game face on likewise. “Only a Canis-kin can distinguish the smells in that hole; with middling success of course.”

Arthur readied his dagger as did Nora. The grimalkin on his knapsack read the situation became more alert, emerald irises glinting intelligently.

With anxious steps, the duo neared the dungeon’s entrance while the horses huddled together following the two into the gaping tunnel, despite their trepidation.

“Brave horses…” Nora mumbled.

The air changed as they set foot in the dungeon’s threshold. The mana was richer, albeit disturbed as Arthur could tell from his mana sense. Having experienced one other dungeon, he pulled his garb over his nose to keep up the smell. The little grimalkin yowled and pawed at its nose.

“Sorry gal. You’ll have to bear with it.”

“Hello, is anyone there?!”

Voices at the edge of her perception. Was she dreaming?

“We found your horses, they led us to you!” Another voice. Female this time. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. She was already far too gone, just a little and she would cross the veil of nothingness. But her strength—her strength failed her, she could barely even croak—

Their boots squelched underfoot, the dungeon was damp and ahead, they could scarcely make out the tell-tale bubble-like shimmer of the entrance warding—

Her eyelids were too weighty to open; her ears couldn’t be trusted to convey what she was hearing was true. But the parts of her body that had yet to become numb could feel the minute vibrations of two pairs of feet thumping against the moist ground.

Her body couldn’t lie to her, could it? She could only hope. Even if she was woolgathering, at least…at least in this dream, someone was coming for her—

They passed through the barrier. Nora was the first to react. She held out a hand to stall Arthur from stepping on the body that lay in front of them. A satchel was strewn on the ground, two vials like glass salt-shakers shone with magical liquid; blue and orange…healing and rejuvenation.

A wand—a dagger scratched along its fuller. And a female, soiled, prone and unbreathing—one hand stretched out towards the wards, another holding fast to the strap of her satchel.

Were it not for the fluorescence of the moss glowing overhead, they would have thought it a sculpture of some degenerate artist who had a flair for morbid exhibitions.

Healer’s instincts kicked in and Nora was already firing off orders to her companion. Arthur took to them like he’d been trained for it all his life. They turned the woman on her front and laid her upper body against Arthur’s knees.’

“Her heartbeat is faint…”

“Blood pressure is falling…she’s hypothermic. We’ll have to warm her.”

“She’s far too gone. None of the skills and spells I have can wake her…”

“She’s in shock. Crumb! I don’t know any heat spells…warming up tea is a no good if she’s not conscious to drink it,”

Nora ran her hands through her hair in frustration. A patient was losing her life in front of her, what could she do?

None of her blood arts were useful when she could not see any injuries, no wait, she did see an injury, there were bites and scratches on where her stockings had ripped. She scanned the floor and saw familiar carcasses.

“She’s poisoned—”

“Swamp rats…can you purge it?”

“Hold on… [Purge Toxin], [Purge Infection].”

The magic took hold, neurotoxin and other paralytics purged, nerve endings rekindled again—Pins and needles—sudden return of sensory feedback—

The woman in Arthur’s lap started seizing up.

“Restrain her tongue!”

Arthur used his index finger. It was gloved, so there was no risk of biting through. They held her down till the seizures died down.

Nora used her cloak to cover her…But her breathing was still faint, her life was fading before their very eyes…slipping like fine sand between their fingers.

“Her heart…it's stopped,” Nora squeaked. She started tearing up;a healer’s remorse.

Arthur felt helpless…

‘Think damn it, it’s still not too late, how do you restart a stopped heart?’ Arthur racked his brains. ‘How does the heart work?’ he winced as the recalled memory returned a migraine.

Grasping at his memories was like pulling yogurt using a straw, it stabbed behind his eyeballs and made his eyes water. But the memory gave.

“Use your crimson lightning!”

“Huh? —”

“Just do it, trust me! I’ll show you where to put your hands…”

Arthur unbuttoned the woman’s blouse collar and used his dagger to shear away the fastenings of her leather breast guard. She wasn’t well endowed, but Arthur’s mind was not in the gutter when someone’s life was on the line.

No, he simply unbuttoned her blouse as far her cleavage could allow without letting her suffer indignity. Nora caught on, already offering her hands, which Arthur got hold of.

He placed her right palm above the woman’s left breast and the left above her right.

“Use the smallest amount of power you can, I’ll tell you when to increase. Release it in short bursts on my mark—”

Nora assented, tears still spilling from her eyes. Her irises lit in crimson as she prepared to release the spell.

“Mark!” Arthur shouted. Nora released the first burst, the woman’s body arched… no response.

“Again! —” another burst, another arch…still no response.

“Another! —” the third burst, the woman’s body arched even higher another—

The woman wheezed and her eyes flew open. She clawed at Arthur, croaking pitifully as a scream failed to materialize from her raw throat.

“Get the orange potion!” Arthur snapped Nora out of her daze. Nora grabbed the potion of rejuvenation from the open satchel and bit off the cork. Arthur helped the woman tilt back her head; Nora helped her take it.

“Slowly, sip…thatta girl” he tilted the bottle, pacing her as she glugged the rest of the potion. Color gradually returned to her cheeks…her breathing evened out and her hands stopped twitching…

“Th—there’s, more—” the woman’s pleading eyes beseeched her savior as they flitted from his gaze to the murky gloom of the dungeon before her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

“What can we do?” Nora looked from the woman to Arthur. The little grimalkin mewled and climbed onto her lap.

“We do what we can,” said Arthur looking towards the deeper end of the dungeon as he tried to see how he could move apart the pile of rubble blocking their way.

He carried the sleeping young woman in a princess carry and headed towards the exit with Nora in tow.