“Good morning, my new friends. I do hope that you slept well.”

  Cassandra didn’t get any sleep at all, but she isn’t about to tell Ryomen that. She isn’t about to tell him that she’s starving either.

  She takes a seat at the long dining table, where a morning breakfast comparable to a feast has been prepared. Anvil sits as well, yet his eyes wander about the room just as much as Mystic’s do.

  “Where is our sibling?” She sternly asks Kaga.

  His face becomes solemn as he answers Mystic, “Are you aware that they wandered out of your lovely chambers in the dead of night?”

  Cassandra and Mystic both gre at Ryomen. Anvil proceeds to bite into a piece of toast as he states, “We know. We also know that they didn’t come back.”

  Ryomen frowns, “Well, what you don’t know is that one of my personal ships is also missing. I do hate to make assumptions, yet I simply must wonder if Smith has flown the nest. I simply can’t imagine why though, as you are their family after all.”

  Mystic folds her arms, huffing, “That idiot. I should have seen it coming. They’re probably halfway to Tethaseele by now.”

  “Tethaseele?” Ryomen perks up in his vish chair. “Why would they want to go to such a pce?”

  Cassandra narrows her eyes.

  If Ryomen has been listening in on the group with his hawks, then he should know why Smith would want to go to Tethaseele. Is he acting right now? Pying up his reactions to cast away the suspicion that he’s already crying out for? Or is there something else at work here? Cassandra doesn’t know what to make of this.

  But she does know that if she doesn’t push Ryomen further, Mystic will, and then she’ll never get answers about her Father.

  “They want to kill Adamus Athenum,” Cassandra tells Ryomen, who seems dumbfounded by the statement. “Now, why would they possibly want to do that?”

  “Adamus killed someone close to Smith,” Cassandra says. She’s careful to leave out the fact that Nadeden is the person who was killed. Mentioning the Scorched Archer would be a surefire way to derail the conversation, but Ryomen is already intent on doing just that.

  “Closer than you three are to him?”

  Anvil raises his head from his full pte at the question. Mystic stares down Ryomen with her piercing blue eyes. “Yes,” she states, “They were closer to her than anyone else in the entire universe. I reckon that my Smith would rip out the very stars if it meant seeing her again.”

  “I see,” Ryomen scratches his chin.

  Cassandra takes a sip of sweetened fruit coffee as she wonders aloud, “Are we completely sure that Smith is gone?”

  Ryomen and Mystic both raise an eyebrow at that. Anvil rises from his seat. “That is a very good question, Cassandra. As far as we know, my fellow Smith may have simply not returned to our chamber st night, and that missing ship may just be a coincidence. Mr. Kaga,” Anvil turns to Ryomen, “Do I have your permission to search the premises?”

  That’s smart, Cassandra thinks. Based off how he reacts, we’ll know immediately if he’s up to someth— “Permission granted,” Ryomen says with a smile.

  Anvil bows and walks down the hall. Mystic gives Ryomen a scowl before following him.

  Cassandra prepares to join them. She takes one st bite of Juntle-ham and rises from her seat, only for Ryomen to call after her. “You were to wed Adamus Atheneum, were you not?”

  “I was.”

  Ryomen cuts himself a slice of meat as he inquires, “Does it not dishearten you that a member of your so-called family loathes your former betrothed?”

  So-called? The phrasing bites at Cassandra as Ryomen bites into his food.

  “I wasn’t in love with Adamus if that’s what you’re wondering. It was a political marriage.”

  Ryomen chuckles, “Oh, believe me, I am not so naive as to not comprehend such a thing as a loveless marriage. Still, your Mother and Father are also on Tethaseele, along with Adamus, are they not?”

  “Vanessa Soryu is not my Mother.”

  Ryomen grins, “Perhaps you would like to know who is?”

  Cassandra’s eyes go wide. Of course she would like to know.

  She has always wanted to know.

  She grits her teeth. Her hands clench into fists.

  “How do you know my Father?” She demands of Ryomen once again.

  Ryomen chews and swallows his meat. “You py the violin?”

  Cassandra nods. What is he getting at?

  “Py me a song,” Ryomen stands, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Cassandra ughs, “That’s all you want?”

  “Yes,” Ryomen says, completely serious.

  Cassandra freezes. Her long bck hair drapes over her worn hooded tunic as she crosses her arms. “Right now?”

  Ryomen shrugs, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Cassandra pushes her crossed arms tighter against her chest in thought.

  It’s an odd request. If he’s trying to keep me on my toes, he’s certainly succeeded so far. Did he simply notice my violin case and grow curious? He is eccentric enough for that to very well be the case. Still, I haven’t had proper time to practice in so long, and I don’t have any sheet music with me… Her hand twitches against her forearm as if grasping for a bow or case strap. She huffs, “Do you have a particur piece in mind?”

  Ryomen sets down his handkerchief and motions for his Lungoza servant to clear the table. “I’ll let you pick,” He says as he walks away.

  Great… Cassandra curses herself. I have to either find some sheet music in this pce or recall something from memory. All that, and I forgot to ask where to meet him when I’m ready to py. Stupid, Cassandra! STUPID!

  The first thing Cassandra does is grab her violin from the guest chambers and dust it off, so to speak.

  She draws out a few high notes and a few low ones, then she sighs and makes for the library. She then learns that the library has no sheet music. As she expected.

  However, she does find something else in the library.

  “The Myth of the Scorched Archer by Tolriv Preston,” She reads the title aloud, hardly able to believe it. She met Nadeden herself. She was as real as any other person. And as imperfect.

  Don’t worship me, kid. Cassandra recalls Nadeden’s words, I’m only human.

  Cassandra can’t help but wonder if Smith knows that Nadeden isn’t someone to follow in the footsteps of.

  She flips through the odd book and reads some awful passage about how the Republic’s use of child soldiers was a lie made up by Division scribes. She rolls her eyes and shoves the piece of propaganda back on the dusty shelf where it belongs.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Cassandra jumps at the sudden intrusion.

  “Sorry,” The Lungoza ughs, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Mr. Kaga over breakfast, you’re Cassandra, right?”

  She can only nod as she tries to recover her nerves.

  “I’m Yorumi,” The Lungoza named Yorumi says. They also add that, “If you do pn to accept Mr. Kaga’s offer, I would be more than happy to show you to where our establishment keeps its musical equipment.”

  “Musical equip—” I’m an idiot! Cassandra curses herself again. Of course, a nightclub would have a band!

  “Yes,” She says, “Yes, please. Take me there.”

  Yorumi cheerfully glows, “Excellent! Follow me.”

  The room Yorumi guides Cassandra to is a rge and dark one.

  Yorumi floats into that darkness, glowing a vivid orange as they sprinkle fine powder onto a series of torches that fill the room with the same purple light that illuminates the rest of the Mori-keeper.

  It is once the room is filled with this light that Cassandra’s jaw drops.

  A wide assortment of Musical instruments hang from each wall. Everything from cellos to flutes to shaking sticks to guitars is present in abundance. Below them are drums, skin pianos, and of course, shelves and shelves of sheet music.

  Cassandra can’t help but think back to when Mitika first gifted her the violin that she would go on to treasure for the rest of her life. If only she had known that would all lead her here to this musical paradise…

  “Feel free to take anything you’d like,” Yorumi states, “Our own musicians tend to keep most of their own instruments with them, so most of what’s in here is just spares.”

  Just spares! If Cassandra’s jaw wasn’t already on the floor, it’s definitely sunk its way down into the pnet’s core now.

  “I…” Cassandra collects herself, or at least attempts to. “Thank you, Yorumi.”

  The Lungoza bows a tentacle and leaves.

  Cassandra is unable to fight the urge to sift through everything a thousand times over.

  She loses track of time as she spends countless hours examining each instrument, adjusting each string, and, of course, pying each note.

  She’s rattling off the high keys of a piano when Mystic intrudes on her.

  “What are you do—”

  “Ahhh!” Cassandra leaps back, “Don’t scare me like that,” she gasps as Mystic shrugs.

  “You need to be more aware of your surroundings. What are you doing in here anyway? I thought that you only pyed the violin.” Mystic stares at the skin piano.

  Cassandra runs her fingers along the smooth texture of the top panel that hides the piano’s inner workings. “Just because I py one instrument doesn’t mean I can’t try others,” She expins before remembering to ask, “Have you found Smith?”

  “No.” Mystic seems to grow somber at the reminder before growing rageful. “Kaga is up to something. I swear if he’s killed my Smith I’ll—” She huffs, squinting up at Cassandra, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  Sweat runs down Cassandra’s neck as she scratches it, “What gave you that impression?”

  “He’s promised you answers about your Father, hasn’t he?” Mystic is gring at her now.

  Those tiny, uncanny blue eyes are peering into her soul.

  Cassandra defends herself. “Why does it matter to you? It’s not like you’re going to tell me anything about Tendo.”

  “Because that is a door best left unopened.”

  “Why, though? We know that he’s the person Ryomen got the metal he used to make that sword and ring and—” Cassandra finally puts it together.

  Mystic snorts, “Judging by the look on your face, I’d say that you’ve finally realized that this whole rune chase has been a waste of time. I’m going back to searching for my Smith. Hopefully that will actually yield a proper result.”

  As Mystic walks away, Cassandra’s thoughts race. It can’t be possible. Can it?

  Even if it is, why would my Father melt down his metal body and sell it to Ryomen after he had his consciousness transferred into a human body? She needs answers.

  Cassandra kneels down and searches the shelves of sheet music beneath the walls of instruments.

  She quickly finds what she’s looking for.

  “So I take it that you’ve accepted my offer?”

  Cassandra nods.

  Ryomen smiles. “Ready?”

  Cassandra nods again. “Ready.”

  She takes a seat on the nightclub’s stage.

  It was surprisingly easy to find Ryomen. He was at the bottom level where the club activities are hosted. Her anxiety was quelled in that regard at least. However, it's remained in every other one.

  Her hands shake as she stares at her sheet music and sets the violin on her shoulder. Sweat pours from her temples as she lifts the bow over the string. The notes on the page in front of her shift and blur together in a paper haze. She blinks to clear her vision.

  Read! Her stomach churns as she tells herself, Read and py!

  She draws out the first note.

  Ryomen raises a hand, silencing her.

  Cassandra looks to him.

  “Do you sing?” He asks, leaning forward with a finger on his lip.

  Cassandra shakes her head. “No, I—” Do you want answers or not? She sighs at the thought. “I can try, I guess.”

  Ryomen grins, “Alright then. Begin.”

  Cassandra wants to scowl at him. She even wants to curse him.

  She curses herself for the final time instead. Why did I say that?

  I can’t sing. I’ve never even tired. I don’t know why he asked. This piece is amazing, but the lyrics are awful. Maybe my suffering is funny to him.

  Her grip tightens on her bow.

  My suffering has always been funny to people like him…

  Her grip on her violin tightens.

  My suffering is funny to everyone. That’s all I’ve ever been to everyone.

  She sits up straight.

  I can’t rely on anyone. Vanessa was a maniac who maniputed me, Mitika was just an actor forced to befriend me, Adamus was a brat forced to marry me, even my own Father was…

  She reads the name of the piece.

  Was…

  She pys.

  The rest comes naturally.

  “Oh, child born in blood and fire.

  Oh, what loneliness has transpired.

  Arrows fming down the hills.

  Men burning as blood spills.

  All for you dear child.

  All for you dear child.

  Bathe in death.

  Smell the death.

  Oh, dear child.

  Oh, dear child.

  The swords sing as men scream.

  Oh, dear child.

  Oh, dear child.

  Watch them run.

  Watch them flee.

  Oh, dear child please spare me.

  Oh, such hate from you dear child.

  Your fming arrows pierce the night.

  Men ugh out of sight.

  Oh, dear child.

  Oh, dear child.

  Born in blood and fire.”

  Cassandra wrests her bow from her violin and her eyes from the sheet music.

  As she does, the sharp notes drift around her.

  The stage cracks with the strength of the sound.

  The pages of paper flutter.

  Her hair blows in newborn wind.

  She gasps and is drawn back down to the floor.

  Ryomen grins wider than ever before.

  “I take it that you have even more questions now. I have one of my own,” he steps over to help Cassandra to her feet, “How does it feel to have inherited such power?”

  There’s a fire in his eyes.

  Cassandra knows that look all too well.