She was Helena once more. Spry, wide-eyed, and excited beyond all measure, the sixteen-year-old prodigy had just arrived at Stroma Labs. Helena had made the journey in one of White’s famed shuttles, soaring at least a few nautical above a seemingly endless ocean, far away from the mainland of Noctra. She didn’t know how fast they had been traveling, nor for how long, but by the time they cleared the leagues of seas below them and first spotted Stroma Labs, the young girl was still in a state of shock.

Helena had been gawking for nearly the whole ride.

Initially, she could only watch out the windows, amazed at their height. At how everything looked so different from on high. The Wilders, while still immense and terrifying, had a definite end. A limit that she had never even fathomed back home. Peppered throughout the gargantuan forests consuming most of Noctra’s viable land Helena spotted hundreds- possibly thousands- of ruins. Ruins, unbelievably tall, incomparably grand, and equally as robust. Buildings- or towers, she supposed- with square divots and pockets of empty space nearly reached the bottom of their shuttle. None of the guards or servants aboard the shuttle had seemed concerned, which left Helena alone in her shriek of terror as they passed the first of the ruins.

You are not so naive, Helena Seires. You’ve read every one of Argonia Slib’s current volumes of The Lands and Wonders of Noctra. You know of his theories on past civilizations that had tamed the Wilders. Though… speculation is much different from visual confirmation…. No, no excuses. You will be the youngest theorist and scientist in all of Stroma Labs. Pull yourself together!

After stifling down her embarrassment Helena’s focus had shifted to the interior of White’s miraculous craft, hoping to avoid any more humbling displays. Besides, the seas were… well the seas- even the famed historian Argonia had yet to discover anything of value in what little he could explore. Though, Helena gawked no less at the interior of the shuttle than she had at the Wilder’s or ruins therein.

The cabin where Helena sat had walls made from some form of pearlescent framework with colorful lines flashing beneath it here and there, most often blue and green. It was obviously imbued with essence and had running tech beneath the dazzling slabs of what was ultimately just mastercrafted metal adorned with climbing plants that sprouted buds of pure white with yellow sticks of pollen sticking up in the middle. Lovely blancwilla flowers. Invasive as ever in the wild, funny enough. Helena was not naive enough to believe she could guess as to what kind of tech it was beneath the lovely walls, she was sure, however, that she would soon find out. Stroma Labs designed and manufactured nearly all of White’s machines- based on the Lord’s own request and schematics, of course. Helena knew that included the shuttles of which there had been more and more of over the past year or two.

Argonia has a few words about those too…

Just like her, the man harbored doubts about Lord White’s motive and intent, and neither of them saw him as a god, as so many Blancanan’s seemed to. Helena, however, believed in the man’s intellect and resources. At the time she just wanted more knowledge, more understanding. The larger than life Lord White was her ticket to such things.

He was also waiting for her at the labs when she landed. That had not been part of the itinerary. Despite her doubt in the man’s integrity, his power and position were facts, so Helena checked herself in an oversized, spectacularly flourished mirror before exiting the shuttle. She had the loveliest shade of deeply caramel skin with a light rosy cadence on her rounded cheeks. Large, oval eyes hazel with blue and brown indicated her distant Ta’ relations. Helena was gorgeous and had always been proud of the fact. She would be no different in front of Lord White. And she wasn’t

White loved her forwardness, her confidence, and intellect. He promised her great things and gave the young woman a personal tour of the labs on the first ten levels; however, by the end of their time together he had grown solemn. Quiet and a bit more distant than before. He’d finally sighed and spoke his mind.

“I… I wanted to show you the fantastic future you will have here. The opportunities to learn, to explore- to change the world! I wanted you to know that you have great things ahead and…. And I am stalling. Again.” White sucked in a deep breath beneath his mask, shaking his head side to side. “Helena. The night you left your family behind…. There was an accident, we believe. A great fire tore through the structure and left nothing but soot and ash. I am so sorry.”

Helena had no time to react, to process his words before White had smothered her in a full embrace. His chest was heaving in what appeared to be genuine sobs of anguish. She was streaming tears herself before she had even realized, pressed into Lord White’s cape. Helena swore she could smell smoke and burning wood.

Just the shock. She’d reasoned. Like a fool.

That night she cried until it felt her throat would bleed and watched the morning rise through from her quarters. Helena did this every morning for months, unmoving until someone finally came and knocked at her door. When she did finally rise she buried herself in research, studying stalagmites and stromatolites to try and discern the lives of those from Noctra’s distant past. It was all that kept her distracted from her own.

That was… until Ragoth arrived.

The gangly, fiery-haired young boy with soft russet skin arrived by Lord White’s side looking like a lost puppy. Wide-eyed and terrified as she had been upon her arrival. By the time they met, Helena had already been at Stroma Labs for three years, working alone for much of her time. What little interaction she had was with other scientists and researchers at least double her age, most of whom didn’t enjoy having such a young, inexperienced, colleague in their midst. Ragoth was neither a scientist nor double her age, in fact, he was a year younger and a whole head shorter than Helena. And he respected her opinion greatly, nearly hung on her every word and accepted that she was a more than an adequate researcher.

It did not take long for Helena to fall for the meek boy, though it was evident his heart had already been smitten with another. Mezir De Blancana. Mezir who was the only publicly accepted child and heir of Lord White. Mezir who had already made his mark as a Legend across all of Noctra.

Mezir who pounded at Heria’s door, breaking her from the trance-like state she had been stuck in for hours, reliving a life she had all but forgotten. Heria didn’t answer. Not even after Mezir spoke to her through the door. He was muted, more by her own state than anything, but she was able to make out a single word before the world outside of her room grew silent again.

“Tainted.”

Tainted. Except… he said it ‘Tayented” Tayen.... That accent… is not Mezir’s!

Heria was up drying her face before she knew it. She tore her door open so hard it came off of its hinges. Heria didn’t have the time to deal with it so she tossed it aside and sprinted down the hall. She was on the fourth floor of the estate and servants were flooding up and down the stairs, her target nowhere in sight. He was probably already out of the building.

Fast fucker!

She opted to skip the steps and simply jumped over the railing. Jumping saved her a lot of time but also meant she had an excess of eyes set on her. Heria landed, rolled, and bolted for the massive doors of the estate. As she was storming by the study, however, she heard the voice of Lord White.

“Oh, Heria,!I do believe we need to talk, dear.”

She stopped and clenched her heavy fists but did not turn to face the study. Not again, White. You will not take him from me again!

Heria hoped with all her might that she wasn’t losing her mind, that her revelation wasn’t born of her sleepless turmoil as she burst out onto the steps before White’s estate and disappeared.

Lord White stood in the middle of the now dented estate doors, shaking his head.

“I was just going to tell her to be careful- Plenty of dangerous characters out there tonight.” He flipped his hand upwards nonchalantly and turned to go back inside. All the Indentured around White chuckled along with their Lord, bowed low, and missed the split second when he paused just before stepping through the threshold. White muttered something and a shadow bolted out, but a blur.

A blur heading in the direction Heria had gone. The estate doors slammed shut followed by a single *thud* of the internal locks slamming together.

***

That smug bastard. That's what had tipped him off. That was how he knew Mezir was back. And if Mezir was back, he’d visit that awful guild house down south, he knew. So, after banging on Heria’s door pleading her to come with him for more than a few minutes he had jumped out of a window at the estate near her quarters to keep his going out a secret. He yelled “Tainted” in his native accent in hopes she would understand.

Ragoth fell to his knees in the grubby guild house of the Tainted Thieves guild and dropped Mezir’s mask.

The true Mezir was before him, alive and well. A sight he’d hoped he would see again. A hope he had been holding on to without any belief in its possibility. He sobbed, uncaring of the crowd of familiar and strange faces alike. The man beside Mezir faltered, his raised blade falling to his side. Mezir didn’t hesitate, he never did.

Before Ragoth had the chance to look up with his puffy, sullen eyes to be sure he wasn’t mistaken, Mezir’s arms were around him. Squeezing. Embracing Ragoth as he stood, holding the sad, fiery-haired imposter a good two heads above the ground.

And there he held Ragoth as he cried, soothing him with a soft “sh..” for just a moment.

This is the man I fell for so long ago… I was such a poor imitation. He sobbed even harder when Mezir placed him on the ground, ignoring the confused faces of those around them.

“Mez…. I am so sorry. I tried. I did. I did everything-”

“You did everything that was asked of you, as instructed.”

I lied. I sniveled. I fled. I left the fighting and the violence to others. I did nothing that I was instructed. I only barely survived.

Ragoth made an awful sound as he sucked in tears and burning breath all at once. No one moved or said a word, save for a fit, sweaty woman with curly hair who came from the stairs to his left and stood next to the befuddled friend that had been by Mezir. He found himself wishing he had the mask on because he knew her face from… somewhere.

Mezir gave her a quick glance himself as she whispered into the man’s ear. He looked sick, instantly laden with a fresh sweat and emitting the musk of an anxious man.

Ragoth felt Mezir's large, powerful hand on his shoulder and followed it up the man’s smooth arm. It was more auburn than it had been before, not so much a dark brown as a red-russet.

Age has changed it, only barely. I like the beard… He could think of nothing to say.

“Ragoth,” no malice, no hate, no scheme… just his name, “I know we have much to discuss… unfortunately, we also have much to do. And, if Patri’s face tells us anything,” Mezir motioned towards the sickly looking fellow who had stood to fight beside him, “I think we ought to be leaving soon.”

The man, Patri, who looked as if he was just about to say something before Mezir turned to him with his finger raised and mouth open, lowered his arm, cleared his throat, and nodded. “White’s sent someone. Likely after… uhm-”

“Ragoth.” Of course White did. Of course, he knew I left. I jumped out of the window for the love of…. Oh no. Heria. He stood, leaving Mezir’s hand on his shoulder. He’d seen Amberosin on the floor there with Korrin. Amberosin had fresh tears trickling down her face from beneath her goggles. Ragoth was unable to face her. Soon. But now, we’ve got to keep her alive.

He kept his eyes to the floor as he spoke.

“I am sure it was someone sent after me as well. I’m sorry… however, if it is who I think, there shouldn’t really be much of a problem. I advise that-”

They were all moving already, except the sleeping, colorfully bandaged, thin-looking young man laid on the floor who Ragoth would surely be asking about later- who Amberosin stood and scooped up in her arms, face devoid of any new tears that were just shedding so freely. Korrin held two packs about her shoulders. Patri and his lady friend were already out of the door, Patri stopping to wave the others through as he looked around frantically. Mezir disappeared and quickly reappeared holding a sleeping Lili-Bon. It was all too fast for Ragoth to question at that point and before he could even begin Mezir had grabbed his arm and started running.

He’s using the metal one… the replacement for the one I took. Ragoth’s tears were flying on the winds behind them as they raced towards the wall of the southern border.

They ran through the courtyard that was still stained red from the massacre he was pretty sure Amberosin’s baggage had committed. It could have been Mezir, he supposed. Quite the crowd I’ve fallen in with. Ragoth smiled like a mad man despite himself as they raced into the Wilders outside the border without looking back, Mezir leading them onward. Just like before. Just like it should be. Just as he imagined, except...

Except this time Ragoth could hear a fierce crashing behind him, getting closer even as they ran faster, into thicker swathes of forest. It sounded like a raving beast. The beast’s roaring almost sounded like words. It reminded him of something… What was I saying before we started to run? Who was coming? He was so distracted by the nagging feeling that his speed slowed enough Mezir had him dangling by his chest plate which made his limbs flop like a dead man in the wind.

Ragoth could see Mezir smiling as he led the others through the Wilders with him flailing like a ragdoll, enjoying himself to some degree more than he should. Ragoth’s mind went all to putty at the sight of Mezir’s smile, just as he had when they were younger. He lost his train of thought and smiled back at the most beautiful person he’d ever known.

That smug bastard.