It relieved Alek to leave the Frostbeard residence. The unwelcome feeling crawled under her skin, much like the bugs that ate at her injuries months prior. She breathed in the clean country air, leaving a longing for the city life they had used her to from her years in Kingshill.

The countryside that encapsulated the area surrounding Ridgewood had been a pleasant change in colour, lush greens and multicoloured flowers grew across a backdrop of gold from the nearby farmlands. The openness was uncomfortable to Alek, as she kept her sword in hand at all times, despite Raelyn’s teasing.

Finn walked behind them, barely awake and feet dragging through the thick grass. He had looked slightly better that morning than he had in the cell, although his weariness was deeper than a night’s rest could heal. He had shaved his head during the night or early morning. His one long scraggly mop now a thin red fuzz. It aged him, somehow, reminding Alek of the radicals at the Academy who joined, ready to die.

Every so often Alek would look back to make sure he was still there, to which he’d reply with a forced smile and a thumbs up. To his annoyance, Val had kept him company for the trip, prodding him with questions about Artemis with sick glee.

“Omera, give him a break,” groaned Alek, turning her head to shoot her a glare. Val rolled her eyes but bounded forward to walk beside Raelyn, who sighed in annoyance.

“Stop for camp, anyone?” asked Raelyn, looking at Alek with a pleading expression. Alek wasn’t sure when she became the leader of their group, the title weighed on her. She hadn’t been in charge of anything since she had been fourteen, and even then she had left Mycah to take over after she joined the Temple a few years after.

It took them two months to reach the coastal town of Northbridge, South Adanak, on foot.

Alek was sure they would have arrived there sooner if it hadn’t been for Finn needing more sleep than the rest of them to get back in order. Still, it couldn’t be helped, and he had still proven useful.

The town, as its name would suggest, had been established across two halves of land connected by a large stone bridge. The North section of its town held grand, white buildings decorated with gold ornamentations. Its elegant stone path led from the bridge to an even larger building that may have been its Governor’s House. The South, from what Alek could see over the gleaming white, was beige and brown. There were patched mossy tile roofs with ragged quilts, windows blacked out with newspapers. It’s fish bone paths, and to call them paths would be generous, led from home to building, shack to shack. The air was fresh with the scent of salt, the sounds from the ocean birds flocking on rooftops. Boats bobbed on the waves, carrying back their loads of fish for their livelihoods.

It was much like Kingshill, Alek realised, although on a far more obvious scale because of its smaller size. She was fortunate, really, to have been brought up in the principal part of the city where it was well kept and well funded. She hadn’t thought about it much over the years, but it was true. It was an easy fact to forget when you’re raised to see those on the lower end as enemies, even with her low birth. She had been a Templar, after all, a protector of the city. No matter her treatment behind closed doors, she had been raised well.

The people of money gave them a wide berth, sneaking glances and speaking in hushed whispers. Alek subconsciously rubbed at the black brand that was seared into her wrist. They didn’t belong here. Besides her, Raelyn shuffled uncomfortably, eyes darting from one onlooker to the next while Val glared back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Finn used his brittle body to shield the women as he carted them further to the south, mainly to stop Val from inevitably starting a fight.

The lower end of the town had been little better. Those who hadn’t ignored them cowered and fled. Both sides of the town reminded Alek of her last victim. Godfrey. This had been his birthplace, one he’d never return to because of her. Because of Nyxus. If he had family left here, she promised herself that she’d tell them of his fate. If she had time, that was. Ultimately, finding Barnaby had to be her top priority.

While doubt had settled in her mind on whether she should even deserve to return home, she had to find her employer, at least for Finn’s sake. She had grown to like his quiet presence, and if this had helped him in any capacity, she’d find the old faun for him.

She took a deep breath before she split from her group. She may have been uncomfortable with the staring, but the need to finally see Iarden again overshadowed everything else.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” she asked one of the only women who hadn’t fled. “Ma’am? Have you seen a faun around these parts?”

Her eyes finally flickered onto Alek, dark brown and so, disgustingly familiar. “Faun? Why?” She went back to busying herself with her washing. “There are many fauns here.”

“I’m looking for a specific one, his name is Barnaby and he may have passed through against his will,” said Alek calmly, trying to keep her voice soft as if not to spook the woman, as if she would disappear if she raised her voice. “He wears really ugly clothes, you couldn’t miss him if you tried. Perhaps you can help me?”

The woman straightened, looking at her properly now with no hint of anything other than the curious gaze of a stranger. “And why should I help you, outsider? Why shouldn’t I call our guardian, take you back to where you belong?”

“I assure you, we only want to find our friend, and we’ll be on our way. I promise you that.” pleaded Alek. Somewhere deep down, the part of her that knew this woman was set ablaze. The one lonely, hoping part of her brain lit up with remember me, remember me, please God remember me.

“Oh you’re polite,” remarked the perfect stranger, the one who sent her away. “I wish my children turned out half as nice as you, wherever they are.”

Alek smiled and nodded, not wanting to tell her that her children were dead and walking. Not wanting to look her mother in the eyes and tell her of the blood on her hands.

“I’m sure they are,” she said, throat tight, “I’m sure they’re great.”

The woman, her mother, gifted her a small smile. A sad smile. She patted Alek’s cheek, not with the gentle caress of a mother to her youngest born, but a stranger trying at kindness to a person they never should have seen again. Alek tried not to feel chastised.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, pet,” said her mother softly, “but I won’t call De Silva, and I’ll let the others know to leave you be.”

Alek swallowed the thick lump in her throat, ignoring the stinging behind her eyes. “Thank you. I’ll remember this.”

Alek returned to the group, shrugging apologetically, feigning disinterest. She couldn’t say she didn’t try, at least. Val took a long drink from her hip flask before holding it out to Alek, who declined her with a wave.

“So, people don’t like us here, huh?” she said, face filled with a mix of concern and confusion. “God, we’re never going to catch up to Barnaby at this point.”

“We’re going to find him,” huffed Finn, “we have to. I owe my life to that man.”

“Okay, we’re going to find him, just maybe not here.”

“We’ve barely been here ten minutes, I’m not giving up.”

Alek let out a breath and nodded, “we’ll keep looking. I promise.”

They wandered around the lower section of the town, attempting to talk to the citizens who gave very little information or outright hid. Val had wandered off alone at some point during the day, her absence only marked by her sudden silence, and was both a relief and a perturbation. At least she won’t be getting in the way, Alek figured, trusting that Val would return if and when she wanted to, much like a stray cat. Taking Val’s lead, they split up and spread to opposite corners of the town, Alek staying in the lower half where Val presumably still lurked, while Finn and Raelyn steeled themselves and took to the upper side.

Alek had taken to knocking on houses and businesses alike, as the streets became more and more lifeless. Each time she got ignored or had doors slammed in her face. Disheartened, she turned to join Finn and Raelyn in the upper half, only to find a masked person strolling towards her. They dressed in dark leathers and denim, belts filled with bullets overlapping over their chest, a red neckerchief tied around their throat. A black valved half-mask, thick reflective glasses, darkened by the shadow from their wide-brimmed leather hat hid their face. They took their time to reach Alek, who turned to face the mystery figure, body tense and fingers drumming over the hilt of her sword. Her blade would be effectively useless if the stranger deemed fit to use the gun strapped to their back, but she would never go down without a fight.

The stranger held their hands out in a calming gesture, as if Alek was a wild animal. “Woah there,” they said, their voice muffled yet unmistakably female, the filtered valves on their mask emitting a soft white light with each word. “Easy now, you an’ your friends are causing quite the stir.”

“Just passing through,” she said through gritted teeth, “we’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Heard you’re lookin’ for someone?” asked the woman. Alek stiffly nodded, not removing her hand from the hilt of her blade. “I might know someone who can help, for a price of course.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Oh, it’s not money I’m after,” she drawled.

“Well, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree there.”

“Easy there, pal. That’s not at all what I’m asking,” barked the stranger in a surprised laugh, “look, the name’s De Silva, my boss… knows things. Lots of things.”

Alek considered De Silva’s words. They needed information, and if she was sure her boss could share something on Alek’s? Might be worth it.

“Let me talk to the group.”

“Gods, Alek, we’re not keeping a woman who smell like the wrong end of a barn,” groaned Raelyn, an edge to her voice Alek couldn’t place, with her head in her hands.

“We’re not keeping her! She just knows someone who might help!” argued Alek, voice pitched with desperation.

“In fairness, she’s better than Val already,” shrugged Finn, who was almost immediately punched by the woman in question, “-hey! Tell me I’m wrong, what do you add to the team?”

Val pressed her lips together, eyebrows scrunched as she thought.

“Alright, knock it off, we have a lead,” Alek cut across.

“And what if she turns on us?” asked Raelyn, still unconvinced.

“I mean, there’s four of us and one of her,” Alek said with a shrug, “plus Finn has fire magic, and Val’s feral and has no morals.”

Raelyn stared at her, trying to read the ex-Templar’s reasoning. Her shoulders slumped as she came to her decision. “Alright, let’s meet your new friend.”

De Silva waited by the fishmonger that was still closed due to their presence. She regarded the group with a cool demeanour; the sun glinting off of her glasses. Despite not being able to see her eyes, Alek felt the uncomfortable feeling of being judged. De Silva popped forward from where she leaned against the fishmonger’s wall, sauntering towards them in a way that seemed unnatural, mechanical almost. The shuffling of the undead was told in campfire stories and tales of the crypt.

“You ready?” she asked, her mask once again lighting with each spoken word. Alek looked back to her group, before turning and nodding at De Silva. “Let’s head out then.”

“Where are you taking us?” asked Alek.

“Not too far, about half a mile from town.”

Alek didn’t feel comfortable trusting the woman but felt as if she had no other choice. She gestured for De Silva to lead the way, content with not leading for what might have been the first time since joining the crew.

As they left the town, the townspeople re-entered the streets, slowly at first, but the further they got from the town, the more people that flooded the area. A strange town.

They entered the wiry grasslands that surrounded the town, sand kicking under their feet. Houses were far more sparse out here, and more akin to huts entirely made of weathered wooden planks. The people seemed less afraid, some offering a wave in their direction. Alek got the feeling that they were not used to outsiders, as the townsfolk watched them with curious eyes as they passed through their territory.

Soon enough, they caught sight of a lone brick cabin, entirely worse for wear. Its slate roofing was missing parts, others cracked and threatening to fall. Bricks poked out of its circular walls as if it had ejected them. Alek groaned.

“Oh, that doesn’t look safe.”

“It’s not, really,” shrugged De Silva, “its held up well though.”

“I think we have differing opinions of ‘well’,” muttered Raelyn.

De Silva either didn’t hear her or ignored her comment. Either could be possible. She instead pushed open the wooden door with a long creak that sent shivers down Cooper’s spine.

“Myrtwydd? You home?” she called out, slowly entering the cabin.

Cautiously, Alek followed, leading the others in. De Silva continued calling out, wandering to a staircase in the back of the reasonably sized room. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, along with large legs of various meats. A large pot hung over a roaring fire in the fireplace on the room’s side, its smell wafting and mingling with the fresh-baked bread left on the counter. Someone’s stomach growled, but Alek wasn’t sure if it was hers or one of the others.

“Myrtwydd?” De Silva called out again.

“Down here!” yelled back a man’s voice from the room below. De Silva gestured for the group to follow her as she descended the stairs.

The steps creaked as they declined, barely holding their weight as they bent and groaned. More brick walls welcomed them, sticky with dampness. The walls that weren’t filled with books had sack dolls of different colours and varying damage lying around as if simply resting. The homely feeling of the upstairs had left them. Only the feeling of dread remains.

“Maddie? When did you get back?” asked De Silva as she reached the bottom, crossing the room to stand in front of a young elven man who looked strangely familiar to Alek, yet she couldn’t place his face. The rest of the group hung back by the staircase, watching the pair with confusion as an old woman busied herself by a large bookshelf.

“This morning,” the man replied, not looking up as he flicked through the pages of a thick book, “you would know if you bothered to return, Ruairi.”

“Amadeus,” warned the old woman, returning from the bookshelf with a pile of books that she slammed onto the table, “Ruairi, who are your friends?”

“They need your wisdom.”

The old woman, Myrtwydd presumably, scanned her gaze over the crew, Alek fighting the need to shuffle uncomfortably. She stared into Alek’s eyes for a while longer before humming.

“Your eyes don’t match, love.”

“It’s glass-”

“I can fix that for you if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” stuttered Alek, falling over her words, “thank you though.”

“Suit yourself,” tutted Myrtwydd, turning back to her book-covered table, picking up the nearest hardback and flicking through it.

“Actually ma’am, we could use your help on something,” Alek interjected, “if you can, that is.”

“Oh, I know all about your missing master.”

“That’s good - wait, you know about Sir Barnaby?”

“Of course, I see everything.”

Alek went to say something, but she wasn’t sure what. Her mouth flapped uselessly as she tried to generate a thought. Giving up, she turned to look at her companions, wide-eyed in a look of sheer ‘you heard that too, right?’. Myrtwydd finally looked back at them with a huff, storming over to her collection of dolls.

“You, Aleksilkandrin Cooper-Santiago,” she pointed at Alek before pulling a doll off of the shelf, and placing it on the table before the group. They made the doll of a light brown material similar to burlap, with two big brown buttons sewn in for the eyes and a thin pink thread crisscrossing its body like small lightning strikes. Alek noted it was missing a leg, stuffing sticking out from the hole it left, its hair made of thick black felt. “You’re a bastard, your father sold you to the Temples because he couldn’t let you ruin his reputation. You died, and yet, you’re back. A soul stolen from Omera, she’s not pleased with you.”

Alek froze. It wasn’t something she ever planned on telling her friends. She was sure that they had suspected something, anything, but she’d never planned on confirming anything. She refused to look back at their faces.

Myrtwydd cut through Alek’s thoughts by dropping another onto the table, this time a darker brown base, with the same brown buttons. One hand missing, fluff falling out of the hole it left. Myrtwydd pointed a bony finger at Raelyn, “Ah, Raelyn Godrick, the only human child, yet you were cast aside by her father. The forgotten middle child, you rebelled by starting your own pack, and yet you’re here and not with your family.” Myrtwydd paused, looking deep into Raelyn’s eyes before flickering them towards Val and Finn, “The answers you seek are closer than you think.”

“Alek is my family,” growled Raelyn, crossing her arms. Myrtwydd tutted at her before moving on. When Alek has become her family was a mystery, though not an unwanted feeling.

“Fionnán… Hawthorne,” muttered the old woman, as she searched her shelves, “ah, here.”

She unceremoniously dropped another sack doll onto the table, this time pale and like Alek’s, had one button eye in a blue so light it may as well have been white. “Finn, a little far from your tribe, are you not? Your brother. he misses you.”

Finn huffed but said nothing, grinding his teeth as he seethed. Alek put a hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. He relaxed, only marginally, but placed his hand over Alek’s, squeezing it in a gesture of thanks.

Myrtwydd picked up a pale doll, with jet black hair and dark brown button eyes, weighing it in the palm of her hand before turning to Val, “And finally, you-”

“That’s fine, actually,” said Val, cutting across quickly, “I think we get the point.”

“What?” asked Raelyn, more light-hearted than she had been barely a minute ago, but it may have been easier to ignore what Myrtwydd had said, “You don’t want to be subjected to whatever the hell this is?”

“What can I say? I have an embarrassing middle name,” shrugged Val with a grin.

Alek wasn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, Myrtwydd could have been spying on them. On the other, the information was far too specific. Alek had to trust the old woman and her associates, albeit reluctantly.

“Alright, what can you tell us about Barnaby?”

Myrtwydd, with the help of De Silva, cleared a space on the overflowing table. Amadeus unfurled a large, yellowed map across the now empty space, securing the corners with weights you would use on a weighing scale. A map of Kirus, and an ancient one by the looks of it. The old woman had marked the country of Astria that lay north of Mabristan down as Sustral, which hadn’t been its name since the age of Karim, not after Aster Valcari took over and named himself king of Mabristan. Over a thousand years and the map survived with surprisingly little blemishes. It was impressive, really, how things withstood the test of time.

“Now,” said Myrtwydd, hovering her finger over the map. She shut tight her eyes, deep in concentration. Somewhere behind them De Silva and Amadeus lit candles and scented sticks. Alek wasn’t sure what they were for but thought it better to leave that question unasked and unanswered. She wasn’t that desperate. She had assumed it was something witchy and wanted no part of it.

The candles flickered, casting wild shadows across the walls. Myrtwydd’s long grey hair filled with static, raising and flaring out. Amadeus took a step forward but got pulled back by De Silva. Alek stood firmly before her friends, shielding them from whatever might happen.

Myrtwydd’s eyes snapped open, their dull grey now a purple as they scanned over the map. Her finger dropped down upon the Mythra border, her head snapping up to look at Alek. Myrtwydd’s eyes slowly returned to their original colour, Alek watching her carefully while still shielding her new family.

“Here,” Myrtwydd tapped the map several times before ushering the group over with her spare hand, “come, I won’t bite.”

Alek steeled herself, flashing a look at the person closest to her, who turned out to be Finn. She joined Myrtwydd at the table, staring over the map. She really wished that Robin had been there. It had been something that had been buried in the back of her mind, but the man would have come in handy right about now.

“Here’s here,” Myrtwydd tapped the map again, “or will be. Time is a fickle thing to restrain.”

“The… Sangun Pe… Peaks?” attempted Alek, a pained smile on her face, “Uh, yeah, we got this letter, actually.”

“Then why, may I ask, did you require my help?”

“To… track him down before he crosses the Akeldaman border?”

“None of you thought of bringing this up?”

A chorus of apologies came from the bottom of the staircase. Val chimed in with her own, albeit sarcastic sounding. Myrtwydd heaved a long-suffering sigh, muttering something about ‘them youngsters’ before telling De Silva to take the crew upstairs and set up tents.

With the tents set up, far larger than the ones they brought with them, they let Finn set up a fire. Alek lay in the rough grass, a thin layer of sand making it into her shoe, staring up at the clear darkening sky. A cold sea breeze blew, carrying its fresh salty smell.

The flames crackled, a thick plume of smoke rising to the sky to dance with the stars that gradually began to show in the mass of blue. Finn watched as the wood popped and shifted, sitting so still that he could have been mistaken for a mannequin. They sat, or lay around in an uncomfortable silence - none of them brave enough to shatter it. Finn’s breathing hitched every now and again, rife with devastation and anger.

“I’m sorry,” said Alek eventually, tilting her head to look up at the Hawthorne. “I shouldn’t have got your hopes up.”

“It’s fine,” said Finn monotonously, as if it had been a knee-jerk response. As if it was easier. It might well have been.

“No, Finn. This is on me, but we’re going to find him. I promise.”

“This isn’t on you, don’t be dramatic.”

Alek’s mind returned to what Godfrey had told her back at the manor. Back before she-

Killed him.

She killed him. Now that there was a lull, that she wasn’t leading a prison break, that she wasn’t travelling, she couldn’t forget it. She gritted her teeth as she tried to ground herself., sucking in the cool air to sting at her lungs.

“The Temple -” she started, cursing at herself for how small her voice sounded, “the Temple only kept me because of who they think is my ancestor. Some Valcari fuck. Like it or not, I’m linked to this.”

Finn flinched at the name. Not that she could blame him.

“That…doesn’t mean this is your fault, Alek,” said Raelyn softly, looking at her with a new focus. Alek had never let herself break around her. Not once in five years. She was not going to start now.

“Well, are you?” asked Val bluntly, “y’know, the descendant of a Valcari?”

Alek shrugged, pointedly avoiding eye contact, “I wouldn’t know.”

Val hummed in thought but dropped the subject, still staring whenever she thought that Alek wasn’t looking. They descended into silence, either watching the flames grow high into the sky under Finn’s power, rising and falling as if it were breathing with him, or watching the sky. Alek covered her face with her forearms, feigning sleep.

“Can we really trust Myrtwydd?” asked Raelyn, cutting through the quiet, “considering that she said that Alek is dead.”

“I haven’t been open with any of you,” sighed Alek, “but I’m still all in. We’ll find Barnaby, with or without Myrtwydd’s help.”

“Open? Alek, what are you on about?”

Alek huffed, hesitating before answering, “I was in the Ironwood Forest for months. My squadron was dwindling, it was down to me, Hawkins, Aiden, Keith and Robin by the end. They ambushed us. Robin died, and Cryptlings ripped me apart, and I guess… I guess I died out there. I woke up in my own grave, got dug out by some pirate captain, and I found myself in Adanak. Myrtwydd only confirmed my suspicions.”

“Then… what exactly are you?” asked Finn.

“I…” Alek sighed, pausing in her words as she mulled them over, “I don’t know.”

“Well, if Myrtwydd’s right,” Raelyn unsubtly changed the subject, “his destination is still the Sanguine Peaks, we can still meet him there and deal with whatever happens,” said Raelyn, “this isn’t over.”

“And we’ll fight the devil herself, presumably?” asked Val dryly, in what seemed to be an attempt at humour.

“If that’s what it takes,” said Alek, determined, “It’s not as if we have a choice. Well, I guess we don’t. Val, why are you still here?”

Val’s lips pulled into a smile, teeth flashing white and deadly. “Oh, I figured you’d be a fantastic ticket back to Mabristan. There’s something big happening there, I can feel it. Like the beating heart of the world coming to the surface once more.”

Raelyn rolled her eyes. “Alright, drama queen, you can go to Mabristan, no need to be weird.”

It had been sunset when Myrtwydd called for them again. They sat around her table with fresh bowls of stew in front of them. Bread fresh from the oven sat sliced and buttered on a plate in the centre. Alek idly stirred her stew, pushing quarters of potatoes around in circles. De Silva sat at the head of the table, stew-less, watching over them all as if she was a prison guard. She may as well have been, as her gun lay firmly in her grip.

Alek had refused to look at her friends after the revelation. She was a liar at best, and she didn’t want to think of worse. Betrayer, maybe. She dreaded to think what Raelyn thought of her. Five years of friendship, likely gone. Strained.

“Alek, what do you think?” asked Val, prodding her to get her attention.

Alek snapped out of her thoughts, looking around the group. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We were thinking of getting transport to the border unless Myrtwydd here can scrounge up something worthwhile.”

“Do we have the money for that?”

Val sucked in a breath, sounding close to a hiss, “maybe… no?”

“I could pull in some favours,” offered Raelyn, “there’s plenty of people here that owe my father, I could cash in on them.”

“Wouldn’t he be annoyed?” asked Alek.

“Yes, but fuck him.”

“That’s certainly one option.”

Alek went back to pushing her stew around, knowing that she should eat but not feeling the need. Val huffed, glancing at Raelyn before she stood from the table.

“Aleksilkandrin, can we talk?” she asked, although it felt more of a demand than a question, “outside.”

Alek looked up in confusion but complied. Val had already pointed a gun at her as a greeting. She didn’t want to know what she’d do if she declined.

The two wandered into the flatlands that surrounded the area, the rough sand reeds rubbing at their skin through their thin clothes. Val had yet to speak, despite taking Alek out for that purpose, leading her away from the cabin towards the splattering of trees that cut them off from the neighbouring town.

“Alright,” said Alek, jaded and mildly annoyed, “what’s all this about, Val?”

“Straight to the point, I admire that,” chuckled Val before her expression turned deadly serious, “I know what you are.”

“Yeah? Then what am I?” snapped Alek in return, “Moon Blessed? Night creature? Omera’s biggest mistake?”

“Marwaid.”

“A…what?”

“Oh come on, I thought you were smarter than this. You said it yourself, back at that Dwarf’s aboad-” Val rolled her eyes, quoting with her fingers in a somewhat sarcastic gesture “-‘something we’ve never seen before’, that’s you!”

“And how exactly do you know this?”

“Because guess what, Aleksilkandrin,” Val leaned in close, so close she could feel the short woman’s breath on her face, her expression much like a sharpened weapon or the barrel of a gun straining to go off, “I am too.”