IX

So it Was

Artemis felt cold.

At first, they weren't sure why. It was a fuzzy suggestion of a feeling, if even that much. Instead of anything chilling touching their skin, their brain was reciting the sensation of cold, to remind itself how that felt.

Then, the cold took shape. It was in their hair, tickling only the back half of their body. Then, it took texture. Water. Artemis was laying in water.

Artemis sat up, opened their eyes, and the world started building itself around them. The water was moving. Water meant a river- that river. That river meant that forest.

And so it was that trees and vines and shade sprung up from the nothing that was just moments ago. Funny; Artemis noticed shade, but not the presence of sun.

The sound of birds and bugs filled the vacant ambience, and completed the mimicry of that forest. But, they knew things weren't done.

Because that forest meant that girl. And so she was.

She was sitting, cross legged, same as Artemis, only she was sitting on soil, and they were on the bank of the river.

She was young, no older than five, to Artemis'... twenty-four. Gods. That wasn't even old, but thinking about it here made them feel ill.

"...Hello," They muttered, as the water dripped up their back and lingered at their neck. They looked at her hair. How neatly it was braided, how it twirled around her shoulders with fragile little flowers tucked about. She was so pretty.

"Hi," She said, a touch more enthused than they.

"Can I help you?" They asked.

"You left home."

"Have I?"

"I'm lonely," She said. "I want you to come visit me, but you never do. You never look at me."

They grimaced as she raised her voice. "Why!? You're the only one who remembers! The only one who knows!"

"Can't help but know," They sighed.

"Is it because I'm ugly?" She asked. "Do you hate me now? Is that why-"

"No! No. Please, stop it."

"You made our hair so ugly," She whined. "I don't like our clothes, or our body- or our voice! We don't sound anything like we used to! Everyone used to love my voice…"

They looked away from her, choking back a tear. There was nothing to their side, no reason to look anywhere else.

"They wanna hurt you, too," She went on. "I know they do. Why are you leaving with them?"

"Wouldn't hurt you," They hissed.

"I don't understand…" She whimpered, and started to cry. That precious little chin wrinkled and her mouth curled in the most helpless frown. "You're ruining me! You won't stop ruining me!"

They felt something, on the back of their forehead. Wet, but… warm.

"I miss my friends!" She screamed. "I miss my mom! I want to come back! Please, let me come back!"

They brushed their hand against the warm spot. Their head was open- it was blood.

"LET ME BACK!"

Artemis woke up, the warmth of a pillow pressed against their head. It took a moment to realize they were on a bed, in the Restorationists' headquarters. They remembered shooting that Banshee, hearing it scream, and then…

It was quiet. Artemis looked around, expecting to be alone, but they were wrong. They jumped when they spotted an Elf sitting in a chair opposite them, filing her nails.

The Elf looked up. "Oh, you're awake!"

Artemis looked down at themself, and realized they were shirtless. They gasped, and frantically pulled the blanket over their chest.

"Try not to move too quickly," The Elf warned. "They tell me a Banshee got the better of you? If it's the scream that did it, you might still be lightheaded."

"My clothes…" Artemis droned, "...didn't touch any acid."

"I know, it wasn't that," She explained. "Your undershirt is dangerously tight, dear. It was restricting your airflow."

"Give it back, please."

"It's by your feet."

Artemis looked down at the foot of the bed. So it was.

"Get out," they ordered.

"-Oh! Sure, can I get you anything, are you thirsty?"

Artemis shook their head. The Elf stood up, and left the room.

Artemis put on their undershirt, then their shirt, and their armor. Dressed, they opened the door, and stepped out into the foyer.

The room was mostly empty. The scholar lady from just before was doing something in the kitchen. Only one other scholar was in the room; that Elf, Lysander, on the sofa. He had Alikath's head on his lap... Alikath was still unconscious.

Lysander looked up at Artemis as they entered the room. He gave them a weak smile, which they didn't return.

"Good morning," Lysander started, looking back down at Alikath. "He's going to be fine. You all are. Banshees are… unlucky, that's all. But they don't do any lasting damage."

Artemis stared at Lysander. Their left hand twitched at their thigh. He said nothing for a moment, then went on.

"I asked Veronica to watch you. Someone had to, your friends were busy."

Artemis said nothing. Lysander looked up at them.

"Are you okay?"

Artemis turned, and left the room out the front door.

Outside, Artemis felt the dry, oddly sweet air. There was a bit of a breeze, more than there was when they first arrived in this dreary town. Still as grey as ever, though.

They looked to their left, and found Amira sitting against the building's wall, one leg out, the other bent. Their head was hung, a thousand yard stare digging to the earth's core.

Artemis walked down the three stone steps to the floor, and spoke.

"What are you doing?"

Amira looked up at Artemis, lifting their head just enough to catch them in her peripheral. Then she slumped back down and returned to her forward stare.

"Gettin' some air."

Artemis nodded. "Can't stand it in there, either."

Artemis took a couple steps toward Amira, but didn't sit beside her. "How long have you been out here?"

"Since I dropped ye off. So, an hour 'r two."

"Mhm." Artemis crossed their arms, and leaned against the wall. "Didn't pass out with the rest of us?"

"Reckon I didn't."

"Right. Surprising. Looked like the Mouther really wore you out. Made you look small… guess I saw it wrong."

Amira glared at Artemis, giving them her full attention. "...We all saw a lot of things back there."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Amira frowned. "...Nothin'. Reckon I saw it wrong."

"That's right."

Amira breathed sharply through their nose, and clenched one hand into a fist.

"I carried ye back myself, y'know. You and Fletch. But I didn't have to."

"But you did."

Amira stood up, effortlessly towering over Artemis even before her legs were straight.

"Anything could have happened in those woods. No one would'a said a thing. I coulda left you there."

"But you didn't."

Amira scowled. "One more person hit the ground, and I wouldn't've! Y'understand me? Nothin' but luck says you're here right now!"

"Then what's your point? Give my thanks to luck."

Amira's shoulders flared, and she opened her mouth to speak, but found no comeback. She took a deep breath in, and stepped back.

"Think I owe you, big girl?" Artemis took a step forward to close the distance back. "Think I'm gonna pay you back for your kindness? I'll save you when you need me to?"

Amira was shaking. Artemis grinned, and sized her up. The sun made a halo around Amira's head, but blinded them to any of her features. They liked that.

Amira puffed up their chest and showed Artemis her teeth.

Artemis tapped themself on the shoulders. "How lucky do you feel, boulder?"

So it was.

Amira punched Artemis square in the nose, snapping something in their face. Artemis was dazed long enough to take a second swing from Amira, slamming their head into the wall- which made them dizzy, but ironically woke them back up.

Artemis ducked before Amira could pin them to that wall, spinning around her back, and kicking her knee in. Their heel thunked uselessly against her leg, and all Artemis got for their efforts was a swift elbow to the jaw.

Artemis stumbled back, their head stung, but spun with a wonderful buzz. Amira turned to face Artemis, and gave them a wound-up swing to the gut. Time stopped, aand Artemis felt themself leave their own body from the sheer force of the blow. They saw space; a shapeless soul suspended in the universe, and they felt nothing. When they returned to the real world, they were on their knees, propped up by one arm, and everything hurt.

Amira grabbed Artemis by the collar, and picked them up, eye to eye. Artemis saw the anger in those eyes, yes, but they also found contempt hiding beneath it. There was a pungent disgust for the animal hanging from her fingers. That alone was enough to make this all worth it.

Artemis felt they were about to be thrown, so they opened their mouth, and poked out their fangs. Before she could react, Artemis bit Amira, catching their mouth on her wrist guards, but puncturing their fangs straight through.

Amira screamed, and tried to drop Artemis, but they hung on by their jaw, and wrapped their hands around her forearm. The confidence of rage surrendered to panic, Amira dropped her arm to the ground, and punched Artemis twice, as swiftly as she could. The first punch made them see stars, and the second stole Artemis' control over their body. They retracted their fangs and fell on their knees.

Amira clutched their wounded arm, and hissed. She was delirious from her pain, but it was nothing compared to Artemis, who had their chin pressed to their chest, laughing like an idiot. They couldn't help it- their body was reacting all on its own.

Hearing Artemis' laughter subdued Amira's fear, and gave her the composure to let go of her arm, and plant her feet firmly in the dirt. She leaned back, lifted one leg, and punted Artemis in the chin. They sprawled onto their back. A messy arch of blood sprayed through the air; like water swinging off the hair of a bathing nymph.

Amira rubbed their wrist, and watched Artemis continue to giggle to themself in the blood and filth. She shivered, and closed her eyes.

"Main chhota nahin hoon! Main tumhen maar doonga! Tum aalasee ho!"

Artemis didn't stop laughing. Amira's shoulders drooped, and she spoke in a bitter grumble.

"You… you're small."

Amira shook her head, and walked away. It was then that Artemis spoke up.

"Don't go… gasp… don't- chhk- g-go yet…"

Amira looked at Artemis over her shoulder. There was a moment of something, a feeling brewed in her chest that wasn't anger, and didn't taste like fear. It...

Amira shook her head, and left.

Dez perched on the foot of the bed frame, and stared intently at the sleeping Satyr in front of him. Roland. He was so unbearably fascinated by this creature; he'd heard of their kind before, but he'd never gotten to see one for himself. Satyrs were humanoid creatures who shared attributes with the goat. Most notably, this came in the form of horns, and furry lower bodies, supported by dense hooves. Dez couldn't see it under the blanket, but they were also gifted with an extra joint on their legs, just above their ankles, which bent backwards.

This one's horns were so long and curvy compared to Alikath's; they almost made full circles around the sides of his head.

Roland was an interesting specimen, even ignoring his bleating attributes. His sharp features, slick green eyes, pale yellow skin, and pointy ears indicated he was a Half-Elf. His hair could very well be shoulder length, were it not messily combed over again and again in multiple directions. The strange combing job made a sort of tight, frayed web of dark brown strands that somehow held itself together atop his head. At the very back, that web frayed, spilling into something between a pony-tail and a waterfall. But his bangs were maybe the most confusing part of the mangle of his hair, because they weren't a mangle. Parted down the middle, two large, smooth needles of hair bent around his forehead, and hung at an angle past his cheeks. How he managed to pull that off while the rest of him seemed to be made of knots was beyond Dez's grasp.

His outfit was dirty, but not cheap. Being a Satyr, he didn't wear any pants, but his shirt was a well-founded garb of green cloth and plates, accented by gold flourishes, and a beige undershirt that sleeved down to his wrists. A very pretty Elven getup, but it was riddled with scratches, stains, and stitches where tears once were.

When Roland was awake, his face seemed stuck in a scowl. But that might have been induced by pain, because it was absent now that he was asleep.

"He's not gonna like you being that close when he wakes up."

Dez didn't even realize how close he had gotten, studying this thing. He sat back straight, still perched on the bed's foot, and looked at the bard sitting nearby.

"Dunno if you picked up on it," he went on, "But he kind of appreciates his space."

"I'm sorry," Dez apologized. "I'm just curious about him. For someone carrying such powerful magic, he looks so normal."

"Yep, he's a biter, all right," The bard chuckled, and leaned back in his chair.

"I don't think I caught your name," Dez noted. "I'm Dez Ta-Or. Who are you?"

"Name's Andrés."

"And your surname?"

"Surname."

"Yes, what is it?"

"That's it."

"That's what?"

"My surname."

"What? What is your name?"

"My name is Andrés Surname."

"Surname!?"

"Don't wear it out~"

Dez blinked, nowhere close to following. Andrés laughed again, and smiled at Dez with pitiful eyes.

Andrés was a Wood Elf. based on his outfit, he was some kind of exotic dancer. A ruby red midriff-baring shirt and a pair of long white pants, both silk, showed off a liberal amount of his oily almond skin. The light and messy curls atop his head bounced like little clouds, and clung to its sides like a cap. He wore a constant easy smile that accentuated his unusually colored eyes: pink, which Dez found distracting.

He wore a modest gold bracelet on his right wrist, but otherwise seemed free of any major accessories, save for the instruments he manifested through magic. There was this palpable aura of frivolity around this one; even when he was frantically trying to help Roland escape the maw of a beast, his panic came across as some sort of performance, like a character in a dark comedy struggling with his own incompetence.

"Um-" Dez started, shaking off the previous confusion, "What were you two doing in the OneWood?"

"Oh, nothing special," Andrés sighed, and leaned on his knees. "Some stupid treasure hunt I caught wind of- thought it'd pay my tabs for a few months. I, uh, underestimated the risk, I guess."

"Do you two know each other well?"

"Me and Roland? No, I met this guy like two weeks ago, in Thyme. I saw him brooding outside an alleyway, stumbling around all swollen and bruised. I played him a song, healed him up, and we got to talking. Well, I got to talking to him, and pestered him into telling me he was a mercenary, leaving for Chesknot. Just so happens, so was I. So I hired him, and we walked up here, where we heard this rumor about an old treasure in the OneWood, and… that's about it."

"A mercenary?" Dez cooed. "No wonder he's so strong. I wonder if I could learn that spell he cast!"

"Don't hold your breath," Andrés stretched one arm over his head. "So, what about you? Are you with the rest of those charlatans?"

Dez nodded. "We're a political organization! We came here to meet with our last recruit. I've only been here for a day or two."

"Politics, huh?" Andrés whistled. "You look a little young to be doing something like that, bud."

"I am plenty old enough!" Dez scoffed. "We grow up a lot faster than Elves, you know."

"Yeah, I figured," Andrés yawned. "So, what's your story? What got you in this organization?"

Dez scratched his perch while he racked his brain. "Well, I'm a Vagrant. I was born in Heavenfell, but I left to pursue the study of magic down in the Land District. Since I did, I've seen the most incredible things, met people and heard stories I never could have in the Sky District! But the Peak can only show me so much. so many Vagrants are people fleeing Heavenfell, like me. But I want to learn more. I want to see everything, so I can use all the world's knowledge to better all the world! So it was- that's why I'm here: being one of the Ambassadors means I get to see the world. All of it."

Andrés sat up. "All of it, huh? That's a fancy goal for an Aarakocra, I admire that. I'm sure you'll get to learn all sorts of things traveling around."

"I hope so," Dez sighed. "It's going to be my life's work, given our lifespan. But this group is so much more, uh… I hope I figure out how to fit in. Well, what about you?”

"What about me?"

"What are you wandering around for? Just treasure?"

"Just treasure."

"That's kind of boring."

Andrés laughed. "Go easy on me little bird, we just met. Alright, alright- I'm chasing an old fling of mine; a girl who kicked my heart in the ass. I'm taking inspiration from every city in the Land District, to write a song that'll win her back."

"That's beautiful!" Dez chirped. "What's her name?"

Andrés held his finger to his chin, and hummed. Before he could say more, Roland stirred, and opened his eyes. Upon coming to, he stared at Dez, perched over his feet.

"Hello, bird."

"Hello!" Dez smiled. "I'm Dez! Your name is Roland, right?"

"..."

Roland took off his covers, and stood up, rubbing his temple. Dez followed him with his eyes.

"I'm from the Ta-Or family! What's your name?"

Roland said nothing, and did a quick wellness check, patting down every limb and aching spot of his body. Then, he made for the door.

"Did you hear me?" Dez asked. "What's your surname?"

"Roland. Stop asking."

This distressed Dez.

Roland kept walking, as Dez desperately tried to figure out if Roland's last name was also Roland, or if he had no last name, or if he was being coy, or-

Andrés spoke up as Roland grabbed the doorknob. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Out. Does it matter?"

"A little, yeah! I wanna know where we're headed if I'm going with you to-"

"You aren't coming with me. Stay here, I'll come back."

"Come back from where?"

Roland didn't respond, so Andrés stood up and grabbed him by the shoulder to keep him from leaving.

“Hey, come back fr-”

“Don't touch me.”

Roland turned around and shoved Andrés off him. The bard caught his footing, and looked Roland in the eyes, not dropping that smile.

“Hey, you don't need to be like that. It's just a little question- we gotta keep tabs on each other to keep each other safe. I'm being pragmatic.”

Andrés held his hips and gave Roland a look- a particular look that Dez couldn't identify. What Dez did see was a swirl of pink light that flashed in Roland's eyes, like the reflection of a rosy glare.

Andrés tapped his foot. “So, where are you headed?”

Roland rolled his eyes. "I'm going back to the OneWood."

"What!?" Andres shouted, finally frowning. He followed Roland out of the room. Dez followed close behind, not picking up that he might be a third wheel in this conversation.

"Why are you going back there?" Dez asked. "Didn't it almost kill you last time?"

"We were too loud," said Roland. "I'll be quieter alone."

"Roland, I don't care about the treasure anymore. You already got paid, why are you-"

"I'm not looking for treasure."

Now in the Foyer, Lysander and a recently awoken Alikath watched the argument from a safe distance.

"Then what are you going for!?"

"It doesn't matter. Just stay here."

"Roland, this is maybe the worst idea you've given me so far, and you've had some gems already," Andrés pleaded. "At least take someone quieter with you if I can't be there."

"If you're going back in, I can follow you from above the trees!" Dez offered, taking a step closer to Roland. "It's safe that way, and I won't get you caught by anything!'

"You aren't coming, either! Now shut up and stay put till I get back!"

Roland started walking again, but Dez followed him, tapping his shoulder. "I really think you should consider-"

As soon as Dez touched him, Roland unsheathed his weapon, spun around, and pointed it at the bird's neck. It was a polearm, with a dark, thin handle, and a twofold blade that both pointed forward, and curved along one side.

"Don't fucking touch me! Or I will cut you open and cook you, you understand!?"

Alikath stood up and pushed the two of them apart. "Hey, hey!"

Dez stepped back, but peeked at Roland over Alikath's shoulder. "Uh- Aarakocra aren't usually worth eating unless they're cut a specific way. Are you saying you'll turn me into a steak, or a ground dish? Because if it's the former, you're better off-"

"SHUT UP!"

"Put the weapon down, Satyr," said Alikath. "If you hurt him, we're gonna have to hurt you a lot worse."

Roland sheathed his polearm at his hip, and stepped back.

"Dez isn't going to follow you." Alikath locked eyes with the Aarakocra. "Isn't that right, Dez?'

"We weren't done talking about it, has he considered that I can also-"

"Dez."

"I won't follow him."

Roland nodded, and turned to leave.

"You're gonna die!" Andrés called.

"Bury me." Roland closed the door behind him.

"Unbelievable." Andrés scoffed. "He thinks I'm a total liability!"

Dez shrugged. "You weren't especially useful earlier."

Alikath agreed. "He was getting eaten, and you were playing music."

"I was playing it really quickly!" Andrés jumped on the couch, and crossed his legs over Lysander's lap. "No one appreciates it if you're not the one punching everything, it's unbearable."

Dez studied the room for a good chair or window to perch on. Alikath palmed his chest, and cocked his head.

"Were you being oblivious on purpose?"

"Absolutely," Dez nodded. "Satyr are herbivores, it was just that easy to get under his skin. Hah, what a loser."

"...What was his problem, anyway?" Alikath asked.

"I'm not sure. He woke up, and immediately decided he was going back to the woods."

"Do you think he left something back there?" Lysander asked.

"Not that I saw." Andrés answered, resting his head on the couch arm. "If he did, the Mouther probably dissolved it."

"Either way, it must have been serious." Alikath crossed his arms. "That was quite the outburst."

Dez stared at the door. "So it was."

Fletch and Rosellia entered the hallway, and joined the group in the foyer. They were in the middle of an unusually jovial conversation, given how Rosellia was earlier, and how Fletch is always.

"But he still carved during?" She asked. "Where did he find the time?"

"It's all he did when he wasn't hunting, or trading in the city." Fletch answered. "When Puck or I got a chance to talk to him, it was while he made another one. I don't know who liked them more, between the two."

"Fascinating. What a curious thing for a couple to bond over."

Rosellia stopped and bowed to the group. Fletch stood behind her, and mimicked her bow to the best of his ability.

"Hello, everyone," said Rosellia. "You all look well, is anyone still waiting to wake up?"

"Roland is awake," Andrés answered. "I don't know about the other one, uh-"

"Artemis?"

"They're awake, too," Lysander answered, shoving Andrés' feet back to the floor. "They, Amira, and Roland are all outside."

"I see," Rosellia nodded. "Fletch has been up for a while. Did you know his father is a woodcarver? I saw one of his figurines in Fletch's coat, I thought they were Goliath made!"

"That could be where he got his style," Fletch admitted. "I never asked."

"You're in good spirits, miss," Andrés climbed up and sat on the couch's back, planting his feet on the cushion beside Lysander. "I was worried you might have passed out with Fletch."

Rosellia cleared her throat. "Yes. You'll have to forgive me for my demeanor earlier. That fight took a lot out of me."

"I'll say," Andrés kicked up his legs, laying fully on the sofa's back. He put both hands under his chin, and rested one elbow on Lysander's head. "You were pretty remarkable back there. Exceptional, actually."

Rosellia pulled back. "I-is that so?"

"Definitely. When you cast that spell to stabilize those three, that wasn't 'Group Heal- ACK!"

Andrés was cut short when Lysander pushed him off the sofa, wedging him between the furniture and the wall. With a short draaag and an unceremonious thump, the sofa inched away while Andrés lingered in the space between.

Rather than climb out, he finished his thought in the dark. "It wasn't 'Group Healing Word.' I've seen that spell, the effect is subtle, but different. Somehow, you cast a regular 'Healing Word' on a group of people. How'd you do that?"

Rosellia caught something in her throat, and nearly choked. Dez thought back, and gasped.

"You're right! I didn't catch that!"

"Well, it, um-" Rosellia stuttered, rubbing her neck. "I'm not really sure, honestly. I didn't have the energy to heal them all individually, but I knew they needed it, so… I pushed. Sometimes, that's all I have to do."

Alikath paused, expecting her to go on. When she didn't, he stirred his hands. "Okay, but that… that's not how magic works. Surely you did something different."

Rosellia shook her head. "Not at all. Actually, that's one of my, ah, 'gifts.' My affinity for healing magics is anything but natural."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's something I've been doing my whole life. Before I knew what a spell was, I was healing those around me. Now, not enough to matter, mind you, but scrapes and bruises tend to vanish while I'm around. I even kept a manatee alive for a few months longer than its owners expected, after it caught a flu."

"Are you saying you have passive healing properties!?" Dez gawked, racing to the bedroom to grab his journal. "That can happen!?"

"No, it can't," Rosellia laughed. "And yet so it was. One day, when my closest friend broke her leg, I cast a spell that cured her wounds before I had so much as looked at a spellbook. The church of Peisus believes my 'quirks' may be signs of divine intervention through birth. That's how I became a cleric- and how I've gotten to hone my talents into skill."

"Wow," Alikath sat back down on another seat. "That's very-"

"That's unprecedented!" Dez shouted, circling around Rosellia, probing her with his eyes while he violently scribbled in his little leather-bound book. "How long have you known about this? Do you have any other traits of note? Where is your family from? Does it have any drawbacks? What was-"

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," Rosellia pushed Dez out of her personal space. "But I ask that you keep it at bay. My body is not up for dissection."

Dez closed that gap back up. "But you're the most interesting thing that's happened to me all year!"

"That's a long time!" Andrés quipped. "He's only had two of those."

"I am not two years old!" Dez flared his wings at the couch-voice. "I'm f-"

Dez paused. His wings quickly drooped as he was forced to admit his non-proportional age.

"I'm f… four. And two months. It- it sounds a lot worse than it is."

The group gave him a look. Andrés climbed out of his prison with an even wider smile than before. Dez clicked, and ruffled his feathers.

"I'm an adult!"

"We know that," Alikath cracked his neck. "Your parents made sure to let us know."

"Stop that!" Dez whistled. "It's not my- trill- my fault you all take twenty years to grow up! You're weird!"

"You and Fletch are the only ones in the room below the age of twenty," Andrés pointed out. Lysander glared at him, and pushed his face back behind the couch.

"It's alright, Dez." Rosellia playfully ruffled the feathers on his head, hugging his back. "I think you're very mature, given our company."

Alikath chuckled, and changed seats to rejoin Lysander on the sofa. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"No," Rosellia smirked. "I'm sure you don't."

Lysander cut in. "There are stories about exceptional individuals developing unique abilities after significant trial or accomplishment, but to be born with something like that…"

Lysander trailed off, and locked eyes with Alikath as he slowly crawled up to the back of the sofa. Realizing he'd been caught, Alikath froze in place with one leg on a cushion, and the other beside Lysander's head.

"I will skin you, Tiefling," Lysander whispered.

"...Divine intervention isn't out of the question. It's hard to say." Rosellia flipped her hand, and flared her skirt. "What I do know is that I'm hardly destined for mediocrity among the masses. My gifts will be the foothold I use to rise to the ranks of glory that I rightfully-"

The door slammed open, and in walked Dominik, carrying Artemis’ shaking and bloodied body in his arms.

"I found them just outside, throwing up in the dirt."

"Oh gods, Artemis!" Alikath gasped, wrestling with Lysander to not be pushed into the couch.

Andrés poked his hand out from underneath, and snapped his fingers. "Nurse girl, you're up!"

Rosellia slouched, and sighed as everyone got off the couch and made way for Dominik to drop Artemis. Everyone in the room watched her, expectantly.

Her face soured. "...Ugh, fine."

Rosellia stood over Artemis, and pressed her hand to their stomach. She held up her right hand, and snapped her fingers, a smirk breaking through her frown.

"Humble believers and common men, this poor soul has fallen ill, and requires the aid of the gods to be renewed!"

"What are you… oh," Alikath rolled his eyes.

"I, Lady Roselle of the light of Peisus, may mend their body. But to mend their soul, this lost lamb needs more than just myself."

The group listened, dreading what she might say next.

"Now, gather behind me, and take hand in each other's hand."

"Rosa, can we just tell you how great you are and move on?" Fletch asked.

"Take. Your hands."

Everyone groaned, and locked their hands together.

"Now, dear, lowly friends, we are going to recite a hymn."

"Is this where your power comes from?" Dez asked.

"She's just being pretentious," said Alikath.

"Silence!" Rosellia snapped. "Lest we lose this dear lamb forever! I will tell you what to recite."

Rosellia channeled her magic. "I will translate this into Common, so your simple minds won't have trouble following."

"Rosellia, I speak Aquan." Andrés said, before getting shushed by the cleric.

"...As surely as young grow to old, and dust grows to dust, the moon will always set, and give way to the morning sun."

The group unenthusiastically repeated.

"And the sun conquers all. Not even the smallest rat, nor the most heartless snake are hidden from its warmth."

Artemis pried one eye open, and looked at Rosellia. They could only manage a whisper. "F-fuck… you…"

"Every fragile mortal soul will revel their king among kings above, for no blade nor vicious word can cut where the light of the sun may not heal. So it was, as it is, may it be!"

"So it was, as it is, may it be!" Her captive crowd repeated.

Rosellia smiled warmly, and hovered over Artemis for a few moments. Dez cocked his head to the side, still holding Lysander and Fletch's hands.

"Are they healed?"

"Hm?" Rosellia jumped. "Oh, no, I haven't cast the spell yet."

She turned and shooed the party away. "Turn around, please. I'd rather you not watch this."

Everyone groaned again, let go of each other's hands, and dispersed. Satisfied, Rosellia slapped Artemis across the face, and healed them.

Artemis took a bit to let the magic settle, then spoke.

"Made up that bit about the snake, didn't you?"

"The writings of holy scripture are guiding lights, for the use of the faithful," Rosellia held her palm to her chest. "Had Peisus not approved of my message, you would not be healed, my dear."

Artemis scoffed.

"Now, how did you get in such bad shape so quickly?" Rosellia asked.

"Got in a fight with Amira."

"That'll do it!" Andrés laughed.

"Oh, gods," Rosellia groaned. "Someone should check on her."

"I'll do it!" Fletch held up his hand.

"Do you even know where she is?" Dez asked.

Fletch shrugged. "I'll figure it out!"

With that, he rushed out the door. The group didn't have time to process before he was already gone.

"That was odd," said Dez.

Alikath stared at the door. "So it was."

Fletch returned a few minutes later with a gloomy looking Amira in tow. She and Artemis shared a look, but didn't interact after Fletch and Amira sat in a different corner of the room.

Time passed, and the Ambassadors were as eager not to venture back out into the woods as they were not to leave their missing associate behind. Electing to stall, they decided to stay put long enough for Roland to return.

Alikath decided to ask Dominik a question that had been nagging him for some time.

"Dominik, Viktor's position here. What field did he study, specifically?"

Dominik looked perplexed. "Hm? Well, Viktor studies a lot of things. We all do, no one is restricted to any particular field. But, he spent a lot of time on linguistics of the Elven tongue."

Alikath nodded. "Just Elvish?"

Dominik and Alikath shared looks, both searching for something the other was hiding. Alikath broke the stand-off and spoke.

"Has he been studying the Archdemon, Dominik?"

Dominik nodded. Dez preemptively opened his journal. "Archdemon? What's that?"

"You don't know?" Dominik asked. "The Archdemon is the monster that got us where we are today. It was a..." Dominik's eyes returned to Alikath. "You'd know better than me."

Alikath rolled his eyes. "The Archdemon is the name given to the warlord who brought about the end of the Elven Kingdom. We hardly know anything about it, but the prevailing story is that it was a mortal, who sold their soul to demonic influences, and became something more like a fiend. It's known that the Archdemon had an army of some size, and managed to kill the last Elven King, but died in the process."

"It was a sadistic and heartless fiend," Dominik growled. "One who despised the kingdom for its kindness, and rejection of barbaric rule of law. It sought to enslave all of Solevi with a fist of fire- but gods be, the kingdom took the Archdemon down with it."

"I don't understand," Dez shook his head. "Why would Alikath know that? Aren't you a historian?"

Alikath sighed, and mindlessly twirled his hair around his horns. "There are… superstitions… that my people descend from the Archdemon's army. They're completely unfounded, but it's become something of a cultural capstone for Tieflings, regardless."

"I wouldn't say they're totally unfounded," said Lysander. "While writings from Elven times are seldom found, among those that are translated, we've yet to find mention of a creature matching a Tiefling's description."

"And the Archdemon razed the kingdom with hails of literal fire," Dominik added. "A demonic warlord who transformed itself to match a kingdom's power… it would take a fool to keep that power only for yourself. And it just so happens that Tieflings are resistant to fire."

"We evolved from Imps, Dominik," Alikath glared. "That's all it is. The Archdemon has nothing to do with us."

"We're talking about ancient history, Alikath," said Dominik. "About theory. It's bad practice to make your own claims and shoot down any others."

Alikath's face went sour. Everyone in the group stared in random directions to avoid getting swept into this awkward talk, save for Artemis, who was watching Alikath with specific interest.

Finally, the door opened, and in walked Roland, slouched and taking deep breaths. His fingertips were bleeding through his gloves, and he was scuffed to the elbows in dirt.

Andrés perked up. "There you are!"

Roland closed the door, and leaned on it. Andrés stood up to approach.

"Finished your errand?"

"Sure."

"What were you even doing out there, Roland?" Rosellia asked.

Roland swept through the Ambassadors with his eyes. "You're still here?"

"Ah," Amira answered. "Not really sure how ta leave empty handed, honestly."

"It's been almost another day, and Viktor's still not back," said Rosellia. "He could be in serious danger."

"But we'll be in danger if we look for him again," said Fletch. "I think we proved today that we aren't ready for the OneWood."

"Maybe we just got unlucky," said Artemis. "Alikath, why didn't you just use your dagger, like last time? It makes your spells stronger, doesn't it?"

Alikath twirled Daemor in his hand. "That's not how it works. Yes, Daemor is a spell amplifier, but not for any spells. She only works on utility spells, ones that don't inherently inflict or heal any damage. Apparently, there's some cosmic difference between the two."

"That's the only drawback?" Dez asked. "How much can it amplify?"

"Hard to say. I know it depends on the strength of its caster. She's amplifying your casting of the spell, not the spell in a vacuum. But, I've heard stories of it reaching some ridiculous heights. Regardless, I don't think it'll be much help in the OneWood."

"S'not the only secret weapon we've got though, is it?" Amira nudged Fletch. "What did you do back there, little man?"

"You mean Siren Song? Like I said, it catches beasts for me, and gets in their heads so they'll fight for me. It's a little limited though, all I've gotten them to do is point and attack."

"Why didn't you use that back in Romiet, Fletch?" Rosellia asked. "We could have used a Hippogriff on our side."

"Because I only carry six jars. And they only work for an hour. Even if the Hippogriff helped us win the fight, we'd be letting it loose in the city as soon as our time's up. And catching a monster twice hardly ever works, they build up a resistance to it after the first time."

"So, we're back to square one," Artemis sighed. "So what? We just keep camping out here until Viktor shows up?"

Alikath stood up. "We don't have time to wait. Lyveria and Heavenfell want to hold a land negotiation in three days. We need to start moving back to Servus."

"What?" Rosellia scoffed. "But what about Viktor!?"

"Viktor's going to have to come to us, if he comes back."

Lysander shrunk, but nodded.

"I don't want to. I mean, we're already too small as it is, but we can't wait for him. Dominik, thank you as always for your hospitality."

"Of course. Should Viktor return to us, I'll send him to you right away."

"I hope you will. Guys, let's start looking for-"

"Uh- actually!" Andrés cut in, leaning on the door with Roland. "You said you were short handed, right?"

Alikath nodded.

"Well, it just so happens that Roland and I don't have any hangups with this place… what do you say that the two of us tag along with you?"

"What!?" Roland backed away. "I didn't agree to this, I'm not going with them!"

"Roland, these people saved your life. They probably saved mine, too. Is that not worth anything?"

Roland glared at Andrés, and ruminated.

"I… guess you're right. I owe you a debt. I can give you my sword arm until it's repaid- then I'm leaving."

"I don't know," Alikath hesitated. "We aren't just traveling for the sake of it. Our work is important, and pretty complicated."

"All the more reason to take a couple extra hands, right?" Andrés opened his arms, and looked Alikath in the eyes. "You'll be safer with the two of us here."

"Ye weren't exactly made fer combat, by the looks of ye."

"Is anyone?" Asked Andrés. "You can't win every fight you get into, but I know how to keep us from getting there. No one wants to kill a musician.

"Trust me, we can hold our own with a bunch of politicians. I mean-" Andrés looked at Alikath, and flashed his easy smile. Something in the pink glow of his eyes reflected in Alikath's. "I can be very persuasive."

Alikath thought for a moment.

"I… yeah, I don't see why not. Sure, we'd be happy to take you two with us! That'll more than make up for us missing one."

"Really?" Fletch asked, holding his arms over his chest and staring at Andrés.

"Why not?" Artemis shrugged. "You idiots take anyone these days."

So, the Ambassadors bid farewell to the Restorationists, and acquired a carriage that would take them back to Romiet, where their long journey of acquisition would finally conclude back home.

But before they found that carriage, they stepped outside, into the open, barren expanse of Graycove. It was then that Andrés noticed something.

“Does this place feel emptier than usual to any of you? Where are all the beggars?”

“Hm,” Dez pondered. “What's today? Diuvente?”

Rosellia nodded.

“It's resupplyment day for Graycove. We'll probably find everyone crowding up a Heavenfell outpost.”

And sure enough, no more than a few blocks away, the party saw a modest group of tents, sticking up in the flatland. A sizeable crowd of Elves, Half-orcs, Tieflings, and otherwise were loitering about, holding plates, bowls, and small crates of various supplies. A group of about a dozen Aarakocra in leather armor were moving in and out of those tents, carrying out the crates and meals to the masses.

Roland and Rosellia caught their eyes on one Aarakocra in particular, who was wrapping a bandage around the ankle of a pregnant Firbolg, two more children playing in circles around them.

“Huh,” Rosellia smiled. “Seems the world isn't quite doomed yet.”

“Quite the memory, Dez,” said Alikath. “Did you do this during your time with the Militia?”

Dez shook his head. “I was part of the unit that packed everything, up in Za'karat. Graycove's packing day was always Dinativi, which means the goods would arrive come Diuvente.”

Alikath stared at the scene for a few more moments, shook his head, and kept walking to their carriage.

These short few days brought about leagues more peril and complication than Alikath had accounted for. But beneath all of that worry, this group of mismatched adventurers maintained the spirit of Hope that Alikath Navarre wore at his shoulder- and they hoped it would yet persevere through whatever met them next.

So it was. As it is. May it be.