FIera couldn’t pinpoint when exactly she began having doubts about Mistral Squell’s Practitioner-abilities. She had barely spoken to Mist after Kai introduced them, and suddenly they were supposed to be on a journey together presumably to send her into hiding. But she wasn’t sure why Aaron had decided to send Mist and not Kai or even Terrol, seeing that she at least spoke to them. Or Rose.

“What are you?” she said again.

“Nothing.” Mist said, leaning back into his seat. His expression had dimmed, his eyebrows pulled up together.

“What do you mean?” Fiera said, and with a brief pause, added, “I need to know, so I know how much power I need to pull if we ever get into another fight.”

“That’s what I said,” Mist muttered, “I am nothing.”

“You mean -”

“Yes,” he cut her off, “I am a Ghost.”

She leaned back against her seat, unsure of what to say. Ghost, was a term used to refer to someone, who was empty in Polis. Fire, Water, Earth & Air didn’t heed to their call, their birth had betrayed them, and they were barely anything. But in her knowledge, Ghosts were never born on Polis, or at least, that’s what Godspin had told her, when he last covered the subject.

“Who else knows?” she asked.

“Aaron, obviously.” Mist said, “And he told me to never tell anyone, so I just tell people that I ward off my energies all the time.”

“And you travel a lot?”

“A lot. This was the fourth time back to Aaron.”

“Where do you stay if not at the Institute?”

“My turn to ask.” Mist said and helped a waiting staff clear off their plates. “Who was the driver and why did you think that was Mr Blake?”

“He looked like Mr. Blake.” Fiera said, “To me. What exactly did you see?”

It must be extremely powerful illusion magic if they tried to make something appear as something only to her, and if it was illusive magic, it implied that her mother’s homeland had something to do with it. But with that kind of power, it was stupid to assume that the driver would just let a car kill him in an explosion.

“A man about as tall as Mr Blake maybe, but he wasn’t Blake. His skin was lighter and he had a very normal face.”

“Then I am pretty sure that was magic.”

“A mage? In Inima’s territory?” Mist leaned back. They were moving along empty land now, decked with a few spare trees and heaped in layers of snow.

“They might have been tailing me. I am kinda of, well, Rhionale has a bit of an issue with me.”

“You’re not a criminal are -” the train gave a whimper and bobbing a little, unsteady enough for both of them to grab the fixed table, screeched to a halt. Fiera reached for the window. The tracks seemed to be curving left, and she could see the train’s steam engine whimpering as people from within climbed out.

“What’s happening?” Mist had stopped the very nice waitress to ask, although she didn’t seem to quite know what was happening as well.

A few other passengers of the carriage started to leave their seats, stirring awake.

“Is there something wrong with the engine?”

“It’s not anything serious right?”

Then Fiera saw it.

The people who had stepped out of the engine, getting down on their knees except two, one of whom, she sensed, brought out water. A Water Practitioner. She took a step back.

“We need to leave.” she hissed.

Mist stepped around the waitress and brought down their bags. He pulled her aside so no one could hear him, “What about these people?”

“What about them?” she said.

“We can’t let them get stuck here.” Mist whispered.

“Mist those people are probably after me -”

“No chances. This could actually be a proper hostage situation, Fiera.”

“Mist come on -”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you.” he hissed.

She almost flopped onto the seat, and raised her hands in peace, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” They had barely spent time together and here they were already clashing heads. This did not seem like a good situation.

“They’re taken hostage aren’t they?” One of the passengers, a pot-bellied man in a tweed jacket, said looking out the window adjusting his glasses.

“Well, the train was supposed to pick up security in Inima -” the waitress said, “But we got a message that they were at Juru. All the other waitresses are with them too.”

“Juru is about a station away from here,” Mist said, “If we are able to get a way of letting them know - maybe a signal or something -”

“What about,” Fiera cut him off, “What about we just leave the train? We’ll alert the passengers as we go, but it’s man for a man.”

“Can you not?” Mist sighed, “We need to get everyone out.”

“We can’t, they’re going to start searching the train for valuable things. And I don’t know about you, but I am not risking being caught.” Fiera said.

“That doesn’t mean we let people die -”

“They won’t die. They will live if they give their money or something -”

“But we can’t risk that -”

“Let’s cut our losses and now leave -”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” The waitress stepped in between them with raised hands. “Let’s first see if we can leave.” She swooped her blonde hair up into a bun and walked down the aisle. The door leading outside was latched from the inside, and she clutched the latch, but the door didn’t budge.

“It’s not opening?” Fiera scrambled to the door.

She tried twisting the latch but it was shut tight, almost as if there was a huge boulder shutting them in.

“So we’re locked in?” Mist muttered.

“It would appear so.” The waitress frowned.

“Most probably ice.” The man in the tweed jacket said, “They haven’t had enough time to latch every door as of yet -”

“And ice can be melted.” Fiera spread out an arm, only for Mist to wave it away.

“No.” He said, “You will destroy the train.”

“I can be very controlled.” Fiera said.

“That might be our one sure shot,” the waitress said. “Unless any of you gentlemen can open the windows?”

At the behest of their silence, Fiera touched the handle again. She wasn’t sure if it was actually ice blocking the door, but it was worth a try. If it wasn’t, she would just melt the door before Mist understood what was happening.

“It is water, I think.” She said, just as she felt a click and the door swung open.

Right into the face of a man who’d probably attempted climbing the stairs to the carriage.

“Halt!” voices called out.