The men behind him were arguing again.

Sir Yvain the Scaler set down his reins and stared at his gauntleted hands. They weren't wearing their usual colours, and though the dimensions were the same, Yvain felt quite stuffy in his red surcoat and new armour. His gaze drifted down to his sternum. His proud lion sigil was dyed a deep red alongside his cloak. Yvain didn't have to look at the others to tell they were the same. And perhaps there truly was some unity in that. It was for that reason he held his tongue and bore these colours silently. Unity between three different city states and the northern kingdom of Savaria was something to be proud of- even if seeing his white lion turn red left a bad taste in his mouth.

Yvain wondered what they thought about having their own sigils altered. Or if they even cared. Those honourless men.

“Don't take that tone with us. We are all equally part of the Alliance of the Red Sun and should be treated as such”

Another man snickered, his thick accent colouring even his laugh. His armour was bulkier than the others and he wore a thick grey animal pelt cloak over his shoulders.

“The only reason this alliance even exists is because of Savaria's backing.”

“And the only reason why you white tails weren’t besieged is because we held the line. It was our armies that defended the Bloodfrost Pass. We bled while you lot sat on your asses in the snow. We bled so those monsters didn’t end up taking half of the North!”

“Held the line? You caved in on yourselves! It was our elite troops that kept your barely functioning armies alive. It was us that sheltered your sick. Your children. And it was us that put an end to the war.”

Yvain grit his teeth. These foolish little children. Why were they squabbling about who did more in a war they themselves did not even fight in?

“Silence. All of you. Do you not have an ounce of integrity? Fighting with yourselves when Vandryl is a single day's ride away. We are the inspectors. We are here to keep the peace.”

The man with the grey cloak rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Wouldn’t jumped up fact-checkers be more apt?”

Yvain pulled the reins and his horse whipped around, rearing up and blocking the other three men in their tracks.

“Woah”

The man put his hands up and began to talk quickly, stumbling over his words as Yvain trotted closer, his icy stare piercing through his helm.

“So the bards do not exaggerate. You are as minacious as they say. Scaler. I apologise. It seems this tiresome ride has loosened my tongue.”

“Hmph. Careful, les you want to lose it.”

Yvain saw the man smirk at him as he turned his horse back around.

Pretentious brat.

“Do you know why we are here? No, of course you do- and you also know the significance of tomorrow. This inspection will be different from the ones in past years. We need to be meticulous. I'm sure those monsters will try to put one over on us. That cannot be allowed to happen. They are our common enemy so put aside your grievances and let us work together. Is that not what the Alliance of the Red Sun is for? We need to keep them in check.”

Yvain heard them grumble in agreement and spurred his horse ride faster. They did not know the true danger of the Scaled. Those monster people. They could not be trusted. A beast does not bare its fangs until the moment your back is turned.

He grit his teeth as heard more shuffling behind him. Were they squabbling again? Did they still not realise the importance of this job?

He should just ride ahead. He knew their rouncey horses could not hope to match the speed of a seasoned warhorse like Orthea. That way he could not only be rid of their squawking but also catch those monsters off guard by arriving early.

He looked back at them one last time and kicked Orthea faster. If they were not taking this seriously, then what good were they? The Alliance of the Red Sun has no need for incompetence. Better they fall to the side and make way for better men.

Yvain's eyes burned silently as the cold wind cut into his taut face. He was there. The one that killed Calog. He was there in that city of beasts.

What he would give to drive his sword though his great eye.

And perhaps he would have the chance.

Perhaps tomorrow would be the day his brother is finally avenged.

---

Curiosity brings light even to the darkest parts of unknowing. It is the essence of opportunity. Of discovery. And breathes life into adventure.

Amora heard it even before the door swung open. That loud pop as the enchantment broke and the air around her turned dry. She thought it was the sound of boredom breaking- curiosity’s final crescendo, but as she squinted into unyielding black she remembered where curiosity led her before.

Amora grabbed her throbbing shoulder and turned to Lokt. His face looked taut and there was an air of nervousness about him. For the first time she’d met him, he looked-

Unsure.

“You’re not gonna use the beat up girl with one arm and one leg as bait are you?”

“Bait? No.”

“But a meat shield...”

Lokt tilted his head, smiling, as Amora shuffled backwards ever-so slightly. He wondered what she would do if he just pushed her in there. Would she scream? Would she be angry? Or would she just get up and laugh it off? Lokt shook the thought from his head. As funny as that would be, gambling her life away for simple amusement seemed hardly worthwhile.

Huh.

What a strange thought.

Were it any other human he’d encountered, he’d happily toss them into certain death- if only for his entertainment. Lokt sighed. The years alone had made him soft. Then again, they were all hardly as interesting as her.

A girl without Bounties.

“Are you sure there’s nothing inside? No monsters or anything?”

He turned to face her, eyes remaining affixed to the shadowy interior as he pulled at his glove compulsively.

“Well, nothing seems to be coming out- so I’d like to think so”

Amora nodded slowly as she gnawed at her lip. ‘He’d like to think so’, which probably meant he had no idea what was inside or could be inside.

Lovely.

“And you want me to go first?”

Lokt lifted his gaze and eyed her for a second. He looked down at her leg and shoulder before shrugging impassively.

“You said you wanted to help”

Amora exhaled loudly, blowing hair from her eyeline, and looked into the black doorway. A portal into the unknown. Lokt was right, she did say something like that, didn't she?

She took a deep breath, curling her good hand around the door frame, and hobbled forward.

Amora had an idea of who she used to be. Or, who she hoped she used to be. Strong and brave, smart and kind. Loved. Naturally, she had no idea if it was true or not. But it gave her courage. If she truly had been like that, even if she forgot, perhaps her body remembers- and maybe, it was not so hard to reclaim.

Besides, she wasn’t getting any talking spider vibes from the house so how bad could it really be?

She watched her front foot disappear into shadow and hesitated.

“You know, it occurs to me I don’t even know what a witch is.”

Lokt scrunched his face and nodded, as though he expected the question. Or rather, wondered why it didn't come sooner.

“Her? Oh, she’s just some old crone. Not a problem really. Wide brim hat, ugly as a toad. Crazy. Big into cursing trespassers”

He said that last bit quicker and several times quieter but Amora heard him all the same. Cursing? That didn't sound particularly pleasant. She could have asked Lokt to explain, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t like the answer. So Amora closed her eyes in a slow, drawn out blink and spoke, succumbing to fate’s seemingly sadistic predilection.

“And…we’re trespassing right now, aren’t we?”

Amora looked back at Lokt and gulped as she saw him put on the fakest smile she’d ever seen in the history of her 3- day memory.

“And the woman- that curses trespassers, had her door unlocked.”

Unlocked? The enchantment was the lock. Ordinarily, Lokt would have pointed that out and rolled his eyes or scoffed. But- she did have a point. He did not expect to be able to break past the protections, much less actually enter the Witch's’ house without any real resistance. If she was half as ruthless and cunning as the rumours say, it was almost certain this was a trap.

They glanced at each other before looking back into the house.

“So… together?”

Lokt sucked in a mouthful of air and nodded, stretching his glove up just below his elbow. He’d come this far. Either he was going to get what he wanted or… no. There was no longer any alternative left.

Time was running out.

They both pushed forward, shoulder to shoulder, plunging into dark.

And curiosity rejoiced.

But as light left her eyes, Amora remembered-

Curiosity cared nothing for consequence.

---

“ Wha-”

Amora brought her hand up, shielding herself as the room flooded with hot light. It poured from above. A white, artificial sky- blinding them with sight.

She squinted up, searching for the source.

A shining sphere, suspended from the roof like a second sun.

Amora ducked her head, clutching at her face. Even that short glimpse burned a hole in her vision. She looked down, desperately trying to blink the huge discoloured spot away, as the bottom of Lokt’s patchy cloak swept past her in a torrent of brown. A flagrant challenge against shadowless white. She lifted her head, willing herself to look at him as he marched forward unperturbed.

“What is tha-”

WHO ARE YOU

Amora saw him fall. He doubled over, twisting and turning as he dropped to his knees. Blank confusion slack across his face as he looked up at her. She reached out as he opened his mouth and realised-

She was falling too.

WHO ARE YOU

Sound.

It was sound.

Amora cried out as a voice roared in her head. She folded over, bringing her hands up to her ears as it crushed her skull. Her sling hardened, straining against her as white became red and the walls began to shake. She looked up at Lokt, her vision tinged by the red light, and saw him stagger to her. He clutched at his head and his mouth was moving.

But what was he saying?

“-oor!”

His eyes looked wild as his mouth flapped at her. She could see faint spittles shower out, stretching and reaching for her. A desperate plea against deaf ears.

“-d the door!”

Door?

Amora looked back behind her-

VOOM.

- and the door slammed shut.

Lokt rushed past her, slamming his gloved hand into hard wood. His fist snapped back in a blur of blue as his eyes widened. But the enchantment-

WHO ARE YOU

It thundered again. And Lokt understood. It was not so much sound as it was inside their heads. Witch magic. He grit his teeth and jabbed again. They had to get out. They had to leave. Before it got worse. Before it escalated.

Amora strained against the sound and saw Lokt loose a flurry of punches at the door, each one bouncing off the red wood. Didn’t they already break the enchantment? She watched the rush of deep blue slowly brighten and glow. He paused, panting, and put a hand against the door to steady himself as the gold rims of his glove began to expand and flow down his arm. He sucked in air, steeling himself, and struck again. The wall around the door shuddered upon the impact, but the door itself still held strong.

Lokt looked down at the door. Nothing? Not even a dent? No. He knew that was not how the enchantment worked. It just meant that he wasn't strong enough to deplete its power source. Lokt felt his gloves get heavier. Good. He needed the weight. But it was taking too long. He looked at the edges of the door, at its frame. If the door itself was enchanted perhaps the walls-

“Lokt!”

He looked at Amora wildly, fist still clenched.

“Lokt there!”

She was pointing to the red orb. But that was a light fixture. No. He had to break the walls. It was his only option. If he waited any longer there was no telling how much worse it could get, It was not-

WHO ARE YOU

It thundered in his mind. Pressing. Crushing. Breaking. He glanced at the door and back at Amora, and blurred backwards. For a second he was flying, air whipping across his face as red filled his vision, and then-

Collision.

He brought his fist to the shining orb.

Lokt fell to the floor, like a bird from the sky, slamming into the ground below. He rolled over, clutching his hand as he looked up.

What was that thing made of?!

No. He needed more. More strength.

Amora saw Lokt's strained expression as he cradled his hand. He flexed his fingers as tendrils of gold webbed down from his wrist. Gone was gentle blue.

Amora saw him stand, shoulders hunched as he strained to lift his arm up. And then he lept. Glowing hand outstretched.

Amora held her breath. For a moment, he held the orb. It was much bigger than his hand, but she swore she could see him wrap his entire fist around it. For a moment, there was royal beauty. A shining red gem cradled by five golden prongs.

And then, the red room returned to black. And the orb shattered.

Lokt landed awkwardly, stumbling as light left his eyes. He crashed forwards, his heavy arm dropping him into the floorboards. He pushed himself up, blowing sweat slicken hair out of his eyes and sighed.

“I really hate witches”

---

It worked?

Lokt half expected to hear the voice again. That they had simply fallen into another trap. He dreaded it. But it did not come.

He brought his golden glove up.

Gold has a lustre of its own, reflecting light in a soft, polished shine. But this was different. This gold did not need to borrow light to shine. Lokt held it high as it hummed quietly, lighting the room with its balmy glow. He looked over at the girl. She was still on all fours- or in her case threes- and looked up at him with sunken eyes. Her face looked pale and haggard as she rocked back and forth unsteadily. Unsurprising, having come so close to death- or whatever else the Witch had set up.

“Is- is it over?”

Lokt nodded.

He felt dizzy and his head- heavy. No doubt the aftermath from whatever that spell was. Pity he destroyed it. He’d never seen anything like it before. From his understanding of magic and imbued items he didn’t think such a thing was possible. To actually assail a person's mind.

Lokt shifted his head experimentally. He could already feel its effects wearing off so there didn't seem to be any permanent damage. Perhaps the Witch wasn’t as ruthless as the rumours suggested? Still, there was no telling what would happen if the orb hadn’t been broken.

“Good call Amora”

She smiled stiffly, gingerly pushing herself up as she spoke.

“You're… strong.”

Lokt smiled. His heart was still beating out of his chest and his glove- heavy, but he smiled all the same. Not because he himself thought he was strong. He'd seen real strength before and knew he could not compare. No, it was the fact that this- purported strength was precisely the reason he was here in the first place.

“Thanks.”

He saw her stand and rub her eyes with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath. Two. And then smiled. Not a forced, mechanical smile but a real one. With her eyes. One would believe she looked glad. Certainly not glad it happened. But glad to have survived.

Lokt watched her as she began to look around the room. She bounced back that quick? Just how mentally resilient was this girl? It was… positively irksome. Borderline creepy. He remembered when he first saw her. She did mention almost dying three times before. He thought she’d been exaggerating. But watching her now, with her blase attitude, he had no choice but to believe her.

“This place is a mess!”

He shone his glove around the room as she exclaimed and couldn't help but agree. There were countless books around them, most looked battered, pages ripped from their spines. Other broken things lay beside the books; vases, flasks, kitchenware, coloured dust- which he could only assume were once crystals of some kind.

Most notable of the objects were small hand-sized dolls, but they too were maimed, their tiny heads ripped from their bodies. He looked up from the ground and walked around the room. In the middle, sat the only unbroken objects: a single table with chairs on either side, both made of some kind of pale marble.

Lokt brought his hand to his chin and rubbed at it absentmindedly. This was not just an attack on the Witch. Whoever did this had a deep loathing for her. One that justified systematically breaking everything in her home. Was the Witch home when the attack occurred? If she was home- he saw Amora, out of his peripheral vision, bend down and leaf through torn pages with her hand.

“No! Don't touch anything!”

She pulled back and looked at Lokt as if struck by his sudden imposition.

“We don't know if anything has been hexed or cursed. It could still be dangerous”

Amora swallowed mutely, pulling her hand close to her body as she nodded cautiously.

Lokt exhaled, his back untensing. Where was he? Ah, yes, the true matter at hand was whether or not the Witch was actually here when the attack occurred. That distinction changes everything. If she was…

Amora watched him rub his chin and decided to make her way to the marble table. She tried her best not to step on anything as she wandered forward- which turned out to be quite a challenge as the floor was practically covered with one fragmented object or another. And her cast leg did not help either. She sidestepped past a series of shattered pots, pivoting off her good leg before hopping over into the side of the table.

She grunted as she landed, placing a hand on the cool stone to steady herself. The table was quite large, made from one continuous chunk of stone. Amora estimated that if she were to lay on it straight, only her ankles would hang off.

She looked down, her hair spilling over her shoulder and onto the table as she blew away a thin layer of dust from the pale marble. A piece of scrap paper shifted, threatening to slip into the sea of torn pages below the table. Amora slid closer, grabbing it before it fell. She raised it to her face and grimaced, remembering Lokt’s warning, and slapped the page back down. Amora looked over at Lokt guiltily as he continued to mutter unawares.

“Where is that damned Witch?”

He needed to find something. Some kind of clue to her whereabouts. Or at the very least a sign she was not dead. Yes, he had to think logically. Lokt drew up his cloak and closed his eyes as he tried ordering his thoughts. He wondered if he looked like Aiken. It seemed like the type of thing he would do. He stopped himself from shuddering. It didn’t matter as long as it worked.

“There are three possible scenarios here. One, the Witch was here when it happened and she was taken or killed. Two, the Witch wasn’t here when it happened, saw it or the aftermath, and now is gone- probably into hiding. But wait. If she wasn’t here and she saw the damage she would have surely reported it to Vandryl? She should know the city would mobilise to her defence. Unless there was some reason she couldn’t report it…”

“-And three, she did this herself. Although…”

Amora looked up from the torn page and frowned.

“Why would she want to do that? Trash her own home?”

Lokt’s eyes shot open. Was he talking out loud? He coughed into his glove and straightened up as he looked at her.

“Probably to hide herself? Or to make it so her enemies think she perished somehow? Still… it’s so puzzling. Why was the enchantment on the door and the spell to ward off trespassers still intact? Did they disable them somehow?”

The more he thought about it, the more he thought the second scenario was the most ideal. Lokt hoped the Witch hadn’t been here when this happened, whatever this was. Though, this was not borne out of kindness or concern. But merely selfish hope. He did not care for her wellbeing aside from anything rendering her unable to assist him.

If she was gone, where would that leave him?

“What is this?”

Lokt turned to Amora. She was sitting comfortably on one of the stone seats, head leaning against her hand as she peered intently at something. He walked to her, grumbling, and saw what she was looking at.

A letter.

He bent down, looking over her shoulder and read it out loud.

To my dearest sister, I know you will find your way to this message as I know-

Look to the sky and the stars anew and know that I-

my blood. Neither dea-

An incomplete message. Ripped in half. Useless alone. Lokt looked around for the other half but it seemed futile. Lost amongst the profusion of pages that littered the floor below. He looked up at Amora as she read the page. It was a short message, but it seemed like she was taking quite some time to read. She looked up at him with vacant eyes and spoke.

“Was this letter meant for her?”

“Hmm? Probably. But it is unreadable as it is”

“So should we search for the other half?”

Lokt frowned and waved his gloved hand to the side, its glow shifting all the shadows in the room accordingly.

“Be my guest. But it seems like a lot of work for something usel- ”

He watched as she nodded and pushed herself off the seat. Was she serious? There were hundreds of scrap pages scattered across the room. Did she really mean to go through them all?

“What if she was the one who let the person in and they gave her this letter?”

Lokt paused and looked down at her.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, this note is the only thing that’s on the table and you said it was weird the enchantment was still active. So could she have let them in intentionally?”

He opened his mouth. And closed it. That was actually… plausible. Not the note part. He didn’t know why she was so fixated on it. But the part about her letting someone inside her home? And the implication. She wasn’t the type to let just anyone in her home. If it was someone she actually knew, that narrowed the possible suspects considerably. And it meant that, most likely- they were in Vandryl.

It fits.

But Lokt did not want to believe it just yet. Not while there was still a chance the Witch was simply in hiding.

Either way, he had to tell someone. The Witch of Scales is gone. And from the generous amount of dust coating everything, it had been this way for a while. The next step was to go back to Vandryl. Perhaps they could help find her. He hated the idea of looking to them for assistance, but it seemed like the sensible thing to do.

He watched Amora leaf through a stack of pages with her bare hands and sighed. Didn’t he just tell her about the danger of possible hexes? He watched as she sorted each page diligently. Huh, she was really trying to search for the missing half of the letter. He wondered what possessed her to do so. It didn’t seem to be particularly interesting or important. In fact he could probably guess the bulk of the message already.

“Amor-”

“Lokt. What is that?!”

He shifted to her as she shot up, pointing a finger at something beneath the table. He leaned over, hand outstretched as his shining glove irradiated shadow.

“Ah.”

“That, little Amora, is a hand”