Syra’s trek to Morin's room left the halls quiet with nothing but sleeping bodies behind them.

"Keep the young ones outside," she hugged the wall with a light grip on the doorknob, "they don’t need to see this."

Piper grabbed at her arm making her pause, "But I do."

Syra looked down at the boy in his sagging pants and shirt that frayed at the edges. His narrowed eyes leered up at her, their stifled flames finally allowed to burn.

"Willow?" Syra turned to the young girl behind her.

"I’ll watch them." Willow released Syra's gown and herded the others away from the door.

The door banged against the wall as Syra charged into the room, finding a startled Morin hunched over books and bottles at his desk.

"Who the hell let you out?" He leapt from his chair and dashed for the staff leaning against a cabinet.

"I did." Piper slid around Syra and loosed a dart from his bow, striking Morin in the neck.

Morin flinched from its sting, then plucked it out without as much as a fumble. His gaze wavered a moment, but light shimmered just beneath his skin and he tossed the dart aside with a sneer.

"Piper, you should know better than to use my own work against me. Your little tricks won't work." He dashed across the room and reached for his staff.

His fingers just grazed its wooden shaft when a thin bolt of light struck him in the side, sending him into a twitching fit on the floor.

"But this will." Syra stood wide-legged in front of Piper, the shockstick gripped tight in her hands. Its morakii tip gleamed and sparked as light veined up the shaft from her hands.

"You little bitch," he coughed, leaning against his staff on wobbly legs, "I'm gonna—"

Another bolt shot from the stone as Syra sent the burning energy surging through the staff. Cracks splintered as light pulsed through the wood, and Syra let the arc sear into him long enough to bring his face to the floor.

"Stay down."

Piper watched in awe as Morin convulsed and wretched, his spasms rubbing his face in the puddle of vomit.

"You're a disgrace," Syra hissed, teeth bared. "Filth. Vile scum to be picked off a boot with a stick."

His mouth wagged and air hissed in spurts as his twitching cut off any words.

"Enough of your bullshit," she said, handing Piper her staff.

Her outstretched hands gripped the air and his outline shimmered. Inch by inch he rose from the floor. Syra's veins glowed under her skin and she winced from their burning, but her glare remained fixed on the man hovering in the air.

"Tie him up."

Piper grabbed the ropes from the chest by the bed and knotted Morin's wrists to the bed posts.

"Nice and tight now, just how he likes it."

Syra released her grip and Morin dangled like a grub on fishing line.

"This is your chance," she said to Piper, stepping back, "take it or leave it. Either way, you live with it."

Should I be letting him do this? Syra asked herself as she watched Piper’s frail body beat and lash and slice the monster hung above the bed. Is this…is this even right? Maybe I should’ve just knocked him out like the rest and been done with it.

Her mind paused and a deep, firm voice lifted its head, No. Not enough.

You don’t have time for this, the voice's twin argued back. They’re looking for you.

I don’t care. They can wait.

This is stupid, stop. Knock him out and let the city council take care of him.

The council won't do shit. And I'm not about to let him pick up where he left off.

But, this isn’t you.

Oh, but he deserves it.

She stuffed the small voice into its box and stepped back to take in the full image of Morin hung bruised and bloodied in front of his victims. The bandage on his neck was gone, and her teeth marks shone in a glistening glory. Yet they paled in comparrison to Piper's handiwork.

"Your turn," Piper held out the red scalpel to her.

She stared down at it, debating if his screams would make her feel better. He certainly seemed to enjoy hers. But the blade was dulled and lost her attention. It was the bottle of thick, shimmering, red liquid sitting proudly atop his desk that stole her eye.

"Ninety-percent pure, huh?" She plucked the bottle up and gave it a swirl, "Must be pretty potent." She took a syringe from its rack and filled it—slowly—and took her place in front of the dangling alchemist. His once pride-filled eyes now clung to the needle in her hand, and she smirked at how his lips trembled. "Now be still, this might sting a little."

"You crazy cunt! What are you—" Morin’s eyes bulged and he squirmed as the needle dug into his neck. His pupils dilated, his skin glimmered, and his eyes rolled back in near euphoria. His wrinkles faded and his posture straightened. The blush of youth returned to his cheeks, and grew redder, and redder still. Then his face became concerned. Gravely concerned, and he screamed as the skin along his veins sizzled.

"It's too strong," Piper whispered and Syra nodded.

"He wanted ninety-percent pure, and he got it."

All along his body, lines burned through his skin as Syra's blood circulated. He shrieked and writhed, coughing up blood as his skin charred, blistered, and cracked. He convulsed and Syra watched his eyes become bloodshot, then dim as the room quieted.

"It's done." The syringe fell from her hand and she turned away from body, "Now where?"

Piper tossed the scalpel to the floor and calmed his breathing, "To a safehouse. I know the lady who runs it. She'll help."

"Good. Let’s go." Syra grabbed her clothes from the pile by the bed and snatched the pendant from Morin’s neck before slamming the door shut behind her.

***

Piper led Syra and the others through empty streets to a homely cabin of two stories and a small garden. The windows were dark and it took a few knocks for a light to travel from the top window to the door.

"Who on Erd is up at this hour?" A scratchy voice limp with sleep answered the door accompanied by an older woman in a fluffy blue robe.

"Baba?" Syra stared wide-eyed at the woman with a wild bedhead.

"My, my, this is a surprise. What are you--"

Syra threw her arms around Baba and muffled a wail.

"Heavens, dearie, what happened?" Baba cooed, embracing the shaking girl.

Piper stepped forward with a grim face and held out the pendant, "Morin."

Shadows etched across Baba's normally bright face, and she puffed herself up--even her robe seemed to bristle, "That boorish, sick brute! He’s no alchemist at all. A true monster, that one! An outright disgrace to us all."

"That’s what I said." Syra whimpered when her sobs had softened.

Baba patted her on the back and led her through the doorway, "Now, you come right on in and sit down. All of you. Come, come. I’m surprised you’re even standing after going through all that."

The children filed in and huddled together among the chairs and sofa and on the fuzzy rug on the floor, and Baba rummaged around for any spare blanket.

"Here, eat." She laid out a platter of cookies on the table. "You need your energy, and I baked these fresh today. Piper, make the tea. And be sure to add the sundrops--they'll need the extra boost."

She then stopped and looked around, as if suddenly aware of something missing, "Where are the others?"

"Others?" asked Syra from the couch.

"Your siblings, and the broody one."

Syra dropped her half-eaten cookie and shot to her feet, "They’re still out there. They’re probably still looking for me. I have to find them."

Baba took a gentle hold of her and sat her back down. "Hold it right there, missy. You’re not going anywhere. Not like that."

"But I need to let them know where I am. That I’m okay. They might still be on the train--they might already be gone!"

"Sh-sh, don't worry yourself silly. We'll find them. Just not out there."

"What do you mean, not out there? That's where they are: out there." She pointed a shaking finger at the door.

"Drink first." Baba scooted the cup across the table, "You’ll need your strength to do it."

Syra chugged the purple tea in two mouthfuls, "Now what?"

Baba sighed and took the cup from her hands, "Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?"

"I can rest later, but only after we’re all together."

"Alright, then."

Baba scuttled to the hallway closet and took a small pouch and dish from the top shelf.

"Have you ever heard of a familiar?" she asked, lowering herself onto the cushion next to Syra.

The image of the dusty red butterfly fluttered from her memory, "I've heard of them. And I saw Valen's once, but that's all."

"They're simple in theory," Baba set the dish and pouch out on the table, "extensions of consciousness you control from a distance. But can be difficult to master. It requires a good bit of power and focus--you might only have a few minutes before it dissipates."

"Then we better get started, before they get too far away."

Tugging open the pouch, Baba poured the fine sand onto the dish, "The sand acts as the medium for the mana to flow through. Hand?" Baba motioned for Syra's hand and drew a needle from the pouch's ribbon. She gave Syra's finger a quick prick and squeezed a couple drops of blood out onto the sand. "The blood is the conduit, connecting your mind with the familiar."

Syra stared down at the red and gray pile that glittered slightly, "It's...not doing anything."

"Of course, not. A puppet can't move without a puppeteer." Baba shoved Syra fingers into the sand, "So make it move."

The sand was surprisingly warm and made her arm hairs prickle. The inside of her head tickled and her vision went blurry. Warmth surged through her body and her head lolled as her eyes became heavy--as if falling asleep with her eyes open.

"My head feels...fuzzy." Her words came out slow and jarbled.

"Good, it should. Now, focus on what you want it to do. Imagine your siblings, focus on their faces, on their scents, on how they feel."

"How they feel?"

"Their vibration. Tune into that frequency. Use it as a waypoint--as a beakon. And then, follow it."

Their vibration? Oh, like the ripples!

She closed her eyes and sent her mind back to shack. To the room where the kila lay limp and panting. Where she felt the air buzz and sway in waves. The warm, comforting waves from Cassius; the waves of heat from Petra; and the soothing waves from Aidan.

Her fingertips tingled and she felt the sand vibrate and shift within the dish. But she dared not open her eyes in fear she might lose focus.

"That's it, keeping going. Imagine their faces. Link each frequency with a face. Then a voice, then a scent. Anything you can use to identify them."

Where are you?

Syra placed herself back on the train. Watched the sweat drip from Cassius' brow. Heard Petra's heavy breathing and snarky retorts, smelled the blood on Aidan's shirt.

And then she was staring up at a ceiling, but her eyes remained closed.

Where is this?

She looked about the ceiling, catching nothing familiar. She followed the edge of the ceiling down to a wall. But in front of the wall--and obstructing her vision a slight--were hands. And beyond the hands was a girl. A girl with messy brown hair and closed eyes.

"You see now, don't you?"

Syra heard Baba's voice, but not to her left where she was sitting. But from her right where she leaned forward over the dish, staring down at her.

"This is really weird." Syra's voice did not come from the girl on the couch, but instead hummed through the cloud of mist around her field of vision.

Baba chuckled and left the couch, "It always is, the first time."

Syra watched from the dish as Baba cracked open the front door.

"Now go. Hold on to those beacons and find them. You don't have long."

She went to stand but the mist seemed to move on its own, shifting in whichever direction she wanted to go.

"Hurry now. Fly," Baba waved from the doorway.

"Fly?" Looking from Baba, to her body on the sofa, to the bluging eyes of the children below her, she saw a shimmer in a mirror. Hovering mid-air, a lavender bird flapped its long, slender wings in the reflection.

"Yes, fly. Now go, go. Time's a wastin'."

Syra's focus returned to the open door and the sky beyond it. And with a mere thought, she was out the door, soaring through the street, and up into the air.

This is amazing!

The city streets became thin lines as she rose on the night wind. A splattering of tiny lights wound off into the distance and, for a moment, Renguard became a beautiful sight. It was the pillar of light that shimmered on the mist that called her back to her mission.

"Use it as a waypoint--as a beacon." Baba's voice echoed to her.

That must be them!

Downward she dove, soaring across the rooftops like a seabird over the waves. The beacon grew larger as she neared, but the farther she went, the weaker she felt.

I must...too far...can't...have to. Her thoughts passed by in a jumble as the connection strained.

Almost...there.

She focused on the halo of light wandering between the buildings, until three figures ran down the street under her.

"Syra!" She heard Petra call out.

"Shh! We can't get caught, too." Cassius hushed at her.

"I'm here!" Syra screamed through the mist and banked into the alleyway.

All three looked up with wide, searching eyes, startled by the familiar voice.

"What is that?" Petra gripped at her hilt as the shimmering albatross hovered over them.

"Come," it said, in a firm but light-hearted tone.

"Syra?" Aidan stepped forward, examining the swirling body of dust and light that threatened to fall apart.

"Come," she repeated, feeling her energy draining and her connection weakening, "this way."

***

The familiar was a skeleton of crumbling dust by the time Baba opened the door for them.

“’Bout time you showed up.” She smirked behind the creaking door as they caught their breath on the front stoop.

“Baba?” The party spoke in startled unison.

“You sent the bird?” Petra pointed a finger, not particularly happy at the thought of being tricked.

But Baba’s smile remained, “Nope. She did.”

Surprise faded to relief as she pulled back the door to reveal Syra drooped over the living room table, her face pale but with a wide grin greeting them.

“Syra!” the twins cheered from the doorway.

Without a word, Aidan dropped his pack and stormed into the room, eyes fixed on the girl scrambling to her feet.

Shit, here comes the lecture.

His narrowed eyes made her falter and she flinched when his hands rose to her face. There was a rush of wind, and a tightening around her arms and back, and the sudden smell of warmth and sweat.

“Where were you?” Aidan’s voice strained from above her, where his chin rested atop her head. She could smell the fearscent on his skin.

Startled by his closeness, her words did not come. She stood rigid and silent, her mind fumbling to put the past hours into comprehensible speech.

“I’m sorry.” A squeak wisped past her lips.

“Sorry? About what?” He craned his head to see her face, but she did not look up from his chest. “Syra, what happened?” He took her by the arms and stared down at her, unable to hide his concern. But fear made his words sharp and she stumbled to form her own.

“Easy, Aidan,” Cassius hurried to his sister’s side and placed a calming hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “She’s scared enough as it is. Yelling’s not going to help.”

“I’m not—” he caught himself and stepped back, “I’m sorry. I was just…worried, is all.”

“We all were,” Cassius pulled Syra into his arms and she began to tremble, “but we’re all here now.” He wiped a small tear from her eye and smiled down, “That’s what’s important, right?”

Syra gave a nod and took a deep breath to settle her nerves before setting herself on the couch.

“Now that we are all here,” Petra said, stepping into the room and giving its inhabitants a thorough look-over, “why are you here?” She cast her inquiring gaze over Baba, “Don’t you have a shop to run?”

“I do.” Baba closed the door and returned to her teapot, Petra’s accusatory tone sliding away like rain off a duck. “I have to restock sometime, dearie, and this is the center of trade. Plus,” she plunked a second crystal into the pot, “it’s good to have a wide market and Renguard keeps me busy year-round. Tea?”

“I’ll pass.” Petra dropped her pack by the wall and sat next to Cassius, taking a cookie on the way. “But if you’re here on business, then who are they?” She pointed to the gathering of lost, watching eyes that huddled by the fireplace.

“They’re like me.” Syra finally piped up, staring into the purple water in her cup. “They were taken, too.”

The logs burned low as Syra described Morin’s operation: the cages, the children, the draining room with its bottles and tubes and needles, and the theater of happy patrons awaiting their share of the goods. Her goods. Her face was flat and her tone dry, but Cassius held tight to her hand as she divulged their escape and Morin’s fate.

“I killed him,” she finished, her gut wrestling with both satisfaction and guilt. “My blood killed him.”

“Serves the graga right.” Petra stuffed another cookie in her mouth to keep from tainting the younglings’ ears. “I would’ve done much worse.”

“As would I.” Aidan passed a sympathetic gaze across the table to Syra. “You did nothing wrong—you were protecting yourself and these children. Who knows what would’ve happened to them had you not acted.”

His words soothed the knot in her gut, but not the tickling of doubt in the back of her mind. To kill for food or protection was one thing, but the burning urge to see another suffer made her stomach sick. Not just because it felt wrong or because it broke both mage and dragon code, but because for a moment—when true fear enveloped Morin’s eyes right before they rolled back into his head—she was glad.

See, even they agree he deserved it! The small voice cooed like an imp in her ear.

He deserved it, Syra repeated to herself with a long exhale, I had to get us out somehow. A warm wave of relief threatened to settle her nerves before her chest tightened again and she bit her lip in frustration. Then why do I feel so shitty?

The voices went silent at the warm pressure atop her head.

“It’s alright,” Cassius said with his head resting against hers, “I’d be worried if you didn’t feel shitty.”

“Language, Cassius,” Aidan hushed, eyeing the huddle of tiny heads.

Cassius gave no heed and wrapped a firm arm around his sister, “I’m sure they’ve heard worse.”

A weak grin poked out from under Cassius’ arm.

Leave it to Cas to make me feel better.

She couldn’t tell if it was his familiar scent, his warmth, or his empathy at work, but slowly her muscles relaxed and her breathing slowed.

“I just wish there was another way.”

“Well, the only thing that matters now is keeping you all safe.” Baba said, handing Syra a blanket that smelled of soot and herbs.

“What about them?” Aidan asked, seeing only one blanket. “Won’t the children need—”

“The children will be fine, don’t you worry. I have plenty in Edgewood.”

“Edgewood? But that’s days away. How—”

“A witch has her ways.” Baba’s eyes twinkled and she beckoned the children with an outstretched hand. “Come. Let us find you a safe place far from here.”

She nodded to Piper who gathered them up, hand in hand, and herded the lot to the hall closet.

Spying the door, Willow squirmed and pulled away, “No! I don’t wanna go!”

Baba paused to allow the nervousness to die down and looked to Piper.

“Sorry,” Piper knelt down and took Willow’s quivering hand, “nothing good ever came from closed doors.”

He stroked her tiny hand with a gentle thumb and spoke softly, “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

Willow’s eyes darted between Piper and the door, “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been there.”

“Really?” Willow gasped up at him wide-eyed.

“Oh yes!” Piper half-chuckled with a grin. “There’s food and big, warm beds with soft blankets, and a garden that sometimes sparkles at night.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I promise.” He ruffled her hair with a quick pat.

“What’s a garden?” Ten asked from the back of the group.

Piper paused, but his pity soon evaporated, “How about we go find out?”

With the children calmed, Baba stepped up to the door.

“Do you know what I love about doors?” she asked them. “They can go anywhere, if you have the right key.”

With quick precision, Baba’s finger traced a circle upon the door, leaving a glowing ring in its path. Runes emerged from the ring and organized themselves in intervals like a dial. Of these, Baba swiped five into the ring and onto each she pressed a finger. Baba’s fingers sank into the wood and she twisted her hand as if turning a doorknob. She winced and the door hummed. As she retracted her hand, the children gasped at her bloodied fingers. Blood threaded through the grains of wood as the glow took on a bluish hue. The dial of runes spun, stopped, and spun again, back and forth until the humming stopped. The glowing sigils faded, seeping into the wood, and the door clicked open.

Baba breathed a sigh at the sight of the living room in her Edgewood cottage, “Here we are.”

The entire room was silent in awe, even Syra.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Baba scolded the young mage. “You act like you’ve never seen a bridge spell before.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Syra said sheepishly, “but performing them is reserved for postgrads and Magus.”

“Hmph,” Baba scoffed but withheld her lecture on intellectual freedom, “that’s fine, I suppose. Can’t have students losing fingers.”

Baba led the children through the doorway, but Piper held back a moment.

"Thank you," he said to Syra, his face finally gaining some color. "I'm so sorry I brought you into all this, but...you really did save us. We won't forget it."

Syra gave him a weak grin and waved him goodbye, "Just stay safe from now on, alright?"

"You got it."

"Alright, then, your turn." Baba patted Piper on the back and he, too, vanished through the doorway.

"You two, as well." She waved the twins over, "I could use some help getting them all to sleep. Plus, your ledges are ready and waiting."

Baba's grin only gained her a groan from Petra, but Cassius strode right in.

"Come on," he tugged her along with him, "one verse should do it."

Their voices gradually faded, but Aidan kept sharp eyes on the doorway.

"That boy's the one you stopped to help, right?" Aidan asked when the singing started.

"Barely. He actually helped us find the—"

"Didn't I warn you to be careful who you help?"

"And you expected me to do what, exactly? Leave him? Like we did Tilly?" She glared up at him, "He's a child—a throwaway. They all are."

He had no rebuttal for that.

"I told you," she said, tugging the blanket tighter, "I’m not that kind of monster."

He relaxed and stared at her eyes that still kept watch over the closet door, "No, you're not."

"I was scared," he said after some silence, pulling her attention from the closet. He strained to keep the lines of his face from deepening as he sorted through the tumult of feelings in his head. "I woke up, and Petra was panicked. Yammering on about how you were taken, and how she couldn’t find you. I…I was scared. I had no idea where you were, or where to even look."

A barrage of ‘you should haves’ raged behind his tongue, but the small figure at his side shivered in shock, and he swallowed them.

"I still can't believe he did that to you." His voice cracked looking down at her bandages. "That our own alchemists would do that to you, or them. I mean, to use children for Erd's sa—"

"Can we not talk about it anymore? Not tonight." Syra gripped at an elbow and looked away.

Something was wrong. The way she focused on nothing. How she chewed the inside of her cheek and her fingers scrubbed at the dead skin around her nails. His jaw clenched.

"That wasn’t all that happened, was it?"

His low whisper barely passed her ears, but her body tensed. Her nails dug into the dirty cloth at her arm and her eyes darted between his face and the floor.

Aidan’s gut seized and he took a light hold of her wrist, "Syra—"

She snapped her hand away as if his touch burned.

"I’m sorry." She caught herself and held his hand close, the ring around her wrist still red. "I just...I just need some time, too."

Time to forget. Forget that place, that smell, and all those staring faces. His face, most of all.

She swallowed hard as she pushed away the smell of Morin's greasy hair and the taste of his blood on her teeth. Even her cheek still stung a little from the slap her bite had awarded her.

Aidan's chest tightened seeing her eyes muddy over. "Of course, I'm sorry," was all he managed to say.

But it was enough, for now. She let her body droop and leaned into him, focusing on his warmth and his scent, "I take it we missed the train?"

Aidan finally laughed, "Oh, yes. It's probably back in Dairos by now."

Her face drooped, but he pulled it gently into his chest, "It's alright—it'll be back tomorrow. But that means there's no sleeping in."

Great, right when I could actually use it.

She curled herself into him and listened to the steady lub-dub under her ear.

"I'm just glad you're alright."

Aidan rested his chin on her head, "Me too. Though, I can't believe Petra was hiding such a gift like that."

The memory of Petra's song-and-lights show brought a smile back to her face.

"Seriously, she was amazing. If I wasn't scared shitless, I'd have said it was quite beautiful." She gave his hand a squeeze, "Like your mother's."

Her mind went back to a fading Aidan and the black vines that ate his life away.

"Why do you think it affected you like that? Petra said it was Arrun poisoning, but you're human. I know your mother was Gifted, but it still shouldn't have nearly killed you."

Syra felt his face flatten.

"I really don't know. If it doesn't kill Tal, then I have no idea how I could be..."

He went suddenly still and Syra craned her face up at him. He had that distant look.

"What? What is it?"

"It's a bit farfetched, but maybe...maybe that old tale is actually true. The one about the First Prince being saved by the Fae tree. Mother used to tell it to me all the time, but I just thought it a pretty story—and a bit of propaganda if I'm honest."

"Wait, so you're saying that if the story is true, then your bloodline is somehow tied to Mother Tree?"

"You saw its bulbs, right? Leon said that's how fae are born. The story goes that the First Prince was born ill, so the King asked the fae to save him. Then, in exchange for the fae's autonomy, the tree absorbed the prince until the illness passed. If—again, a big if—that actually happened, then that early exposure could have tied him to the tree, and effectively the mana flow."

Syra scrunched her brow, "That would explain why Leon kept calling you, Bati."

"But what does that even mean?"

Syra paused, a bit taken aback.

Oh, that's right. They only taught him the runes.

"It's Erdrumic, for 'brother'."

"Brother?"

"Yes. It struck me as odd at first, too. But I just figured he was being fond with you, so I didn't put anymore thought into it. But, even if that story was true, could it still affect you after several generations?"

Aidan was still a moment, hesitant, and Syra could see the words bubbling on his lips.

"What if...what if I told you that I was born the same way?"

Syra blinked back her confusion, "Pardon me?"

"Again, I don't know if it's actually true...but, whenever Mother would tell me that story she would always end it with, 'And that is why you are our true prince; because the Land chose you, too.'"

"Wow," Syra hushed and sat up, looking back at him as if with fresh eyes. "You...you never told me this."

"It was bedtime story. How was I to know she was telling the truth? And we still don't know if it actually is. This is all speculation at this point. Plus," his gaze lowered, "it's not like we can ask her now."

Syra rested herself back against his arm and gave his shoulder a quick nuzzle, "We can always ask Vesna. She seems the type to keep records of such things."

"That she does," he said with a chuckle.

"Until then, we'll all have to be wary of those arrows. I don't know if your body could tolerate another hit."

Aidan looked down at her stern face, at how she forced the fear out with her steeled resolve.

"Thank you," he said, blushing slightly, "for listening."

A confident grin stretched across her face as she propped her chin on his shoulder, "Anytime."

Her grin was unfortunately split by a wide yawn and Aidan stifled a laugh at her scrunched face.

"And now, it's off to bed for you. For all of us. Erd knows we need it."

"But I'm not—" She gripped his hand but another yawn cut her off. "Damn it."

"Uh-huh, exactly. Hey, Cas?" he called towards the closet and pulling Syra to her feet.

"Yes?" Cassius poked his head out, "Something wrong?"

"Yeah, this one's yawning. Could you—"

"Of course," he chuckled, "I know just the trick." Cassius shuffled his annoyed sister off to a spare room where their faint murmuring would fade with the glow beneath the door.