The shade princes watch as the vines darken around the one trapped within. The wrapped hand pulls on the opening, pushing himself forward.

There's no doubt this is Kyoki.

Loose cloth hangs from his body, though the abundant amount covering him hides most of him. He wears a cloth kilt, a belt lined with masks around his waist. The only part uncovered is his mouth, the opening showing his oddly smooth skin. He has a child's frame, but his presence is that of danger incarnate. Stabby can see why people call him a god.

"It seems we have visitors. That's unexpected." He sounds young as a boy, new to this world, and tired as a man weary of it. "I'd suggest you move out of my way if you value your life, but before you do, I have a question. Why ha-..."

Stabby jumps through the ground, interrupting the shaman with an embrace. Kyoki falls silent, his arms frozen midair.

"Pasha!" Grisha shouts, realizing the situation, but Stabby pays him no mind.

A snarl.

Stabby, filled with his want to comfort the shaman, forgot about the masked guards.

A daunting form exit the vines.

The jackal. That book was nowhere near capturing his visage. The skin of his lips lifts, revealing his sharp teeth. His black fur extenuates the green glow of his eyes. His clawed hand lay on his blade's handle, gripping with full intention of its use.

Stabby releases Kyoki, taking a silent step back.

Kyoki remains frozen, his mouth open in a gasp.

The jackal unsheathes his weapon, moving to strike. Grisha attempts a shadow walk, but lacks the energy. A short sword summons to Stabby's hand. He closes his eye and lifts the blade, waiting for impact.

Thud.

It came, but not to him. He opens his eyes to reveal Stomper pushing the jackal back, its hooves digging deep into the muddy ground. Stomper holds the weapon in his teeth, its powerful legs continuing their forward march.

The jackal knocks Stomper to the ground with a mighty thud. His gaze turns red as he steps towards the fallen kohdok. Stabby thrusts at him, but the jackal grabs his wrist, throwing him away. Grisha jumps to his feet, but his energy fails him before he can reach the encounter.

The jackal's heavy blade swings at Stomper.

"Stop."

The blade stops inches from Stomper's face.

Kyoki grabs the jackal's arm. "Put your blade away, foolish dog. I never gave you the order to attack."

The guard does as he's told, his eyes returning to their original green as he sheathes his blade and takes his place by his master's side.

Kyoki turns to the shades. "You intrigue me. Tell me your names."

Grisha acts quickly to talk before his brother, shushing him in the process. "We are princes of the shade race. I am Grisha, firstborn of the shadow mother, and this is..."

"I'm Stabby," The young shade reaches for a handshake, something he's learned is a formal greeting.

Grisha gives a glancing glare, then continues, "Pasha. His name is Pasha, sixth child of the shadow mother."

Kyoki snickers, grabbing the younger shade's hand. "I think I prefer Stabby."

Stabby gleams. "Right?"

Grisha clearly dislikes his casual attitude towards the shaman, but Stabby thinks formal isn't the best approach to someone trapped most of their life.

Grisha, attempting to hide his annoyance, says, "and to answer your first question my brother interrupted... which I apologize for. We came hoping to gain your support."

"You haven't given all of your names yet."

"What?"

Kyoki points to the kohdok growling at the jackal. "What's her name?"

Her? Is Stomper female? Stabby thought little about her gender, and he didn't reach the gender portion in the book on kohdok's. From the stunned look on Grisha, it's likely Kyoki guessed right, but how did he figure it out?

"We named her Stomper," Stabby says, patting her side.

"Stomper... It's simple, easy to remember, I like it. Now that I know your names, I'm willing to speak with you to pay back the kindness your mother has shown me."

"Thank you," Grisha says, relief flashing through his tired expression.

"On one condition."

"And what is that?" Hesitance sneaks into the question.

A wide smile, deserving of the title mad, streaks across Kyoki's face. "I get to ride Stomper."

"Very well." He glances at Stomper, baring her teeth against the jackal, and adds, "but the guard will have to walk."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Grisha watches the shaman carefully, keeping in mind all the stories he's heard in his travels. Kyoki's more formal attitude dissolved as soon as he climbed aboard the kohdok, replaced with childlike glee. It can easily be a facade used to lower Grisha's defenses. He must remain diligent throughout negotiations, no matter how exhausted he is. His mother may be on Kyoki's good side, but when dealing with someone with the title 'mad shaman' that can easily change.

His brother, on the other hand, grows worryingly relaxed with the shaman. But that seems to keep him happy for now, so Grisha keeps quiet about it.

"Is there a place you had in mind to talk?" Grisha asks.

"There is," Kyoki responds, petting the kohdok's horns. "My companions and I have been building a hut to store some books I've been collecting over the years."

"What type?" Stabby asks, going straight to the hobby instead of the more obvious questions of where he got the books.

"Of every kind I can find. Do you enjoy books as well?"

"Yeah! The ones I read, anyway."

"Oh? What have you read?"

"Anatomy, biology, and history so far."

"A fair start, but they have nothing on a true story." Kyoki twists on the straps between the horns, changing Stomper's direction without instruction. Grisha guesses he learned how from the books he's collected, but for him to do it so well on his first try is still surprising. Setting a path for a kohdok is easy, but trying to change it is like wrestling a minotaur.

Grisha checks the map to make sure the location they're headed isn't a trap. It doesn't seem to be. It looks pretty empty, and there aren't any hostile bases nearby. But he keeps his arms free, just as his mother instructed him when he's in positions of danger.

Grisha can see the hut in the distance, not much but still a decent size. It's wood, no area fit for traps, it smells nice too, similar to his room.

He misses his room and its pleasant atmosphere... Maybe he can just...

Stabby and the shaman become blurry, darkness closing in as they tilt to the side. The entire world seems to tilt.

"We're here."

Grisha snaps back awake, rubbing his eyes. He desperately needs to end this quickly.

Kyoki steps off Stomper onto the jackal who lowers to a knee, allowing Kyoki to land on the ground.

The shaman beckons to follow him into the humble house, disappearing into the shadows within.

The jackal stares at them impatiently.

"I'm going. I'm going." Grisha hops off, followed by Stabby throwing himself into the air, landing into a roll, and jumping to his feet.

He seems excited. Guess he doesn't have many friends. And the friends he has happen to be an aging butcher and a trio of demons. Well, Kyoki is from an extinct race the world had to unite against, so he fits in. At least he's near Stabby's age.

Before they enter, Grisha turns to his brother. "You did good lightening the mood, but from now on let me do the talking. Alright?"

Stabby nods.

A good enough response.

Grisha steps into the house and it lights up, disproving his belief that the room can't fit traps.

Masks. Everywhere. Scattered between the bookshelves and tables, others watching from the ceiling. Photo-realistic representations of any creature Grisha could imagine all wait ever patiently for an order from their master. The empty holes, where their eyes should be, looking deep inside him.

Before he can turn around, the door slams, the jackal's breathing coming from outside.

Damn it. He was too tired to perceive this, and he's too tired to fight out. He looks to the window; the sun's rising. Stomper can't help them. They're trapped. All chance of survival now lies with how well communications go.

Kyoki sits on the backmost cushion surrounding the table in the hut's center. "I'm sorry for leading you to an area that is clearly in my favor. As much as I look up to your mother, I still can't understand her full plans. Because of my independent status, I can't place myself in a spot where others have leverage. But there's no need to worry, I don't plan to use my powers against you unless act first. You are in no danger unless you choose to be. So... come, sit." He waves to the cushions across from him.

Grisha hesitates.

Stabby lays a hand on his back, looking up to him with a reassuring smile. It fills the older shade's chest with warmth. Stabby's become so confident since they began their journey, Grisha can't help but have faith.

They sit opposite of the shaman, both sides staring intently as they wait for the first move.

Might as well get this over with.

"As I mentioned, we are here to ask for your help and we will fulfill any requests within reason," Grisha says.

"Smart to restrict my wish-fulfilling, giving me unconditional power is a mistake many people before you have tried. They always back out when they hear my request. But for you... what can you offer me?"

"We can provide you with any resources you need."

"I can do that on my own, or make any of my servants do it for me."

"Only when you can get out."

Kyoki shrugs. "I can make due until that point."

"We can break you out."

"Then what? Release me into the world that despises me? It's overall better and safer to stay inside."

"But do you like staying in the swamp?"

"It has its problems, the smell and dampness get tedious, but it's better than being hunted every second."

Grisha can understand that sentiment strongly as of late.

"What if we gave you constant protection?"

"Similar protection to what you started with?"

Grisha narrows his eyes. "How'd you know?"

"Just a guess. It'd be odd to send princes without guards."

"Your guess may be correct, but that is irrelevant. Underestimation of the danger killed our guards. We won't make the same mistake again."

"It's hard to trust that."

Grisha's voice grows deeper. "We won't make that mistake again."

"There are very dangerous people waiting for me to break free. I don't believe you are ready for that, no matter how many shades you send."

"What, the light army?" Grisha laughs, bluffing confidence. "We've beaten them before, and we'll figure out a way again IF you help us."

"That's not who I'm worried about."

"Then who?"

"I..." Kyoki's confidence falters. "Don't know. All I know is the danger they represent."

Grisha puts a hand to his chest. "Trust us, we can handle it."

The shaman sighs. "Fine, the only way I can explain the danger you'd be putting both me and your people in is if I show you. It always is."

"Then show me and we can decide."

"If that's what you truly want." Kyoki grabs a strand of cloth from his face and unravels it. Layer upon layer falls to the ground, the masks quiver. The wrappings that cover his body loosen from his skin, floating with their own free will. The masks across the walls and ceiling detach themselves, circling the shaman as his body lifts into the air.

The last piece falls.

His eyes. His horrid eyes. Grisha can't help but feel disgusted. He hates himself for it... but he can't help it. One seems normal, no... beyond normal. Gorgeous, the most beautiful he's ever seen. But the other. It embodies the aspect of decay, of death. If hatred had a form, it would be that eye.

Whoever gave him this... this thing is beyond Grisha's understanding. Why would Kawa suggest his support? A being like this is sure to bring destruction to the shades.

He is a bad omen.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Stabby gazes in awe as Kyoki returns to the floor and the masks to their walls.

The shaman wraps the coverings over his eyes. "Now you see. I warned you and now you know." Kyoki sounds hurt. "Lives worsen at my presence. Every day I remember the time I first awoke, surrounded by those armies years ago. I could see the seer's expression as he saw my eyes. And I can understand it. I am a monster that shall live alone, my only company will be the mindless slaves that I control. Thank you for the kindness you've shown me and for letting me ride the kohdok, but now leave and be done with me, let me live my life in lonely peace."

"Your eyes," Stabby mutters.

"Yes, I know, they're ug..."

"They're beautiful."

The shaman stands motionless.

Something about him reminds Stabby of himself. How others see him and his family. And just like the shades are beautiful, so is Kyoki.

Silence falls between them.

Kyoki breaks it with a turn. "Go to the cracked tree by the elven graveyards deep in the forests of ancients. If you wish to break me free, you must convince Tadame to do so."

"You'll help us?" Stabby's voice becomes lighter.

"If you can break me out, I'll consider it."

"Thank you." Stabby bows, Grisha following his lead this time.

"Don't thank me yet," Kyoki warns. "I still suggest you think deeply about what you plan to do, and if you truly wish for it to take place. It may bring death upon you."

"I'll take that risk for a friend."

Kyoki chuckles. "Very well." He looks to the door as it creaks open, the jackal waiting outside. "It seems my time is up... It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again."

Stabby tries to respond but is muted by tendrils bursting through the doorway, shooting past the shades and around Kyoki, grabbing him limb by limb. He shows no restraint. In fact, he relaxes, falling into them as they pull away.

Stabby runs after the vines but finds nothing remains, nothing but Stomper chewing on the trees.

"Getting hungry?" Stabby laughs.

Grisha stumbles out the door, his face in his hands as he moans, "we need to go home."

"You look like you're dying," Stabby says.

"Basically am," Grisha responds, trying to smile through his pain.

"Alright, big guy," Stabby holds his brother's side, keeping him upright. "Let's get you to your bed."

. . . . . . . . . . .

They ride back through the familiar forests in quiet, Stabby's thoughts about his newfound friend keeping his normal doubts at bay.

Birds crow, wind blows through the trees, Stabby has started to like the sounds of the forests.

Grisha turns to him. "Hey, Stabby?"

"Yeah?" Stabby asks, a smirk growing at his brother's voice.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"You stopped me from ruining our mission yesterday and again today." Grisha places his hand on Stabby's shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

Pride flows through Stabby, his already high spirits soaring further.

"Well, if you're so proud of me... can I ask for something as a thank you gift?"

"Sure. What are you thinking?"

Stabby smiles wide. "Can we visit the Butchery?"

"No."

"But you just said yes," Stabby whines, pouting out his lip. "And I want to make sure the imps are okay."

The fight visible on Grisha is strong, he's struggling with all he's got. But in the end, he can't beat Stabby's powerful persuasion.

"Fine." He sighs. "But only for a little. We need to go home and leave for our next mission as soon as possible."

"Okay, I can do that." Stabby nods, then looks forward. He keeps quiet for a second, before asking, "how long do we have to get to the butchery?"

"We're traveling in daylight, so at least a half-day. It should be right ahead." He points forward, and his eyes widen.

"What?" Stabby asks, turning his gaze to find what bothers his brother. Stabby's eyes follow the older brother's example, all rising positivity vanishing into dust.

Smoke.