Jadon did not immediately open his eyes when he came to. His forehead was stinging just as much as the back of his head was aching. He didn’t want to be forcefully knocked unconscious again if he could help it, so he pretended to still be unconscious as he tried to figure out his surroundings.

The first thing Jadon noticed was that he wasn’t tied down anymore. Instead, he had been placed on a chair that was far comfier than any he was used to. The cushions that surrounded him had enough give in them to make it just as accurate a statement to say Jadon was placed in the chair.

He could tell the room was normally cold, or that the weather outside was cold. It was a sort of sense he had gained from living in High Morr all his life. He knew he was inside as the chair, combined with the absolute lack of a breeze made it a pretty safe guess. There was a gentle warmth washing over his front from a fire close by. He could hear the crackling and smell the wood burning.

Despite himself, Jadon clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. It stuck slightly as he had not had a drink of water since he had left Vernox and the smoke from the fire had left him even more in need of a drink than before.

Wood scraped across something dull. A carpet? Just off to his right. Fabric against fabric as someone sat down beside him, likely in another armchair like his.

“I know you’re awake.”

The voice of the man with green eyes was calm as usual. Unbothered. Slightly amused. He ticked Jadon off as Jadon could see a reflection of his future in this man. Jadon opened his eyes and very deliberately rolled his eyes at the man.

They were both in deep red high-top armchairs. A small coffee table sat between them and a large fireplace in front. Above the black marble mantelpiece hung a portrait of a family. An aging couple flanked by four younger looking adults and all of them surrounded by an array of children of all ages. Not a single one was smiling in the painting. It was as if they were asked to be painted at a funeral. They were all dressed as if that was the occasion too. As Jadon cast his eyes around the part of the room he could see, the ceiling was ridiculously high and covered in decorative stalactites, artificially built into the ceiling. These helped cast shadows across the whole ceiling.

The wallpaper was dull and either faded, or for some reason, somebody chose faded white on grey to cover the walls in a thorn-ridden design. Knots of grey vines twisted across the white within the wallpaper pattern, choking the closest thing to color the Jadon could see in the room. He may as well have been underground in the smoke again for all the effort the decorators had given making this place look alive.

“Can you please at least tell me your name now?” Jadon said, his throat raw and choking on the words even as he said them.

The man leaned over and poured them both a glass of water from a glass jug on the coffee table. He slid one of the glasses over to Jadon and picked up the other. Sipping it, he looked into the fire.

“Why did you get into the criminal business, Jadon?” The man said.

“I can’t have a conversation with you if I don’t know your name,” Jadon replied, “lie for all I care.”

“But you do care. You care too much.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Where is my friend?”

“In time. As a… display of trust, my name is Sragos.”

“Where is my friend Sragos. Where is the chyringa, now that I’m thinking about it.” Jadon could see one exit to the room, far off to his left, completely out of sight if he leaned back in his chair. He did just that to avoid any potential eye contact from Sragos.

“In time. I’ll cut to the chase. I can see that you’re irritated, likely confused. Concerned for your friend and eager to get out. Possibly a little afraid, though you wouldn’t dare admit it-”

“You said you’d cut to the chase?”

“Ah, yes. Thank you. That vial we contested over. Neither of us won that battle.”

“You did. I lost the vial, lost the trust of my allies and eventually ended up here after being tasked to find you.”

“I did get the vial, yes. Utterly shattered after running through the city.” Sragos took another long sip of his water, getting irritatingly close to slurping it. “I, too, was assigned with procuring that potion. Once the vial was destroyed, I worked on trying to find another. It is near impossible; I can assure you.”

“I know, I had someone find it for me.”

“Yes, this Icetop friend of yours?”

“How did you know?”

“I followed two routes to recovering another potion. Searching for how to make one, to find someone who could. Secondly, to find the person who found the last one. I realized the main components of the potion meant that even if I knew how to make it, it would be impossible to find the ingredients anyway, so I resorted to the second option.”

“Is he...?”

“Yes, he’s dead. Not by my hand, but still dead.”

“Damn,” Jadon said, drinking more of the water in his hand, “and the main component? Why’s it so hard to find?”

“It requires blood from a creature considered to be extinct until yesterday.”

“Don’t tell me…”

“A chyringa, preferably living, is needed to procure a potion such as the one in the vial that broke. Now, we have one hooked up in the basement, ready to donate for as long as we deem necessary,” Sragos said. Jadon could almost hear his smug smile in his voice.

“That’s horrible.”

“From what I hear, that chyringa has been the cause of quite a bit of death and destruction. Doesn’t it deserve a little bit of punishment?”

“Not like that. Let the laws decide their fate, if not them, then the gods.”

“Sounding awfully righteous for someone so willing to break laws,” Sragos remarked.

“I don’t get caught,” Jadon said.

“Yes, you do.”

“Shut up.”

“No. What do you know of ruptures? The things this chyringa has been causing to appear across the realm?” Sragos asked. Jadon could hear him pour himself another drink. Jadon waited till he heard the sound of the jug being placed back on the coffee table and get himself another too, avoiding looking at Sragos the entire time. He could feel the man’s gaze on the crown of his head.

“I know enough.”

“I’ll bet. You and your pack of misfit do-gooders fell ass first through one of them.”

“More than one. Took a bit of a detour getting home.”

“Well, that’s mighty impressive,” Sragos said, “As I was saying, a rupture is a gateway to another realm. These gateways were the only way to traverse from one realm to another following the Rupture War. The ones that are known to us have remained heavily guarded, or at least they were meant to be. Do you know why this is?”

“Big bad creatures coming through to scare the little children?”

“Now, now. Sarcasm is only amusing when I do it. It is partially to deter the fiercer creatures from breaking through, yes. Although creatures too large would not be able to come through anyway. For that they would need help. No, the reason they were guarded is for a subtle fact that has become forgotten, much like ruptures, in recent centuries.”

“Can you please get to the point? I’m starting to prefer being asleep,” Jadon said, yawning audibly to emphasize his point.

“Humans are an impressive people. Spread far and wide and interact with literally anyone they meet, from any realm. This affinity for socializing has led to many humans these days having trace remnants of ancestors in their bodies that weren’t exactly human, sometimes not even close. Many of these ancestors were from other realms and possessed different abilities. Humans are quite skilled in tapping into arcane or divine magic reserves to perform wonderful feats. Other creatures, such as the chyringa, for example, have other specialties, such as shape shifting. When a human passes through a rupture, there is a small chance they develop a gift related to a past ancestor of theirs. The shift between realms kicking this ancestral boon into action.”

“Nice speech. What’s that got to do with me?” Jadon asked.

“Noticed any peculiar things happening since you got back?” Sragos said, leaning forward enough to force Jadon to turn his head to still avoid looking at him.

“Besides being knocked out and taken to a creepy mansion? Speaking of which, who owns this place? You?”

“My employer. I am simply allowed to call it home from time to time. When passing through.”

“Passing through where?” Jadon asked, “It’s a shame because I can’t see a single flipping window in a room this absurdly big.”

“You’ll see in time.”

“What does that even mean? Why not just tell me now if you’re going to tell me? Like where my friend is. Where we are. Why we’re here? I’m on a deadline gods damn it.” Jadon paused. “Are you even listening to me?” he leaned forward in his chair and noticed Sragos had disappeared. He was alone.

How does he move so quietly? Jadon thought, I should have noticed him. If anyone could, I should have noticed him.

His thoughts eventually moved on from his irritation in Sragos; although that did consistently fester in the back of his mind. Guy must have had some old water person in his family tree, Jadon considered, maybe even related to one of the fish people we met in that ocean bubble. The thought helped lighten the mood for Jadon, before he reminded himself that he nearly killed the man. You as good as did it. No, Hunter did the deed. Deed? Is that how you’re going to make murder more palatable? You’re a killer. Unable to leave his chair with being willing to crawl around a mansion on his hands, Jadon stayed put to further berate his choices.

Iarkspur’s head hurt. One moment she had been talking to Jadon, the next… well, she thought that the chyringa had caught up to them and that was her final breath. Stranded in a sewer with Jadon. Of all the people in the group, why Jadon?

Turns out the chyringa hadn’t caught her as it was lying strapped to the table at the other end of the room. Its limbs were clamped down and it had tiny cuts in its arms and legs, with what looked like glass pipes running directly from the cuts, to small glass jars.

Mercifully for the chyringa, Iarkspur didn’t think it had woken up yet. She would hate to think of how it would feel to have those things sticking into you and draining your blood.

She, too, was clamped down to her respective table. The room they were in was bleak. It had counters running along most sides of the room, with the wall with the door, also having a multitude of hooks for hanging various sharp and dangerous looking metal implements. It wasn’t difficult for her to assume that one of those had been used to open up the chyringa for taking its blood.

She heard the doorknob rattle slightly. She closed her eyes and pretended to still be unconscious.

“Why would you think it was a good idea to lock the door?” A woman’s voice said as the door creaked open. Through her eyelids, Iarkspur could tell there was light coming in from the doorway. This room had also been extremely low lit, by one feeble everflame.

“I thought it was better safe than sorry,” a man’s voice argued back, “what if they broke out?”

“Look at them you brick. You think these two could wake up for long enough to break out of their restraints, let alone try the door?”

“No, but-”

“And, if they did, why do you think a flimsy locked door would stop them, if they got out of restraints like these?” Iarkspur could hear the lady knocking on metal, which she could only assume was one of the chyringa’s restraints.

“I’m sorry, Phaenyre, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am, Virrlo.”

There was a little pause in the conversation while Iarkspur heard various metal and glass objects clinking around before the woman’s voice, Phaenyre’s voice, broke the quiet once more.

“Oh, is our lucky little guest awake?” Her scratchy, almost insistently whining voice reached another preening octave as she jeered at the chyringa.

Iarkspur risked a peek over at the three of them. Two creatures, she had to guess were Phaenyre and Virrlo, stood on either side of the chyringa’s bed.

The creatures had rubbery dark skin, tinted a slight navy blue. Both had just as leathery wings protruding from their backs and almost dragging along the floor. They looked like the offspring of thin living gargoyles and vultures. Curled beaks and beady eyes. One was bent over, checking the different pipes, whilst the other was occupied with poking the forehead of the chyringa. The chyringa, on the other hand, was not looking so calm and not nearly as deadly as when it was threatening Jadon and Iarkspur. All four of its eyes were wide open and scanning around the room. Taking in the nightmarish tools on the wall and the wounds in its limbs.

“What have you done to me?” It said, deathly quiet. The one that had been poking its face placed a clawed finger on its lips.

“The question isn’t what we have done to you,” Phaenyre said. “It’s what you’re already doing for us.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Your blood, darling, it’s going to make us rich.” Phaenyre began to cackle, a horrid cawing, choking laugh, that the chyringa cut off with another question.

“And what are you doing with that girl? She isn’t one of my kind,” the chyringa said, as Iarkspur immediately began to fake sleep once more.

“Our source says that she was raised by hags. They never choose to do that unless they’re special. So, we’re going to cut her open and figure out what’s so special. Aren’t we, Virrlo?” The cackling started up again and Iarkspur could only lie there and hope that wherever he was, Jadon was coming up with a plan to get her out of there.

Perhaps Sragos is right, Jadon thought, while I’m sitting here, I might as well consider whether I have a hidden power or not.

Jadon wasn’t sure what went into using a power, or finding out that a person has one. He figured it must be something similar to walking or breathing. As Sragos had separated having powers, like Guy, and being able to use magic, like Ephin and Iarkspur.

Iarkspur can control plants and Guy had water, Jadon thought slowly, looking at the fireplace he was placed in front of. He raised his arm in a similar way to when Iarkspur used her gifts. Nothing happened. He strained harder, the pressure rising in his neck and head as he held his breath, trying to force something to happen. Still nothing.

He didn’t have an extensive knowledge of other possible abilities, considering he had previously never considered anything beyond clever wizards doing magic or priests healing people, as possible.

He tried to heal his legs, holding his hands above them as Ephin used to do when he was repairing his wound. Nothing. Wait, no. He could hear something. Only the slightest cackling. Perhaps he imaged it, but it felt like the hags were laughing at him, even from however far they were away.

Why did he have to have nothing? He only got his legs back to have them taken away for the good of the group. Everyone else was good at something and he needed a chair to get around, which meant his shortest-range style of fighting was redundant. He could hear the cackling again. It sounded so faint that he must have been imagining it, but it felt so real at the same time. So real and so, so annoying.

Jadon was a screw up. He stumbled into mess after mess, dragging all these people with him. This thief was only there for the chyringa and Jadon, but Iarkspur had gotten caught up because of him. She was right. Arledge died because he brought Jackson up in a rage. Guy died because he couldn’t trust Jadon, even as he had said he would not snitch on the others. Now Iarkspur was about to answer her own question of ‘who was next’. He didn’t deserve powers. He couldn’t tell if he was sadder or angrier. The tears brewing in his eyes bubbled up either way, regardless of the decision. He didn’t deserve these allies he had dragged in. They didn’t deserve him. Iarkspur definitely didn’t deserve him and his tormenting ways. Whatever situation she was in was because of him.

He heard the cackling again. Cackling below. It wasn’t hags. It was closer to birds. They were in this building. Jadon got Iarkspur into this and he would get her out, legs or no legs be damned.

Jadon pushed himself off the chair, determined to make it right to Iarkspur, even if he had to crawl there. However, he did not drop as expected. He looked down and his arms had lengthened to be long enough to walk him across the floor at his normal eye level. As he watched, they continued to expand until they were proportionately muscled, as much as they were long. The rest of his body dangled between his two huge, almost whole person-sized arms. The coat and shirt he had been wearing were both ripped off as his gigantic shoulders burst the seams.

Jadon shook his head and looked down again, hoping he wasn’t dreaming. Well that is both a pleasant surprise and horrifyingly gross, he thought happily before stomping his way to the door to find his friend.