Tyr still felt cold despite the heat of the day. Lao had taken him back to the edge of Dobby’s plateau without a word. They stared at the dozing wyvern for some time before Lao spoke.

“What do you know about the Ancients besides The Story?”

“Nothing. Just that they built the towers and the castles, I guess.”

“Our organization has been researching them for over a hundred years. We have learned much, and yet also very little.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then.”

“Got that out of your system?”

“Sorry.”

“We know that they were powerful. We know that they covered all of the Old Continent and even some of the New. They may have even been to the Far Side, but without our own means of getting there, it’s impossible to say. We have no idea what ended such a global civilization, but we think it has to do with the Elder Dragons.”

“Why them?”

“What other force do you know of that could take down an entire city?”

“I don’t know. Volcanoes? Earthquakes? Meteors?”

“A global catastrophe. Yes. We’ve thought of that too, but then how did everything else survive?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “Maybe…”

“Maybe this catastrophe was a targeted one. Maybe it was intelligent about what it destroyed.”

Tyr looked down at Mezaporta, trying not to picture the flying boats from the pintura, but they wouldn’t get out of his head. Nor would the face. “Well, if they did, how do you expect us to beat the Elders? Most Legends can only stand up to them one-on-one. And there are, what, ten Legends in all the world?”

“And there are dozens of known species of Elder, yes.”

“So, what then?”

“We don’t know yet. We don’t know what happened, or why. We know that we don’t want it to happen to us. We won’t let it, so long as we can stop it.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then everyone you care about dies, Tyr.”

“So why not recruit everyone? Why not work with the Guild and have them task everyone with this?”

“For the same reason they don’t run the Merchant’s Union, or have a Guild Hall in every single village. They have more-immediate concerns.”

“They always do.”

“You’re aware that they’re not evil, yes?”

“I know they’re not,” Tyr sighed. “I just… they’ve been against me for so long in my mind that it’s hard to accept that they haven’t been against me at all.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t against you.”

There was silence, broken only by the occasional snore from the slumbering Dobby.

“How did you meet?”

“She should be the one to tell you.”

“I’m never going to see her again, Lao. Not unless she leaves Nifila.”

“You think she won’t?”

“I… don’t know. I guess I was being stupid.”

“You were. But,” Lao shifted for the first time, her hammer grating against the ground. “I’ll tell you.”

“So long as I go do this for you, right?”

“No. If you aren’t convinced that saving the world is worth it then there’s no point in you going. I’m telling you because even though she should be the one to say it, she would want me to. We were sisters once, in the Guild.”

The rush of dizziness hit Tyr harder than Lao’s hammer. “Wh… What?”

“We were sisters in the Guild. That’s what they raise assassins to believe in.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn’t. You’ve known me less than a day, I’ve nearly killed you, and I’m asking you to search the world for answers to questions I don’t know the answer to. Believing me would be foolish, so tell me why you should.”

“That’s not how that’s supposed to work.”

Lao made a few small signs with her hands, and Tyr looked at her, somewhat perplexed.

“Yes?”

“Any Guild assassin will know that series of signs and recognize you as one of their own. Any Guild official will grant you one favor in a private audience. Even your travelling companions will know it means that you are someone important and need to see the local ruler. If you want a reason, try it, and see if I’ve lied to you.”

“But she… she said that was something else.”

“She’s smarter than you’ve given her credit for.”

“That’s not…” But he knew it was true. He’d always though she was brilliant, that she had eyes in the back of her head, but apparently even that had been an underestimation. “Can I go? I need to think.”

“Go.”

The walk back was slow, and he might’ve missed the doorway if Jebia and Vashimu hadn’t been coming out of it.

“Hey,” Vashimu started. “You gonna join us on the Unseen Path?”

“We came up with the name, you know. It sounded a lot better than the old one.”

“Lao doesn’t care for it much, but sh- hey!”

Tyr hadn’t meant to shove Vashimu so hard, but he didn’t want to talk to him either. Did they know his mother too? Did everyone have the ability to contact her except for him? His letters had never made it there. That or she’d just never written back. His fist hit the stone wall and chipped it.

He arrived back to Mezaporta so distracted by the thoughts in his head that he didn’t notice Adaline until she grabbed him from behind.

“So, how was the hunt?”

“We didn’t hunt. She brought me along to show me some ruins.”

“And she made it seem like such a big deal.” She gave him a small kiss on the back of the neck before moving around him. “So, did you get a new name for yourself then? A Dyura like me is bound to devour a Genprey like yourself.”

“Yeah,” Tyr said, staring off at Kokudriscol.

“Tyr, what is it?”

“Do you think the Ancients were weak?”

A curious look took over her face. “I don’t really think of them that often outside of Orion’s stories, but they built the first dragonators, and the towers. Even the switchaxe was recovered from designs found in their ruins. I don’t believe weaklings could do all that.”

“Yeah,” he said, his mind and voice distant. He couldn’t sort out his own head. The spheres. The ships. The signs that Lao had told him to test. “But… why did they disappear then?”

“They didn’t disappear, Tyr. They became humans, or the Wyverians. That’s just how things go.”

“So why don’t we have the same technology? Why did they give it up to become us?”

“I don’t know. No one knows. Why do you want to know all of a sudden? Did you see something in those ruins?”

“Yeah,” he repeated in that same distant voice.

“Show me?”

He shook his head, more slowly than he’d meant to. “Can I… ask you something first?”

“Anything, Tyr. You know that.”

He made the motions. They were simple, but he made them slowly to be sure. Two fingers down, then three up on the turn, and then a palm to the chest. T. Y. R. That’s what she’d taught him. It had to be what she’d said or else…

“Where in the world did you learn the royal summons?” Adaline’s face was awash with confusion now. “Don’t tell me Lao is some sort of important diplomat too?”

His hand fell.

“Tyr, what’s wrong? Why did you want to know about that sign?” Her desperation to cheer him up cracked the edges of her voice. “It’s nothing important, Tyr. It just means that someone has an important message for my father. Usually messengers use it when they’re out of breath, or if they have trouble with the language. That’s all.” His tears hit her cheek, and she clung to him tightly. “It’s not important,” she repeated.

It took some time for Tyr to find his voice again. “I was the one who stopped writing.”

“Stopped writing what?”

“It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Lao just wants to me to go out and look for answers to why the Ancients disappeared.”

“Why?”

“To save the world from the Elder Dragons.”

“That’s a lot to ask.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know!” It was the first time he’d ever snapped at her. The first time he’d really snapped at anyone since he’d left Nifila. The anger felt good. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She didn’t look at him. “Well, maybe we should go. If we find the answer, maybe the Guild would make you a Legend.”

“For finding an answer to a problem that might not even exist?”

“Well, you said it involved the Elder Dragons, right? So, if we go looking then maybe we’ll encounter one and you can become a Legend by slaying it.”

“I’m not just going to kill for no reason. Besides, I’m still not at my full strength yet, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“But you might by the time we find one, right? Look at how far you’ve come. You took down the Jhen before.”

“With four ships, two cannons, and a Dragonator. Anyone could’ve done that.”

“But they didn’t. You did it, Tyr. You can do it. You have to.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he said. “I know you need me to, but I don’t think I can. I don’t know anything anymore.”

She shook her head furiously, blue hair lashing back and forth. “No. Don’t say that. You’re going to be a Legend and everything will be okay.”

“But what if I can’t?”

“You can.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll keep trying. We’ll keep trying until you do and we can be together.”

“I mean what if I just don’t? What if I stop now and just… go home?”

She froze.

“I want to go home. I never wanted to leave. I miss my family and my life so much and it finally hurts to miss them. I just want to find a way to go back to them.”

“Being a Legend will do that. You can do anything when you’re a Legend.”

“Adaline.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your name.”

“No, not with you. I don’t want to be Adaline when I’m with you. I want to be Addy, because Addy doesn’t have to be a princess. She’s just yours, and no one cares about anything else.”

“And what about your family? What about Fahrenn? Didn’t you tell me tha-“

“I know what I said, but you can’t leave me.” Tears flowed hotly down her cheeks as she kissed him, again and again between every sentence. “I know I said I couldn’t be that selfish, but all I want is you. Just you. Only you. Forever. If I can just have you then the rest of the world can burn to the ground and I’ll be happy. I swear I’ll be happy and never regret a thing. Not even for a moment. Just please, please don’t leave me. Take me with you. Be angry at me. Lock me away in some private dungeon forever so everyone else thinks I’m dead, just so long as I’m yours. Please.”

“Addy…” he managed before her lips silenced him again. He held her tightly, feeling every shudder as she tried to keep herself from breaking down. But she couldn’t keep kissing him forever. Her lips tripped over his soon enough, and she sobbed into his shoulder, shaking violently no matter how Tyr tried to hold her still.

Tyr didn’t say anything to her, just held her as close as he could and stroked her beautiful blue hair. He could almost taste the red heat of her tears whenever they touched his skin, and could feel every tiny stutter or choke as they threatened to tear out his heart. His stomach wasn’t just in knots, it was wound so tightly into such a tiny ball that he wasn’t certain he could have found it if its exact location weren’t so painfully obvious. He didn’t cry with her, because he would’ve cried about something else entirely.

She cried though. With all her fury and her grief. Without a clue in the world how to make the impossible situation better. Adaline cried and cried until there was nothing left, and then she cried because there was nothing left. She felt like the breath of a breeze could’ve broken her in half. But Tyr was still there, holding her, caressing her, and so she buried her face back into him, despite the feeling of his tear-and-snot-stained shirt against her skin.

“Can I tell you something?” he whispered soothingly.

Adaline couldn’t even nod her head without crying again. The tears came not because of all the terrible things she knew he would never say, but because of the one terrible thing she knew he would say. The worst thing he could say. And the moment she stopped crying he would say it and then she would cry again. So, she cried because she knew she was going to cry at something that hadn’t even happened. She felt so stupid, but that didn’t stop the sobs from squeezing her chest.

It didn’t take as long to stop crying the second time, but she was shaking harder now. Crying was a lot harder on a body than hunting. “Wh-wh-what…?” The rest of the sentence wouldn’t make it out. It was caught in her throat with another wave of tears, just waiting to get out.

“I love you.” That was it. That terrible and horrible and beautiful and wonderful and perfect and heartbreaking phrase. The one thing she knew he’d say, and just as she’d predicted she was bawling again at the sound. It was more painful than any wyvern bite or explosive. More painful than waiting for him to say it the first time had ever been, and more painful than it would ever be again. She wanted to hide in those words and never stop hearing them even as she sputtered and shook because of them. But there was nothing to hold onto but Tyr. She clung tighter and tighter to him, her knuckles bone white from the effort.

When she stopped crying again she could almost take a whole breath without wanting to curl into a ball for the rest of her life. Through those tiny breaths, she managed to tell him the right thing. “I love you too.” The words had all come out broken, in fifteen syllables instead of four, but she had done it. She didn’t break down that time, but she still cried. Her tears stung like fire sac fluid, and her body shook like the earth beneath the a Zorah’s feet.

Tyr just held her until she could finally bear to be more than an inch from him. and held her for a long while after that in silence.

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course.”

“Why are we here then?”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Addy...”

She swallowed hard. “When we were at dinner and you didn’t want to marry me, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted you, but I couldn’t let Fahrenn fall apart. I couldn’t be that selfish. But I couldn’t lose you, because that would have been worse. So, I… before I told everyone that I’d marry a Legend, I thought it up in my head. I thought of how I could escape and be with you, and make everyone think that I was being a good princess. And I was going to tell you, I swear I was, but then Sarah and Kean came along, and Kensei, and then…”

“You lied to me?”

“No!” she grabbed his shoulders, pinned them against the tree. Even if he hadn’t been sitting, it would’ve been difficult to escape. “No, I didn’t. I just didn’t tell you everything. So, you can’t leave me, Tyr. You can’t. You can’t because I didn’t do anything wrong. Not this time. You’re more important to me than anything has ever been, and I was just trying to keep you. Please. You have to see that.”

“I do, Addy. But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought… I thought if I told you that you’d tell them. That you wouldn’t be able to keep it from them like I could. And they couldn’t know, Tyr. Not if we’re going to run. They can’t know.”

“Okay,” he said softly as Orion came trotting up.

“There you guys are. Hate to break up whatever’s about to happen here.” He gave them both a wink. “But we’ve finally gathered up the stuff we need to build a house. Or, well, probably. We’ve got bricks, anyways.”

“We’re leaving,” Tyr said.

“But… the bricks!”

“We’re going hunting Elder Dragons,” he continued.

“Sounds like a suicide run,” Orion said with a smile. “Count me in.”

“Tyr,” Adaline whispered to him, but he only squeezed her in response.

“Tell the others, Orion. We’ll sleep here tonight, resupply, but in the morning we’re going.”

“You wanna tell me what happened on that mountain so I know why?”

Tyr almost smiled. “I realized what was most-important to me.”

Kean almost exploded. “Where does he get the nerve?” he demanded. “He drags us to the bottom of the world, spends an hour on a mountain, and now we’re leaving.”

“Hey, I’m just the messenger,” Orion said with a shrug.

“He must have a reason for it,” Sarah added, grabbing Kean’s hand before he could rush off.

“He vacillates more than the wind.” He tugged off his gauntlet, leaving Sarah empty-handed. “Yes, everyone has a reason to follow him. And what about your reason for wanting to follow him? Do you still need to spend time with your sister, or have we finally had enough of her selfishness too?”

Sarah looked to Kensei and Orion, who were both pretending not to hear. One was much better at it than the other was. “She’s following her heart.”

“She should try following her mind for once.”

“Doesn’t she have the right to do what makes her happy?”

“An action cannot be judged based on how much it makes the individual happy, My Bride. I’ve told you that before. If we just let everyone d-“

“My name is Sarah.”

“Of course it is.”

“Use my name when you speak to me, Kean. We’re Untitled now.” She could feel her fist clenching.

“It is quite the gimmick for a squad, I’ll admit, but don’t tell me you actually believe in it.”

“I do.”

“I’m sorry then, Sarah. Is that better?”

It was hard to stay angry at him when he would bend like that. He didn’t bend when it was Tyr. If only he would’ve been stubborn with her in the same way, it would’ve all been so much easier. “Yes,” she admitted.

“Excellent. As I was saying, we can’t let everyone do what makes them the happiest, or else we might have to let killers go free, or hunters take down as many monsters as they please. It would be chaos.”

“But does her pursuit really hurt anyone? Some don’t get the chance to marry her, but they might not have anyways.”

“I suppose you’re right at that,” Kean admitted as he plucked up his fallen armor. “I’m just frustrated that it has to be him. He has no sense in him.” He took her cheeks in his palms and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry for getting so angry.”

“It’s okay.”

“So, Orion, did he at least say where we’re going? Or what we’re going to be doing?”

“Hunting Elder Dragons. He’s got it into his head that they’re keeping some secret about the Ancients, I guess. Gonna save the world.”

Kean rubbed his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“Messenger,” Orion repeated as he finished setting up his tent. “But I couldn’t argue with him. He had one of his ‘Three Cephadromes at once ain’t enough’ looks. Easier to just let him lead when he’s like that.”

“You mean to say you follow him even though you don’t understand him and think his ideas are dangerous?”

“Basically.”

“And why?”

Orion gave half a laugh before he answered. “You know, the best stories are the ones you see for yourself. And if I wasn’t following Tyr, then I’d be back in Fahrenn chasing down Tigrex number thirty.”

“Kensei.” Kean turned, but remembered himself before he could go further. “What do you think of all of this? Surely, you can see reason.”

“Reason is in every direction. To miss it would be to miss the earth.”

“Precisely,” Kean said, though he wasn’t certain he meant it. “And so, surely, you have a better reason for following Tyr than wanting to see a show.”

“I do.”

The silence that followed was unexpected, so Kean pushed as gently as his upbringing had taught him to. “Would you enlighten us?”

Kensei took his katana by the sheathe, holding it up in front of him. “The center of a blade is not its balancing point. The hilt’s weight must be accounted for. But when the blade is long, the weight will not balance at the guard either.” He let his fingers fall away until the longsword was balanced on a single finger, barely moving. “Yet we hold our blades low, because our chakras change this balance further, each swing bringing pieces of our weapons in and out of their influence. My sword goes where I guide it, and I go where it guides me.”

“Yes,” Kean said, trying to stall for time.

“So, you follow Tyr for balance?” Sarah hazarded.

“The Spring quiets for no Winter,” he said. “I follow my path, and it is aligned with his. No more, no less.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Kensei. And so what of us, my Sarah? Are we going to continue following Tyr and the others around, or can we get back to our own lives? Loc Lac needs us much more than they do.”

“Just a little longer,” she lied.