Patri had no idea where he was.

When the bandaged stranger had gone down, laughing of all fucking things, Patri was prepared to move forward and strike. None too surprising to him, Amberosin was much- much quicker. Sola’s morning rays had come to full fruition and through the shop window the glare was enough to make Patri’s eyes feel like they were searing, so it was fortunate the young woman was there or their silent friend probably would have met his end. Seconds after his vision began to return, Patri saw yet another blindingly bright light; emerald with specks of crackling silver in and throughout had blasted from the bandaged stranger without warning. The next thing Patri knew, he was sprinting down the street like a man 30 years his junior, pure terror guiding him at least three roads over before he slammed himself into a nearby wall and gasped for air.

His lungs had not been prepared for the heat. Or the salt.

Patri coughed until he felt like he was going to collapse and sucked in loud, briny breaths that rode like flames down to his abused innards.

Lords and Legends I can’t be this out of shape.

Yet there he was, heaving after what would have been a meager jog to him in days long gone. Patri was nearer to the port, hence why each pitiful gasp stung his gums with saline daggers even as his lungs acclimated, not even one block down from the square. One of the few parts of Blancana Patri never visited. Couldn’t stand that awful sight. Too many of his friends hung there swaying like wasted meat in a butchery… Amberosin’s mother hung there. Nearly all of them had lost a piece here or there but the skeletons surprisingly remained largely intact, as had the stench. It was enough to keep Patri away.

Shcuri’s shop was two roads back, to the left. He had to get back to the others, if they were still alive, and make damn sure that they didn’t end up in that square too. Patri’s legs were aching from the adrenaline burst that stole him away from the shop in the first place but he pushed on, keeping a paced sprint and breathing in two breaths, out one; a trick he’d learned over the years to ensure he didn’t end up completely winded… exactly like he was. Couldn’t well save the day if he keeled over upon arrival, now could he? Exercising about as much casting talent as he had in his whole body, Patri willed his legs to move just a little faster, his lungs to breathe a little stronger. He’d never really been taught about using essence but willing hard enough seemed to work well enough when he’d needed it before. Didn’t matter what it was, where it came from, or where it finally ended up. Patri didn’t have the skill to worry about such things. Not like his silent friend.

Patri stopped dead in his tracks just around the corner from Schuri’s shop and did his best to recall how the stranger had done it all before. He kneeled, ignoring painful sobs of unsteady breath tearing through his aged lungs, placed his hands on the ground, and willed with all his might that something, anything come to him in his time of need.

Please. Please. Anything.

Flustered red with a pathetic frustration, Patri raised his fist and slammed it into the ground beside him, caught completely by surprise when his knuckles landed in a warm, thick puddle that splashed crimson onto his sleeve. Shattering glass in the distance sounded like some far off echo as his eye traveled the path of red from his sleeve, to the puddle, and finally to a blood soaked lump laying on the ground. Not far from the lump was a person hunched over and breathing in shallow spurts; a filthy young woman with wild hair and an eye patch groaned as she turned over and saw Patri. She tried to jump back and away using her arms but slipped in the building pool around her, sending a stump of a leg into the air that still steamed at the edges.

Patri only stared as she fell back and slipped into unconsciousness. A final rest, should she stay in the roads as she was. The blood pounded in his ears as Patri contemplated what to do and through the muffled beating of his heart he heard it; footsteps speeding towards him, at least two sets, at a full sprint. He raised his head just in time to meet with Amberosin’s knees as she slammed into him, knocking them both down as the bandaged stranger jumped and cleared Patri, as well as the bleeding girl only a few feet away. Patri was beginning to think their new friend may be a bit of a show off.

“Ah fuck a dreadbeast in it’s hind- what the hell are you doing Patri?!” Amberosin rubbed her head as she stood and glared in his direction. Her bulging pack strapped around her once more made her look like a greedy demon come to smite him for his wrong doings; namely, getting in her way.

“Aye! You know you are supposed to look forward when you run you half-”

A searing heat tore through Patri’s left shoulder, ending his insult with a pained scream as he fell forward into the blood already there from the strange girl with the eye patch. The metallic taste mixed with his own despair made Patri want to retch but he figured he’d best hold on to that apple from earlier, as it was evidently going to his last meal. He swallowed hard to knock any bile down and turned onto his back where he collapsed entirely against his own will.

“Oh, son of a bitch! Patri?!” Amberosin was down beside him completely unfazed by the slick crimson smearing across her shins and knees.

“I’m fine, I’m fine gi- agh. Nope. Yeah it’s alright, yeah?” Patri struggled to lean forward and take a look at his wound.

His left shoulder now sported a hole roughly the size of a Blancanan silver, clean and even, all the way through. The wound pulsated with bright purple and orange essence. He knew if he looked behind him he would find a coin aglow with residual essence, cast with enough oomph that it was probably embedded a few inches into the marble road, which would repair itself in the next ten minutes or so. It was a common enough trick that nearly any pissant alive could pull it off but the pure force behind it was something else. Patri couldn’t remember what purple and orange essence were typically used for but if the incessant screaming in his shoulder was any indication, it was nothing good. It was also moving. Fast.

“Shit. Shit! One second Pat, just one second and you’ll be fine.” Amberosin was rifling through her pack, lying through her teeth for his sake. She didn’t have enough time for such pleasantries. Whomever had shot him down was sure to be aiming for her next.

“Amb... Amberosin! Stop. You need to leave. Since when have you ever given a damn about ole’ Pat to begin with?” His chuckle was forced. And wet. Thick with warmth.

“Shut up. Fuck you- shut up Pat!” She was crushing some leaves from a small pouch together and making a pale paste.

“You shouldn’t yell at a dying man. Heh- ugh,” she’d started smearing the thick paste from the leaves onto his wound, “aye Creators arse- look. Amberosin!”

She stopped smearing and looked at his eyes, tears filling her own. Patri could feel the essence crawling towards his chest, using his veins as tunnels to enact his own demise. The growing lines of color beneath his skin all but confirmed it.

“Look. Amberosin… I am so sorry. For before. For everything. Your mother-”

There it was. Just a quick glint in the corner of his eye.

A second coin flying through the air. Time was slowing as Patri approached death, apparently. He could use that. As quickly as he could he willed his heavy, fatigued body to move and by some miracle, it worked. Just when he needed it. His own glow of essence shone bright red beneath his skin with what he was sure was green streaks throughout. It was more than enough. Patri sprang forward and pulled Amberosin down in a quick, strong embrace, just out of the way of the second coin which was close enough to them that it nearly grazed his face.

“So this is it? This is how Patri dies. Not too bad, all things considered. And ya’ know… I swear I smell cinnamon.”

Cinnamon always reminded him of Senfe