Chandhala loomed in the distance, a great city overlooking the sea, built along the edges of a small bay. Yet there were surprisingly very few ships – most of them seemed to be from the locals of Chandhala, small canoes and fishing boats that trawled through the crystal waters. No, instead great airships dominated the skies, metal baskets held aloft by whale-sized balloons. Most of them were armed to the teeth, riddled with cannons and various intimidating spikes. They flew the flags of the Marlish Empire – blue and white, with the symbol of a black, three-headed lion emblazoned on either side.

Bali drove them into the city, the streets thronged with people. Steamcars seemed to be a rarity, by the looks of it, as Joseph only saw a few as Bali drove through the congested streets, honking at the crowd to get out of his way as he made his way over. His usually calm demeanor began to crack a bit as he made his way towards a small hotel, replaced by a dark anger, a road rage that Joseph was all too familiar with. He stopped at its front and stretched a bit.

“Here's your stop,” he growled.

“Thanks for the help,” Joseph said.

“Of course,” Bali said, “Tell your... coworkers, good luck.”

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “I will.”

He got out of the car and closed the door, knocking on it as a final goodbye to Bali. The rest of the guild was busy extricating themselves out of the pickup in the back, stretching and groaning.

“It's far too hot for my tastes,” Luevo complained, “Is there any water anywhere?”

Archenround signed.

“What'd she say?” Joseph asked.

“She's sayin' we can get food and water in the hotel,” Nole said, “You sure that's wise, Arc? We're still on the run here.”

She signed again.

“Says we need to rest,” G-Wiz translated to Joseph, “I mean, I agree, but still...”

“No, no, the Kimao needs his beauty sleep,” Luevo said, “Come on, all of you. This man is paying for a nice room. For all of us.”

He glanced at the dingy hotel Bali had dropped them off at.

“And it sure as hell isn't going to be here. Come along!”

Now that he'd had a moment to rest, the prince's puffy air was beginning to return, just barely, to his step as he guided the party through the city. More walking, and Joseph hated the prince for it. He could hardly pay attention to the sights around him – in another day, he might have appreciated the smell of spices lingering in the air, the beautiful orange and red sashes covering the market stalls, or the odd, whistling flutes that echoed around the city as Luevo brought them up the main street and towards the colonial quarter. There, the buildings changed from rounded and squat to square and multi-floored, a slice of Marland in Chandhala. Steam-powered machines became more commonplace here – strange, mechanical walkers that men in suits and women in flowing dresses rode atop of, lanky legs rising up like palm trees over the buildings as their passengers swayed back and forth, laughing at the sheer joy of the ride.

“Marlish,” G-Wiz muttered, “The worst.”

“Colonizers?” Joseph asked.

“Yeah,” G-Wiz replied.

“The worst,” Joseph agreed.

The hotel that Luevo brought them to was nice, at least, a solid block of white marble that had been carved into the shape of a building that vaguely reminded Joseph of the White House. They were drawing stares as Luevo sauntered into the lobby and up to the front desk. The receptionist looked down at him with a slight look of disgust, and Joseph wasn't surprised. They were dusty, caked in mud and blood, and looked like they had walked through a literal jungle.

No, couldn't be.

“Sir,” the receptionist said, “I'm sorry, but I'm going to ask you to leave.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Luevo said, putting on airs, “I understand that we are... temporarily indisposed of looking like proper ladies and gentlemen. We've had quite the ride, see.”

“Mmm,” the receptionist said.

“I'd like... let's see,” Luevo turned, “How many rooms do we want?”

“One, preferably,” Nole said, “That way we can stick together-”

“Two rooms, for the gals and the guys,” Luevo said, “And before you say we can't pay, I've got quite the stick for you.”

He produced the silver credstick he had tried to bribe Joseph with before. His eyebrows wiggled dramatically at the receptionist.

“Go ahead,” he said, “Read it.”

The receptionist heaved a great sigh, taking the credstick and opening a drawer beneath his desk, pulling out a golden scanner, a neon blue light emanating from its top. His eyes widened as the scanner read out the amount on the stick.

“Ah,” he said, “Forgive me, sir, it appears that you are indeed... ah... Are you sure you want just the two rooms?”

“Tell you what,” Luevo said, “Give us the best rooms in the house, and I'll forget you wanting to throw us out, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” the receptionist said. He rang a bell, and a bellhop appeared seemingly out of thin air.

“Can I grab your bags, sir?”

He noticed they didn't have any – having long been discarded in Koma.

“Oh!” he said, “Right this way, sirs and ma'ams,” he turned briskly and began walking down the hall.

“Bellhops,” G-Wiz muttered.

“The worst,” Joseph agreed.

***

The showers had been modernized – or Federation-ized, as Luevo liked to call it. The shower had been imported from the Silver Eye, the stone-pocked flooring having been bought from a paradise world in the Founder’s Apple and the water said to be from a particularly clean freshwater ocean world from the Inner Reach. The Marlish loved the Federation – worshiped them, in some cases – and it was a point of fashion to import from 'the Mysterious Galaxy,' be it clothing or smuggled technologies or even random animals to be kept as pets. Luevo walked into the shower, turned it to the hottest setting, and sat in the steamy heaven.

And cried.

Full-on sobbing, his entire body shaking with each heave, the tears mixing with the dry blood and pouring down into the drain as the full weight of the journey crashed down on him, the stress becoming once more raw and real, no longer dulled by exhaustion. He could feel Rolala stir within him, feelings of confusion playing at his heart – the creature's, he knew.

After what felt like hours, he turned off the water and leaned against the wall, his breathing calming down.

“You are hurt, ro la la.”

“No shit.”

“You are sad.”

“Of course I'm sad,” Luevo said, “I'm tired, Rolala. I'm tired, sad, and altogether disappointed with this journey.”

“An understatement.”

“Of the highest order,” Luevo said. He stared at the wall, which was pebbled with water droplets. His hand absently cut across it, smearing the water down in a diagonal wave.

“More than sad?” Rolala asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” Luevo said. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, “This journey has been...”

“Ro lay lee, a jour-ney?”

“The… journey's been a journey?” Luevo stood to his full height, “Enough with the understatements, Rolala. I've hated every step we've taken.”

“Oh?”

“Don't say 'oh,' you bastard,” Luevo said, “You know why I've hated this. At first, it was because I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be Kimao. I didn't want to leave the palace.”

“And now?”

“Now, well,” Luevo sighed, “Well, because of all of this.”

“Mordenaro.”

The very name made Luevo’s blood run cold. He wished that he could just keep that shower on forever.

“Yes,” he said.

“Shetavalk? I feel him in your heart,” Rolala said, “Surprising, I thought you do disliked him, ro la-”

“That doesn't mean that I wanted him to die!”

His voice was louder than he intended – He was almost certain the guild could hear it in the other room, despite how spacious they were. Luevo's throat burned raw as he struggled to overpower his emotions.

“I didn't want that,” he sobbed, “I didn't want him to die – not for me...”

“And yet he has, ro lay lee,” Rolala said, “Sit down, Luevo.”

The prince complied, walking out of the bathroom and sitting down on the bed. it was comfortable, at least. In another time, for the Luevo who hadn't set out on this journey, he would have enjoyed it immensely.

“No one should die for me,” Luevo said, “No one. I'm not-”

The realization hit him, and set him off again as he clutched his falling face with a weak hand.

“I'm not worth it, Rolala.”

“That is not true, ro la loo.”

“Why?”

“Because you are Kimao.”

“Aside from that,” Luevo said, “Take away the Kimao bit. Take away the fact that I carry you. What am I, Rolala?”

Silence from the creature.

“A pompous prince who thinks the world is his oyster. Who doesn't do anything except feed off the fat of the land. Who doesn't contribute, who doesn't do anything. At least my brother is bright. All I am is a waste.”

“Lies, Luevo,” Rolala said meekly.

“Then tell me why I'm something else,” Luevo said, “Go on. Do it.”

More silence. Outside, a car honked at the still-swelling streets.

“You can’t,” Luevo said.

“I see potential,” Rolala quipped.

“Potential? You sound like my old teachers.”

“It is true,” Rolala said, “You would not be Kimao otherwise.”

“I said who am I without the Kimao shit-”

“To be Kimao is not shit,” Rolala chided, “To be Kimao is to be an agent of change. To affect change. To change oneself.”

“Change... oneself?” Luevo asked.

“The Kimao's journey is one of self-reflection,” Rolala said, “To be Kimao is to be... unworthy. Broken, in some way. A half-chiseled block. A pompous prince who thinks the world is his oyster.”

“That's not...” Luevo said, “I've heard stories. Of the old Kimao. They were heroes. Demigods. Real bang-up studs.”

“Did they start as that?” Rolala prodded.

Luevo closed his mouth, furrowing his brow.

“Does anyone start like that? No one real, ro la la.”

“No one... real...”

“I tire,” Rolala said, “Ro la lee, to sleep I must be.”

“Very well,” Luevo said, “Sweet dreams, friend.”

He felt something poke at his heart – something he wasn't familiar with. But it felt nice, warm, as he felt Rolala settle down. He wondered if the creature did indeed sleep.

***

The damn bastard has ordered two rooms, and taken one for himself.

He had stuffed the rest of them in the other room.

Well, 'room' was stretching it. The entire top floor was two suites, each with three bedrooms and a main dining area, the floor a nice carpet and the walls bone-white marble. Joseph's room had a nice view of the sea from where he was – a couple fishing boats were out past the horizon, lonely white triangle sails in a blanket of orange sunset. Joseph had always liked the ocean – it reminded him of home, of lazy days watching the tides rise and fall, rise and fall. He sat on his bed, knees to his chest, as he felt the cool sea breeze drift through into the room, the familiar salty tinge making his heart fall with nostalgia.

He could hear Nole arguing in hushed tones with Archenround in the other room. Could hear Luevo scream at that creature – Rolala? It seemed the prince wasn't having the best of times.

Neither was he, if he was being honest.

He still felt cold. But less so. His soul was rebuilding – slowly but surely, enough that it was no longer in pieces. Yet he still felt bad – even after the nice shower. Sleep wasn't coming to him anytime soon, despite the fact that his bones felt like they would break apart at any moment. The thought of Mordenaro catching up to them, somehow and someway, kept him wide awake.

“Not the healthiest,” he said to himself.

Room service came with dinner – a ball of spices and meats wrapped in rice, with a nice glass of wine. Local cuisine, the server said, from the northern highlands of the subcontinent. It was also delicious – though Joseph hadn't eaten in awhile, so he wolfed it down without truly tasting the food. The only aftertaste to the meal was a sharp tingling in his mouth.

After that, he tried to lie down to sleep – despite the fear pounding in his heart. And he found that he could not. His soul wouldn't let him – perhaps it was so small his body was afraid he'd die if he slept, for every time he drifted off, it would bring him back, sparks and shocks rocketing up and down his body as though he were a faulty battery.

So after a while, he gave up and got out of bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning. The sun had gone down. The old grandfather clock in the room stated the time was near one in the morning. With nothing better to do, Joseph grabbed his jacket and pulled it on – if Mordenaro attacked, he'd need the protective runes sewed into the coat's lining. Besides, it was cool now as he walked out of his room and into the dining room.

He almost turned around when he saw Nole sitting at the table. The troll was alone, a bottle of wine at the table, a shot glass held between the tips of two claws. He was glaring as he poured himself a shot, downing it and grimacing.

“It's... fine wine,” Joseph muttered.

The troll heard him, looking up and pulling a face.

“Don't matter, it gets ye drunk,” Nole said, “Besides, somethin' ironic 'bout bein' in a fancy place like this, wastin' their wine like it's common rum.”

“Stickin' it to the man,” Joseph said.

A tiny, annoyed flicker of a smile played at Nole's lips, “Aye, somethin' like that. Sit down, lad, it's been a long road.”

“You must be pretty damn drunk, if you're inviting me to sit with you.”

“Ain't drunk,” Nole said, “Trolls regenerate. We live healthy and whole our entire lives. Can't get drunk – cells in my body won't let me. Won't stop me from tryin', though.”

“Uh huh,” Joseph said, “Right.”

He walked forward and sat down. Nole offered him the bottle of wine. Joseph took it, taking a quick sip of it before handing it back. It was good wine – though he was more used to cheap beer and vodka from his time in college. Nole didn't seem to care about its quality as he took another shot.

“Dammit,” the troll said, “Damn it all to hell. This wasn't the way I thought things would turn out.”

“Was supposed to be an easy journey,” Joseph said, “Get paid, get out.”

“For ye,” Nole said, “Ye might as well have taken the princey's deal.”

Joseph was quiet at that, staring at the faded white tablecloth, a dull pang of guilt welling within his chest. Nole glared at him as he took a shot and muttered another “Dammit.”

“Yeah, well,” Joseph countered, “I'm still here, right?”

“Hmm, ye got that goin' fer ye. Though that seems mostly because the prince spent his bribe money.”

“I still wouldn't have left,” Joseph said, “Not now.”

“Because of Shetavalk?” Nole growled.

“...Something like that,” Joseph sighed, crossing his arms, shivering even with his jacket on, “Wouldn't feel right, him being gone and everything.”

“It didn't feel right before?” Nole said, “And ye wonder why I think yer such a bastard.”

Joseph glared at Nole, “Is that why you don't like me?”

“Hm?”

“I'm not saying I want your approval, or because I want to be your friend or have all that Kumbaya shit,” Joseph’s voice was winter, “I want to know what the fuck your deal is.”

“Well, the lad's got a spine,” Nole said, a savage chuckle escaping his lips, “Ye want to know why I rag on ye.”

“Ever since I joined the guild, you've been a bastard,” Joseph said, “I want to know why.”

Nole considered his glass for a moment, one eye squinting as he stared at its purple-dyed sheen. Moonlight shone, coloring all of the room in a bright blue light. The gossamer curtains by the window gently floated upwards. For a moment, Joseph thought he could see Spioa dancing through them, before remembering he wasn't on Nesona anymore.

“It started as it always do,” Nole said, “Every new member of the guild, to me anyways, is spineless.”

“To you.”

“Not everyone's cut out for guild life, Joe,” Nole said, “Least of all folk like yous. Most of 'em shape up. Not all of 'em. A few drift away, or get themselves killed, or disappear one night 'n' we never see 'em again.”

“Until they prove themselves in your eyes,” Joseph said, “What an accomplishment, getting your approval.”

“Most folk shape up,” Nole said, “But not you.”

“But.. not... me?”

“Ye've gone on a few jobs, and yer already sick o' the life,” Nole said, “Understandable. But instead of just leavin', explainin' that yer not cut out for this work, ye cut a deal with Wakeling. Say ye'll go on a nice and easy job, get a bit of money, maybe settle down. But the multiverse ain't a place for settlin' down, lad.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Nole took another shot of wine, “No plane is safe. The multiverse ain't a cushy place, unlike Earth. Earth seems like a weak place, with weak folk livin' in it, if yer the standard.”

“I'm not-”

“So ye go and go on this good, easy job,” Nole said, “Only when it doesn't get easy, ye try and take the easy way out. Ye take the prince's bribe. I wouldn't blame ye. It's a good deal. Get some cash, get outta here. Ye spineless bastard.”

“I didn't-”

“Ye did,” Nole gave him a look of absolute disgust, “Sure, ye can fight. Ye tried yer hardest against Mordenaro. We all did. But that don't matter. Anyone can fight. What matters is when ye had the opportunity to turn away from all this, ye nearly damn did. Tell me, lad, if Mordenaro hadn't interrupted us, would ye have taken Luevo's deal?”

And Joseph was silent.

“This guild's too good fer ye,” Nole said, “Wakeling's too soft on ye. But if yer goin' to survive out here, guild or not, yer gonna have to know what the right thing to do is. Abandonin' yer guildmates ain't the way to go.”

He poured himself another shot, then sighed and let it sit in the glass. His shoulders were sagged in defeat.

“At least ye ain't leavin' now.”

“I'm not,” Joseph said, “I'm- I won't go. I'm in this now.”

“Because of Shetavalk.”

“He was actually nice to me,” Joseph said, “He... He understood me, I think. What I was going through.”

“Don't got much time to mourn him now,” Nole said, “G-Wiz is in survival mode. Arc's had worse happen to her than another dead friend. So that leaves a spineless Earth boy and a troll who can't get drunk to cry it out.”

“What a pair,” Joseph said, “All for a selfish bastard of a prince.”

Nole smirked, “Aye. I suppose so. Well, then.”

He raised the glass, “To Shetavalk.”

“I don't have a glass,” Joseph said.

“Ye don't get one.”

“Guess I'll have to do better for that, then,” Joseph said.

“Ye will, Joe. Now don't ye go all pity-party on me, ye've got a spine to grow.”

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Yet Nole's words had a certain truth to them. He wasn't really sure how to process them, nor did Nole seem to feel like anything else to be said. After giving one last grimace at the wine, he tossed it aside. The bottle shattered, staining the marble floor a deep purple. The troll got up and stretched, then walked into his room, leaving Joseph alone.

***

G-Wiz and Archenround were alone in their shared room. G-Wiz would have preferred to have slept alone, as she usually did at Castle Belenus, but with Archenround's fear of being alone, and with no Tek to keep her company, she had decided to stay with the serpent, tuning the Zumbelaphone as she hummed softly to herself. Anything to keep the tension away from the room. Tonight was supposed to be a nice rest. Archenround, at least, seemed relaxed, as she inspected her Sign-Blades for any damage. The demon had never spoken of her home plane, but G-Wiz had her stories. A world, much like Prime (Or, G-Wiz supposed, Noodle's Earth) that had broken itself, and found faith in the mundane. The Sign-Blades had been made from the abandoned junk of the old world, their meaning and power found in the worship that world's descendants had assigned to them.

That same worship that had claimed Archenround's tongue, though G-Wiz was wise not to ask the serpent of that. The two of them sat in relative silence, the only sound coming from the soft waves of the sea outside, the breeze through the window that made her heart ache for Shetavalk, the occasional electronic whisper from the zumbelaphone, her own humming. Archenround had said to keep watch, in case Mordenaro came. To give Nole and Joseph rest.

They're our best bets if he comes after us again, she had signed.

“But what about you?” G-Wiz had asked.

But Archenround gave a sad smile, and refused to answer. Her face had this way of morphing into a passive mask, her face revealing no emotion and her eyes clouded and enigmatic. It annoyed G-Wiz to no end. She let out a sigh, pushing her hair out of her face. The gel that she usually applied to it had dissolved long ago, leaving it a black and pink mess that was constantly getting in her face. One more annoyance for the road.

She saw Archenround's hand slip as she polished her sword. A subtle gesture. Archenround, just like the rest of the gang, was exhausted.

“You should sleep,” G-Wiz said, “A couple hours. That's all.”

No, Archenround signed, I am fine.

“Bullshit,” G-Wiz said, “Get some sleep. I can keep watch.”

The demon sighed, before she put the Sign-Blades down and coiled into the bed. For a moment, she sat there, her top half swaying a bit. Then she righted herself.

Sleep comes slow, she signed.

“Because of Mordenaro,” G-Wiz said.

I feel like... prey. A rabbit.

“Yeah, no shit,” G-Wiz said. She felt her hand shake for a moment, looking down to see it shivering from a non-existent chill, “Do you think... Is this it, Arc?”

If this is it, Divide will flay Grim Walker alive.

Divide. The name Archenround used for Wakeling. G-Wiz supposed that a clash between the two would be quite the sight to see. It was too bad she hadn't come along and had sent Noodle instead.

“I don't think Mordenaro'll care too much about that,” she said, “You know the stories. He'd probably enjoy it.”

Indeed. Archenround settled now, her top half contorting down to rest in the center of her coils. If this is indeed the end, I am glad that I had a friend like you, G-A-L-A-T-E-A.

“Stop,” G-Wiz said, “You're gonna make me cry, spewing that smarmy bullshit.”

I am truthful.

“I am too,” G-Wiz said, “You're going to make me cry. So shut up.”

***

Hours passed. Joseph's dreams were fitful and light. So light that it didn't take much to wake him up, as he heard the door creaking open. His eyes shot open as he reared up, his soul pounding – creating a spark, a claw that enveloped his hand that cast the entire room in an eerie blue light as he glared at the open door. Luevo stood in the frame, arms dramatically covering his face, his legs twisting inwards as he let out a pathetic mewl.

“D-don't hurt me!”

Joseph sighed, letting the claw dissipate.

“Your soul... thing,” Luevo whispered, “It's back.”

“Hardly,” Joseph said, “That's about all I can do. So shut up and tell me what you want.”

“It's not what I want,” Luevo said, “Rolala, he-”

“Rolala?”

“The creature,” the Kimao's voice was a whisper, “It's... feeling something.”

As if on cue, Joseph watched as the creature the prince had been harboring began inking out of his shoulder. Rolala had evolved since Joseph had last seen him, its amorphous body having become insect-like, its muddy bulk becoming a smooth, brown sheen. It reminded Joseph of a grasshopper.

“Ro lay lee,” it whispered, “Stalked, be we.”

Joseph felt his heart drop, “Mordenaro.”

“Indeed.”

“He's out there,” Luevo choked, “In the city. Searching for us.”

“Makes sense,” Joseph turned towards the open window. Moments were measured by his beating heart, which had begun speeding up, his soul becoming stronger with each pulse. He wondered if it would be enough.

“You have eyes, right?” Luevo gasped, “Rolala mentioned-”

“My soul, yeah,” Joseph said, “It's like an eagle.”

“So go on, Jordan, look out into the city, see if he's there!”

Joseph narrowed his eyes. But this was no time to correct his name. Pathetic as the prince was, there was work to do.

“G-go,” he said, “Warn the others. Wake them up.”

The prince ignored the quaver they all heard in his voice, turning and running to the other rooms. Joseph turned towards the window, taking a deep breath. And then another. The eagle awoke on his third breath, head arcing over his own like a helmet, its sight overtaking his as he stared out towards the city. Bleary, silhouetted lights became sharpened in the night, the moon's luster became more intense, to the point that Joseph had to close the eyes until he was more adapted to its shine.

Movement behind him. A slithering sound – Archenround was next to him, her blades drawn as she stared out. In his peripherals, he could see her face, while calm and composed, looked worn – there were shadows beneath her eyes that had not been there before. She signed.

“She says,” Luevo said, “She's asking what you see.”

“Nothing yet,” Joseph replied.

“She says that it was only a matter of t-time,” Luevo said, “We need to get out.”

“That from you, or her?”

“Both of us, if I'm being honest.”

A hand rested on his shoulder. Archenround let out a great sigh, looking over to him, studying him for a long moment. Then she signed.

“She says to stay here and keep watch,” Luevo said.

Joseph nodded, and heard the two of them make for the door.

***

Nole and the girl were waiting in the dining room. The troll was stretching himself, a determined - almost crazed – look in his eyes as he nodded at the serpent.

“What's the plan?” he asked.

J-O-S-E-P-H is keeping an eye out.

“Fat lot that'll do us,” Nole grunted.

He is more keen than you believe.

“Are we splitting up?” G-Wiz asked.

No, Archenround replied, Grim Walker will pick us off.

“Better to travel as a pack, gang up on 'im if he tries anything funny,” Nole said.

“A-agreed,” Luevo said, “I think, ah, I know where we can go.”

The guild turned to him. Luevo suddenly felt like a spotlight had washed over him. The prince gulped and cleared his throat, trying his hardest to hide his nervousness as he spoke.

“The train station,” he said, “We get to the trains, we outrun Mordenaro.”

“There's a train station out here?” G-Wiz asked.

“Yes,” Luevo said, “Used to take it all the time when I studied on my trips here-”

“Methinks ye used to be here a lot more than just fer vacation,” Nole noted.

“Okay, sue me, I loved coming here,” Luevo said, “The train station leads north.”

“And what's north?”

Luevo thought for a moment, “The country. Dorandi. Amdra. Lake Imdrahal.”

Archenround perked at that.

Lake.

“What about it?” Nole asked.

Traveling Point there. Leads to Murknoir. Leads us back to Nesona.

Murknoir. The name felt familiar to Luevo, who watched as the guild continued talking to one another.

“You sure it's in forecast?” G-Wiz asked.

T-E-K, I-V-A-N would know, Archenround signed, Best chance. We need to return to Nesona.

“What's even in Nesona?” Luevo whined.

Archenround looked at him, her face inscrutable, though Luevo suspected she was thinking him very stupid.

You are K-I-M-A-O. Grim Walker is after you because of that.

“Yes, and?”

If you complete your journey, do you think he will have a reason to continue his pursuit?

“My... good... looks?” Luevo stammered.

“Cripes, lad, did ye think we were goin' to run forever?” Nole said.

The metahuman interrupted them, his voice wavering as he spoke.

“I see him.”

They turned and went back into the metahuman's room. His electrical-bird-soul thing was covering the top of his head like a helmet, crackling and sparking, bright white eyes like twin moons staring out towards the city. His mouth was creased in a deep frown.

“Where?” Nole asked.

“He's in the distance. Making his way towards the city,” the metahuman said, “He's walking. Christ, I knew you all kept calling him 'Grim Walker,' but I thought-”

“No time,” Nole said, “Let's get out of here.”

Through the window.

She began slithering down out the open window and towards the roof of one of the landings. The rest of the group followed sans prince. Luevo stared down as the metahuman, electrical soul sprouting wiry arms, pulled himself down, the arms shuddering a bit from the strain as he landed – and almost slipped on – the roof's shingles.

“S-say,” Luevo said, “Rolala, I could use a hand.”

“Or a leg, ro la la.”

He could feel the creature begin sprouting spindly legs out of his back, turning him upside down and crawling down towards the landing below. The rest of the guild was already back on the ground, waiting as Rolala winnowed down to the ground, twisting Luevo back onto his feet and disappearing back into his body.

“Gross,” Joseph said.

“You're one to talk,” Luevo spat.

Archenround glared at the two of them. They both shut up.

This wasn't the time.

Guide us, Archenround signed to Luevo, You know the city best, yes?

“Right,” Luevo said. He took a deep breath, “Follow me.”

Back in his halcyon days of two years ago, Luevo had adored Chandhala. The nights were always wild and free, the markets filled with music from a thousand cultures – many of them not from Kelstonda, but rather smuggled from other parts of the multiverse, a rebellious party scene that Luevo had always appreciated.

No such music now. The Grim Walker's presence had silenced the city, swallowing it up in darkness as they ran from street to street. Not even the stray dogs paid them heed as they ran. High above, the moon glistened and shone, full and clear – then, the moon on Kelstonda was always full. It lengthened each shadow, made every silhouette Mordenaro's, every sound seeming to echo his footsteps. Luevo gritted his teeth, suppressing a sob as he ran. He could feel Rolala well within him, the creature's fear mixing with his own. Rolala, now developed enough to feel scared. It almost broke Luevo's heart.

And the prince couldn't let Mordenaro kill them.

The train station was on the edge of Chandhala, a lonely old building with rusted and worn tracks. Most transportation was done via airship nowadays, the trains relegated to the lower classes and the occasional sneaky student. Luevo had always ensured to buy first class to keep away from the riff-raff, though he felt his stomach sink as they approached the teller's booth.

“They only take coin,” he announced, “And only the local stuff. Mruti.”

The girl with the Zumbelaphone took out a small purse, parsing through it, her brow furrowed.

“Light, I need a light,” she said.

“Not the best idea, G,” Nole said, sniffing the air, “I can smell 'im now. He's in the city.”

The metahuman tensed, “Do you want me to climb a roof, see if I can see him?”

Not the best idea, Archenround signed, Too much light. N-O-L-E will track him via scent.

“Aye,” the troll said.

“What'd she say?” the metahuman asked.

“Says Nole'll smell him out,” G replied, “Here we go, I think this is a Mruti?”

She produced a handful of coins. Archenround nodded.

Those are correct.

“Where'd you get those from?” the metahuman prodded.

“Always be prepared, lad,” Nole said, “Never know when ye'll need to planeshift.”

“Coins from a dozen planes,” G said, “Always make sure you have something.”

“I'll-” Luevo began, “I'll do the talking. If I'm right, the teller will know me. He's worked here longer than I can remember.”

He took the money and approached the booth. The teller was impossibly old, the gray wisps of his beard on the verge of disintegration, though his uniform was immaculate and clean – old Gobar had always wanted to make sure he looked as professional as possible, even in a dead-end job like this.

“Gobar,” Luevo whispered.

The old man stirred awake. For a moment, his eyes cast towards the urban horizon, before lowering down to Luevo.

“Ah, Luevo,” he broke out into a toothless smile, “Long time, hm?”

“Yes,” the prince looked over his shoulder. Nole was sniffing the air, the troll's entire body tensing, “When's the next train scheduled to leave?”

“Hmm, train,” Gobar took a look at the schedule, “Next one is scheduled for... an hour. We're getting everything set up now. Overnight run, heading towards Rupa City.”

“Any way we can get it earlier?” Luevo asked.

Gobar stared at him, an inscrutable look in the old man's eyes.

“Now, prince,” Gobar said, “You know that ain't the right way. The boys have to get the whole train ready, and we're still waiting for passengers to board. Now, I know it's been awhile, but there are still rules here-”

“Gobar, please,” Luevo pleaded, “It's, ah, guild business.”

He gestured to the guildmembers. Gobar looked up at them for a moment. Even with the showers, even with what little rest the hunt afforded them, all of them looked worn-down. The metahuman was swaying. Nole, despite his surly attitude, looked like a caged animal, ready to pounce at any moment.

“Alright, prince,” Gobar said, “Let's see what the old man can do.”

Luevo felt Rolala emerge out of his shoulder.

“How many people, ro lay lee?”

Gobar looked at the creature, “Picked up a friend?”

“How many people?” Luevo echoed.

“On the train? A small number, nothing major. Why?”

Luevo put the coins on the counter, counting them out to make sure there was enough money to get the tickets. He could hear Nole muttering to the rest of the group. Mordenaro was halfway through Chandhala, bee-lining towards them.

“A-ask them, are they sure they want to be onboard?”