Eje's arm tingles. Her warding blocked the more severe electrical burns, but the imprint of the ogre's massive paw is still scorched in just above the elbow. Her feet tingle in and out of numbness and and either the underground has gotten darker or her eyes are still blurry. Footfalls hurry in every direction, fleeing the riot. A guard crosses their path on all fours, trying to escape unnoticed. Octave steps over him leisurely. “Shouldn't we help him?” Eje asks as Octave pulls her along.

“It's none of our concern.” Octave isn't leading her toward the entrance to the underground, but along a maze of streets, turning left, turning right, down an alley, up a dirt path through a cluster of glowing stones, then back onto cracked pavement. With each turn, she navigates deeper into the underground. Houses become scarcer, more drawn out. Larger but also more ramshackle, with broken windows and doors that hang open. Nobody has lived in them for years. Patches of empty ground contain small subterranean streams that must be crossed on wooden bridges, or jumped. They skirt a lake, no two lakes. Eje squeezes her eyes shut and when she opens them, her vision has undoubled. The lake's placid water shimmers in the cavern's glow. A faint splash makes Eje jump. What sort of fish live in such a lake? No doubt small with massive eyes to see, or completely blind, bumping through the water with mouths open. But she's heard enough stories to give it a wide berth; no telling what could be lurking under the pristine surface.

“More guards will come. They're going to find us, Octave. They'll search the entire underground.”

“I have business down here. Someplace they won't dare set foot in.”

“This isn't the time for business. We, well, you, caused a brawl. Why did you have to do that? Why did you attack the guards, Octave? They were just doing their jobs and upholding the law.” The whole event is a haze, but as her vision clears from the electric shock, so does her mind. “This could have been a mission, you know. Perhaps not at Lakeview, but while still in training: apprehend the women who started a brawl at a fight ring of questionable legality and bring them in.”

“Why were these women at a fight ring of questionable legality in the first place?”

“It's just...” Eje's voice trails off.

“Yes, you wanted to punish them, but you became one of them. As did I. Arguing from a position of legality does you no favours.” Silence follows, broken only by the tramp of their boots over grit. “Look. I'm not one to condemn you for your proclivities, and you've clearly been doing this for some time, so I assume you've at least thought about actions and consequences.” Eje braces herself for the admonition. Yet another person here to criticize, to lecture. And she'll have to play along and pretend to care, because in the end, she's wrong. She can't deny being wrong. But Octave surprises her. “All I'm going to say is: I understand. There's something captivating about it, isn't there? The dirt, the blood, the crude aggression. Horrible yet alluring. Doubly so if you grew up in a nice environment. Perhaps your soul is reaching for its true passion.”

Eje is about to curse Octave, but she can't. The cheers, the applause, the love of it all. Her pockets jingle with her winnings, each a smelted trophy. As someone who has habitually avoided attention, she craves it again. She's craved it since she first saw two fighters clash in a ring. Tomorrow she'll crave it more. Now she has the image of her as a beloved fighter, winning matches across the nation, across other nations. The crowds are cheering, the accolades giddying. To lift glory to the heavens. She shakes her head. “No, it's wrong. And I was wrong for trying thinking I punish them. My parents would be ashamed to look at me. But.” She hesitates, then speaks her mind. “There's something else about it. Something calming. Like my problems, my worries go away when I fought. It's like I was something small. A rabbit, constantly worried about wolves and hawks and foxes. For a few hours, I could stare them down, and I could beat them. Real predators or just imaginary problems would manifest in the flesh, and it was so cathartic to pummel them.”

“And did you look down on them as low-born?”

“They are low-born!” exclaims Eje. She reasserts control. “I sank to their level, for a minute only. We should be helping the guards reestablish order.” Eje says all this, and believes it, but she keeps following Octave.

“Do you really think they won't question you as well?” Octave laughs. “Go back and turn yourself in if you like. It just seems strange to do it now. Or, you can follow me to something you may find more familiar and enjoyable.” Eje keeps following Octave. They're at the edge of the cavern now, where the glowing walls are within reach. The dilapidated houses are gone. Voices in the distance are a world away, and even the path no longer crunches underfoot. They're walking through a circle of luminescent stones illuminating a building too big for a house but too small for a manor. Around it, the stones have been painted, giving off an otherworldly glow of red and purple shapes. Ancient runes; if only she'd bothered learning their meanings. And the building itself is worthy of respect. The arched eaves, the double doors, the stone lions on the roof. She hasn't seen such class in a long while.

Octave doesn't handle the great brass knocker the size of an ogre's fist. “Welcome to The Quiet Seat.” She pushes the doors open and enters. Eje rubs her arm and follows.

Whatever displeasures exist beyond The Quiet Seat cease to matter once the heavy doors thud shut. Everything is dark and padded: the floors are soft and furry, the seats cushioned, the walls hung with sashes. Torches burn with unflickering flame, enough to see but not enough to take away the coziness, and a fireplace at the far side blazes. Her father always said that the quality of an inn could be garnered by the number of tables in a room; more tables meant a greater desire to cram people in, putting profit over the comfort of the patrons. The main room of The Quiet Seat could comfortably fit everyone from the open air bar and leave enough room for servers to meander through, offering drinks on trays. The number of tables, however, could hardly satisfy more than a score. A few people sit strategically so as to be as far apart from one another as possible. Not a single one so much as looks up at their arrival.

“Name?” An attendant approaches in a soft white gown.

“Flight Squad.” says Octave. The attendants eyes widen almost imperceptibly and she motions to the staircase. Octave takes the steps two at a time, Eje hurrying behind her, wondering what sort of establishment doesn't allow attendants on the second floor. Even her father would be impressed.

“What's the flight squad?” she whispers, not wanting to break quiet. Octave doesn't answer. At the top of the stairs, she takes her bearings then heads straight for the back. Windows made of real glass, lighting that puts her in mind of sunset, golden swords on the wall. A single figure sits facing away in a chair carved like a throne, wings on the top corners about to take flight. Only the top of its head is visible. Its fiery red head.

“There you are, Octave. I'm impressed you remember the way.” says Tal. She doesn't rise but nods toward the mahogany table. Octave sits opposite her. Eje, after a little deliberation, sits next to Octave. “Oh, and you brought one of your little friends. Hello there.” Tal gives a smile that chills Eje to the bone. That same impression she got at Lakeview is coming back. Tal's body is present, lining her seat with a subtle comfort befitting the luxury of the room. But her voice is melodious and gentle, too gentle. It sings to a different plane of temporality, and her eyes gaze as though seeing into a world beyond them. Eje nods respectfully instead of answering.

“This is Eje.” says Octave as though just remembering her name. “If you forgot.”

“Refreshments?” Tal pours a decanter of ruby wine into a glass. “Oh dear. It seems I wasn't prepared for the contingency.” She makes to rise, but Octave stops her with a hand and harvests a glass from another table. Carved crystal, paper thin. Octave drinks hers without hesitation, so Eje does too. The wine she recognises immediately as Pikis Valley. Earthy, dark, astringent. A smokey edge fading into savoury mould. Vile. She sips and suppresses her gag reflex, as she's done whenever her parents entertained guests.

“So.” Octave and Tal lean back in their chairs, head framed by wings, eyes fixed and mouths closed. Eje watches, remembering Octave's warning that Tal could spot any lie, that she would suck the marrow from her bones. It's doesn't make sense that she would visit her, does it? Now the two watch each other as though waiting for a moment. But a moment to do what? Talk? Argue? Fight? Octave is still wearing her sword, but drawing a sword would feel so out of place here.

“Are you two friends?” ventures Eje after a silencing last eons. She flinches under Octave's look, but Tal laughs like a chime.

“We're not even enemies.” says Tal, refilling their glasses. “Which is a far more intimate pairing. Octave has talked about our past, hasn't she?”

“She said she worked for you once.”

“I suppose she did. Until I threw her out.” Tal sips her wine. “Perhaps I was too generous.”

“You've never been that.” Octave finally speaks. “Why were you so interested in those tomes from a village nobody remembers?” Tal raises her eyebrows, but her face remains motionless. “Don't look at me like that. You popped out to Lakeview just to ask about them. You're always popping around for things, but only when they might benefit you.” Eje remembers Captain Loswel's warning that Tal always expected something.

“So, Eje, tell me a little about yourself. Oh, don't fuss, Octave.” Tal laughs again to the tune of icicles plinking into snow. “We'll get to your pretense for coming here soon enough. First, I want to know more about your so-called friend.”

Eje decides it's time for a formal introduction. “Eje Muse, of the House Muse. 'Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is mine, Eje Muse of the House Muse. I am, as you may have discerned, Tal. Some call me lady, others call me worse yet, but I am simply Tal. Welcome to The Quiet Seat. It's no Muse Manor, so I beg you'll forgive the lack of finery.”

“It's exquisite. Do you...own it?”

Tal stretches, her head rubbing against the velvet cushioning. “Sadly I must decline such an honour, though I am in contact with the one upon whom it can be bestowed. So, Miss Eje, I trust you have found Salkrit City to your liking?”

“It's a fine city. Radiant, royal. Erm, well-managed.”

“Ah, but does your unbounded praise extend to the underground?”

Eje hesitates, unsure if Tal is mocking her or serious. Octave answers instead. “Eje has been somewhat alarmed at the presence of low-born riffraff in the underground.”

“A common lament.” Now Eje is certain Tal is having fun with her, but she seems so serious about it, lowering her eyes and voice as though the presence of commoners has given her much to lament, that she can't stifle a laugh. “You see, Octave? We all must shed a tear from time to time over blossoms falling in the mud.”

“Some of us don't fall in. Some of us were pushed.”

“What a thing to say.” Tal takes a slow sip of wine, swirling it in her glass. “Miss Eje, do you know where Octave got her name?” Eje shakes her head.

“It started as a nickname. She was so talkative, especially when she started out. High pitched voice too, like a chipmunk chattering. On her first mission, has she told you about it? Probably not. She was so nervous she froze up. Didn't say a word the entire time. We were recovering some objects of value through, well, we were called the Flight Squad for a reason. When we got back, she was so embarassed she wouldn't talk again for days. When she finally did, her voice was all low and calm as though it had always been that way. She really worked at preserving it that way too. So we called her Octave.” Tal smiles at the ceiling. “I'm glad to see she hasn't lost the name.” Octave is sporting crossed arms and a frown that would make Salaya duck, but next to Tal she seems more like a sulking child.

“I'm going to the toilet.” says Octave rising. “Try not to say anything reckless, Eje.”

“We'll be in the reflection room when you get back.” Tal says after her. Then she turns back to Eje. “Come on, then, let's not sit around all night.” She gets up and once again Eje is following, this time to a side door. She walks with a limp, though Eje lacks the courage to ask how she injured her leg. “You're a mage, aren't you, Miss Eje?”

“You can just call me Eje. And yes, a dusk mage. Shadow conjuration was my base.” Her arm has gone numb again, so she shakes it.

“Has your arm rebelled against you, or have you begun a dusk mage ritual dance I've hitherto lived in ignorance of?”

“It's nothing – just a little numbness. I got hit with lightning magic.” Eje pulls up her sleeve to show off the angry red welts on her arm.

“That's deleterious.” Tal reaches out and puts a hand over the redness. Heat rushes into Eje's arm, as though Tal's hand has been near a fire. Her head swims and she winces a little, unsure if pulling away would anger her strange host. Then her head clears and her eyes focus. A dull pain replaces the numbness. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“A note of positivity. That means the damage isn't permanent. What a shame Octave never bothered learning anything relating to medicine.”

“Thank you.”

Tal turns her attention to the door and beckons Eje inside, closing it behind them. It's pitch black. Light doesn't even shine in under the door. Eje takes a hurried step away from where Tal must be. Her arms wave around searching for impediments. Is this part of a game? It seems unlikely that Tal would have healed her only to kill her moments later.

Light floods the room. It comes from no source, but illuminates everything with no shadows. A simple empty room with no decorations, no soft floor, not even a chair. “Tell me, Eje. How do you relate to Octave?” For the first time, Tal looks directly at her. Not through her, not beyond her into some alternate realm, but her black eyes meet Eje's. For the first time, Eje understands why Octave warned her not to lie.

“We're, uh, teammates.” Her arm throbs. Tal says nothing but maintains her gaze. “Not by choice, mind you, but we're happy that she joined mostly.”

“Mostly is a dangerous word.”

“Well, we don't always agree on every little thing. She's got some strange ideas.”

“Quite.”

Eje hesitates, then says it. “Why did you fire Octave?”

“I didn't fire her. I threw her out. She refused orders. Do you know about the work we did? Well, suffice it to say, it held the nation together. Octave didn't always approve, and one day she decided attacking a rival group was excessive.” It all sounds like gang warfare to Eje, but she nods along. “They were from Gaskaback. On the one hand, killing them would have inflamed tensions between their kingdom and ours. On the other hand, allowing them to live would have been a blow to our reputation and a bolstering to theirs. Poor Octave. I'm sure you've noticed, but she's frightfully moralizing. Always concerned with doing right. It was harder for her to justify that morality after her refusal to fight got one of our better squad members, and a good friend of hers, killed. However, enough of that. We're ready.” Eje can't even begin to tackle all that, but there's no time to anyway. She's not in an empty room anymore, she's airborne. “You are familiar with reflection rooms, no?”

“Yeah.” manages Eje, still breathless. They aren't falling at least, just hanging precariously over an open plain. It's all far more realistic than anything she's experienced before: the walls have vanished entirely, the wind whooshes over her face, and even though she knows she's standing in an empty room, her stomach lurches when she looks down at the ground hundreds of paces below.

“So where are your teammates?”

“They went off to the light district, I think. Octave and I had interests in the underground, so we went together.”

“Interests?”

“A fight ring.” The memory of the cheering audience as she stood over the beaten ogre resurfaces like a breaching leviathan. “I did alright for myself. Beat an ogre, you know.” She grins.

“Is that the manner in which you entertain yourself?” Tal looks at her like her father might look at a ruffian.

“It's good practise, ok?” Eje bristles, the exultation of her victory replaced by a cold jab to the gut. “It's not as though I like being down here.” She immediately regrets this too. There's no knowing what Tal feels about the underground. She herself had no idea a place with class and money like this existed until she saw it ten minutes ago.

Tal turns back to the land they're drifting over there. “Look over there. Do you see it?”

The land around blurs except for an expanding brown furrow to which Eje's eyes are being directed. “Is that the desolation?” A hole opens in the sky and Octave steps through. Light glimmers around her, then the door closes again.

“What are you doing, giving her a tour?”

“Join us. I mapped this entire landscape in my mind, and transposed it to this room to show the desolation. It's lain dormant for ages. More years than historians can agree on. Now every year it grows larger and strikes deeper into the Upper Realms.”

“Is it a problem for other nations too?”

“The word is yes.”

“Why is this happening?” asks Eje.

“Speculation is more harmful than silence. Let's have a look around, shall we?” They begin to pick up speed as they move across the sky toward the desolation. Eje has to repeatedly remind herself that she's safe on the floor. “This one is a day's walk southeast of Felsdown. In terms of stature it's not nearly as imposing as the one marking the Gaskaback border, but its size and location makes it easier to explore.”

“How did you form these images?” Eje wonders how many questions she'll be able to get through before she's told to be quiet like an awestruck child. “You'd have to be high above to see the land like this, wouldn't you?” Both Tal and Octave give her a long stare as though conspiring, and Eje remembers the name Octave gave downstairs. “Were you flying?”

“Use your imagination.” says Tal with a small smile. For an instant, the scene changes. They're high up on a mountain top. The wind shrieks. The falling snow tingles on Eje's nose. She blinks, and they're back, picking up speed over the desolation, dipping to avoid a low cloud. It's as though Tal teased her. They're flying, fast as any bird, flying and descending. It's all there, waiting for her. The blue-tinged soil, the enormous mushroom groves sprouting around pools of fetid water. Even the quivering hum sounds from below. Eje stomps her foot and it thumps against the floor. Just a reminder. She suppresses images of the sun shining into a well. “Now look that way. What do you see?”

“A ring of stones. It's almost as though...no. That's not possible.”

“It is. As clear as I saw it two days ago.” The ring of stones is strange but explicable. Within are huts. Crude little huts on a small elevation. Figures walk in and out. They sit in circles around fireplaces and stoop over groves of mushrooms like gardeners. Even at this height, Eje can see the long hair and the green tint in their skin.

“Orcs live in the desolation?” Eje staggers. Years of people wondering where orcs come from, and nobody thought to look. It seems so simple, like a children's riddle with an obvious answer nobody could guess. “But how do they sleep? They can't sleep in the desolation. I saw them collapsed there. They fall into an irreversible sleep just like us.”

“A more interesting question would be concerning the relationship they have with it and its expansion.” says Tal.

Octave appears unimpressed. “I suppose this would explain why people are so concerned with them raiding. Why are you showing us this?”

“Yes, this should be taken straight to the castle. The King must know.”

“I've considered it.”

“Why?” asks Octave.

“What do you mean why?” demands Eje. “I don't understand. Of course this has to be reported.”

“How does that benefit us though?”

“We need to wipe them out, Octave.” Eje is nearly screaming now, each word punctuated by a painful throb in her arm. “It's a base of operations for them, and it can't continue to exist.”

The room shudders. A rent in the sky opens showing dark clouds over a distant castle. Not Lakeview: black. This is no tease. Then, just as quickly, Tal regains control. The castle vanishes from sight, replaced by familiar desolation. Tal sighs. “This isn't the discussion I was hoping to have.”

“She is a bit headstrong, isn't she?” Both Octave and Tal look at Eje again, and again it's as though they're of the same mind and she's the outsider.

“Aren't you two concerned about the nation? Doesn't it bother you that orcs are living inside it?” Eje tries to keep her tone calm because Tal still intimidates her.

“Eje, this nation is my primary concern. To that end, orcs are a fascination to me. Has Octave told you her theory of orcs yet?”

“You mean when she said they don't exist?” Eje looks between Tal and Octave, hoping for a facial clue.

“Yes.” Tal stretches as though still seated in her winged chair. “Uncanny instincts, Octave. I must commend you. I didn't believe it at first, but I'm starting to suspect you were right. Orcs aren't real.”

“Does it hurt you admit that?”

“No, because I'm not a petulant child.” Tal gives Octave a wink. Octave's face has never been so impassive. “Orcs were real, but they died out long ago. Another extinct species alongside the apioids and the reptiloids and the elder ones.”

“And celestials.” breaks in Octave. “Eje, what do you think of celestials?”

“I've told you before, haven't I? They fell to the earth and found lives here, disguised as ordinary folk.”

“And yet the tale extends far beyond that.” says Tal, her voice becoming bolder. “Some of the celestials may have survived when they were cast down, but most burned as they fell. And as they fell, they burned. And so great was their impact, that the old species, the apiods and the elder ones and the rest were destroyed in the fiery impact, and from their ashes were a new people synthesized.” The room shifts again, tuned to the images in her mind. A falling star, fire on the horizon. “Our ancestors found the remnants of the old civilisations, oh they were millennia gone even then, but they found these relics of the ancient world, and do you know what they did with them?” Tal pauses and looks to Eje, who does not know. A building shaped perfectly as a cube looms in the distance. It's grey like stone, but smooth as the crystal glasses they drank from. “They destroyed them. They called them demonic works and smashed them. Records were burned in chromatic flames, buildings whose foundations had endured the elements for eons were cast down in clouds of rubble. It was glorious.” Tal laughs softly and the cube crumbles, broken shards of stone burying themselves in the earth and disintegrating into it. More appear, a city of cubes crumbling until the ground is covered deep in grey sand. “What? Did you expect me to lament the passing of dead people? They failed, and for that their punishment was obscurity. They exist now only through footnotes in the deepest archives of the remotest libraries, and anyone determined enough to delve into their history is mocked as an eccentrics.” Silence follows as the room shows blue rocks again, orc huts far in the distance.

“I've never heard such a tale before.” says Eje at last. “Isn't it horrible that all their knowledge was destroyed and forgotten? What if they had powerful magic we could be using?”

“Whatever they knew, it wasn't enough to save them. No, you're missing the important part. We are created from the ashes, the physical memory of what came before us. Orcs, lizard people, and far more. They are reflected in our faces and our actions.”

“Here it comes.” says Octave as though she's heard all this before and wants to skip to the end. “And that little speck of ash, that spark of light, that came from the fallen celestials is what guides our goodness and our greatness today.”

“Octave, you wound me. I would never say such a thing. True as it may be.” Tal winks again, this time to both of them. “But what we do today is what matters. Who we are and what we make of it.”

“And what,” Octave softly persists, “of those celestials who survived and lived in disguise?”

“One became a hermit, as I recall.” says Eje. “Then there was a cripple, and there was the founder of the Upper Realms.”

For the first time, a shadow passes over Tal's eyes as though she's gazed into a new realm and something unsettling has gazed back at her. The desolation is gone, replaced by a great platform. Clouds surround them. Bodies lie strewn on the ground. Then, just as quickly, it's gone. The room is empty, the light glowing brighter as Tal regains control. “It's a tale meant to be seen metaphorically more than literally. Societies are founded on tales. And we're careful with the tales we tell of our past, because they will shape the stories of our present. And that is where we must turn out attention.” They are once again over the orc village, hovering this time. “When strange creatures first began sparse raids from the wilds a decades ago, people speculated that orcs from folklore had never left. A poor comparison now that I consider it.” Below them, two orcs wrestle, the course hoots and yells of the spectators audible across the simulated desolation. “Primitive, but then primitivity runs deep in our society as well.” This should all mean something to Eje, but she can't collect her thoughts. Did Tal kill all those people on the platform? She hasn't come off like a monster, despite whatever warnings Octave gave. More like an old rival. Maybe it was where Octave refused orders. Eje's eyelids flutter. Maybe they both fancied the same guy, and that's what Octave meant by marrow-sucking.

“You couldn't have considered it last time we talked? Or did you not want to embarrass Ranim Harki?”

“Ranim is more than capable of embarrassing himself. There was no need to antagonize him, but then a lack of discretion has always been one of your failings. Alongside your narrow vision and fanatical devotion to morality.” Eje barely listens. The room is shifting again, but her drooping eyes seek only the door. Her exhaustion has overwhelmed her. The exhilaration of winning, and the curiosity of The Quiet Seat have worn off. The throbbing in her arm extends now from the tips of her fingers to her shoulder. What Eje wants most is to drop her battered frame into bed, not to hear Octave and Tal snipe at each other as though someone is keeping track of points. The orc village though. She can't forget. She'll warn people tomorrow. She slumps down, back resting against an invisible wall in the dark sky. Storm clouds gather. The last thing she hears is Octave and Tal arguing.