A cold sigh shrunk Lois’ chest, dreadful eyes examining the lapidary’s work. It was a simple commission but an important one. Four golden necklaces ran draped across her palm, the carnelian heart-shaped pendants each sharing the names of their respective owners. She imagined this reunion to be a joyous one in years past, but now she dreaded it, not least because of the changes and traumas she’d endured. Her attention rose from her occupied palm to the gorgeous and renovated interior of her new vardo, finally completed. Four rooms, one for herself, another for Enzo, a third couple room for Chelle and Mica and a Guest room should they entertain visitors. The smell of freshly cut Bandlewood still hung on the wagon and the calming hum of Merryl’s hextech machinations finally realized was an ever present whitenoise. It was nothing short of cozy. The insides were heated well by a coal pit, the storage cupboards in the kitchenette were well stocked and the wheels were ready to turn… She was finally ready to introduce her grand idea.

Lois summoned her courage as best she could, willing herself out of the lounge bed pit and to the front door of her new mobile home. Her eyes followed the banister of the low hanging balcony walkway along to the loft workshop and bedroom, then a hand fell across the tapered lumber that framed the door. It was every bit the way she imagined it would be. Lois pocketed the necklaces dangling from her fist, all but one. Her own. A small heart-shaped slot sat above the knob where a lock and tumbler would be. She pressed the carnelian pendant into the divot, charging the mechanism with positive energies to cancel out the magically magnetic seal. The insides of the vardo pulsed with discharge as a seam was torn open in unreality. The door was opened and a threshold from the pocket dimension that encompassed the bowels of the wagon to Bandle City was opened.

The complexities of the magic used to create a larger interior than what was displayed on the outside was something she herself hardly understood. But her deep pockets afforded her that lack of knowledge. On the outside the vardo was not at all what it seemed inside. The exterior was still impressively large, even by Human standards, and the interior wasn’t massive by any scope of the definition, but each was sized respective to their counterpart. It was important to maintain the claustrophobia a wagon home would provide, otherwise what was the point of living on the road if it always felt like you were stepping into an itinerant mansion? The magical guts of her abode were barely bigger than what she now looked upon.

The body of what she dubbed the Carnelian Heart was of an arched profile, taller at the back than at the front and with a bright crimson-orange paint job between the darker wood framing and structure. Banners displaying the crest she’d commissioned were draped across the sloping sides of the vehicle, and each set was of varying length. Tarps were rolled and fastened to the sides of the vardo to limit exposure to the elements, travel bags and locked trunks ran the length and underside of the Carnelian, filled with the less important but more cumbersome travel equipment they’d require on their future journey, and for additional aesthetic expertly cut detailing and silver engravings adorned the vardo’s frame. Lois especially liked that, it broke up the monotony and contrasted the painted crimson-orange with more browns and added silvers.

Cobalt was in the process of hanging the last midnight lanterns, a gift given from a client in the Piltover Adventurer’s Guild some years ago now. Once activated the owner could set the color of the flames inside and control their brightness.

“Everything inside to your liking?” Cobalt asked as he fixed the lantern to the hook he just finished installing. He took a moment to test its strength, tugging on the metal rod and curl to find it was as sturdy as he hoped.

“We’re pleased with your work, we wanted to discuss payment.” Lois had racked up an outstanding tab with Cobalt and his business, a tab that would keep Cobalt far above water with his finances for quite a long time.

“O-Of course,” He stepped down from the driver’s platform, dusting his hands of the wood chippings from thirty minutes earlier. Cobalt couldn’t deny he was eager to see this check cashed, but another feeling began to take form in the pit of his stomach. That ugly feeling when goodbyes were exchanged. The brawny Yordle was silently kicking himself knowing Lois would be the one that got away. If Rutile was by his side she'd say something like, “Every shot taken is an opportunity at success,” or whatever.

“Remind us what the total was again?” Lois smiled, producing her checkbook, something that was seeing increasing use in the past few months what with all the commissions paid for and services rendered. The foreign exchange of Piltover Golden Hexes to Bandle City’s Rootcoin was a time consuming process made worse by an irritating experience at Bandle City Banking.

“The total… Uh-...” Cobalt ground his teeth, not because he’d forgotten the tab, but because he was unsure of how to proceed. He couldn’t rightly confess his feelings to a woman he knew hardly anything about. He silently kicked himself some more. “Actually--...” He laughed, combing the back of his neck with his nails. Think, Cobalt, think!

“Excuse me if this seems out of place, ma’am- But I couldn’t help but notice you had me make four rooms, by chance are all of them occupied?”What a stupid idea, Cobalt!

“Uhm- And what is it you’re suggesting?” Unbeknownst to the Carpenter, Lois had been informed of his feelings shortly after his first encounter with Merryl. Girl gossip and the like.

“Well, if I’m being honest I don’t get near enough business for my liking...” He lied, knowing full well his establishment received enough customers on a semi-regular basis. “And as I understand it this is a mercantile vardo… Maybe in exchange for a twenty-five percent discount I could sell my services and merchandise on the road with you?” Cobalt knew he was out of his mind with this pitch, but surprisingly he had formulated it into a concise and not at all awkward proposition. He nearly sighed with relief at that fact.

Lois, too, was about as impressed with how his idea came across. But what would the other three think? “Well--” Before she could think on it Cobalt jumped in.

“Or how about thirty? You couldn’t pass on a deal like that, could you?” The self doubt and nervousness was beginning to creep into his optimistic tone.

His innocent and cluelessly charming smile whittled away at Lois’ sternness. She had every right to deny him, but given the effort he’d put into this project, and now with the fact that he was willing to gimp his payout for a chance to be around her, it was remarkably brave - especially for someone so socially awkward. It brought an amused smile to her face.

After a while of silent contemplation she spoke up. “We could use you for maintenance on the wagon… Fine, thirty it is…”

Cobalt had to keep himself from bursting into child-like glee. “Fantastic!”

“But!” Lois began, snapping him back into attentive silence. “There are rules! Don’t go in our room for any reason without permission, respect the privacy of the other occupants, keep yourself and your space clean and stay off our rugs with food and or drink!”

“Can do, can do,” Cobalt affirmed like a soldier at attention.

“Good, now hook up this beast and let’s be on our way - we’ll write your check later.”

Cobalt turned to look upon the beast in question, it had been there for some time now, occupying space just outside the open ascending door of his workshop, it was a wonder he managed to ignore it. In reality the beast of burden was anything but. It was a majestic but ultimately terrifying creature, simply because of its abnormal size. Cobalt had heard stories of its existence out there in the Bandlewood wilds, but never did he expect to see one of such rare breed stood before him. Its black and beady eyes came gravitating towards him as he took a warry step forward. It was a herbivore but damnit if he wasn’t intimidated.

Lois strode over to the magnificent thing, hardly challenged by its grandiose posture and gigantic horns, bringing her hand to feel along the longest of the three. Cobalt knew it as the Tri-Horned Cochchafer. A massive furred Beetle about the size of a Freljordian Elnük bison capable of flight and hauling. The less renowned and more common Cochchafers were used for hauling on farms and transportation. Their flight capable beating wings made a mess of noisy buzzing but they were effective for flying heavy equipment and cargo about, much like Piltover copters were capable of. The training and handling of a Cochchafer was about as hard as training a Runeterran steed, but the Tri-Horned variants were known to be more territorial and aggressive.

Their aggression was partly the reason why Lois broke her bank to have it trained not only to haul the vardo but also to serve as a massive guard dog should they be away from the Carnelian. Tri-Horned Cochchafers were prized for their intelligence alongside their brawn and beauty. Simple commands and owner recognition if hammered at long enough could be issued with a high likelihood of execution. But this Cochafer was doubly special, bred to possess the rare crimson-orange secondary hue of its otherwise black carapace. The color became more pronounced towards the end of the elytra. The brown furred underbelly matched well with the shade of Bandlewood they’d used to construct the vardo, and Lois was all about color coding. To complete its form seven feather-esque “leaves” adorned the inside curve of each horn. Many Yordles referred to these thin strips of chitin as eyelashes, but in truth they served the role of stunted antennae, allowing the Cochafer to sense anything directly ahead of itself due to their monocular vision.

Lois had studied this creature well, imparting her knowledge of it onto the curious Cobalt as he fixed the harness to her precious bug, which proved more difficult than he originally imagined. The harness and straps attached were capable of two orientations: Pulling and flying. In the pulling orientation he found the straps connected directly to the semi-flexible trace, simply enough. But the excess hooks and leads for flying were meant to tie around the creature’s neck and abdomen beneath the wings and elytra before connecting to the rings he’d installed on all six wheels of the wagon, another specially made creation bought by Lois.

He grunted, tightening the last of the fastenings. “May I ask where we’re going? I still need to load all my tools and supplies if I’m joining you.”

“The Southern Shirewood just outside Bandle City, there’s someone there we need to pick up.” The residential and agricultural districts outside Bandle City but surrounded by the Bandlewood often took on the “wood” suffix, such as the Redwood to the north of Bandle City with their famous always-autumn red trees, the Greenwood to the west; Known for their fertile harvest seasons, and the Wyndwood; Where Yordles make their homes in a small stretch of wind-chime adorned forest on the eastern outskirts.

“Oh, really? I have family there,” Cobalt added with a smile, stepping onto the driver’s platform where he sat beside Lois.

“Maybe we’ll stop by on the way out.” Lois gripped the reins. It was just a formality, really, the Cochafer would only ride if she gave the order - and only respond to directional cues if it knew she was the one issuing them. The painstaking weeks and weeks of getting it to recognize commands and respond to her voice was a process of dogged repetition she wasn’t likely to repeat any time soon.

Lois spoke up, not in Bandle-tongue nor in Runeterran common but in a language Cobalt wasn’t privy to. The Cochchafer’s glistening elytra rose as a show of acknowledgement before its pincered legs started forward, elytra falling back into place. The two of them exhaled with a shared moment of joy and relief. Finally seeing the Carnelian rolling after so much time spent watching it dormant in Cobalt’s workshop was a welcome breath of fresh air. The insectoid clicking of her Cochchafer’s chitin and carapace as all six legs moved was both a somewhat unsettling and satisfying noise in the same breath. Something they’d have to get used to, surely.

“What language was that?” Cobalt inquired, watching as they took the first turn away from his workshop to ride on the open road towards the looming Bandle Tree and its mesmerising multi-planar portals.

“Ionian.”

“You’re quite the cultured gal, aren’t you?” Cobalt replied, finally feeling himself settling into his own skin around the mysterious Yordle.

“We guess you could say that,” Lois smirked.

Mica made a habit of keeping up with her front yard garden, it was a nice reprieve from the tinkering she’d been doing in her abundance of downtime. She kept flowers from all over the Bandlewood, and even some of the more common imports from Runeterra. She was particularly fond of Ionian blossoms ever since her trip there. Her unconscious smile began to fade a moment later. It was strange how fond memories could so easily turn into depressing ones. At the time when she was experiencing the music and the festivities she thought on how she’d like to return, or at least try and perform the dance in the comfort of her own home with Chelle. Even after so long the trauma of her incident hadn’t yet worn away. She took a harsh breath in, glancing at Rutile who sat under the awning beside her door, flashing a smile her way. A smile she couldn’t return.

Mica picked up the watering can, finding it almost empty. Her breath came out in a long sigh. Just then Rutile’s smile flipped to a frown, standing up to open the garden gate. “What is it, Mica?” Her dry voice held some concern for her sibling.

“Just-... Just in my own head again,” Mica admitted, looking up at Rutile. “You know how I get some times.”

Rutile’s dissatisfaction deepened, taking the can from Mica’s grasp to fill it at the barrel across the garden. “I know,” She said, “But I’m glad you’re at least getting out of the house. Just like a flower you need sun, water and polen.”

Mica chuckled. “Polen?”

“Yeah, polen. Polen is… Well, polen is life. It’s still out there, in fact…” She dunked the can into the barrel, filling it. “How about we go do something? It’s been a while since you’ve been anywhere interesting.” Rutile returned, sitting the pale back into Mica’s lap.

“And where is somewhere interesting?” The miner replied, only half entertaining her Sister’s idea.

“Erm…” Rutile placed a hand on her hip as she thought. “There’s an old field pretty far away from here, how about we test your new drill?”

Mica brought a palm to her forehead. She had explained this before but Rutile and Piltover technology weren’t exactly well acquainted. Rutile was a simple woman with a simple job, a job she particularly excelled at. With her trips to Runeterra to meet her boyfriend, though, Mica assumed she’d be more familiar than she was.

“I told you, Rutile, I don’t have the crystal that completes it yet.”

“I know, you only say it three times a day. I mean let’s go dig something with it, see how it eats dirt.” Rutile shot back.

“Oh…” Mica was a bit surprised she’d finally wrapped her head around it. “Well, maybe in a couple hours? I’m waiting for Chelle to get home from the market.”

“What are you two? Tied at the hip?” Rutile flicked her head, adjusting her bangs to better sit in front of her eyes.

“Obviously not seeing as how we’re apart right now.”

“Only because you have to be.” Rutile wasn’t convinced. Ever since their relationship became official the two were practically inseparable. Rutile began seeing Mica and Chelle as a package rather than a pair of individuals who happen to be in love.

Mica was about to argue that point when she saw her beloved approaching with her hand wagon full of groceries, the smile that split her lips made Rutile’s shoulders deflate a bit. Look who it is, she thought. Rutile resigned herself to the garden, swiping the watering can out of Mica’s lap to continue the job she’d abandoned during their conversation. There was no hope trying to pull Mica away from Chelle, no matter her thoughts on their relationship. She had thoroughly lost that battle before it even began. And if her baby Sister was happy, that was good enough.

Mica wheeled herself down the walkway towards Chelle, her nose already full of fresh market vegetables and raw meats wrapped in butcher paper. Mica was always excited to cook and sample new foods and Chelle was happy to eat them. Their limited income made dining out at the better restaurants in Bandle City a rarity, so the job was all her own to diversify their palette.

“What’d you get?” Mica came to a stop, glancing into the brown paper bags.

“Couldn’t wait till I got inside, could you?” Chelle laughed. “Everything you asked me to get, of course.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mica found that if any leftover money came out of her trips to the market she would go out of her way to buy something else. Before Mica’s incident it was usually for herself, but after it became something to brighten Mica’s day. She went about searching each bag.

“If I were going to hide something I wouldn’t put it in there…” Unfolding from her mane of living hair was a bottle of Gin, a concoction she had yet to bring home. “I’d put it in here.”

Mica let out an amused huff. “What kind?”

Chelle read directly off the label, “Whitewarf Dry Gin: A spirit as warm as a drowned man’s chest.”

Mica looked at the buoys etched on the front of the bottle, the waves crashing along its sides and the chest of treasure half opened near the bottom. This was a Bilgewater brew. Ironically the Whitewarf referred to in the label was a popular resting place for dead sailors given back to the sea, Chelle had mentioned its existence during their visit to Bilgewater some time ago.

“I thought it would be nice to give you a taste of Bilgewater.” Chelle offered the bottle to Mica.

“You mean the taste of saltwater?” Mica jested, taking the bottle into her lap. “Thank you.”

Chelle started towards the door with their groceries when the creaking of wooden wheels and clicking of insectoid feet caught her ear. She turned, jaw immediately going slack with both confusion and disbelief. Arriving at their hillside abode was a massive horned insect hauling a pristinely built vardo, carrying not only Mica’s Brother, but their ex-employer and close friend Lois. The impossible odds of something this outlandish happening was reserved for dreams and jokes only. At Lois’ command her creature came to an abrupt halt, wings fluttering to stir a second long wind and buzz before it settled again.

To their surprise Cobalt was about as lost as the rest of them were. “Y-You’re sure this is the place?” They could hear him ask as he stood and stepped off the driver’s platform.

“This is the place.” Lois confirmed.

Cobalt turned to Mica, then Rutile, giving them a look that said, “I had no idea.” His astonishment was only furthered by the fact that there seemed to be some sort of awkward tension between the three. Feelings of abandonment rose quickly within Mica upon seeing what Lois had been up to since their separation. Having expensive wagons built with Cochchafers to pull them. But that couldn’t have been all she was busy doing, could it? In the end she could only feel happy, happy that the one person she knew who could fix this dilemma arrived at her own doorstep.

Chelle, having gone through the painstaking chore of searching for Lois herself, felt cheated when she decided to show after Mica’s tragedy had almost become a normality at this point. Her eyes squinted, noticing the obvious changes to Lois’ physique and the new set of eyes on her. More questions that would likely go unanswered. But even still she was conflicted, those lasting months of adventure were too pleasant to forget.

“Mica…” Lois finally took a step up the stone path towards her long lost friends. “What happened?” She asked.

“A mining accident.”

Lois didn’t need any more information than that. Her Bloodsense had picked up on the abnormality in her legs the moment she pulled up. “Mica… We’re so sorry, if we had known…”

“W-Who is we?” Mica fought back tears, all the months she’d suffered might finally be over.

“We-... Us… It’s hard to explain. A story for later, perhaps. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“How about a story for now.” Chelle took a step forward.

“I hate to cut catch-up and reunions short but you said there’s a chance she can fix this?” Rutile made her presence known, flanking Mica. “I want it done as soon as possible.”

“No.”

“N-No?” Lois glanced over her shoulder to see the intimidating and unamused figure of Nehel sat atop the Carnelian, his weight much too cumbersome to be supported by it. In her head she worried for the wagon, but in reality there was no danger of damage.

“To drag us here and attempt to realize our dreams of peace and grandeur is enough. We will not be made to fix problems not of our own.” He leapt down, stomping over to where the trio stood occupying the walkway.

“This isn’t up to us, it’s our fault we weren’t there for her! The least we can do is try and fix this.” Outwardly she appeared to contemplate on how to move forward, and on the inside things were much the same.

“The lifeforce required for such a ritual is more than we alone can give! You would kill us both,” Nehel refused, his voice raising in devastating anger.

“We alone don’t have to give it! The others will help!” She fought his rage with her own, not willing to back down on a crucial matter.

“Their pitiful bodies would not be able to provide a mere fraction of what is required! The restoration of locomotion needs the reserve and power of a Bloodkin many times more veteran than us!”

“And we don’t have that power?” She knew Nehel was different, special, in what way? She couldn’t fathom. But the events of the last year with the Blood Moon told her he was important.

“We have that power,” He said, pointing to himself, “But the little creature is incapable of channeling it.” He extended his clawed finger towards Lois. In that instant a thought popped into their shared mind. A thought Nehel grinned at, and a thought Lois mentally shrunk away from.

“Yes… Yes! A most fitting plan!” Nehel cackled, madly.

“No!” The roles had reversed and Lois hated that.

“To save this one we must kill! There is no other choice, lest we return to the Blood Moon and ask for their sympathies and assistance!” His eagerness showed in his posture, low to the ground like a lecherous fiend hovering above Mica.

The required life essence could be acquired through bloodshed and given via regularly administered transferring rituals, but the bodies Lois would need to pile in order to achieve that would be monumental. No one encounter with pirates or bandits would suffice. She would need a battlefield’s worth of freshly spilled blood, and the unpleasant truth is that the life essence was most ripe when taken by her own hand through and through. The killing of a soul by a member of the Blood Moon was an almost sacred action, Hunting as they called it was Hunting for a reason. If the prey was slain by any other than the Hunter then half its meaning was lost.

“Lois? Is everything alright?” Cobalt whispered in her ear.

She jumped, once again re-engaged with reality. “Yes… We… We can do it.”

“YEEES!” Nehel exclaimed.

A look of loathing was cast in the Demon’s direction, her head down and eyes focused towards the massive ball of muscle and hate. This was something she had to do, not only because she’d come to care about Mica and Chelle, but because her dreams of a nomadic life would be less bright if Mica couldn’t fully enjoy them. She grit her teeth and started towards the door.

“Mica, Chelle, with us. If we are to do this the other two must stay outside - no questions.”

Rutile was dissatisfied with that truth, but her Sister came first. Upon stepping inside she hardly gave an eye to the decorum, moving to the sunken foyer where there was the most space for her to work. Chelle came with their groceries and Mica in tow. Lois made a space on the floor, peeling the rug away to leave nothing but hard wood in her empty work space. She brought Mica out of her chair, laying her with arms out to her side and legs spaced evenly apart on her back. Her ceremonial blade, kept attached to her hip, was ripped from its sheath. She flourished the ornate blade, giving it a once over to see if the edge was clean enough to cut with. She knew it was, but it didn’t hurt to double check.

Mica ran through the motions, kept silent by fear and doubt. What if this doesn’t work? She asked herself, grappling with the thought of failure. The thought that she might always be this way. Lois quieted her mind when she moved to strip Mica of her pants, a motion that made Chelle nearly twitch into action. She kept silent, though, watching closely with fists balled in uncertainty. She brought her dagger to Mica’s left thigh, etching some sort of runic symbol into her skin. And from that rune she cut a line down to the top of her foot that began to bleed. She did the same to the other thigh before cutting a rune in the center of the pelvis, just above the bladder. From there she cut around Mica’s waist, then finally she connected all three symbols together with more bloody streaks.

Chelle’s skin crawled at seeing her lover bleeding onto the cold wooden floor, the urge to stop this and let fate win was an ever growing presence in the back of her mind. Her heart hardened in face of her doubt, though, trusting Lois knew better. Mica had closed her eyes, she couldn’t feel the incisions but watching was more than she could bare anyway. When finally she stopped hearing the subtle squelching of open wounds she opened her eyes again, seeing Lois now stood a few feet in front of her. Her hands rose at her sides, palms facing upwards, fingers curled to receive.

In a single motion her hands inverted and swept outwards as if disepelling energy from her body. In the same instant the pool of blood that had amassed from Mica’s scarification dispersed, forming three concentric rings around her person. Mica nearly gasped at the moving blood, watching as the circles were linked by two lines on either extreme that flowed back towards her, linking her to them via the bleeding rune near her pelvis. Several elaborate and flowing motions of Lois’ arms later and more unknowable symbols formed in the spaces between these rings.

In her focus she hardly realized Nehel over her shoulder mimicking her actions as if he were the one performing them. The momentary lapse in concentration gave her pause, but she continued again, brandishing her knife. With one swift underhand cut she opened a vertical wound across the underside of her own forearm, taking the blade in the opposite hand to do the same on the other side. Tendrils of her own ichor flowed down and into the rings and along the lines that bridged the gap between them and Mica, flowing into her now open wounds like liquid bleeding in reverse. For a ritual of this magnitude a prayer was required to enhance the connection between herself and the Blood Moon. Her eyes began to glow with the ethereal blue-purple light they’d come to know as a sign of Lois passing to the other side of herself.

In one breath Lois and Nehel shared the same speech, both voices equally represented in her throat. She spoke in Ionian tongue, reciting the Rite of Healing to the best of her ability.

“Unearthly Blood, flowing endlessly from our sacred red Moon, merge together in blessed harmony with this vessel - To heal all wounds and mend impurities, as we are children of blood, born in blood and reborn again in blood…”

“Unearthly Blood, flowing endlessly from our sacred red Moon, merge together in blessed harmony with this vessel - To heal all wounds and mend impurities, as we are children of blood, born in blood and reborn again in blood…”

She repeated the hymn again as the blood now not only flowed from the stems that connected the rings to Mica, but from every ring, pouring inwards into her. Her ichor began to glow, leaving Chelle in awe. Her lifeforce cut symbols into the air before sinking down into the rings and by proxy Mica’s form. Lois could slowly feel the excess reserve of magical life essence being transferred, leaving her weaker and weaker as seconds became minutes and minutes became hours. Just like in the hospital Chelle remained awake for all of it.

Mica had gone into a strange state of unconsciousness, not asleep but unresponsive. She dreamed of seas of crimson, being dashed upon rocks of bone drenched by a downpour of tears. She felt as if she was being cleansed, churned about in this sea of blood that would wash away her ailments. In the rain she heard a voice, a thundering voice she was half familiar with. Its speech brought about crackling storm clouds and flashes of red lightning. The ocean swelled with its anger, at the mercy of its fragile rage. It forecasted the future, speaking down to her like a God of Hate addressing a mortal. Mica fought tirelessly against the ocean’s will, clawing at the bloody water in hopes of heaving herself to the nearby shore, but every stint of progress was washed back by the ripping tide. She was returned out to sea and the currents thrashed violently again just as the voice declared its final truth, sweeping her under the red waves for longer than she would’ve liked. The voice was obfuscated as her ears filled with blood, leaving her without a conclusion to this unlikely prophecy.

Down she was dragged into muddy black darkness until the ocean inverted and she was swimming up to the surface. She could see the ceiling of her burrow past the wrinkling ocean waves. Her hand broke through just as the rest of her did and she sat up, thrust back into her own body. Upwards she rose until she couldn’t incline any further, looking about herself. The last of the blood had seeped into her closed wounds, leaving scars in their place. Her shaky breaths fell silent when she could feel the wood floor against her legs. Her knees bent successfully, drawing exhales of disbelief from her sore chest. A feeling of both rejuvenation and exhaustion had come over her, but happiness triumphed over them both. Her knees bent and extended again, toes wiggling. Chelle rushed over and dropped to her knees, embracing Mica just as Lois collapsed. They both turned in stunned realization, scampering along the floor to her.

“L-Lois?” Chelle placed a hand on the Yordle’s cheek, her eyes low and visage temporarily drained of vitality. She looked as if she could sleep for a thousand years.

“Here…” Lois mustered the strength to dig the necklaces out of her pockets, “Have Cobalt show you the vardo… While we rest a while… It’s- for us…”