The Lounge at the Institute was never quiet.

There were always people bustling about, researchers arguing in quiet tones, visitors warring over the newspapers, residents catching up to their shifts and tasks and everyone who needed coffee stopping by to refill their mugs and pots.

But it was never quiet.

Except for today, when Aaron made a visit, and instead of going to join the researchers or Zare, he made his way to the centre, beside a couple of sofa sets and clapped his hands to get their attention. At once, a quiet spread through the room, and people settled into their chairs in uncomfortable silences. Someone dropped their cup of coffee onto the rug, but everything stilled.

Fiera was leaning against the wall, close to the coffee supply. She had been waiting for Nissa that evening, having barely completed a page of Aaron’s reading, and she caught the glint of Nissa’s hair in the audience. She wondered if she should approach her, but she didn’t want to disturb the still silence the room had descended into.

Aaron’s face was grave, “I have heard back from the Healer.”

The Healer, the one in charge of the infirmary, whose responsibilities Mr Blake had currently taken over, Fiera assumed. From what she could remember, he was out helping some rangers. She wondered if things were not quite as well, sensing the graveness in Aaron’s face.

“Kaytor Evanwood & Roshka Bay have passed away. May their Ashes be One with Earth & Sea.”

From the other side of the room, a girl screamed, and a bunch of people whispered, gathering around her, while the others whispered under their breaths, reaching for each others’ hands. The girl’s dark hair bobbed as she was taken aside. It was Alba, the girl who had challenged Fiera the other day.

“The Healer,” Aaron continued, having directed someone to attend to Alba, “will be coming back with the dead, and we honour them tomorrow. The families of the grieved, we will grieve together.” He bowed and let his gaze drift as the room ascended to chaos. People began hurriedly leaving, some to console the families and some to surround Aaron with questions.

“Was it Rhionale?” she heard a whisper.

“A spy?” she heard another.

“We need to tell the Crown.”

Fiera straightened her back, eyes crawled towards her, watching her as she moved. She wondered if it was worth taking a step towards Aaron, but she’d rather not deal with the stolen glances and speculations. She decided to just try to leave the room.

A tiny thought irked her.

What if it was Rhionale?

“Fiera,” Aaron’s voice stopped her. She turned in his direction, fighting the urge to look at anyone but him.

What if this was the way Rhionale was going to use her?

She heard him call out someone else’s name, but it was as if someone had stuffed cotton in her ears.

“Fiera?” She snapped her attention back at him, noting that someone was standing next to her but not having the guts to turn and see who it was.

“Yes,” she said.

“Mist will accompany you to my office. I have a job for both of you.”

With that one sentence, as she quietly shuffled behind the black-haired Mistral Squell, she realised that Aaron had not only alleviated some tension in the room by showing publicly that he had faith in her, but he had also managed to stave off her own dark suspicions about the welcome she was receiving here.

“Are you all right?” Mist asked, pausing his walk so she could catch up with him.

“Yes.”

They quietly made their way to Aaron’s office.

Fiera had hardly shut the door behind her when Mist collapsed onto the floor.

“Hey!” she shouted, diving down to see what was wrong, when a strong rotting smell hit her, flinching her back. Mist lay still, but his mouth moved.

“Aw, you look so cute when you worry.”

Though it was Mist whose mouth moved, the voice was not his. It was the familiar malicious voice of the Master of Shadows. Mist’s eyes remained closed. Fiera patted her shoulders anxiously and reached a hand to drag down her sword.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“The boy’s body was extremely easy to access.” The voice said through Mist’s mouth.

“Why do you possess other people?”

“Because I wanted to tell you what a good job you’ve done by spilling the Crown’s blood,” the voice crooned. A wave of nausea hit her, and she took a step back.

“Well, leave then,” she said.

“You were wondering why those two rangers are dead,” Mist still lay on the ground. “And you were wondering if the Rhionalians had found some use for you at last.”

Fiera tightened her grip on the sword.

Was she right then?

Did she inadvertently cause the death of these people?

“What about it?” she whispered.

Aaron would be coming back soon.

“It’s not Rhionalians.” she could almost hear a laugh in that monster’s voice, “It is, however, something to do with you.”

Her heart sank.

“What is it?” she could feel the blade in her handshake a little.

“They are after that sword you so lovingly keep putting at my neck.”

And before anything else could happen, Mist was sitting up and blinking, shaking his head.

“Why do you have a sword?” His voice was back to normal.

So the apparition must have left him.

“You fell.” She said, setting the sword on the table, “Are you all right?”