Dan grimaced bitterly as he watched Maeryn flee from them to go break down on her own. She wasn’t as good at hiding how she felt as she probably thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why she didn’t want other people to watch her fall apart; she probably felt like she had to do it in private, in order to maintain whatever self-respect she had left. Besides, even if everyone could guess what she was doing… knowing was one thing. Watching it happen was another entirely.

  “Isn’t there anything we can do for her?” Veronica asked him quietly, watching as Frankie and Peter practiced their new magic.

  “If there was, I’d already be doing it,” Dan said, with slightly more sharpness than he intended. He closed his eyes and forced his tone to return to calm. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take that out on you. But no.”

  “Isn’t there something you could make? Something to take the edge off?”

  Dan frowned at her, folding his arms. “Anything I could create effective enough to make a difference to her mental state wouldn’t last long, and repeated doses would have terrible side effects.” He shook his head. “That’s how alchemical addiction starts, you know.”

  “I don’t mean like giving her crystal ash,” Veronica rebuked, naming a hallucinogen that made users feel light and euphoric while slowly turning their skin thin and their sense of taste to ash. It had plagued Geova for most of the last decade, getting worse in recent years as the end of the world had grown nearer.

  “I’m just saying, we know so much about the human body. I mean, we know the brain chemicals responsible for happiness, right?” she pressed. “Can’t we give her something small? For when she starts to spiral? Like a bandage on a wound?”

  Dan sighed, slumping. “It doesn’t work that way. I wish it did. The moment I learned about Maeryn losing her fire, that was the first thing I looked into. But no. We haven’t figured out good antidepressants that don’t leave people feeling worse than when they started.”

  “Why not?” Veronica demanded, throwing her hands up in the air. “I would have thought that would be a priority, what with the last decade of the world getting closer and closer to self-destruction! Keeping the people willing and able to work should’ve been obvious!”

  “You’d think so, but…” Dan shook his head. “The truth is, unhappy people still work. Broken people still work. And the percentage of people broken enough that they can’t is small enough that it just didn’t justify splitting focus from the Mist and mana research.”

  “You mean, they were small enough to ignore,” Veronica condemned.

  “No!” Dan instantly rejected firmly, drawing himself up to his full height. Which was still a head shorter than the cartographer, but she took a half-step back anyway. “You think I wasn’t part of those meetings in the last few years? It gets brought up every quarter!”

  He lowered his voice. “Every single quarter, Veronica. We have alchemists doing their best, in what little free time they have, to figure it out. I’ve even done some quiet peer review on the side. It’s not that we’re not trying. It’s that brains are tricky and inconsistent, and that’s without taking into account mana affinities! Magic affects our personalities, and vice versa, Veronica, and what works for some people, wrecks others!”

  He poked Veronica sternly in the chest with a scowl. “It’s an incredibly complicated problem. And the time and resources necessary to manufacture and test things properly has just been too abyssing high for us to deal with, not when we have so many other critical priorities. So get off your high horse.”

  The mapmaker stared at him wide-eyed, then bowed her head in shame. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just… Is there really nothing we can do for Maeryn?”

  “Like I said.” Dan looked down to his left, gripping his left arm with his right hand as a deep wave of sorrow washed over him. “If there was anything, I’d already be doing it. She’s my best friend, Veronica. I wouldn’t be letting her flounder like this if there was a single depths-be-damned thing I could do to make it easier.”

  Veronica looked at him appraisingly. “How much of this is because right now, her default affinity is necro?” she asked quietly.

  Dan inhaled sharply, pride stung, fixing her with a dangerous glare as fire and earth mana swirled within him. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

  But she glared back just as fiercely, and Dan felt her own earth mana rise in response via mana resonance. It was pitiful compared to his own, due to its general disuse, but the message was clear: she wasn’t going to back down. “You want me to spell it out? You spent a month afraid of what she might do, because she raised human Undead in an impossible situation,” she reminded, every word sharpened like a dagger. “She may have been your best friend before, but you didn’t trust her. And now she’s without her fire. I think half the reason you’re so desperate to fix this is because you’re still scared of her.”

  Dan’s veins burned like lava, and his fists clenched as he focused on discipline. On Cold. On the clarity of ice. His eyes briefly glowed a frostbitten blue as he switched attunements, and froze his rage inside a glacier of self-control.

  The part that hurt the worst was that she was right to ask. His fear had deeply hurt Maeryn. And she’d proven him wrong. She’d been ready to raise Elder Donovan as an Undead, to punish the ones who stole her family, but she’d allowed herself to be talked down—by a friend who saw how she was really feeling.

  Dan could have been that friend. Should have been that friend. And he knew that most of his anger was actually shame wearing a different skin. That truth crushed his frozen fury into powder, and he took a deep breath, forcibly unclenching his fists. He was calm now. Veronica was right to ask. She deserved an explanation, so he would give her one.

  “I was wrong,” he said simply. “I’ll own what I did. I hurt Maeryn. I told you that back on that train ride we shared, and I’ll tell you again: my fear was irrational, and I always knew it.”

  Dan met her gaze evenly. “But the funny thing about fear? It goes up in smoke when the person you’re afraid of tells you that she’s suffering from a condition that you’ve spent years trying to find a solution to. A condition where most find only three endings: living in misery, finding peace, or committing suicide to escape the pain. And two of those endings are unacceptable. So I’m doing my best. For my best friend,” he emphasized with narrowed eyes. “If I’m scared of anything? It’s failing her again.”

  Veronica didn’t say anything for a long moment. She just stared at him searchingly. Finally, she gave him a slow nod. “I’ll be watching.”

  Dan didn’t bother to reply, instead turning on his heel and walking away. There was nothing more to be said. She’d made her position clear, and the only way forward was through. She could watch all she liked. He was going to be by Maeryn’s side, no matter what.

  Maeryn had more than earned that.

  Ooble watched the humans around him carefully. He had noticed that they often completely forgot he was there, if he did not speak up and alert them. Not completely unusual; society back in Skonelk was similar, especially among the more outgoing of his people.

  His feelings were unhurt, however. He had long since come to terms with his presence being soft and quiet. It suited his profession perfectly; as a saboteur—such an interesting word, saboteur—being overlooked was only to his benefit. It meant he could gather information and move where he was needed.

  The dragonkin did wonder, sometimes, whether he was quiet because he was water-aligned, or if he was water-aligned because he was quiet. He was increasingly certain, though, that the question was meaningless. Magic and personality reinforced each other, though neither completely defined the other. There were earth-aligned among his people who were just as enthusiastic and warm as the home-fire, and wind-aligned who were as calm and placid as a frozen lake.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Captain Maeryn’s plight was tragic. The loss of her innermost spark was a most terrible fate. That she was still moving, still seeking renewal, was praiseworthy.

  Ooble wondered if she knew that she could have stolen Engineer-Pilot Frankie’s spark, when Maeryn’s mana had wormed its way into Frankie’s core. It was good that she had not done so, in any case; Ooble would have needed to kill her on the spot. A core-thief could not be tolerated. Their stories were only of ruin.

  One story in particular came to mind: the most infamous core-thief, Dalon the Wretched. Dalon was an earth dragon who had grown envious of his fellow dragons, wishing to do more than work rock and stone. But he had waited too long to attune to the other elements. Dragons may have been ageless, but as they grew older the harder it was for them to look at the world differently.

  Dalon, having lived five hundred years by that point, had no hope of attuning to anything more. He was an earth dragon, and that was all he would be. In a fit of rage, he felled a passing wind dragon who had been foolish enough to taunt him from the skies. Then, quite by chance, he discovered that he could steal their magic. In his joy, he left the fallen wind dragon alive. But the victim could not cope with the loss, and after warning his brethren, hurled himself into a volcano.

  For a blessed year, Dalon discovered what it meant to be free as the wind. Eventually, however, his stolen breeze faded, and then he was merely an earth dragon once more. But still, he could not attune, despite his new experience.

  Dalon could not cope with having lost the wind, so he sought it out by any means necessary. He took from dragon after dragon, claiming wind, then fire. His victims were left broken shells, clinging to the hope that when the power faded from Dalon, maybe it would return to them.

  Except it never did. Ultimately, each of them chose their ending rather than suffer a life without. It was when Dalon sought water, hoping that the balance would grant him his stolen gifts permanently, that the other dragons ambushed him, and put him down like the wretch he was.

  The story of Dalon the Wretched was a cautionary tale told to every dragonkin who learned to use mana. Magic was a gift to be cherished, not stolen. Its thieves were anathema—another excellent word, one he still wanted to learn the origins of. The Human language was so strange, yet it had its treasures.

  Tearing himself free from his musings, Ooble returned to watching his companions, only to be temporarily distracted once more by its etymology: com meant “with,” and he had learned that words ending in ion tended to be nouns, but what did pan mean? Maybe the cooking instrument that Captain Maeryn used? Was it a reference to cooking with someone?

  He would ask Alchemist Dan later. The human knew quite a bit of the history of their language for someone who was not particularly interested in it. And what he did not know, he knew how to find. Truly an invaluable source of knowledge.

  His tongue flashed out for a split second, tasting the air. The harsh tangy scent of anger and bitterness lingered from the argument between Alchemist Dan and Cartographer Veronica, along with the subtle chill of ice mana, though it was dissipating quickly. Ooble was not worried, though. The two reminded him of his old saboteur squad; not all were friends, but for the mission they cooperated. And shared struggles left them as comrades. Dan and Veronica would be the same.

  His reptilian eyes landed on Captain Maeryn’s door, and he moved a little closer, tongue flicking out once more, too fast for nearly anyone to see. Ah. The almost-salt of shame and grief. Ooble breathed it in, sharing in the feelings for a long moment. So she had realized she could take Engineer Frankie’s spark, and been tempted by it.

  Good. Overcoming the temptation now, at her worst, meant that he would not need to worry about her succumbing to it later.

  The tenseness in his tail loosened as he silently made his way towards Rogue Terrance in the cockpit. Out of all the humans, he was perhaps both the most relatable and the most alien, all at once. They both intimately understood the value of quiet observation, of people-watching, of moving quickly and unnoticed.

  But Terrance was simply… confusing. He struck from shadows, yet purposely called attention to himself in the light. He used humor to mask everything, at all times, yet the laughter was real. Perhaps Captain Maeryn was right when she called him a creature of chaos.

  The rogue was steering the airship without issue when Ooble approached. The dragonkin politely tapped his tail on the floor, creating just enough of a thump to alert Terrance to his presence. The rogue turned and smiled at him, tapping his foot lightly in response.

  Ooble wondered, not for the first time, if Terrance had actually learned this particular form of dragonkin courtesy from watching his people, or intuited it from watching him specifically. Though the smile was clearly human in origin; baring one’s teeth was very much a threat in dragonkin culture, but Ooble had seen that humans had different smiles for different situations. It was all in the cheeks and the eyes. Which, in some ways, made them oddly like dragonkin. It was interesting, he thought, how they’d been separated for hundreds, maybe thousands of years… and yet some of their shared past had somehow survived the test of time, purely in body language.

  “Hiya, Ooble. I’m guessing you got the spell?”

  Ooble nodded. “Yes, I learned the Warm Self spell. I feel far better about our prospects crossing the Glacial Expanse.”

  “What about the others?”

  “They too have learned the spell. Captain Maeryn directed Frankie and Peter to practice it, as they are new to using magic.”

  “Oh?” Terrance’s eyebrows raised. That meant he was… intrigued? Dragonkin didn’t have eyebrows the way humans did, and learning how they influenced expression was a constant struggle while Ooble was with these people. The things they could do with their forehead muscles were quite odd. At least they were very forgiving of misunderstandings.

  Figuring that the rogue likely wanted more information, Ooble coughed into his fist. “Frankie appears to be aligned with fire, and Peter with water.”

  Terrance flinched, leaning slightly away from him as his expression turned pained. “Oof. Bet Maeryn didn’t take that too well.”

  “As well as could be expected,” Ooble agreed. “She retreated to her room. I expect she likely will not come out for some time.”

  The human nodded absently, eyes unfocused, but said nothing. After waiting several seconds, Ooble decided to ask him directly. “What is the human custom for this situation? When my people are upset, we generally seek out community. Grieving together lessens the burden.”

  Terrance’s eyes flitted back to the saboteur’s face. “It depends on the person,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Some are like the dragonkin. Others prefer solitude. The general custom is to respect their apparent wishes while trusting that the people close to them know best what would be helpful.”

  That sounded quite reasonable. “Out of the crew, you, Frankie and Dan are the closest to Captain Maeryn. Perhaps Ernesto as well. I would value your opinion: what do you believe would be most helpful?”

  Terrance looked up at the ceiling with a frown. That was meant to convey thoughtfulness, Ooble had learned. The same action for dragonkin meant something quite different, as it involved baring one’s neck. “I think,” the rogue said slowly, “that Maeryn values both strength, and the appearance of strength. And I think that she appreciates having a place she can be alone. Because it gives a place she can let herself be weak, without feeling like other people are expecting her to be strong.”

  Ooble blinked slowly. “So your counsel would be to leave her be?”

  “No? Sort of.” Terrance shook his head, meeting the dragonkin’s gaze. “I think Maeryn does need a friend right now. Someone that she already knows won’t judge her. But I’m not sure who would be best. Frankie or Dan, probably, they’ve known her the longest.”

  It was astonishing how blind humans could be. The answer was obvious. “I think you would be best,” Ooble told him bluntly. “Frankie is unsuitable, as her fire is the reason for Captain Maeryn’s shame. Dan is also unsuitable, due to the trust issue that weakened their bond. You are the next best choice.”

  “I can’t leave the pilot chair,” Terrance protested. “I’m literally the one flying the airship.”

  “Budge over.” Frankie appeared on his other side without warning, hip-checking him and sending the Zephyrian noble stumbling. “There. Now I’m flying again. So go see Maeryn, you goof.”

  Terrance rubbed at his side, looking at the engineer with an expression that Ooble couldn’t decipher. Something between upset and surprise, but neither at the same time? There was a word for that, he was certain. “Engineer Frankie, what is the expression that Terrance is wearing?”

  “That?” Frankie smirked at Terrance. “That’s what we call disgruntled. Where we’re not really happy about something, but can’t find a good reason to complain.”

  Ooble cocked his head. “The prefix dis means opposite, correct? That implies ‘gruntled’ is a word, and it would mean… content?”

  “Abyss if I know. Ask Dan. Old words aren’t my thing.”

  By the time Ooble looked back towards Terrance, the rogue was gone, and Ooble felt his stance shift into an expression of disgruntlement as well. Of course the rogue would simply vanish without properly saying goodbye.

  Then he heard Terrance clear his throat behind him, and Ooble turned to see the human looking vaguely embarrassed. “Almost forgot.” He tapped his foot twice against the floor, and Ooble felt his own lips curl upwards ever so slightly as his tail thumped the floor twice in return.

  Once for greeting, twice for farewells. He once again wondered where Terrance had learned it, but shook off the thought. It did not matter. The fact that he had taken the time to learn dragonkin culture made Ooble’s heart warm.

  Mistbound, Mistwarped, Mistrusted. If you want to snag the whole story for cheap (because I'll need to take down the Mistrusted chapters when I publish later this month), you should consider preordering: