Mezir threw Amberoin’s pack beneath her head and held Korrin’s hands on the thrashing woman’s temples. The young woman’s eyes still projected some odd fuzzy images onto the ceiling above but she was bucking less and less wildly. Ta’K’s foot jerked and sent a chair towards Mezir which he pushed aside with his metal arm. It landed by a slack-jawed patron of the bar who promptly sprinted out of the front doors. He hoped the guild still had scouts about to ensure he wasn’t leaving only to bring others back with him, though given the conditions of the lower level… it was unlikely.

One problem at a time. Prioritize, Mezir!

“Yell for me if she starts to choke on foam or vomit… or anything else changes.” Mezir motioned upwards and gave a thumbs up. He didn’t wait for Korrin to respond, there wasn’t enough time. They needed to keep Amberosin and Ta’K stable long enough for the seizing to pass entirely. Then he could worry about people’s feelings. Then and only then, Mezir could worry about the hauntingly familiar images on the ceiling.

Mezir jumped forth and grabbed one of Ta’K’s wrapped legs to stop its indiscriminate kicking, his metal right arm clamped onto the other leg and lifted, hard. The wrapped young man flew upwards into Mezir’s iron grip, completely upside down.

He’s already this much thinner?!

Ta’K’s legs felt like they would break if he squeezed too hard. With just a little more care than before, Mezir turned the sickly feeling young man right side up and held him in more of a stern embrace, rather than with an iron grip. He could feel an immense heat cascading off of the seizing man that attached to his skin and seemed to travel upwards.

Essence? Shit.. Shit! His es-sickness isn’t regressing?!

Mezir’s neck began glowing a bright, blazing red beneath his skin as he willed forth his own supply of essence. A golden light followed the red, forcing it downwards against the invisible invaders that climbed his body. He knew what would happen if it got into his mind; any caster could be immobilized, or worse if touched by infected essence at the brain stem. It was an ugly occurrence. Even with Mezir’s meritable casting, however, he couldn’t avoid the connection that he and Ta’K made at the colliding of their essence.

Mezir saw the young brothers on their last hunt as if he was an unseen spectator just above. Mezir found he was free to fly and roam about as he pleased, so long as the young Ta’K himself was still relatively close. He knew Amberosin would not be having as easy a time swimming through Ta’K’s memory, at the mercy of events from Ta’K’s perspective. As if they were one.

His ghost-like form shuddered inside the memory scape at the thought of Amberosin shaking. Those unnatural beams bursting from her eyes... He went cold as he saw the events she would be displaying on the ceiling of the guild house unfold right in front of him. Clear as crystal in the savage morning light. Mezir could do nothing as he watched the two boys speed towards an inevitable doom but that did not mean he didn’t wish to. He had been here before, in another’s memory, and knew there was nothing to be done.

So he watched. Every moment. He absorbed everything and stored it in small pockets of essence within him. Mezir saw the moment Lord White landed, just before Ta’K incinerated the pack of dreadbeast and their Alpha Mater. He wound about the man and observed him intently as White simply stared at the young Ta’Jir’s remains, unmoving. Unspeaking. Dead silent. Even when he looked over to a crawling Ta’K whose framework eye shone brilliantly blue, he didn’t say a word. Just shook his head and turned away. A soldier approached him then and Mezir heard Lord White nearly whispering to the man.

“To the mines…. And take his hands once you’re there or else we shall surely regret our actions today.”

The soldier gave one nod, held up some odd looking contraption with tubes running to the man's back, alight with the shine of pure translucent essence. The sight sent an enraged sickness through Mezir as he recognized it to be the blasters White had manufactured, using Ta’ methods no less, in secret. Had he known what they would be used for…

It didn’t matter. The soldier walked over to Ta’K still inching toward his brother’s body at the feet of Lord White and slammed his heel on the young boy's head.

Mezir came back to his own body still held tight around Ta’K but the boy was thrashing less now. The Bleeding as scholars had referred to it only accompanied the most severe cases of es-sickness. He must have been casting much, much more than Mezir had assumed.

Silly boy.

Mezir held Ta’K close like a sleeping child and listened to his heartbeat. The man’s bandages were soaked in sweat, indeed even through the wrappings Mezir felt the heat of a fever, but his heart was beating strong. He gave the boy a few days rest before his body began “repairing” itself. Ta’K wouldn’t get all of his muscle or mass back without some work, but he would live.

He felt himself shedding tears over the poor tortured young man he held in his arms and he did nothing to stop it. The torrents came and cut through Mezir like the finest Trallenblade money could buy, sent him to his knees with a soundly sleeping Ta’K cradled to him as the big man rocked on his knees. A sob came from behind him, nearly as loud as his own.

Amberosin was coming to. Korrin, bless the befuddled young woman, was holding her close, mimicking Mezir with a look of pure panic on her face.

Not used to being on the other side, eh Kori?

Mezir let out a robust, hearty laugh and sent tears flying everywhere. Amazed at how much one person could change in such a short time. Himself not excluded. It was a wonder anyone recognized each other after wars or strife… no one was the same. Not after something as widespread and jarring as the Fracturing.

Does father even realize how he has traumatized and betrayed all the generations of Noctra to come! His right arm was clattering, rattling in a rage that longed to escape. But no.

Compassion matters more. More than vengeance. More than justice. Just... more.

Mezir’s shaking arm stopped all at once and he could feel his own rapid breathing slow in time with Ta’K’s. Peeking over at Amberosin and Korrin the big man couldn’t help himself. In one quick motion Mezir turned, slipped Ta’K to his right side, and scooped up the two young women on his left. Weeping atop their beautiful little heads.

“Uh. Mezir? We’ve got… another problem.”

***

Patri eyed the small crowd hunched over together, crying in the middle of the bar floor. Even Korrin seemed to have saltine pools building in her eyes. Sweat beaded down Patri’s forehead and he knew that Mezir knew it was not all from running up the long staircase from below. He’d not been as quiet with Senfe as he had hoped to be. Mezir was blubbering but still took the time to give Pat a quick smirk and wink- well, what Patri thought was a wink. The man was truly bawling. Never thought I’d live to see the day...

“What is it Patri, we are celebrating here! They’re both going to live!”

Patri blanched. What the hell has been going on up here?! “Uh, right, just as excited about that as you are, believe me, but the thing is-”

A gust of wind and the sound of sliding rubble announced “the thing’s” arrival outside of the Tainted’s bar. I must be old- those steps used to only take me a few minutes to come up.

“Ah… well, the thing is here. I suggest you get ready old friend, not too many here in fighting shape besides you, I’d say.” He gave Mezir a sad, serious look.

Mezir was already up, tears dried. Short, jagged blade with a crescent curve drawn When had he stood? I can’t believe he still has that old sword.

He was staring at the door. They were all staring at the door.

Amberosin tried to stand herself but a gentle hand from a watery-eyed Korring stopped her. They both knelt next to a soundly sleeping, very thin-looking, ‘Silent One’.

The air in here got real tense all of a sudden. What a fucking trip these past few days have been… and for fucksake I’ve got to figure out that kid's name.

Patri went and stood beside Mezir, his injured shoulder back, blade in his good hand ready to strike. He wasn’t the best fighter around but Patri wasn’t about to take an enemy coming into his bar laying down.

Especially not in front of-

Mezir De Blancana. Teardrop mask. Golden trim adorning a pristine white cape. The imposter Mezir who had helped solidify White’s suffocating reign stepped through the doors.

He was holding the mask in his hands, blazing scarlet red hair falling in front of light russet skin tinged with a subtle red. His eyes as green as the clearest emerald.

“Hello, Mezir. I’ve missed you quite terribly.”

Who is that….