By following the outermost spiral of tiled streets that rounded the perimeter of Zephyr’s Cradle, Groundsmaster Hazen and his students reached the Sunny District in less than twenty minutes, officially making them a half-hour late. Over a hundred farmhands littered the acres of prospering fields, clumped into groups of ten who roamed entire rows to water and tend a variety of crops. Merchants occupied the long stretch of open booths and shops, offering fresh meats, fruits, and vegetables, as well as a variety of non-edible goods, like seeds and tools for growing plants at home, clothing made of hemp, and bags of treated soil. That must have been the Farmer’s Market that Morus had mentioned.

A dome-shaped barn stood nearby, its massive doors opened, revealing cubbies of animals and workers. Fatty steers — as opposed to the muscular ilk that pulled the Pale Hawk’s nests — were mooing while drained of their milk, and numerous chikibis squawked while laid eggs were gathered by the dozens. Unfortunately, some of those innocent creatures would inevitably be killed and fed on later, but at least they sounded happy in the meantime. Kon tried to find comfort in that.

Flockfolk were more traditional, choosing to harvest from the land while migrating instead of deliberately manipulating ecosystems. Roostfolk, on the other hand, often needed to go to great lengths to maintain their swelling populations. For some of the biggest roosts, that meant cruel industrial slaughterhouses. Jrana had convinced the Pale Hawks into boycotting those roosts entirely, even if they were passing by and desperate for supplies. Kon’s flock had agreed, and made certain to spread word of the atrocities committed to other flocks that crossed their path. Many roosts in the northern subcontinent of Burest were run by economies that depended heavily on tourism, and in that business, nothing hurt them worse than the ire of would-be customers. One of Jrana’s proudest accomplishments since marrying Kon was toppling such establishments with the influence of their flock.

With his consent, his fae soared into the barn to investigate. He was glad to hear the locals talking in kind voices while grooming and feeding the animals. His fae remained inside to drink in the cacophony of funny sounds. Meanwhile, the students of Westwind Academy followed their strange professor toward a man and woman outside a cylindrical tool shed. Both wore earth-toned shirts underneath a pair of overalls, and though they held each other like they were intimate, both of them had a full head of colorful hair, their feathers fluffed out and dyed in greens, blues, and purples. Groundsmaster Hazen broke out of Lush’s grasp to run up and wrap the couple in a hug.

“I’m so terribly sorry for keeping you waiting,” the man sobbed, earning a gentle pat on his back from the man while the woman combed his scraggly head. “I hope you two are having a better morning than me. Ved, Silla, something terrible happened. When I went to work today, I discovered my avokados had completely gone rotten.”

“Oh no, honey, that’s horrible,” said the woman, Silla.

“Don’t worry,” added Ved. “We understand, old friend. Cry as much as you need to.”

While the students watched on with varying degrees of interest, Lush turned and smiled, creating a fan of leaves in her branching fingers and waving her bark crusted face. “While my Seer catches up with his friends, I’ll explain the rules you must abide by and duties you shall fulfill during today’s lesson. Please gather close and listen. I’d prefer not to raise my voice.”

Kon nodded and moved with the others, then beckoned his fae to huddle by his side.

“Ved and Silla are the landowners, and they’ve requested us to exterminate the pests ruining their crops. Rootbeetles are the prominent infestation, but bograls have been spotted in the area, so if you hear any croaking, make sure to find them and drive them away. The ten of us will split into two groups of five and divide the field in half. Creative applications of magic will be rewarded with extra stipends for next week’s field trip to the Hinderlands.”

“Field trip!?” Gaj exclaimed, his voice loud enough to spook the animals in the nearby barn. The other students just stared at Lush, their eyes wide and mouths half-open. Kon couldn’t blame the boy for his reaction. He was just as surprised.

“That’s right. Headmaster Nise approved our plan this morning. Originally, the trip was supposed to happen at the start of Barren, but since Kon is only with us for a short while, we all decided that earlier was better.”

Kon’s mouth gaped too. His peers glanced at him and chattered excitedly.

“Finally, some real snow,” said Ora.

“And fresh meat,” Lili added, petting Leach’s slimy back.

“We’re going to see Hinder?” Morus whispered in amazement, only for him to freeze, then shudder in fear. Kon would have to ask him about that later.

“Please quiet down and listen,” interrupted Lush. “We’ll be eating lunch with the farmers after we finish. Hazen and I will share the finer details with you then, but for now, let’s focus on today’s class. Lili, Ora, Dowen, and Gaj; you four will be coming with me. The rest of you will accompany Hazen.”

Gaj yelped like he was in pain. “Wait! That’s not fair. Why separate me from my brother?”

Wilm chuckled loudly. “Do you really need to ask? One minute you two will be hugging and laughing, the next you’ll be throwing fists or tumbling in the dirt.”

“He’s right,” said Rej, utterly calm despite the allegations. “If we don’t want to risk trampling the crops, it’s better that we’re separated.”

Gaj spun toward his brother and shoved him. “That’s easy to say when you get to be with our friends!”

Grit caught Rej in her arms, shredding the back of his uniform, but not the skin beneath. That seemed to happen often considering the number of stitchings that marred his tunic. Rej’s cheeks flushed red as he moved to shove the lankier twin back, but Gaj crushed his fae in a fist, enveloping his body in Gritty’s obsidian armor.

“Boys,” grumbled Rugged, halting Rej with his gruff voice. “You two are representatives of the Harrowing Mercenaries, aren’t you? What do you think your parent-superiors would say if they were here?”

Gaj and Rej met eyes.

“‘Shut up,’” the armored twin sighed, eyes rolling behind his open visor.

“‘And listen,’” Rej nodded, his face returning to its usual russet tone.

“I might have another solution,” said Kon. “If Lush will allow it, I’ll switch places with Gaj.” If the trio were going to stick together, he would rather be there to keep them out of trouble.

“That’s a great idea!” Groundsmaster Hazen shouted, rejoining his charges stealthily. “Wilm and Rugged, I trust you two can help Lush supervise the Rowdy Brothers?”

“Of course, sir!” Wilm bellowed, giving a salute.

“Glad to hear it,” the man replied, lunging for Kon’s arm and pulling him into a side-hug, then nudging him toward his friends. “Lili, Ora, Dowen. You three are with us.” Though none of the children looked happy to be stuck with a pair of old men, they simply rolled their eyes and followed them to the cylindrical tool shed. “Ved, Silla; this is the man I told you about. My newest friend, Kon.”

Kon wasn’t sure what about their interactions made Hazen believe they were friends, but as uncomfortable as he was, he didn’t want to seem rude. He delicately slipped away from the Groundsmaster to shake the couple’s hands. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Ved said, grasping his hand for a long moment.

“Married?” asked Silla, eying his bald scalp curiously, then scanning the length of his body.

“Happily. Though my wife, daughter and I are currently sad, what with us being so far apart.”

“Terrible,” grunted Ved.

“We couldn’t imagine being separated from our son, Vidda,” the woman added, gesturing to the open tool shed. Beyond the doorway, a skeletal-thin boy with paper-white skin lingered under the shade, bearing the man’s round, hazel eyes, and the woman’s slender face. “You and your family have our condolences, for what little they are worth.”

Kon nodded appreciatively, praying for this conversation to end.

“Our son will gather your equipment now,” Ved interjected. “Vidda! Fetch your uncle and his students the usual bundles!”

Groundsmaster Hazen pulled Kon up to the shed. “Bugbear!” the boy greeted excitedly, reaching out of the shadows to exchange a complex handshake with his ‘uncle.’ Though it was clear the Groundsmaster wasn’t related to anyone by blood, the family seemed to be close to him. There was a good chance they were members of his flock that settled in Zephyr’s cradle with him. It was common for Seers to have an entourage of like-minded followers. Ebi’s roost, Underfall, had been founded by the very sort.

“Nephew, this is my good friend Kon. Lafer found him on her first mission and recruited him. If I’m not mistaken, they’re good friends too.”

At least Kon could agree with that. “We are,” he said, outstretching a hand.

Vidda smiled, then slapped his hand on both sides. “I’m a friend of Lafer’s too,” he said, pointing at himself with a thumb. “I’m in her dance crew.”

“She mentioned something about that. I’m hoping to see you perform before I graduate in three weeks.”

“We’re planning a great routine now. Lafer’s nameday is in a couple weeks, so we’re intending to surprise her in Jubilee Plaza. I hope you can keep a secret, Kon.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding as he eyed the rope-bundled tools at the boy’s feet. “I didn’t know her nameday was so soon, but I’ll make sure to be there, and that she doesn’t see it coming. Are those for us, by the way?”

Vidda looked where he was pointing, then picked up four of the bundles and handed them over. Each contained a trowel, a hand rake, and relatively dull shears. “You’ll need two spades too,” the boy said, fetching a pair of shovels from the dark shed. Groundsmaster Hazen took them both, then gestured for Kon to hand out the bundles to Lili, Ora, and Dowen. The trio made sure to stand a few feet away, where they could scowl and snicker among themselves. Thankfully, they took their tools without complaint.

Kon waved goodbye to Vidda and rejoined his professor with the other students in tow. Groundsmaster Hazen gazed across the acres of crops in a calm daze, then inhaled a loud breath, relishing in the fresh air. As hard as it was to take the Seer seriously, he was supposedly responsible for killing more wraiths than the Headmaster and Armsmaster combined, which made him worthy of respect. When the Groundsmaster ordered his students to come, they each listened and followed him into the field.

Kon’s fae lingered behind long enough to overhear Morus and the twins debating about those blasted avokados. He recalled her just as Wilm collected their equipment from Vidda at the behest of Lush. For a moment, he worried his young tutor would be dejected by his departure. Instead, Morus sounded confident.

Morus is in good hands, he thought, gazing at the bundle of gardening tools cradled in his. Jrana and Kinjra are too, he told himself. Between Gul, Cres, Belen, Etal, and the rest of the Pale Hawks, neither of them were alone, even after he’d left them behind. And I’m not alone either. As troublesome as the trio had been when Kon had first met them, they were now surprisingly obedient. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for their more amiable attitudes.

Admittedly, walking alongside them peacefully made Kon’s heart swell with pride. As difficult as his life was, it was important to appreciate each one of his accomplishments, no matter how small they might seem. Otherwise, dwelling on the bad thoughts would make him go insane with grief.

Depression wasn’t easy for anyone, and though he didn’t ask to come here, Kon was a member of Westwind Academy’s community now. That made it his duty to ensure his fellow students were looked after. For this class, that meant watching out for Lili, Ora, and Dowen. Compared to their peers, it was easy to see they needed the most help.

Kon recalled his fae, and they both hummed eagerly, resolved to support the trio and citizens of Zephyr’s Cradle in one fell swoop.

𝄐

When Lush brought her four students over to the fourth patch of wilted corn stalks, Morus elected to linger back and disappear. The fae brushed the dying husks with her leafy fingertips, making the brown leaves rise and shine with a bright verdant light. Wilm stood between Rej and Gaj while Grit and Gritty observed by floating far overhead, where they could do no harm, and Rugged stepped up to crouch low, placing both palms against the bed of soil. Morus knew rootbeetles were the problem before the living statue announced it to the others.

They had developed a routine by now. Rugged would use his earthsense to investigate, then relay the location of the infestations to Grit, who used individual razor-sharp grains of marble to cut into the ground and kill the pests. Gaj was mostly useless, as was Morus, which meant they just stood back and talked about the curious case of the cursed avokados.

When Lush, Wilm, and Rej gathered close to oversee Rugged and Grit’s work, Morus and Gaj were able to come up with a plan. Both of them were equally obsessed with the mystery surrounded the Groundsmaster’s poisoned fruits, and they believed if they brought definite proof of the culprit’s identity, they would be given extra stipends for next week’s field trip. Because of their fae’s particular abilities, neither one of them could earn plumes through participation, like the others. Making things fair was the only justification Morus needed to act.

“Did you hear that?” asked Gaj, drawing his brother’s wary gaze.

“I think I did,” said Morus. “Croaking?”

“I didn’t hear anythi—” Rej began to mumble, only to be silenced by Gaj’s shaking head. Morus saw the lankier brother’s eyes widen as he mouthed the word ‘please’ and waved at him to come over. “Huh. I think I did hear it. Miss Lush, we think we heard a bogral nearby. Can my brother and I go investigate?”

“Me too!” said Morus, drawing Lush’s hardened sap eyes. “I heard it too, and my fae can help me catch it before it hops away.”

“I’ll go with them and make sure they return quickly,” offered Wilm. Morus nearly gulped aloud at the development. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fight it without making Lush suspicious.

“That’s fine with me,” Lush rustled, fanning herself with frilly leaves. “Us fae can handle this on our own, but please hurry, otherwise we’ll come find you before we move on.”

Gaj nodded eagerly as he ran off between rows of crops and tilled land. Just like they planned, he led Rej, Wilm, and Morus toward the Farmer’s Market that bordered the western edge of the field. Lush and the other fae were tiny specks in the distance, and Rej could be easily distracted by his twin, but Wilm was still a problem. During their walk, he never took his eyes off Morus.

“Are you sure you heard a bogral over here?” asked the top-student. “I don’t hear any croaking.”

“You’re too loud, Gaj,” said Morus, joining the twins by a large plot of ripe pumpkins. “We need to be quiet and still. Bograls are notoriously good at sensing disturbances and hiding. Smart too, which means we can teach them this place is off-limits. We just need to find them, feed them, and lead them elsewhere. Gaj, you made sure to pocket a few loose seeds and berries for the occasion. Right?”

“Uh-huh,” the lanky twin nodded, reaching into his tunic’s front pocket and pulling out a mushed mass of juicy pulp and cracked shells.

“I hope bograls don’t mind seed-and-berry purée,” the stockier twin laughed, prompting a knowing chuckle from Morus.

“I don’t get it,” said Gaj, returning the lump of food to his pocket.

Of course you don’t, Morus thought, not wanting to anger the dull-minded boy into ruining their plan. “We shouldn’t talk,” he whispered instead. “I’m pretty good with locating the sources of sounds, and I’m sure a bogral is near.”

Fortunately, Wilm bought his lie, quietly staring across the pumpkin patch, searching each ribbed, orange squash for signs of the non-existent critters. Morus needed to think of something quick if he wanted to sneak away. That, or he would need a miracle to happen. His mind spun while he prayed.

Morus almost screamed when Fate answered his prayers. A cacophony of loud croaks burst out behind them, making all four students jump and spin abruptly. Not one, but three, bograls appeared, either bouncing or blinking their bulbous eyes among a water-soaked field of rice and taro plants.

The amphibious critters were like fat toads that stood and hopped upright on their back legs, with slender arms and three-fingered hands capped with dull claws for digging. Their prehensile tongues could stretch half a meter long, allowing them to pluck fruits from high perches or pull vegetables from burrows in the dirt. A pair of crescent-shaped horns protruded above the sole male’s brow, curving down at the sides of his face and pointing at his chin. Like the bograls’ claws, the horns made for poor weapons, but they were useful for attracting mates into their harem. The two plump females must have been his wives. Considering they laid their eggs in water, Morus wasn’t surprised to find small, leathery sacks hidden between the long sprouts of grain and tubers with leaves shaped like minnoth ears.

“You know,” Wilm began, whispering quietly enough that only Morus could hear, “For a moment there, I thought you boys were lying.”

Morus felt both guilty and relieved at once. Thank you, he thought, briefly flickering his gaze to the azure sky. “We need to be very careful,” he replied in a slightly hushed voice. “Bograls are protective of their offspring. Especially when they haven’t even hatched yet. Wilm, you can shape earth a little too, can’t you?”

“Barely,” the older boy said. “It’s easier if Rugged is watching, but…”

“...Yeah,” replied Morus, looking over his shoulder to see he, Lush, and Grit were busy. “Can you try to make a solid bowl from the mud? It needs to be big enough to hold all those eggs,” he said, pointing out the submerged sacs.

“I can try,” Wilm said, stepping up to the paddy field and crouching low to reach into the water, his fingers seemingly kneading the mud underneath. His face strained in concentration. After a minute of patient silence, Wilm pulled out a large bowl that resembled moist clay, nearly filled to its brim with murky water.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Rej, scratching the fuzz of speckled black and white hair on the back of his head. Over his shoulder, Gaj nodded, then tucked his fringe of matching feathers behind his ears.

“Just watch for now and look tough. If they get aggressive, try offering some food, but hopefully my fae will be able to handle the next step without issue.” With a command, his soulbound companion separated from his body, exposing his pale face to the sunlight. Though separating from the invisible veil made it harder to sneak away, Morus needed control of the situation to ensure his most desirable outcome. He gestured for Wilm to place his bowl on the ground and take a few steps back while his fae drifted toward the nearest collection of eggs. Careful not to apply enough pressure to crack the dozen leathery sacs, his fae slowly delved into the water and surrounded them, shaping into a porous bag to lift them into the air.

Although the eggs were transparent in her grasp, the mother bogral noticed their absence immediately, as if feeling the water shift minutely from a lack of displacement. She croaked a loud cry of panic, inciting her male-mate and sister-wife to do the same. All three hopped across the paddy field to protect the remaining sac cluster. Morus’ fae soon deposited her luggage in Wilm’s makeshift bowl.

“We need to show them we can be trusted. Try to lure them close by with your food, Gaj.”

The lanky twin obeyed, kneeling into the mud and emptying his pockets. He proffered the unappetizing mass of slimy, seed-ridden pulp, then attempted a low croak from his lungs. Though Gaj sounded ridiculous, he succeeded in drawing the bogral’s attention. Morus waved and pointed toward the bowl of eggs, nestled safely in water. Rej muttered to his brother to drop the food on the ground and step back. When he did, the horned bogral finally hopped in their direction. Mid-air, the critter’s prehensile tongue lashed out and licked the pile of mush. It landed on the dirt and began devouring more than half the food in a handful of seconds. Once finished, he bellowed a croak of his own, summoning his wives to feast on the scraps.

“Do you have any more?” asked Morus, his voice measured carefully to not scare the bograls.

Gaj frowned and shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting us to find three.”

Morus sighed, then requested his fae to collect the last sac cluster. “I don’t suppose you two have anything?”

“A bit of a ration mix,” said Wilm.

“Most nuts are too hard for their jaws. We’ll need something else.”

“Can I help?” rustled a feminine voice.

Morus hadn’t even heard Lush and Rugged approach. They’d finished killing the rootbeetles much quicker than he expected, which made executing his plan more difficult, if not impossible. His only chance lay with the bograls.

“Can you grow a bushel of soft berries from your hair?” he asked the slender dryad. “We need to find these critters a new home.”

Purple and blue spheres grew among the leaves on Lush’s head while she nodded. Every now and then, the motion would loose a few, sending them pattering into the ground. At first, the bograls were scared by the development, but once the berries split open and reeked a fruity scent, the male jumped over to consume his share. By the time his wives joined him, Morus’ fae returned with the last of their eggs.

“Animals trust fae more than humans. Could you offer them more while we lead them elsewhere, Lush? I was thinking we could find someone in the Farmer’s Market to watch over them.”

“That’s a good idea,” she rustled, smiling while she plucked a few berries from her head. “Rugged can carry their children too.”

Morus nodded gratefully, stepping back and joining his fellow students on the sidelines to watch Lush and Rugged take the lead again. His fae shook herself dry before enveloping his body, and once she settled, he felt a slight brush of his hair, as if to tell him she was proud of his quick thinking. To his surprise, he realized he could have just earned more plumes for their field trip without solving the case of the avokados.

Still, he was too curious to give up now, and they were heading where he wanted anyway — the Farmer’s Market. He just needed a sufficient distraction to keep the others from noticing his absence. Even without his fae suppressing the memories of his existence, Morus found it easy to fade in the background, and to the back of people’s minds. Plus, the more plumes he earned for his efforts, the better off he’d be. Morus was saving up for something special.

𝅘𝅥

Kon closed his eyes and opened himself to his fae’s senses. A discordant orchestra burst within his eardrums, but he grit his teeth and bore the agony for the sake of his mission. Rootbeetles communicated with a subsonic frequency, a constant skittering deep beneath the soil, and Kon used it to locate the nearest infestation. He walked toward the affected corn stalks without opening his eyes, weaving between Groundsmaster Hazen and Ora, magically aware of his companions’ presence by their incredibly loud breaths.

“Here,” he said, pointing. His fae hovered above the ground, then began sending a subsonic signal of her own. When rootbeetles bored into their prey for nutrients, they were practically asleep, making their constant skittering their version of snoring. The orb of glittering lute strings echoed their voices an octave higher; a note only used by their kind in the case of an emergency. With his eyes still closed, Kon could hear the rootbeetles’ tone match hers, then they detached and started digging their way up.

“Everyone keep your eyes shut,” said Dowen. “No peeking.”

Kon almost recoiled when Lili flicked the boy’s ear. It was a soft blow, but while opened to his fae’s senses, it sounded like a thunderclap erupted right beside him. Though Kon didn’t open his eyes, he did release the connection to his fae, overjoyed by the relative silence. All he could hear now were the songbirds and farmhands nearby. Then, a sharp woosh of air when Dowen’s fae soared past his feet, plucking the rootbeetles from the dirt the second their drillbit maws poked out.

Leach peeled away from Lili’s stomach partway to open his mouth and devour the captured pests. While he chewed, Dowen’s fae returned to his backsack, resuming her usual rustling. That was everyone’s cue to finally look.

“Now this is what I call teamwork,” said Groundsmaser Hazen. Dressed like a proper gardener, the portly man kneeled above the tiny burrows in the dirt left behind by the rootbeetles, then removed a vial of Lush-enchanted soil, deep black with green sparkles of crystallized magic. He emptied the vial into the tunnels, then backed away for Ora to step up. With her glacier-shaped aquamarine, the giantess trickled water into the enchanted soil. A pale sheen of verdant magic enveloped the once-wilted corn stalks, which now proudly flourished, as stiff and tall as small trees.

Ora grumbled under her breath, as if believing her role wasn’t as important. Even though buckets of water could be fetched from nearby wells, water generated from magic was significantly more nutritious. Groundsmaster Hazen said it would inspire a stronger reaction from Lush’s enchanted soil, but the giantess crossed her arms and scowled in response. Well, sort of in response. In truth, Ora had maintained that pose and expression for the last half-hour of their class. Every now and then, she yawned loudly from boredom.

At least Lili and Dowen were relatively entertained. Although rootbeetles were barely the size of a human finger, they provided Lili with enough vitality to remain healthy for a couple hours, and Leach consumed them by the dozens. As for the self-proclaimed rogue, Dowen was able to use the opportunity to perform agility drills with his fae, pushing her to her limits with hopes of increasing her maximum speed.

Though Dowen had cheered at her progress, Kon took comfort knowing the boy’s fae was nowhere close to the speed of sound. He was certain his orb of glittering lute strings would always soar faster. She floated above his shoulder, then chimed a proud-sounding melody, before rising into the sky.

The higher she ascended, the more voices he could hear like whispers in every direction. One of the groups of farmhands lingered nearby, watching the students of Westwind Academy intently. Unconsciously, his fae drifted in their direction.

“Is that giant a boy or a girl?” asked a young woman. “I can’t tell by what they’re wearing.”

“A girl, I think,” answered a gruff-voice man. “But what’s with her sickly friend?”

“She’s paler than most lidkhins,” another girl began, “but I can tell her hair isn’t bleached. I guess the rotten scum have infested Westwind, too.” The nine other farmhands grunted at the comment.

Kon balled his fists, swallowing his anger. The bigoted elderly merchant in the Shady District had been a horrible enough experience. Kon failed to understand how human beings could harbor so much unfounded hatred for their own kin, just because they were a little different. Fortunately, the group of bigoted farmhands were too cowardly to speak their comments to the Seer’s faces.

That made it easier for Kon to not make a scene, though he was determined to organize a roost-encompassing lecture for the citizens of Zephyr’s Cradle with the Headmaster. To survive the approaching War, humanity needed to be united completely, both in mind and spirit. Though still four years away, preparations needed to be made today.

“I think there’s more this way,” he said, pointing his companions away from the onlooking group’s unpleasant energy. Once he walked into the open from out of the corn rows, he realized they were done with their entire half of the field already. After figuring out the most efficient routine, minutes seemed to fly by like seconds. “Huh. I guess we’re done.”

“Not quite,” the Groundsmaster replied, stepping up beside Kon and draping an arm over his back. “Lush and the others took a break to find a home for a harem of bograls in the Farmer’s Market, so we’ll make up for lost time by working back toward them.”

Dowen panted as he ran into view. “Since we’ve worked so hard already, can we please take a break? My fae could use a little rest, and Leach isn’t the only one who needs to eat. I’m sure I’m not the only one starving.”

Ora’s stomach growled loudly in confirmation, as if on command.

“Alright. I must say, we have covered an incredible amount of land in such a short time. I suppose we’ve all earned a break. But if anyone has snacks, you must share a bit with everyone; and yes, that includes me. I need to convene with Kon in private, however, so please hold onto our shares.”

As much as Kon wanted to resist him, he let the Groundsmaster walk him across the field. When they stopped, Kon broke free and waved the professor a bit forward to put them out of earshot. He and his fae were a better judge of distance.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, gazing into his professor’s bleary, dirt-brown eyes. Groundsmaster Hazen looked back and blinked sleepily, his pupils slightly dilated.

“Hm?” he asked, breath reeking of the earthy scent of shia. In his hands was a glass pipe with a ruby bowl, a trail of smoke drifting from the smoldering plant within. “Oh, yes. Would you like a whiff?” he asked, brandishing the pipe toward Kon’s face.

“No thank you,” he said, taking a step back. "That would be irresponsible, considering we’re in the middle of class.”

“Of course,” the Groundsmaster exclaimed, beaming a smile before inhaling another intoxicating puff. “That was only a test, and you passed. Congratulations!”

Kon blinked in disbelief. “How are you smoking right now?” he asked while gazing over the shorter man’s bald patch, confirming the trio weren’t looking in their direction. Fortunately, their eyes were on the various birds flying around the clear blue sky, while they shared food retrieved from the giantess’ bright pink glob of a fae.

“It’s fairly easy,” the man replied, lifting the glass pipe to his mouth, filling the ruby bowl with heat, then inhaling deeply. He sighed pleasantly and puffed rings of smoke in the air over their heads. “You’ve been taught how to channel anima, haven’t you?”

“That’s not what I mean,” he said, perhaps too intensely. “As a Professor of Seers, how can you be soaring during your own lesson? In my flock, work-hour intoxication is considered to be gross misconduct, particularly for anyone that works with children… let alone powerful ones. Surely Headmaster Nise wouldn’t allow this.”

Groundsmaster Hazen closed his eyes, sighed, then inhaled a deep breath. After a moment, he looked at Kon steadily, revealing contracted pupils. With his thumb, he snuffed the burning plant out and slipped the pipe into a pouch on the front of his overalls. “I assure you, I’m not soaring,” the Groundsmaster said calmly, then smiled and rolled his shoulders. “Just taking my medicine. I’ve been ordered by Dr. Zali to have a few puffs hourly. I’m better now, though.”

“Oh?” Kon asked, low with guilt. “I’m sorry if I came off harsh.”

“I didn’t think that at all. You’re right that it’s unusual. Unfortunately, when you’ve been a Seer as long as I have, you are forced to witness things so horrible they break a piece of your mind and spirit. The things we have to do… for some of us, it eventually becomes too much to cope with on our own. Though Nise never smokes in public, his mind is fragile enough that he needs to use shia more often than me.”

Kon could tell the Groundsmaster wasn’t lying. Headmaster Nise was often fogheaded himself, zoning in and out of conversations, only to suddenly become invigorated, then distant again once his thought was finished. It also explained the Headmaster’s brief absence when Phantom visited Kon in the illusory labyrinth. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he admitted, realizing he viewed Hazen in an entirely new light. Strange though he was, the man was suffering. The Groundsmaster deserved as much support as any of his students.

Kon outstretched a hand. Groundsmaster Hazen shook it firmly with a dirty, calloused palm. Thankfully, he didn’t try pulling him in a hug again. Instead, he let go and took a step back. Silent, the man relished in the fresh air.

“Was offering me your pipe the only reason you brought me over, or did you actually want to convene about something?”

“Ah, yes, I did and still do. It’s about shia, actually. The plan was to broach the topic by showing you my pipe. Do you smoke recreationally, Kon?”

“I stopped twelve years ago, just before my daughter was born. When I was a traveling bard, I occasionally partook in the green strain, but that was a very long time ago. Why do you ask?”

Groundsmaster Hazen’s face parted with a smile, revealing yellow-hued teeth. “Do you know how shia works, Kon? The exact biological mechanisms that activate from the inhalation of its smoke?”

“I can’t say that I do. I just know it somehow affects our souls.”

“That’s what’s important, really. Most people believe the less potent strains, like the Lean Green plant you’re familiar with, cause spiritual detachment from our bodies, when in truth, the very opposite happens. The reason shia calms anxious thoughts, numbs physical aches, and makes emotions swell is because our very self retreats inward. Like dreams, it's a glimpse of heaven itself; a meer taste of the peace and elation we feel when our essence is finally returned to the sun.”

Kon had never heard Groundsmaster Hazen talk so much, let alone impart so much information. Somehow, this conversation had grounded him in reality, letting him stand tall and speak proudly. The Groundsmaster drank another breath of fresh air, then continued with his impromptu lecture.

“As for the more potent strains, like Blue Sky and Purple Haze, that’s where the spiritual hallucinations come in. Shia visions are more akin to a Seer Dream than a regular one, and for ordinary people, this means interacting with their invisible fae by delving into a magical plane within their very souls. For us Seers, however? It’s a way to understand our fae, wholly and completely, even if they’re unnamed. Nise himself decided on Lucid because of one such vision.”

Kon nodded, though he still didn’t understand the point of this conversation. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I wanted to make you an offer. This Gilday, I would like to take you to the best lounge in Zephyr’s Cradle in the evening. Nise and I discussed it this morning, and he agreed that experiencing a shia vision could help buoy your progress. He told me to assure you not to feel pressured, though he said you might welcome any help you could get. What do you think, Kon?”

“I… don’t quite know what to say. Can I have time to consider?”

“Of course. If you’d like, you can speak with Lucid to confirm I’m honest.”

“No need for that,” Kon said, glancing at his fae. The lute string orb glittered where she hovered beside and above his shoulder. “You said Gilday evening?”

“That’s right. The best experiences happen after nightfall, when you’re tired enough that your mind is nearly dreaming, even while awake.”

“Well, if we go this Gilday, I’m sure I’ll be exhausted. My first day isn’t even halfway done and I’m already desperate for a nap.”

Groundsmaster Hazen’s eyes widened, finally understanding. “Is that a yes, then?”

“It’s a yes,” he said. “My fae can tell you aren’t lying. If the Headsmaster thinks a shia vision could help me, I suppose I can try it.”

“Excellent. I promise, you won’t be disappointed. Outer Constellations sells the highest quality shia on this side of the Waistlands. I would know, considering I’m the one who grows their products.”

Kon joined the man’s laughter with a slight chuckle. His gaze drifted beyond the Groundsmaster’s shoulders, only to find the trio face-to-face with three of the bigoted farmhands. His fae soared over at the speed of sound to listen, immediately recognizing the man and two women by their voices from earlier. Hazen sputtered a breath when Kon suddenly took off running, then began panting as he followed at a brisk pace.

“What’s going on?” Kon asked, stepping between the two groups, hoping to assume control of the situation.

Ora grunted loudly, arms crossed and wearing a twisted grimace. “These pests were just pestering us.”

“Indeed,” snarled Lili. “We’ve been considering exterminating them like the others.”

“Is that a threat, rotscum?” asked the older woman with short, jet black, slicked-back hair.

“I hope so,” the man added derisively, his bald scalp bright red from sunburn. “If exiling your ilk from our home costs us our lives, it’s a price we’re willing to pay.”

His companions nodded, the younger girl more reluctant, though her eyes were just as hateful as the others.

Kon just glared at them, stunned. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Swift as a bird, Dowen leapt forward to swing a fist at the man’s face. That roused Kon from his daze. He lunged for the boy’s arm, but he was too slow. That, or Dowen was too fast. The rogue moved in a blur like Morus.

A second blur of purple-red lashed out next Kon’s head, making him yelp and stumble aside. Leach had extended from Lili’s midsection as swift as a whip, catching Dowen’s wrist mere inches from the farmhand’s face, then yanking him back into Ora.

“Pathetic,” the bigoted man spat.

“Cowards,” the older woman sneered.

The younger girl nodded hesitantly, somehow more angry than before.

A part of Kon wanted to strike the man himself. Thankfully, Phantom had already tested his anger this morning, reminding him of the man he was. He would not resort to violence. Not when he had his voice.

“Groundsmaster Hazen,” Kon intoned, his voice deeper and stronger than usual, enhanced by his fae’s magic. The professor had been staring from the sidelines, similarly stunned by the sight of conflict, but that got him to jump. “Bring your students elsewhere. I’ll join you to resume our work in a few minutes.”

The Groundsmaster nodded with enthusiasm. “Lili, Ora, Dowen. Come with me now.”

Kon looked back into the trio’s eyes. “Please,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for them to hear. The self-proclaimed rogue and wingfolk giantess looked to their emaciated leader for guidance.

That was when Lili’s skin began flaking off, revealing bleeding patches of muscle. Leach writhed and swelled upon her stomach, draining the vitality from her body, slowly pushing her closer to death. “Look at me,” she began, staring beyond Kon at the three farmhands, who shied away from her rotting face. “If you hate me, it’s only because you fear me. If you fear me, it’s only because you’re smart. Compared to me, you are but insects, and my fae just spent the better part of this morning devouring the bugs ruining your very livelihoods. Make an enemy of me if you wish, but just know, you’re nothing more than roaches in my eyes. You’re not worth the time and effort of stomping, which is the sole reason I'm walking away."

Without another word, Lili marched off, accompanied by a growling Ora and a distracted Dowen, whose hand was rustling in his tunic pocket. Leach shrunk, repairing his Seer’s flesh, while Groundsmaster Hazen led them into a far away row of crops.

Only then did Kon face the bigoted farmhands. Calling the other seven to step closer, he proceeded to give the sternest talking of their collective lives.

𝄐

Everything had gone to chaos. Sheer chaos. Morus smiled proudly, knowing he was responsible for this, then quietly began sneaking away.

The Farmer’s Market, it turned out, had a pet shop willing to find the bograls a home. The horned male rode on Rugged’s head while his sister-wives sat on his shoulders, their bowl of eggs cradled in his hands. Gaj had picked a fight with Rej at the perfect moment, using it as an excuse to shove the living statue while adorned in Gritty’s obsidian armor. The sacs of moist leather scattered everywhere, thankfully unharmed by the padded flooring. They rolled under tables and between the students’ feet while their parents hopped off furniture and faces in pursuit, their prehensile tongues lashing out to collect them. A variety of domesticated creatures watched this all unfold through the glass panes of their individual cages.

Wilm barked orders at the rowdy brothers until they stopped fighting and helped to calm the beasts. Lush produced more food, yet the bograls were in no mood to eat, croaking angrily whenever someone got too close. The kind pet shop owner, a middle-aged woman named Pino, scrambled in the backroom for an aquarium, screaming for her son, Flipi, to come inside and help. He and his furry pet, a long-bodied woof named Bork, had been performing tricks outside to attract customers. Morus waited invisibly for them to run inside before exiting into the sunlight.

If someone asked, he would say he ran away because he was afraid of being stuck in a confined space with a bunch of angry, overprotective bograls. In reality, he moved with a purpose, running down the street and past confused bystanders like a blur, in search of a very specific establishment. Only one store sold chemical enhanced plant products, and it had a bright orange door. Unfortunately, it was on the other end of the market, which meant Morus needed to fly faster than ever. If he didn’t return to his class soon, it would be much harder for his lie to hold water.

About halfway down and around the bend, a crowd of locals blocked his passage forward, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Steam rose into the sky ahead, released in huffs and puffs of clouds like breaths, and a deep, crimson light shone from the source below — a muscular giant with a molten shell of armor.

Though invisible to the Cradle’s ordinary citizens, the effect Vigor had on the world was not. Neither was Lafer, who stood tall and confident beside him, adorned in her matching suit of crimson metal that bulged with decorative scarlet veins. “Quiet down, everyone!” she shouted. “I have something important to say, so I need you all to listen!”

The crowd hushed immediately, followed by a young girl shouting “I love you, Vigor!” and a teenage boy yelling “You’re the best, Princess Laferil!”

Lafer startled at the use of her full name. Meanwhile, Vigor drowned out the crowd’s rising voices by bellowing a hearty laugh. An eruption of steam burst into the air, hissing them to silence. “I love you too, small child. I love you all, in fact!”

Lafer demanded her fae to remain serious, then grabbed the crowd’s eyes with a stern look. “Unfortunately, I’m not here for a pleasant walk or friendly talk. I come on an important mission from the Fated King himself. Is there anyone among you who is familiar with something called vilebloom pollen?”

When no one spoke up to answer, Morus nearly made his presence known by shouting it himself. Instead, he retreated into the shadow of a nearby building and vanished.

An older woman with a band of colorful petals in her dirty blonde hair lifted one arm hesitantly. “I’m a florist,” she said, voice meek. “The pollen of vilebloom flowers is the most venomous substance in the world. I've heard that one taste is instant death.”

That wasn’t exactly accurate, since vilebloom pollen needed gastric acid to trigger its latent poisons, so tasting it wouldn’t kill you. Consuming it, however? Not even a powerful Seer would survive for long after that.

Half of the crowd shuddered while others mumbled to their family or their friends. “Why are you asking?” the mother of the girl who loved Vigor inquired worriedly, clutching her daughter against her leg.

“Good question,” Lafer chuckled with a charismatic smile, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “I suppose I should have prefaced my previous statement with some reassurance. My friends, you are not in danger, nor is our beloved Fated King. For the aforementioned reasons stated by the young, lovely florist, vilebloom flowers and their pollen are a heavily controlled substance. The Seers made sure to eradicate the fully grown plants wherever they could find them in order to protect humanity, but unfortunately, despite our tireless efforts, black markets are offering seeds at a high price, and a garden of vileblooms was found this morning in Kolod Vor, in the home of an obsessive collector."

“I was thus sent here to ensure the wonderful citizens of Zephyr’s Cradle know the horrid plants were in circulation. If you’d please take these pages and hand them out, you’ll see how vilebloom flowers look in all stages of their life cycle, and instructions for several methods on how to check for their pollen. Please take one per household, and four more to hand out to friends and coworkers; or if you feel especially brave, random strangers you pass on the street. In the event you find someone or somewhere with vileblooms, drop what you’re doing immediately, do not mention it to anyone, and hurry to Westwind Academy. At the gate, you can inform the guards you’re there for a meeting with Headmaster Nise. The Fated King’s father will ask you some questions in his office and handle things from there.”

Once Lafer finished speaking, the crowd hurried in Vigor’s light to retrieve the copies and distribute them backward, some hands eagerly clutching more than a dozen pages. Even from a distance, Morus recognized the page from a text in the Academy’s library. Professor Meir must have been healthy enough to help Lafer generate them in her laboratory.

“Thank you for listening, friends, and in advance for your help. Alas, I need to continue my work spreading this information. Please continue on with your days without any concern. The Headmaster’s fae, Lucid, is humanity’s greatest Diviner, and she told me the weather report for the next week is 'nothing but sunny days."

The crowd joined the princess in laughing, then slowly began to separate, individuals meandering in different directions or ligering behind to ask for Lafer's autograph on their pages. Even when the girl was chuckling gleefully and smiling from ear-to-ear, Vigor’s burning eyes smoldered darkly, betraying his Seer’s fear. Though what she mentioned about the flowers being discovered in the capitol may have been true, it didn’t take a genius to realize there was more she wasn’t saying. It just took having enough information to connect the dots.

Morus had been wrong about what killed Groundsmaster Hazen’s plants. It wasn’t pesticides, but vilebloom pollen.

Someone — or something — wanted the Groundsmaster of Westwind Academy dead.