Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #8: Everyone’s Got Their Demons]

Log Date: 12/12/12763

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Proving Grounds

11:11am SGT

“Keep it loose, Kwyn.” I say as I bounce on my toes. “Roll with the hits when they land; that allows more of the kinetic energy to pass through instead of getting absorbed. I know it’s counterintuitive, but it helps in a lot of cases.”

Kwyn shakes her head, steadying herself and brings her wrapped fists up again. “Do you often tell girls to relax when you’re hitting them?” she says as we go back to circling in our ring in the Proving Grounds.

“Aw, now that’s just a low blow.” I say, shaking my head. “Weren’t you the one that wanted these sparring sessions?”

She grins as she comes a little closer, her fists moving in little circles as she bobs from side to side. “I’ve gotta use every advantage I can get, right?”

“Including shaming me into taking it easy on you?” I say, backing around the edge of the ring as I let her go on the offensive. Just as it was during the Challenges, the hexagonal tiles of the floor beneath us are sunken down slightly more than the rest of the Proving Grounds  floor, marking out the boundaries of our ring. Other groups of recruits are sparring across the Grounds, with one class running an obstacle course on the far side as the dynamic floor tiles shift up and down, forming sudden walls or ‘rolling’ terrain.

“Hey, if it works.” Kwyn says. My attention is on her fists, so I almost miss it when she kicks out at my leg, aiming to knock it out from beneath me. I wince but let my leg roll with the impact, pivoting on my other foot so I spin in place rather than getting knocked down. She follows up with a quick snap-kick towards my midsection, but I step back, catching her ankle and yanking it. That throws her off balance, and she has to hop on her other foot a couple times before tipping over, catching herself on her hands. “Dammit!”

“That was good, you nearly got me that time.” I say, letting go of her ankle. “If you’d followed up on that first kick a little faster, you probably could’ve nailed me with the second kick.”

“You think so?” she pants, pushing off her hands and standing up.

“Yeah. You just need to keep the chain going. In hand to hand combat, it’s not often that a single good hit puts down an enemy.” I say, lowering my hands. “Maintaining pressure is important. If you land a hit, don’t wait for you opponent to react. It’s gratifying to see their reaction, but that’s something that only happens in holos and movies. In a real hand to hand fight, you just keep piling on the hits until the other guy drops or backs off.”

“So pummel them until they drop, got it.” Kwyn says, reaching up to wipe the sweat off her forehead. “What about Ironfist, though? I’ve seen him drop guys with a single hit.”

“Ironfist is seven feet tall, an orc, and worships a goddess whose schtick is punching things really hard while on fire.” I point out, rolling a shoulder. “Martial arts is his thing. He spends his time studying fighting styles and training just so he can do stuff like that — deflect hits, maneuver around, and then nail someone with a single hit that will put them on the ground. Up against a messy fighter or someone that doesn’t know what they’re doing, you might be able to pull the sort of hits that Ironfist can, but anyone that’s halfway decent is going to be harder to drop with a single hit.”

“I dunno, Axe, I think she could knock someone down with a single look!” The familiar voice has me looking around to see Kent walking up on the edge of the ring. “And that’s because she’s drop-dead gorgeous. This your new trainee?”

“This is Kent. You can punch him if you want.” I say to Kwyn, who’s colored a little at the remark. “If he starts flirting too much, just sock him in the stomach or grab his arm and twist it behind his back. It’ll straighten him out pretty fast; Whisper does it all the time.”

“Don’t be givin’ her ideas.” Kent warns me as he wipes an oil-stained hand off on his shirt before holding it out towards Kwyn. “Kent Conletch, at your service. I’m one of the specialist mechanics that helps maintain experimental and classified tech, such as the Axiom suit.” He looks at me. “Which is fixed now, by the way. No thanks to you putting it through the wringer a month ago.”

“I got in a fight with Jackrabbit; what did you expect?” I say, shrugging aggressively.

“Nice to meet you.” Kwyn says, giving Kent’s hand a shake before quickly withdrawing hers. “I’m Kwyn Resquill.”

“You’re the talk of the HQ!” Kent says, hitching his hand on his hip. “I hear you’re gonna be the next big Peacekeeper. Way up there with Surge, Headache, and Blockchain. All the big hitters.”

“I’m— I’m not that good.” Kwyn stutters quickly. “I’ve still got a lot to learn—”

“And I’d be happy to teach you.” Kent says smoothly. “So what do you say? You, me, drinks sometime? I’m free this evening.”

Kwyn gives me a helpless look, clearly unsure of how to deal with Kent.

“Punch him.” I say, short and to the point.

“I can’t punch him.” she protests.

“No, you can definitely punch him.” I insist. “You can also kick him in the shin.”

“Or, we could go bowling, if drinks aren’t your thing.” Kent suggests.

“I’m not interested, thank you.” Kwyn declines politely.

“Buuuuuut. What if you were?” Kent wheedles.

“Punch him, Kwyn.” I say, going over to my jacket on the edge of the ring and pulling my phone out of it.

“Can I stomp on his foot instead?” Kwyn asks as I walk back over.

“If we go dancing, you can stomp on my feet all night long.” Kent says, then noticing I’m texting. “What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Whisper.”

“What for?”

“So she can come over here and put her invisible boot up your ass for harassing my trainee.” I say, sending the text. “Since Kwyn is too polite to do it.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “It’s going to take her at least five minutes to get dow—”

He doesn’t get to finish the rest of the sentence, since there’s a sharp thud as he’s knocked clean off his feet by something unseen. As he lands hard on the ground, he’s swiftly rolled over by a faint distortion in the air, which yanks his arm behind his back. Whisper shimmers into view a moment later, her invisibility retreating in hexagonal patterns across her jacket and bodysuit. “Heard you were giving the new girl a hard time, Kent.”

“I instantly regret my decisioooooon.” he groans from where his face is smushed against the floor.

“Good.” she says, letting go of him and standing up. “You can go find some other girl to swindle into your sheets. This one’s off limits.”

“Thanks, Whisper.” I say, tucking my phone back into my pocket. “That was pretty fast, you got here in record time. Did you teleport here or something?”

“I’m pretty sure that if they figured out teleportation, they’d patent that shit, revolutionize the transportation business, and make a shitload of money, instead of giving it to someone like me.” Whisper says, dusting off her legs. “I was already here, watching you and Kwyn spar.”

I give her a second look. “Wait, you’ve been watching us?”

“And you call me a creep.” Kent grunts, pushing himself back up off the floor.

“I never called you a creep.” Whisper says, hitching her hands on her hips. “Just a lecherous greasemonkey.”

“Guilty as charged.” Kent says, dusting his shoulder. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re sneaking around spying on people.”

“I’m covert ops, that’s literally my entire job description.” Whisper snips back at him.

“Alright, that’s enough, guys.” I say, interrupting before they can go any further. I’m keenly aware of Kwyn watching the entire exchange. “Did either of you actually need anything, or did you just come here to interrupt my training session with Kwyn?”

“I did, actually. Have something that I needed to tell you, that is.” Kent says, breaking off his argument with Whisper to turn back to me. “I got orders from up top that once the Axiom suit was repaired, I had to let the administration know, then tell you, Kwyn, and Whisper to suit up and report to the arcanology department. Nazka didn’t say what for, and I wasn’t about to ask ‘im.”

All three of us exchange looks. “Ah. Yeah, we know what that’s for. Well, I guess we’re cutting short our sparring session again.” Turning around, I head back to the edge of the ring, picking up my jacket. “Did Nazka say we needed to be there right away?”

“Didn’t sound urgent.” Kent shrugs. “But you know how Nazka is. If you’re half a second late, it’s the end of the galaxy and you’re unfit for duty.”

“I’d like to see him try and boot me.” I scoff, hooking my jacket over my shoulder. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up first. After that I’ll head down to the workshop and jump into the Axiom suit, then make my way to the arcanology department. I’ll do a lot of stuff, but I’m not going to hop into a plugsuit all sweaty if I can avoid it.”

“I’ll do the same.” Kwyn says quickly, moving to grab her jacket as well.

“I’m already suited up, I just need to throw my wrist pistols on and I’ll be ready to go.” Whisper says as the hexagonal tiles of the ring rise back up until they’re flush with the rest of the floor. “See you guys there?”

“Plan on it.” I say, starting across the Proving Grounds while calling over my shoulder. “And before you ask, Kent, the answer is no, you can’t come. This is a classified meeting.”

“Dammit.” Kent grumbles. “Now what am I supposed to do with the rest of my afternoon?”

“You job, I assume?” Whisper says as she and Kwyn start to follow me to the exit.

Kent snorts. “And actually earn my pay? Please. You know me better than that.” Turning about, he waves over his shoulder as he heads back the way he came. “I’ll be at Gritter’s if you guys need me!”

“That’s the guy that maintains your power armor?” Kwyn says as we go our separate ways. “That was… not what I was expecting. Is he really going drinking in the middle of the day cycle?”

“Of course not.” I answer, shaking my head. “That’d be absurd. He doesn’t have anybody to pay for his drinks.”

“I heard that!” Kent shouts back at us.

“Good!” Whisper shouts back at him. “Lazy mooch.”

Kwyn raises an eyebrow at that. I just smile.

God bless my friends in all their endearing flaws.

Dan Splainsworthy’s Encyclopedia Galactica

Arcanology

Arcanology, broadly speaking, is the study of the arcane, or what the galactic public largely refers to as ‘magic’. There are many fields of study within arcanology, as there are a vast array of disciplines, cultures, religions, and species that utilize or possess arcane abilities or rituals. Arcanology is comparable to science, in that its purpose is the collection, experimentation, and application of knowledge to better understand how the universe functions.

To this end, arcanologists share much in common with scientists. Research, data collection, theorization, and the synthesis or discovery of new things are common pillars of the broader arcanology community. In the same way that science has a vast number of subfields like quantum physics, astronomy, molecular biology, robotics, and anthropology, the field of arcanology likewise has a diverse array of subfields, ranging from ritualism, hex logic, elementalism, freeform magic, divine and heretical studies, and so on.

Just as with science, the benefits of arcanology are vast and diverse. Prime examples include advancements and application in the fields of medical care and forensic investigation, while fields such as architecture and construction are able to incorporate magic to allow for the creation of buildings that would otherwise be impossible. Improvements and refinement in illusion magic, once primarily funded by governments for espionage purposes, have been reappropriated for use in the entertainment industry, and to great effect.

These are but a few of the benefits that arcanology has brought to the galactic public; however, arcanology, like science, is neither inherently good nor inherently evil. Just as science has created some of the great weapons and injustices of our time, arcanology has been used in similar fashion by bad actors with malicious or selfish motives. Such abuses of knowledge or power continue today, requiring the formation of legal authorities, such as the Vaunted or the Preservers, to police such activity.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Heretical Studies Lab

11:35am SGT

“So I figure this must be about the Spark initiative, right?” Kwyn asks as we stop at the door of the Heretical Studies lab. The blast shields have been rolled across the windows, so that idle passersby can’t see what’s going on inside.

“With the lengths they’re going to for this meeting, it must be.” I say. I’m in my Axiom suit, and Kwyn’s decked out in her light power armor, the helm of her suit tucked under her arm. “Can’t see any other reason they’d have us suiting up in the middle of the HQ.” I give a second look to the blast shields covering the windows. “And whatever’s going to happen, seems like it might be dangerous.”

“I wonder if they know we’re here.” Kwyn says as the door fails to open for us.

“Only one way to find out.” I say, raising a hand and knocking on the lab’s door. A moment later, it unlocks and slides open, revealing Nazka standing just inside in his usual ascetic black garb.

“Come on in.” Nazka says tersely, stepping away from the door. “We’ve been waiting.”

I bite back my response to that, stepping into the lab. The room inside is large, with worktables against the wall and the center of the lab dedicated to a large black slab of circular stone that’s installed into the floor. It looks like it’s been used several times before, based on how the stone seems smudged with the faint traces of chalk, and there’s currently a large, complex heptagram within a circle drawn on it, filled with symbols and runes among the lines and circles that twist and wind through the seven-pointed star.

“Oh. Charming.” I say as the labcoated researchers in the room continue consulting on the edges of the circle, with one of the interns working on blessing a few buckets of water at one of the worktables. “You’re missing the virgin for the live sacrifice, though.”

“Thankfully, this summoning circle doesn’t require a live sacrifice.” comes a familiar voice to the side of the room. I look to see Tenji standing behind one of the worktables, watching the researchers finish preparations. “The arcanology and archaeology departments had to do a lot of searching through old texts to find a summons for a deminatural that didn’t require a questionable act such as ritual sacrifice or profane congress.”

“You’re summoning a demon?” Kwyn says. She’s wandered over to the black stone, studying the summoning circle chalked onto it. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“The arcanology department was thorough in their research. They made sure to select a demon that has less of a reputation than others.” Nazka says, taking a data slate from one of the researchers. “I am not a fan of soliciting the supernatural for aid, given their historical propensity for faustian bargains and mischief, but the artifact has so far refused our attempts to decipher it.”

It’s at that point that I notice the orange sphere is sitting on the table in front of Tenji in its containment cell, among other things. “That thing?” I ask, lumbering over in my suit to lean down and get a better look at it. “I thought it was a weapon or a power source or something. If you’re trying to decipher it, that means it contains information, right?”

“Yes, although it’s hard to decode it, as it appears to be constantly shifting.” Tenji says, giving the artifact a stern look over the rim of her glasses, as if that would encourage it to be more compliant. “That it contains data of some sort is unmistakable, but our attempts to extract it have met with resistance.”

“Resistance?” I repeat, straightening up. “I thought it was just an object, but the way you’re phrasing this makes it sound like it’s sentient.”

“We have a strong suspicion that it harbors some form of… awareness, though we’ve been unable to prove outright intelligence.” Nazka says, his muted irritation evident as he side-eyes the artifact. “There is a flow of energy within the sphere’s crystal matrix that is not unlike the way data travels through processors and circuits in a computer, and we have monitored this flow looking for a pattern that can be used to decode it. However, every time we find a pattern, it changes a few hours later, rendering our observations up to that point useless. It’s like it knows when we’re closer to solving it, and rewrites itself to erase our progress.”

“I really don’t think you should be asking demons for help.” Kwyn says uneasily. The intern has started setting the buckets of holy water around the edge of the summoning circle. “They have a habit of asking for stuff in return.”

“Unfortunately, the sanctimony of the divine leaves us with little choice.” Nazka remarks coldly. “Seeking material assistance from the divine tends to require commitment to their tenets and ethos, while demons are a little more… transactional. You can get help from them without having to commit your faith and morals to them. In this circumstance, a one-off transaction more closely fits our needs, rather than a long-term commitment.”

Kwyn looks over her shoulder at him, her lips drawing into a tight line. “Have you thought about what this transaction will cost us? Demons have no use for money or relics. They will ask for other things.”

“We are aware.” Nazka replies dismissively. “We did not embark on this path idly. The research has been done; we know they will be asking for secrets, favors, or souls. The last one will be off the table. The first two are negotiable.”

It’s clear that Kwyn doesn’t like that answer. “Which demon are you summoning?” she asks, taking a couple steps back from the circle.

“The Blackthorn Demon. Of the readily available options, he seemed to be the most reasonable one.” Nazka answers. “You could be forgiven for not recognizing the name. He is not well-known, and seems to eschew visits to the mortal plane where he can.”

“Since we’re summoning a demon, shouldn’t we have someone like… Prophet, or maybe Ironfist on hand?” I ask. “Someone that’s got experience with handling religious stuff and has an active connection with the divine?”

“Ideally, yes. But realistically, we had to keep them out of the loop.” Tenji answers, setting her fingertips on the table. “First because the Spark initiative is classified, and second because I doubt either of them would’ve consented to this course of action. Prophet most certainly would’ve objected, and as Nazka has observed, likely would’ve been quite sanctimonious about it.”

“As a matter of fact, we dispatched both of them, along with Blockchain, on an assignment to go lure out the resurgent Challengers.” Nazka says, checking his data slate. “There was the risk that if they remained here, they might’ve sensed the summoning and the demon’s presence, given their fields of expertise. We did not want them rushing down here to interrupt this endeavor.”

Kwyn and I exchange looks, but don’t say anything. It’s just as well, because there’s another knock at the door, and one of the researchers heads over to check the camera, then open it. Whisper steps in, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. “Right, I’m here. You can start the party now. What are we doing?”

“Waiting on you.” Nazka replies with no small amount of acid in his tone. “But now that you’re here, we can begin. Resquill, if you would join us over at this table. The research team will be activating the circle in just a moment, then leaving the room, as we may be discussing sensitive matters with our… guest.”

Kwyn moves over to join me at the table, while Whisper takes one look at the summoning circle. “Oh neat. Now we’re summoning demons. Well, you can’t say we never do anything fun.”

“I would ask that you refrain from running your mouth once said demon is present, Kemaim.” Nazka adds tersely. “The agents of antediluvian realms are notoriously mercurial, and it will have been a considerable waste of time and effort if your flippancy puts us at odds with the individual we are calling on.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” Whisper mutters, walking over to stand on my other side. “Well, let’s get this over with. Lunch is in thirty minutes and I only had a small breakfast.”

Tenji nods to what appears to be the head researcher, who opens a book and starts reciting words in a language I don’t recognize. The other researchers start to congregate by the door, not leaving quite yet, but ready to do so; it’s only when the chalked lines begin to glow red that they start to make their exit. Once the incantation is completed, the head researcher snaps the book shut, gives us a nod as if to say good luck, then turns and follows the rest of his team out the door, which slides shut behind them.

Leaving us alone with a summoning circle that’s only getting brighter and brighter.

“Any hints on what we should expect here?” I ask, shifting restlessly in my suit.

“The way the text described the Blackthorn Demon, we’re anticipating something akin to an emaciated, vaguely canid creature with antlers, standing in excess of ten feet tall when on all fours. Digitigrade legs and opposable thumbs.” Nazka says as the crimson light from the summoning circle starts to rise into the air and swirl together. “Covered in fur, with a vertical maw on its chest, lined with small arms.”

Kwyn, Whisper, and myself all give Nazka a look.

He raises an eyebrow in return. “What did you expect, rainbows and butterflies?”

“Focus. I think it’s manifesting.” Tenji orders. We return our attention to the summoning circle, where the profane light is forming into an outline, growing bright to the point that it’s hard to look at. It flares abruptly, forcing us to look away. I have to rub my eyes to try and get some of the glare out of my vision, and when I can see again…

Standing in the middle of the summoning circle is a tall, narrow man in a red silk nightrobe and crimson hair, frozen in the middle of brushing his teeth.

Silence persists in the lab as we stare at him. His green eyes dart back and forth between us, and eventually he takes his toothbrush out of his mouth, motioning it at the lab around us.

“This couldn’t have waited five minutes?” he says, sounding thoroughly irritated.

I don’t know what to say. Whisper, however, leans around me to give Nazka a skeptical look. “A canid creature, over ten feet tall, with a chest maw, you say.” she says, sounding vaguely amused.

Nazka merely glares at her, then looks at the man in the nightrobe. “Our apologies. We were attempting to summon the Blackthorn Demon.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” the redhaired man says, hitching a hand on his hip. “Of all the times to do this, and you had to choose the one hour in the day that I’m getting ready for bed. Thank Satan you didn’t do it fifteen minutes earlier, or you would’ve caught me in the shower. How did you even get your hands on my summoning circle? I barely give that to anyone, especially those on the mortal plane. Actually, don’t answer that. I want to finish rinsing out my mouth first.” He looks around, as if searching for a sink, then spots one of the buckets of water near the edge of the circle, and starts towards it.

“Oh, wait, no nononono!” Tenji says hastily, leaning forward on the worktable. “Don’t use that! It’s holy water!”

The Blackthorn Demon stops, giving her a look at says seriously? “…charming. I’m sure that you had holy water on hand for purely decorative reasons. Well, would anyone like to get me a glass of water that isn’t going to give me the worst case of heartburn that I’ve had in the last century?”

“Operative Resquill, if you would.” Nazka says, nodding to a countertop sink against the wall with beakers lined up on a drying rack next to it.

She nods and sets her helm down on the worktable, moving quickly around the summoning circle to the sink, and filling up a beaker with fresh water. Coming back to the circle, she gingerly holds it over the threshold of the circle so the demon can take it. Once he’s got it in hand, she takes a few steps back to a safe distance while he rinses out his mouth, moving over to spit the sudsy water into the bucket of holy water on the other side of the circle’s threshold.

“Alright.” he says, sticking his toothbrush in the beaker and shaking it back and forth to wash it off as best he can. “I presume you’ve summoned me here because you want something, since nobody calls to ask how I’m doing nowadays. I am the Blackthorn Demon, yes, but you may call me Lord Syntaritov.” Tucking his toothbrush into his breast pocket on his nightrobe, he walks over to the edge of the circle closest to the worktable, a flick of his hand forming a chair out of red light near the threshold. Sitting down in it, he folds one leg over the other and gives us an impatient stare. “Out with it, then. What are your names and what do you want?”

“I am CURSE Administrator Tenji, and this is Deputy Administrator Nazka.” Tenji says, introducing herself and Nazka. She leaves out me, Kwyn, and Whisper, and honestly I’m okay with that for now. I’d rather not have a demon knowing my name. “We have an object of arcane, possibly deminatural provenance, which we would like to requisition your assistance in decoding.”

Syntaritov raises an eyebrow. “CURSE? With all of your impressive revenue and resources, and yet you’re seeking help from the realm of the damned? This must be quite some artifact if it has stymied even your organization.”

“You know of our organization?” Nazka asks, surprised.

“Of course I know of your organization.” Syntaritov says, rolling his eyes. “I’m a demon lord, not a hermit. We keep track of happenings in the mortal plane, and hellions visit more often than many mortals realize. We have ongoing business with the living; our industry is not isolated to the dead alone.” Brushing a bit of lint off his robe, he goes on. “I assume you have done your homework, and you know that I expect something in turn for aid rendered. I don’t suppose any of you are inclined to part with your souls?”

“The dispensation of souls is not on the table.” Nazka counters quickly. “If you are interested in favors or secrets, we would be more willing negotiate on those items.”

“Pity.” Syntaritov remarks, his eyes roving over Kwyn, Whisper, and myself. “And here I was, thinking you had lined up these mute little puppets like offerings upon the tithing plate. Although…” His bright green gaze settles on Kwyn. “You, with the white hair. Come closer. There is something about you that is familiar…”

“Remain where you are, Resquill.” Tenji orders. “These are valuable operatives, Lord Syntaritov. I will not be trading them to you as if they were assets to be given away.”

“You really don’t put much on the table, do you?” Syntaritov says, setting aside the beaker of water as he starts to rise. “Cease your protective fretting. There’s something I’m curious about, and I simply want to sate my curiosity. If you won’t let her come to me, I’ll go to her.”

With that, he reaches out, a barrier of blue light flaring around the perimeter of the summoning circle as his fingers cross it. Sparks start to fly as he pushes against it, his hand catching with cobalt flames as it breaches the barrier. Once a gap has formed, he hooks his other hand in it, pulling it open even as the blue fire starts burning away the flesh on his fingers.

“Administrator!” I say with alarm, reaching back to grab the handle of my axe, mounted on the back of my suit. Beside me, Kwyn’s taken a step back, fumbling to get her plasma rifle off her back, while Whisper has started towards one of the buckets of holy water on the edge of the summoning circle. Nazka has started to move around the work table, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Hold.” Tenji orders sharply. I look back to see her crimson eyes are fixed on Syntaritov with a laserlike focus. “Stand down, all of you.”

“But—” I begin as the demon starts to step through the circle’s protective barrier.

“I said stand down, Axiom.” Tenji repeats. “If I need you to escalate, I will let you know.”

I grit my teeth, my armored fingers grinding against the handle of my axe, but I eventually let go of it. Nazka remains where he is, while Whisper hovers over the bucket of holy water, and Kwyn lowers her rifle, though she keeps it in hand.

“Well. That’s a nasty little containment ward.” Syntaritov says as he finishes stepping through. His hands are blistered and scorched, with open wounds and the flesh almost melting off them, but he doesn’t seem terribly bothered as he looks at the damage. “Your people did a good job of setting that one up, but I get the sense they are accustomed to summoning lower-order demons. That ward would not have stopped a determined demon of the Fifth Circle, much less one from the Seventh Circle.”

As we watch, the burned and blistered skin starts to mend, healing at a vastly accelerated rate until his hands are whole once more. Clapping them together, he smiles as he walks up to us, leaning forward to study Kwyn. Her finger tightens on the trigger of her rifle as she leans backward, staring back at him with something akin to concern.

“What is your interest with my operative, Lord Syntaritov?” Tenji asks tersely. “We summoned you here to conduct business, not so you could ogle my soldiers.”

“Please, I am not nearly so pedestrian as that.” Syntaritov mutters without looking at Tenji. He tilts his head to one side as he studies Kwyn, his nose twitching like a feline scenting the air. “Of every corrupt soul in this room, she is by far the most interesting one to me.” He sniffs the air again, then grins, reaching up to tap a slender finger against the tip of Kwyn’s nose even as she flinches away. “Because she is a relative of mine.”

I was two seconds from decking Syntaritov at the nose touch, but those words bring me up short. Kwyn’s tawny eyes are alarmed as she takes another step back from him. “I’ve never met you in my life.” she says.

“I’m pretty sure hell isn’t in her family tree.” I growl.

“Well, neither is it in mine.” Syntaritov says as he straightens up, folding one arm behind his back while sniffing the finger he used to tap Kwyn. “I am a demon by occupation, not by birth, but we digress. You have Syntaritov blood in your veins, little cousin. Diluted, but it is there. The white hair is a dead giveaway; I had much the same before the transition to my current infernal career.” He holds his hand out to her, as if for a handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Normally I would give family a hug, but a handshake seems more to your speed at the moment.”

Kwyn looks down at his hand, then back up at him, her free hand curling against her side. “I’ll pass, thanks.” she declines.

“Understandable. It’s not every day that one of your distant relatives gets summoned from hell.” Syntaritov says, tucking that hand behind his back with the other one. “Now, I believe I heard the grim fellow over there say your surname earlier — Resquill, was it? You must come from the lineage of Solebarr’s firstborn. Let me guess, your powers are distinctly canine in their manifestation, and your first name starts with a K. Correct?”

Kwyn’s mouth drops open a little. “H—how did you know?”

“Dear, anyone that knows the history of our family could make an educated guess about what got passed down.” Syntaritov says, straightening up. “These are traditions and traits that have been running in the family for the past billion years, though this far removed, they can sometimes skip several generations. Resquills always tend to lean on the canid side given who Solebarr’s firstborn married, and the tradition of K names for the girls and S names for the boys pops up all over the diaspora, regardless of which line you’re descended from. Although the naming convention for the males appears to have been skipped in my case, I’m sad to say.”

He squares his shoulders at this point, with a fulsome smile and teeth that are just a little too perfect for my comfort. “But again, I digress. If ever you should need a favor, little cousin, just give me a call. I’ve a soft spot for family, and I’ve made a policy of giving relatives a single favor free of charge. Syntaritovs and Resquills ought to stick together, after all.”

Kwyn’s eyes flick back to the artifact on the table, then to Syntaritov. “…could I ask you to help us decode this artifact?”

Syntaritov’s smile falters slightly. “Really? You want to use your favor right now, instead of banking it for later for a rainy day? And you’d rather use it on a work thing, instead of something personal?” The way he says ‘work’, it sounds like he’s spitting out a piece of food that didn’t agree with him.

Kwyn looks at me, then at Tenji, whose expression is giving away nothing at the moment. “I mean otherwise, you’re going to ask us for something in return, and I’d rather not have my friends indebted to a demon.”

He bites his lip. “Fair enough. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering you’ve got Kitty Hawk’s blood in your veins. The selflessness is certainly something that runs in that side of the family.” He moves to the side a little, approaching the table and holding out a hand to Tenji. “Let’s see what all the fuss is, then.”

Tenji picks up the containment cell, though Nazka hisses. “Administrator.” he says in a warning tone, his eyes flicking between the artifact and Syntaritov.

“Demons are archaic creatures, Nazka. They are bound by tradition and their word.” Tenji says, holding out the containment cell to Syntaritov. “He will only help us decode it. After that, he is to return it to our possession intact, along with the information gleaned.”

“Indeed I will, though not necessarily for your benefit.” Syntaritov agrees, taking the containment cell and looking it over. “It would not reflect well if I conducted myself poorly in front of family, and especially not with a request made at their behest. And my, this is quite something. I’m going to need to take a closer look.”

With that, elegant manacles flare to life around his forearms, projected by the black marks tattooed onto his wrists. Long lengths of chain hang from each one, mirroring the translucency of the manacles they’re anchored to. The containment cell starts to heat up, the glass cracking and popping where it’s in contact with his fingers.

“You know you could’ve just asked me to open it.” Tenji says, giving him a flat look.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that.” Syntaritov says, the glass starting to bend and warp beneath his fingers as it turns molten. He starts prying the sides of the containment cell away, flicking molten glass off his fingers like it’s water. “What you have here appears to be a living map, information that has life and intent. That is why it is resisting your attempts to cipher it; you have placed it in a cage and tried to unravel it without truly interacting with it.” He rolls the orange sphere into his hand, holding it up and peering at it. “Have you tried talking to it gently and complimenting it?”

“Do not mock us, demon.” Nazka says tersely. “We are here for results, not to be patronized.”

“Have a little respect. You dragged me out of my bathroom while I was brushing my teeth. Terrible manners, no courtesy at all.” Syntaritov chides, rubbing a thumb over the sphere. “Look at you, poor thing. Stuck you in a box and didn’t say a word to you, did they? Rude, terribly rude, just like they were rude to me.”

Whisper sighs, motioning to Syntaritov as she looks at Tenji. “So this is what all this was for? We reached into hell and yanked some no-name demon out so we could sit and watch him coo at a little glowball like it’s a pet rock?”

“I do hope this has a purpose, Lord Syntaritov.” Tenji says, looking thoroughly unamused. “If you hope to make fools of us with this little performance…”

“Please, I don’t need to make fools of you when you do it easily enough yourselves.” Syntaritov mutters, rolling the sphere around in his hands. “Did you know they’re taking bets on you down in Sjelefengsel? Those of us that keep tabs on the mortal plane have been watching your little spat with the resurgent Challengers. Wagers have been cast on whether you’ll crush them, or whether they’ll make a comeback and overthrow your little regime. I won’t say who I’ve placed my money on, but I will say that the odds are more even than surface appearances would allow for.”

Rolling the sphere back into both hands, he holds it up to his face. “Now, I know this is a little forward — we’ve not known each other for more than a minute or two — but I was wondering if you would humor my curiosity? Show me your purpose. Why do you exist? What are you?”

“He’s talking to the ball, right?” Kwyn mutters quietly to me.

“I guess so.” I mutter back. “I’m pretty sure he’s not expecting the rest of us to answer those questions.”

“I don’t mean to rush you, but how long is this process going to take?” Tenji asks. “If it is going to take some time and would be better conducted without distractions, then we can allow you some limited privacy to do what you have to.”

“Oh, no no no.” Syntaritov says quickly, waving a hand. “An audience is better, it makes the artifact feel smug when it cooperates with me and not you all—”

He’s interrupted as a seam runs through the sphere with a sudden krak. From there, the outside of it starts to peel up and furl away, revealing what looks like a little humanoid curled into a fetal position within, orange and glowing brightly. It takes a moment to process, but I realize that the exterior of the sphere was really wings, folded around in a spherical enclosure.

This entire time, we’ve been handling some kind of pixie or fairy.

“Oh.” Kwyn says, leaning forward now that the artifact is no longer a sphere. “Now that’s cute…”

“Aw, look who’s awake!” Syntaritov coos as the fairy stretches its arms and yawns. “You must’ve been asleep for quite a while.”

“Our scans did not detect any internal structure that would suggest there was a living organism within this object.” Nazka says, looking confused.

“I’m fairly certain it can rearrange its shape as it desires.” Syntaritov says as it sprawls out on his hand, kicking its legs back and forth. “It’s not actually a fairy; it likely only assumes this form as a matter of arousing a protective instinct in those that handle it. It could probably just as easily be a spider, or a wasp, or whatever may fit its purposes. But we digress!” Raising his other hand, Syntaritov gives a little finger wave to the fairy. “Hallo you. Mind showing me what it is that you’re protecting?”

The fairy seems to consider that for a moment, then sinks its fingers into its chest and pulls it open with a sudden yank. Orange light pours out of the gap, flowing up into the air and circling over our heads; it starts swirling outward, taking on the rough semblance of the galaxy we live in, replete with billions of points of light representing the many stars and planets within the Myrrdicato galaxy. Digging around in its chest, it pulls out something that looks like a key, which it flings up into the air; the little point of orange light zips in and around the galaxy’s many arms, before homing in on one of the systems and parking above it.

“Oh, I see.” Syntaritov murmurs. “You’re a map and a key, all in one.”

“Okay, but what is it a map to?” Whisper says, walking over to stand under the system that’s been highlighted. It’s hard to really pick it out, with how many stars and systems there are within a given galaxy.

“Excellent question. Something, I presume, of great value and hypernatural provenance.” Syntaritov says, reaching up to tap at the highlighted system. The starmap starts to zoom in on the selected system, the rest of the galaxy rushing past until it’s showing us a star with a gas giant around it, and a moon in orbit around the gas giant. The striations on the gas giant seem familiar, and there’s a haze around the moon, as if it had an atmosphere…

“Wait, that’s Chibundi, in the Gnist system!” I say. “That’s where we found this thing in the first place!”

“Seems like you’re due for a second visit, then.” Syntaritov remarks. “Pity you had to come all the way back here just to find that out.”

“No, that can’t be right.” Kwyn says. “We wouldn’t grab this thing from that moonworld, just to have to go back there to make use of it. Maybe it’s confused? Showing us our point of origin, instead of where we need to go?”

“You expect this to be your story-perfect treasure hunt?” Syntaritov says, his amusement clear as the fairy takes its hands out of its chest, the map retreating back into its body as it seals up. “Where you pingpong from system to system across the galaxy in search of your macguffin, on some grand adventure to harness a power beyond your comprehension? Reality is rarely so poetic, little cousin. More often than not, life takes us back to the places we’ve already been, because that is where the answers are.”

“Is there any information as to what this… living key unlocks?” Tenji asks as the fairy sits upright in the demon’s hand again.

Syntaritov’s bright green eyes flick up to Tenji. “Let’s not feign pretense here, Administrator.” he says softly. “I think we all know what it is you’re after.”

The way he says it sends shivers down my back. Though we haven’t said a word about it, he apparently knows what we’re after, even though we ourselves don’t fully understand what it is we’re trying to get our hands on. I almost want to confirm it — ask him what he knows about Sparks — but I’m not going to do that unless Tenji gives me the go-ahead. Just because he knows about it doesn’t mean I’ve got permission to speak about it. And I think the others understand that as well.

“Will we be able to access the information stored in this artifact once you are gone?” Nazka asks, moving to break the tension before it can settle. “It will not be much use to us if we cannot access it on command.”

“If you are nice to it, then you should be able to, yes.” Syntaritov says, turning his hand as the fairy climbs over onto the back of it, using his knuckles as little footholds. “If you continue treating it like a thing and not an entity, then you will likely encounter continued resistance. Something to keep in mind moving forward.” He brings his hand forward, so the fairy can plant its hands on his nose. “I must go now, little one. Keep your pride, but do not let it rule you. Give aid when it is asked and warranted.”

It nods, and with that, clambers back over into the palm of his hand again, curling up as its wings again fold around itself into a perfect sphere. Once it has finished closing up once more, Syntaritov tosses it back to Tenji, who reaches up to catch it. “At any rate, I believe this concludes our business here. I am sure you are very busy, and I would like to get back to my bedtime routine.”

“Yes, I’m sure that is of great importance to you.” Tenji says, looking the sphere over before setting it carefully back down on the table. “We will let you be on your way. Apologies for catching you at such an inopportune time.”

“Just don’t do it again.” Syntaritov says, turning and winking to Kwyn. “Farewell, little cousin. Do our family proud, and remember that no one tells stories about well-behaved Syntaritovs.”

“It’s a good thing I’m a Resquill, then.” she retorts, quick and sharp.

“I suppose you are, with an attitude like that.” he chuckles, turning and forcing his way back into the summoning circle. “Sleep tight, and don’t let the nightmares bite.”

As the barrier ripples closed behind him, he raises his fingers, snapping them. The summoning stone beneath his feet shatters and caves into itself, taking him with it, and then snaps back up into place once he disappears from view. All that’s left is a few fading curls of crimson smoke, and the red glow from the summoning circle slowly dimming away. 

“Well.” Whisper says after a moment of silence. She folds her arms, staring at the artifact at the table. “That happened.”

“It was an experience, sure enough.” Tenji says shaking her head as she combs some of her vivant red locks behind her ear. “Demon showing up in a bathrobe. Not going to forget that anytime soon.”

“An experience I would gladly forget if I had the ability to do so.” Nazka opines. “Embarking on another expedition to Chibundi will require time and planning. Every time we go there, we run the risk that the Viralix will catch us, so timing will be important if we are to evade a diplomatic incident.”

“Viralix or no, we need to go if it means getting our own Spark.” Tenji says, staring down at the artifact, then looking up at the three of us. “I need you three to be on standby and ready to go once the intelligence department finishes doing the legwork. This is a mission where we cannot afford failure, so I will be personally coming on this mission, as will some of our other Peacekeepers. We will not disclose to them what it is about unless it is necessary, though. Is that understood?”

“Understood, Administrator.” I nod. “Is there anything you need us to help with for the prep work?”

“The intelligence department might need you to fill them in with more details about the conditions on Chibundi, and what you all found there. But that can happen later.” Tenji says, checking her bracelet. “Right now it’s lunch time, and I need some time to get my thoughts together before I get the ball rolling on the prep for this assignment. You three are dismissed to your previous activities, whatever they were.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Whisper said, already headed for the door. “C’mon guys, let’s go get lunch. I’m starving.”

“Just let us know if you need us for anything, Administrator.” I say, turning and following after Whisper. “C’mon, Kwyn. I don’t know about you, but I want to get out of my power armor before I sit down for lunch.”

“Yeah, same here.” she agrees, falling in step with me. But based on how quietly she says it, and how distracted she seems, I know there’s something on her mind.

And I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what it is.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Mess Hall, Operatives’ Deck

12:26pm SGT

“You think I should see how she’s doing?” I ask, tapping my fork against the bowl of salad that I’d settled for.

“Nah, give her some space.” Whisper says as she tears into her burger on the other side of of the table. “She just found out she’s got a demon for a distant relative. That’s gotta be a tough pill for anyone to swallow.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I say, poking at the chopped bell peppers in my salad. “Well, actually — you don’t really believe that, do you? He’s not really related to her. There’s no way a demon from the hell planes could actually be a relative of a normal person here in the mortal plane, right?”

Whisper raises an eyebrow at me as she uses the back of her hand to wipe her mouth. “Do I look like an ecclesiastical scholar to you? How am I supposed to know if that’s possible? Hell, I’m surprised I haven’t been struck by lightning for disrespecting the divine so often.”

“Yeah, fair.” I say, starting to mix around my salad to try and get the dressing on the rest of the lettuce and spinach. “I don’t know much about religion either, so…”

“Could ask Ironfist or Prophet once they get back from their current assignment.” Whisper suggests. “They’re religious. They might have an answer.”

I make a face. “I’m not going to ask Prophet. He’ll hand me a pamphlet, then sic the Anayan missionaries on me. Ironfist, maybe — I don’t feel like he’d be too pushy about religion if I asked him about it.”

“Wouldn’t really call myself a big fan of Ironfist, but if I had to choose between dealing with him and dealing with Prophet, I’d pick Ironfist in a heartbeat.” Whisper says, finishing her burger and licking her fingers, then eyeing up my salad. “You actually gonna eat that, or just sit there and play with it?”

“Yeah… yeah, I am.” I say, stabbing my fork into it and coming up full of leaves. I stare at it for a moment, but don’t bite into it.

“No, you’re not.” Whisper says when I don’t take a bite. “You wanted a burger and fries, didn’t you.”

“I’ve been trying to eat healthier.” I sigh.

“Our jobs are dangerous. Eating healthy is for people that don’t risk their lives on a regular basis.” Whisper says, pushing her fries over to me. “Go on. Everybody dies someday, and statistically speaking, we’ll die sooner than others on the average. Life is short, especially for humans. Enjoy the salty goodness of fresh hot fries while you can.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I say, pushing aside my salad and taking the fries. “A depressing yet delicious approach to life.”

“I call it ‘dietary fatalism’. It’s the only philosophy I really subscribe to.”

“Now there’s a religion I could get behind.” I say, picking one of the warm waffle fries out of the basket. “Maybe you should be a lifestyle guru instead of a covert ops Peacekeeper.”

“Don’t give me a reason to take more selfies than I already do.” she says, taking a saltshaker and tapping it over the basket of fries. “You really care about her, don’t you.”

“About what?” I say, with a fry halfway to my mouth.

“About Kwyn.” she says, setting the saltshaker down and grabbing one of the fries so she can munch on it. “I saw the look on your face when the demon was getting up in her space. You looked like you were about to throw hands.”

“I mean, yeah.” I say, shrugging as I chomp down on my fry. “He was pulling the creep demon routine on her, and she’s my trainee. I wasn’t just going to stand by and watch.”

Her glacier-blue eyes narrow, and her mouth curls in a sly look as she snags another fry from the basket. “You’re very protective of her.”

“Is there a problem with that?” I say, slowly ripping apart my next fry. “That’s part of the student-mentor dynamic.”

“No, I think it’s something more than that.” Whisper says, leaning her chin on her hand. “You like her, don’t you, Dare.”

I roll my eyes. “I already told you and Kent both—”

“I’m not going to tell you to chase her.” Whisper interrupts gently. “I just think it’s cute, is all.”

I raise my eyebrows at that. “…you’re not going to tease me over it?”

“If it was just a passing fancy, maybe.” she says, licking salt off her fingers. “But I can tell you really care about her.”

“She’s a good person.” I say, munching down on the two halves of the fry. “Of course I care about her.”

“It’s more than that.” She puffs a lock of black hair out of her eyes, smiling at me. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I know what it’s like to be drawn to someone you’re training.”

I shrug, as if I could fend off the topic with a roll of my shoulders. “She already talked to me about it. She’s got her eye on someone else.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like too.” Whisper says, leaning back in her chair. “Let me guess. You’re going to keep training her anyway?”

“I mean, that’s my job, isn’t it?” I say, thumbing the edge of the fry basket. “We’re here to defend the galaxy and train the next generation of Peacekeepers, not screw around looking for our next date. I’ll still train her, and I’ll still put my best foot forward in that regard. It’s my job to make sure she’s trained and equipped for what she’s going to face out there if she ever becomes a Peacekeeper.”

Whisper smirks. “Maybe you should tell that to Kent. ‘Screw around looking for for his next date’ seems to be exactly what he thinks CURSE was founded for.”

“There’s a reason Kent’s a greasemonkey and not an operative or a Peacekeeper.” I say, popping another fry in my mouth. “Thanks for showing up so fast to put him in his place, by the way. Although… how long were you watching me and Kwyn?”

Whisper’s lips peels back so she can show me her teeth. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You’re shameless.”

“C’mon, what’s the point of cloaking tech if you’re not gonna use it?”

“I dunno, you keep on using it to spy on me and my trainee, or sneak into my room. Why would you even need to be cloaked for that? It’s not like we’re doing anything secret; we’re out in the middle of the Proving Grounds. Everyone can see us.”

“You’d act differently if you knew I was watching.” she says, reaching forward to grab another fry. “I wanted to see how you acted around her when no one was watching, and from what I saw, I know you care about her. You’re training her the same way I trained you.”

“I like to think I’m a little less rough.” I say, munching on another fry.

Whisper rolls her eyes. “This again. From the way you tell it, you’d think I tied you to a punching bag and took you to town.”

“I ended up pinned to the ground a lot more often than I would’ve liked.”

“And as soon as you started getting better at hand to hand combat, you stopped ending up on the ground so often. See how that works?”

“You could’ve gone a bit easier on me.” I say, snatching up the last fry in the basket and looking it over. “Got any plans for the holiday?”

“Since when do I ever?” Whisper says, pulling my salad over to herself and picking through it, looking for the grape tomatoes. “Don’t got nowhere I wanna be this year. You? Gonna go home for the holidays?”

“I would, if Tenji didn’t have us on standby.” I say, popping the fry in my mouth. “I already let my parents know that I wouldn’t be home for the holiday this year, since I was needed for a mission-critical assignment. They understand, though, and they’re supportive.”

“Wish I could say the same for mine.” she says before balancing a grape tomato on the tip of her tongue.

“They still don’t agree with what you’re doing?”

“Same old shit about how the wereckanan shouldn’t be meddling in the civilizations of less-developed species and all that, and how we’re only supposed to guard them from outside threats, instead of getting involved in their politics.” Whisper says after chomping down on the little tomato. “It makes family reunions really tense, so I’ve stopped going.”

“So what, your family thinks the wereckanan should just sit and watch our societies tear themselves apart from the inside out?” I ask, brushing the fry basket off to the side.

“Pretty much. They say it’s part of the natural order of things, and that societies have torn themselves apart for aeons.” Whisper says, digging for another tomato. “Only societies that can look past their greed in the present, and build a future for their children, will survive. Those that don’t, they collapse and die out. It happens more often than you might think, but most of the wereckanan don’t think we should interfere in the process, because intervening in a collapsing society would be akin to propping up a model that doesn’t work. They believe it doesn’t solve the issue; it’s only delaying the inevitable.”

“Well, they might not be wrong…” I mutter.

“But it doesn’t mean we should sit back and watch it happen.” Whisper says. “Which is why I’m here. It’s better to be in the thick of things, trying to fix them, instead of watching from the sidelines as they fall apart.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” I say, taking my napkin and wiping away the crumbs on the table. “Consorting with all these primitive races that sometimes can’t see further into the future than the current news cycle.”

“It’s exciting.” Whisper says with a smile. “Less-developed species live in the moment. It’s something that a lot of the wereckanan have forgotten how to do. Being among all of you, I feel alive. Even though it does feel like you all are rushing by me sometimes, growing and dying in little more than a century.”

“Yeah…” I say slowly. “A century, that’s what, only a few years to you?”

“Two years, yeah, for a fully mature wereckanan. Fifty to one.”

“That still blows my mind.” I say, shaking my head. “Four thousand years. You all live long enough to watch entire civilizations rise and fall. Sometimes I wonder why the wereckanan would even be interested in the rest of us… compared to you all, we’re sparks next to candles. Erratic and all over the place, before winking out just as quickly as we came.”

“That’s why sparks are mesmerizing, though.” Whisper says. “They burn bright and move quickly — and then they’re gone so fast you barely have time to study them or understand what they are. All you can do is marvel at how beautiful they are for the brief time they exist.”

“There one moment, gone the next.” I say, looking around. “Speaking of which, I think that should describe us here in a moment, if you’re ready to go.”

Whisper pushes my salad back over to me as she looks around. “Yeah, let’s bust this joint. Only reason I came to the operatives’ deck of the mess hall was so we could sit with Kwyn, but she’s not even here. Kinda awkward, a couple of elites sitting with all the cannon fodder.”

“C’mon, they’re more than cannon fodder.” I say, taking the salad and standing up. “Maybe they’re not on our level, but still…”

“All I’m saying is we’re Peacekeepers. We earned our deck of the mess hall.” Whisper says, coming around the table. “I like being able to sit on the officer’s deck and look down on the expendables.”

“Is that because you spend most of your time looking up at everyone else?”

“You better watch it with the height jokes, buster.” she says, elbowing me as we head for the doors. “You might be a Peacekeeper now, but I can still put you on the ground.”

“I had to get back at you for eating all my grape tomatoes.”

“You’ll survive. Now finish your salad, or I’ll finish it for you.”

“I mean, if you really want to…”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Gritter’s Bar

5:02pm SGT

It’s evening when I rove through the halls on my way to Gritter’s, done with catching up with the latest reports from the intelligence department. I’d read up on the briefing for Prophet, Blockchain, and Ironfist, and it seemed like their assignment was in response to the resurgency being spotted on a frontier world, where they’d apparently kidnapped another teenager. The reports coming in were still spotty, but early sources were saying it was Ratchet’s daughter, which was worrying for a number of reasons. Ratchet had been an ace Titan pilot, and if her daughter was anything like her, then she could be a major problem if the resurgency brainwashed her to use against us. Of course, that’d first require them to get their hands on a Titan mech, which wasn’t something you could just pick up from any old arms dealer…

Shaking my head, I blow out a long breath. If I thought too much about it, I’d spiral into an endless hole of what-ifs. For now, I was just going to relax, grab a drink, see what the news was, and give my brain some time to rest after trawling through a bunch of intelligence reports.

At least until I see a familiar splash of white hair at the overlook across from the bar.

Changing tack, I head for the overlook, working my way among the tables until I’m at the ledge by the window, where Kwyn’s sitting. She’s staring out the glass across the inner arc of the HQ, most of which is visible from here. “Got room for one more?” I ask.

She looks around, words forming on her lips, though she pauses when she sees that it’s me. “…yeah, yeah that’s fine.” she says. “Sorry. Been telling people to buzz off for the last thirty minutes or so.”

“Well, sitting on the overlook across from the bar in the evening with a drink and no company…” I say, motioning to the drink she’s got beside her. “Figure there’s more than a few looking to score an impromptu date.”

“I need a big placard I can hang from my neck that says ‘Emotionally Unavailable’.” she says, picking up her drink and sipping from it.

I can’t help but snort at that as I sit down on the ledge. “If you find a place that sells them, get one for me too.”

She smiles at that. “You got a few women that won’t take a hint?”

“Nah. I’d put it on just so people wouldn’t bother me.” I say, leaning back against the slant of the ledge behind me. “I figure people would see that placard and steer clear. Good tool for scaring people off.”

“You get bothered that often?” she asks, picking up her drink and sipping from it.

“Nah. I think I’d just like having the option to deter people from bothering me.” I say, fiddling with my fingers before looking at her again. “I just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing okay, by the way. I know today was… interesting.”

“Yeah.” she says, looking back out the window. “I’ll be fine. It just wasn’t what I was expecting out of my day when I woke up this morning.”

“I’ve seen a lot, but that was definitely a new experience.” I say, shaking my head. “Can’t say I’ve ever summoned a demon before, but I expected more… fire, brimstone, horns and hooves. Not some guy in a nightrobe. And claiming that he was a distant relative of yours, at that.” I can’t help but chuckle a bit at that; though it hadn’t been funny in the moment, in retrospect, it was so wildly outlandish that it sounded like the setup for a campfire story.

Kwyn, though, just stares into her drink. She doesn’t laugh or smile, and I feel my own amusement fade when I realize she’s more bothered by it than she’s been letting on.

“Kwyn?” I ask again after a moment.

“He might be right.” she says quietly. “I might be related to him.”

I don’t know what to say to that. “What makes you think that?”

“The things he said about Syntaritovs, about Resquills… some of them are true.” Kwyn answers, setting her drink aside. “My family has always traded stories of the Syntaritovs, more than other people do. They never said why, but I think we know more of those stories because we’re related to them. It was one of those things that was implied, but never said out loud.”

“Is it really a bad thing?” I ask carefully. “I mean, I’ve heard about Syntaritovs, but I just thought they were a myth. Parables and moral fairytales that you tell to children so they can learn lessons about caution and wisdom.”

“No, Syntaritovs are very real. And very dangerous.” Kwyn says heavily. “They’re agents of change. They don’t see morality the way we do — they constantly question and test the ethics of mortal creatures as a way of exploring reality and truth. And they love proving people wrong, using circumstance and manipulation to force them to view the universe from angles they’ve never considered before. They can be cruel, but they rarely intend actual malice, despite the suffering that they often generate.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting one, aside from the one we met this afternoon.” I say, sitting up. “So you think you have your powers because you’re a distant relative of this family?”

“I think so. Nobody every told me where my powers came from, so I just assumed that I got them from my parents, since my grandfather and mother had similar powers. But after what the demon said this afternoon…” She kneads her knuckles against her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. “Y’know, I felt tempted for a bit? I wanted to listen to him. Learn more. Something in me felt drawn to him, like an ancient calling. That’s what bothers me. Deep down, I felt fascinated, and I don’t like that I felt that way.”

Again, I’m not sure what to say to that. I’ve never counseled for anything like this before, but at the very least, I can be honest about that fact. “No one’s perfect.” I say. “No one’s a hero all the time. Everyone’s got their demons… no pun intended.”

That does get her to smile. “That was terrible.”

“I know.”

“Like, just awful. You completely destroyed a serious conversation.”

“But it got you to smile.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it did.” she says, picking up her drink again. “I’m not much of a drinker; I don’t think I’ll finish this. You want it…?”

I decline with a small shake of the head. “I’m good. I should probably get dinner before I go for drinks, anyhow.” Not wanting to stay longer than is comfortable, I stand off the ledge, tucking my hands into my pockets. “I’ll get out of your hair, since it looks like you wanted some peace and quiet. Anything you need from me?”

For a moment it looks like she’s going to say something, then changes her mind and switches to something else. “No, I’m good.” she says. “But thanks for stopping by, Dare. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” I say, giving her a nod. “You need anything, just let me know. Have a good night, Kwyn.”

“You too, Dare.”

With that, I start back across the overlook, resisting the urge to look back to see if she’s watching me. Crossing back into the hallway once more, I square my shoulders and take a deep breath, picking up the pace as I walk away and try not to think about what I wanted to hear her say to me.

Everyone’s got their demons, indeed.