I hugged Kishar tight to my chest as saltwater flooded my lungs. I was terrified, terrified of dying, and more than that, terrified for Kishar. He had done nothing but follow my lead and now we were going to die. He told me his worst fear was the water, confided in me something so achingly personal. What did I do? I smiled, gave him some reassurance I had no right to give, and forgot about it. He was letting out horrid, garbled cries into the ever-shifting void of the sea. I knew he was more scared than I was. No child should experience drowning, it didn’t matter what state we escaped in; he would not come out the same, and neither would I. In one final act of defiance, I wrapped waterlogged wings around the two of us. Rays of golden light poured out of my neck piercing through white feathers in long desperate ribbons, before disappearing in a blueish haze. Ice-cold water pressed against my wounds as I let my eyes finally, mercifully, shut. My last thought was something about the bitter ache of dying only a few weeks into a new life.

  “Yes hello, dear boy. Yes hello, are you with us?” The voice was calm, even jovial. It rang with a certain chirping quality that set my teeth on edge. A low throbbing sensation started in my neck and streamed out of my ears in a ring of agony.

  “I am telling you, he is dead. I can see that the rock is glowing. It is odd. But, I mean, rocks glow all the time.” This one spoke in a baritone that felt as if it was physically shaking my body. Rough and harsher than I’d ever heard.

  If only he were dead. Spat Raphael, as familiar and spiteful as ever.

  “No! No! Look closer, darling, he is breathing! It would make no sense for the big one to die if the small one survived.”

  “You do not want all your hard work bringing the bird up here to go to waste, I get it, but all things considered; one survivor is better than nothing. Let us save time and put this one back where we found it.” Ground out the taller one.

  I heard someone taking a sharp breath as if to argue before I jolted up, hacking up residual water and trembling in some kind of leftover shock. A squeal of delight sounded right in my ear.

  “I told you! I told you so! Never doubt a professional such as myself! There, there. Let missus Leon help.” A small hand began patting me on the back, letting me spit up the last bit of liquid. I opened crust-lined eyes to the searing brightness of a single candle’s light. It was a small, dingy space; I had been placed on a pile of clothes and blankets in the corner with two beds pressed against the wall across the room. One mattress was a behemoth and the other was barely large enough for an adult, covered in loose papers as well as books. There was a small desk pressed against the same wall as my mat, which had more papers as well as a plate of old food and a small collection of glowing vials. Beside my palette was a giant statue carved to resemble a crouching man, pulsing with what appeared to be magma veins. The floor was stone with one threadbare red carpet in the center just barely covering a large grate.

  Next to me with a hand on my back crouched a humanoid figure, her face entirely covered by a white oval mask, adorned only with two small eye holes. She wore an oversized winter coat, though where sleeves should’ve gone there were only frayed bits of string and most of the coat’s body was covered in a rainbow patchwork of fabrics (holding a particular preference for purple). The pale, fur-lined hood was up, consuming most of the woman’s head in shadows.

  “Well. I’ll be damned.” The statue moved. It spoke out of a slit in the dark stone, jaw grinding open. There were no other indications of a face; no eyes nor nose or ears. Just one long cut around the mouth area for speaking. It made small adjustments to its posture, shifting and squirming as any living thing might - each movement accompanied by the small grinding of rock and a quiet slosh as magma moved from within pulsing veins. I sat dumbfounded, gaping openly.

  “Think he is in shock?”

  “You. You are scaring him with your hideous bulk. Go outside.” The masked woman made to shove the statue, though it didn’t seem to register.

  “Do you think because he is a bird that he has never met an Orykto? I had not considered that.”

  “Of course! Of course, has not! Look at him! It’s alright dear boy, this oaf will not cause you harm. His name is Vakari and mine is Leon Doc. Your companion is safe in the dining hall. Quite a voracious eater if I do say! Might I ask how you found yourself drowning?”

  I blinked a few times, trying to reboot my clouded mind. I wasn’t dead! First positive. Raphael was still here. First negative. Vakari and Leon had saved Kishar and I from drowning, he was presumably safe and eating his weight in food. This world had talking statues. If they have talking trees then why not statues I guess… Nope, still not used to it. I was warm and fully comfortable for the first time in my life. It was an odd sensation outside of a cold forest, dank cave, or swaying boat. To just lay in something soft without the expectation of death. That of course didn’t mean I was safe. I had come to learn that didn’t exist in Vintreth. I was most likely about to get shot in the back with an arrow or have my head torn off by an invisible fairy monster. But, this pair had saved me and, so long as they didn’t hold certain violent beliefs I’d rather not think about, I was okay in some sense of the word.

  Thank you.” My voice came out hoarse but the thought of water at the moment made me retch. “I was attacked.” Technically true, they don’t need to know who started what.

  “Was on a transport boat and got thrown overboard with my buddy, thought we were goners. Thank you for saving us. If there's anything I can do to return the favor let me know.” Goners? Asked Raphael, are you willfully trying to make my job harder? His job was to make me come off as a normal denizen of Vintreth. He’d been less than happy at the idea, and it had gotten worse when he realised how bad I was at it. I looked down, ignoring him and scratching at the cream-colored bandages covering my bare torso and arm. It was only glancing back up when I saw the evil little furrow of Leon’s brow over deep red-brown eyes.

  “How… How do you feel about abnormally wide trees?” Leon asked, ignoring the way Vakari ground his jaw. I couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or if his jaw just naturally sounded like that.

  “About average. They’re pretty I guess? But I was just stuck in a forest with a bunch of them and that sucked. So yes to trees, no to forests right now. And absolutely no ocean escapades. Just cut all water-related activities from your list of favors.” My wings ached where Silva had pulled them, in a way they hadn’t since that first night of the voyage. That in combination with a quickly settling migraine made focusing a challenge. Constant little reminders of what had just happened.

  “Understandable! Understandable, I will go make preparations for your task. Meet me at the dining hall down the road and behind the barracks when you’re ready for a little exercise. Vak darling will you fetch my kit?” Vakari grunted as he rose. And rose, and rose, and rose. His head scraped the seven-foot ceiling, I had no idea how he had folded himself small enough to crouch by my palette.

  “Do not feel obligated to return this favor, Leon is a nutjob. She will have you dead again before the night is done.” Vakari’s warning didn’t seem too genuine, but I made a mental note to cut and run the second anything weird happened. Weirder than expected. Vakari was surprisingly nimble on his feet, ducking his head incredibly low as he left the room. Leon informed me that she wouldn’t have me doing anything too strenuous keeping my, ‘quite devastating!’ injuries in mind. But she did expect me to at least try and complete her task (without telling me what it was.) I asked after my things and the good doctor just shook her head, handing me a single sheathed bone dagger. It was about what I had expected, most of my items weren’t exactly waterproof or floating-away-proof. Still, I couldn’t help but miss the bag and the books. Finally, I asked if she had something to eat. The idea of choking food down appalled me but I needed it for something else. She blinked owlishly and then reached back for the plate of old food, setting it in my lap. I thanked her hesitantly, beginning to think she might not be a real doctor.

  With a farewell, She unfolded her body like an accordion. It wasn’t that she was tall per se, her limbs just seemed to stretch for a little longer than they should’ve. As she made for the door I couldn’t help noticing the way her proportions were all a bit off, like something trying to look human who hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it.

  I couldn’t tell if Leon, and I guess Vakari, had saved me for the sake of it, or just because they needed someone to do this task and I had just so happened to wash on shore like some waterlogged bird Mcguffin. Using context clues I was pretty sure this place was home to one very large rock guy and his wily partner, I hoped that meant I wouldn’t be interrupted.

  “Raphy I’m going to meditate again so don’t say anything. You can complain to your heart’s content when I’m done, just remember my magic progress means better things for you in the long run.” I said into the empty room. Not even a grunt of response from that evil little crystal. Apparently the most important thing in the world to me was learning magic, ‘weaving,’ and Kishar would get onto me if he learned I didn’t use this moment of time to try again. I needed to decide between Kishar’s method and Raphael’s. On the one hand, Raphael was a corrupt piece of shit who deserved to burn in hell for eternity. And, Kishar’s method was a lot less involved than his; only needing to regulate my breathing and ‘feel’ my ‘aura’ as well as the ‘aether strings’ around me. But on the other, Raphael was a whole lot closer to whatever I was than Kishar the forest spirit. Or had been. Damn. I was more similar to Raphael than Kishar. That stung.

  With a sigh I stood on shaking legs, the world certainly felt as if it was swaying, boat or not. I started by grabbing the plate of leftovers as well as a glowing vial from the desk and moving them both to the center of the room, pushing aside the carpet that had covered the grate. On the plate was an assortment of unrecognizable bits. A half-chewed-up bone, thin enough to be that of a chicken. A handful of red and brown nuts, some kind of mutilated blue fruit, and residue of a long-since cooled white gravy.

  I started by placing one of the nuts on my tongue (the least likely food to have gone bad), a brown one that looked somewhat like an almond (it’s familiar, that must mean it’s trustworthy). I didn’t swallow, just let it sit there and soak. Next, I placed my hand on the vent, running my talons over its cold metal bars to elicit a grating click with each swipe. In the process I crouched over, inhaling the acrid scent of old food. Then, I held the glowing vial in front of my eyes, really looking at it.

  Taste, touch, sound, smell, sight.

  The not-almond tasted of wet soil, with a sour tang I did not enjoy. I could feel the grains of its body against my tongue while my cheeks poured with saliva against that sour kick. The grate was cool, I angled my hand to scratch both my talons and the pads of my fingers against its iron surface. Cold and hard, my hand was beginning to go numb from the repeated vibrations. There was an updraft, some source of cold air that made me shiver as it crawled my arm and licked at my chest. The sound was similar to a prisoner’s spoon against cell bars; a deep tink tink tink tink tink. The leftovers were rank, this close up it became an overwhelming smell of the intersection between meat and rot. Whatever scraps remained had been stewing for a little while. It led my eyes to tear up, blurring the bright green glow of whatever concoction I held. I had a sneaking suspicion it must’ve been a potion; with the hypnotic glittering swirl and low light. Even the glass of the vial was odd; pockmarked, and frail rather than a smooth secure finish. It was more than a little difficult to not find myself mesmerized just by the vial, which would cause me to forget the grate and the leftovers.

  It was incredibly challenging to spit my focus in more than one way. I would focus on the grate so hard I’d forget to breathe, then focus on the food so hard I’d forget to move my hand. The goal of this entire exercise was to process as much sensory information as possible all at once. The experience of sensing and using ‘aether strings’ was a similar sort of ‘connection to my senses,’ getting as close as I could to that state would help me to slide into another version of sight. According to the famously trustworthy Raphael, that is. It was about being in tune with the world until it spoke back. I could feel his attention, his scrutiny. His judgment. I always could. He was always there. I still couldn’t tell if it was an actual sensation or in my head and- goddamnit I stopped scratching the grate again. My brain was just too good at filtering information, separating the necessary and unnecessary stimuli into such neat little piles I wouldn’t even realize it was happening until it was over.

  “Raphy!” I called sweetly.

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  What is it. He did not sound pleased.

  “How do people usually do this whole meditating thing?”

  They usually don’t need to like you do. Honestly, I came up with this at the moment, back when I thought I was going to swindle your ass. You can either sense aether or you can’t. The real ‘meditating’ comes after that muscle is flexed, not before. Freak.

  “Well as the self-proclaimed creator, how would you recommend going about it?” I had the sneaking suspicion he was just trying to make me look stupid. There was nothing but silence as if a phone line had been cut. How was I going to get Raphael to actively work with me here? I could have him work as a full-time translator and I could shut him up, but how could I make him do me a favor? What did I have that Raphael wanted?

  “I’ll read you a book.”

  Excuse me?

  “You can’t see, right? Just hear? I saw all those books in your murder lair, for each favor you’ll get a chapter.”

  I’m not a child, Raemos. I’m not going to stoop to the level of bedtime stories for more work than you’re worth. Leave me be.

  The light on my neck dimmed, what a drama queen. Well, it couldn’t be helped. I’d brainstorm new ways to break my senses while doing whatever it was Leon needed me for.

  With everything sorted, there was only one thing left to handle. I put the miscellaneous goods I’d gathered back where I found them and stood in the middle of the room.

  “You alive down there Casper?” I didn’t know the mechanics of my ghost dog and honestly, the more I learned the less I understood. From what Raphael had said, even he had no clue despite meddling in dead things for so long. I stared directly at the mass of dark beneath me though, hoping that a name would get the attention of my hanger-on. My shadow twisted and shook in the candlelight, stretching out into long paws before roiling through a dozen different shapes I couldn’t begin to decipher and settling on what seemed to be a small bear between a cub and an adolescent.

  “Guessing that’s a yes. Listen buddy you need to stay for a little bit longer until I figure out how receptive people normally are to ghost-dogs. Hear that? Stay. I’ll find time to let you out but for now, you need to stay low.” There were a couple of moments of swirling but Casper did end up settling into the shape of a normal shadow. It felt… Restless. Fraying at the edges in sharp ways it shouldn’t. I told her she was doing a good job with my best encouraging tone and lifted my arms to stretch.

  Everything was stiff and miserable. My injuries had settled into dull aches and throbbing; as it had done before, my body healed much faster than I expected. Still didn’t mean it healed right or even well. I rolled my once-broken ankle as it let out a series of protesting pops, arching my spine and letting my heavy wings droop. I tried to extend them but pain shooting through me made that endeavor difficult. I thought about it while awkwardly pulling one into my hand to stroke the soft white feathers. They didn’t feel broken, touching them didn’t hurt either, it was just extending them that caused problems. I’d have to ask Kishar to help me do a proper examination later.

  The door was a light, oaky thing that creaked loudly when I opened it to face the world. Moving from that dank windowless room into the morning sun, I clamped my hand over my seared eyes before slowly adjusting and looking around. I heard the swishing of the grass and the bubbling roar of water; it must’ve been the sea I was just pulled from, and the chatter of hyper villagers. I could smell the sweet slightly earthy scent of the tall grass, reminding me of summertime and growing gardens. The sea brought dry saltiness. The scent of acid sweat carried by the town's inhabitants melded with and was mostly disguised by the smell of the water, but I could still catch whiffs now and then. I had been stripped of everything but loose pants, so I could feel the wet dirt under my toes, making the touch carry a feathery, slightly itchy feeling from the grass. It felt… Nice. I still didn’t enjoy looking down at the sight of long, taloned bird feet, but ignoring that they carried a surprising amount of sensation for being covered in scales.

  Right then, I need to get to a dining hall behind the barracks. Probably best to just ask someone where either of those things are. I scanned the street for the least intimidating person possible. A black-haired man was consoling his crying friend; too emotional. A tradeswoman in a very large hat was trying to make a sale; too scummy. A figure in an ominous black cloak with torn seams was skulking into an alleyway; obviously not. The most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life who was walking directly towards me; yeah, that works.

  They looked almost blurry. As if their body wasn’t quite defined in the way it should be. Distortions ate at the edges of their pale skin and pulled at the taught blue and yellow dress hugging their body.

  Nobody but me seemed to take notice of their presence like we were the only two people in the world.

  “Hello there friend!” Their voice was like a physical weight over my body, pressing into my ears as they spoke in a dozen tones and cadences I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

  “Hi?” I stared at the long sun kissed blond rivulets of hair that curled delicately over their shoulders, falling into the pools of their collarbone and down their back as if having a life of their own; moving to best frame the person’s face.

  “I had a question if you wouldn’t mind indulging it?” Their face itself was… I knew they had the features of an ordinary face; lips, nose, eyes, eyebrows, they were all present. I just couldn’t quite see how they were arranged. As if I was in the same moment as I was seeing them, forgetting them.

  “Sure. Yeah. I can do that.” They seemed pleased by my response, humming out a note that sent my teeth chattering for some reason.

  “Where is the guard’s dining hall? An old friend of mine is there and I’ve been hoping for a reunion.” They looked so soft. Everything was perfectly plush, smooth like marble.

  “Dunno.” My brain felt like molasses. I thought I knew something, I knew I knew something, but God their voice felt so nice around me.

  “Yes you do, you were just about to go there.” They tilted their head slightly, an almost inhuman expression of confusion. I just looked at the gold necklace hanging down to the center of their chest.

  “Leviathan.”

  “Hm?” I had forgotten that was the name I was using.

  “Where is the guard’s dining hall?”

  “I was actually just looking for someone to ask. I have no clue.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” Awkward, God, I’m bad at this.

  “A shame, but that is alright. One last question if you don’t mind?” I had the impression of them batting their eyelashes and I felt my heart seize. How old did you have to be to go into cardiac arrest?

  “If you see a bard: dark blond, short, fat, green vest with swirled embroidery- tell him his little brother is looking for him alright? He will know what to do. Now then, you’ve been a lovely audience, ta!” They tapped me precisely once on the shoulder with a slender, painted finger, and turned on their heel, striding off to the next person in their line of sight and approaching with a ‘Hello there friend!’

  Well. That was odd. I thought, before turning and moving down the road to look for a barracks. If only I knew where ‘down’ was or what the ‘barracks’ looked like. I ended up turning back around and asking the tradeswoman fleecing townsfolk. She took one look at me and intrinsically understood that no, I could not purchase anything, and in fact gave me a loose dark grey cardigan to wear alongside my baggy brown pants. It was like I had been turned into a marshmallow. It was nice. I was immediately suspicious.

  While thanking her more than was probably necessary, I asked for the town’s name; Kiridan. I was in Kiridan. Which was, she noted proudly, one of the only seaside villages in all of Luden and in fact the only one in the entire north. I realised the opportunity being presented and did my best to prod with a ‘distant traveler’s interest. Kiridan wasn’t a port city, but it was still massively important to the surrounding towns (according to her). Their main exports weren’t actually fish. They came from something called ‘Bishilk,’ which nobody else in the area had access to. She said it with such conviction that I just smiled and nodded along. She mentioned believing it had something to do with the recent rash of appearances in the area, and I agreed with her that it was dreadful stuff. I also asked if any towns with large libraries were near, and she admitted to having never traveled outside of Kiridan.

  The barracks were big and stone, all of the buildings closer to water were stone. They reminded me of the ruins and I immediately hated them. They consisted of one square C-shaped building, with a large front facing the main road and two smaller sides surrounding a patch of grass. I was walking down a cobblestone street along the C's open side. I could hear guards panting as I wound down the road, turning to see a courtyard filled with sweaty folks running through drills and looking miserable. They all wore light leather armor overlaid with chains on the sensitive bits. I wondered how it wasn’t rusted considering the salty acrid air. Each held a polearm, though I wasn’t informed enough to know exactly what type. There were around fifteen of them all swinging and stabbing together, none glanced my way as I walked past the closed-off field. Most were human, though I did notice a few had extra mouths peaking from beneath their armor. Best not to think about that. I had realized that unlike in the ruins where Kishar and Raphael had both been immediately questioning my heritage, the people here didn’t look too hard. If anything, they’d look at the chest bandages more than the wings.

  I meandered down a small overgrown path, turning behind the back of the barracks and passing what I assumed to be a sleeping quarters. Again, nobody stopped or questioned me. I circled to the dining hall unmolested; it was pressed tightly against another building, with a door in the back where the sleeping quarters and dining hall connected. There was a wood sign sloppily hammered in next to the open door, though I couldn’t read it.

  Walking inside it was immediately apparent I wasn’t supposed to be there. Round tables scattered the room, each set with four empty seats. Chairs were carelessly pushed back, flagons abandoned on tables half-full. A stage covered the entire right side of the room, wooden and well worn. Ragged curtains were pulled to the side to reveal a barren, dimly lit backstage. Costumes were across the floor; a large downy dress, a green embroidered vest, a hat the length of my arm. A large man was wiping his hands on a dirty maroon apron, flitting around the room with deceptive speed. He wove between tables snapping up plates in the same movement he wiped off food. I was suitably intimidated. The sound of clinking in the back left of the room led me to my quarry.

  Kishar had always been a voracious eater. We met with him stealing my bag for food after all. I knew that, theoretically, however watching him eat with a real meal in front of him was a new experience entirely. My friend had his spindly elbows propped up on the table, head bowed in concentration as he attempted to open his jaw far enough for a full head of cabbage. No leaves removed, it hardly looked washed, just a raw head-to-core experience. I gently pulled it from his small hands and used my dagger to cut it in half before handing it back. He didn’t seem to register the movement, taking one half and going right back to it. This time, he neared finishing his quest, taking drinks of a purple fruit drink between tries like a professional competitive eater. I watched my shadow twist and curl with unnatural excitement as I neared Kishar. Quickly, I pulled a seat and sat down, lacing my fingers patiently. There was a rainbow of vegetables laid across the table, some recognizable and others entirely foreign. I took small bites out of a round, red fruit with a savory flavor. It had the appearance of a shriveled heirloom tomato. The cleaning man sent us nervous looks every now and then, rushing over to add more plates of food anytime they ran low.

  Moments before I grew bored enough to pull the food from Kishar’s hands to make him pay attention, he leaned back and patted his stomach with a pleased hum.

  “So, what did they want?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion. I signed, leaning back as well.

  “Nothing to do with you. They, well really just the long one, want me to do something involving trees I think. Shouldn't be too hard.” I reached for a pepper on Kishar’s side of the table, jumping as he shot a branch from between its wooden slats to stall my hand with a hiss.

  “‘Something involving trees.’ Trio, did you not ask further? Do you agree to things without all of the information needed on purpose? Some sort of Earth custom?” His tone was hardly irritated, but the words stung. I shifted in my seat, “It didn’t come up.” I muttered hopelessly

  He frowned at me like a disapproving father. This felt backwards.

  “Look, if you’d like, we can just run off. I’m not in the best running condition but with your magic-,” I began.

  "-Weaving,” Kishar corrected.

  “-with your weaving I’m sure we could have a go at it.”

  He thought for a moment before shaking his head, auburn leaves falling to the table.

  “Alright, what’s our game plan afterwards? I vote we get some money together and hit up that town those slavers mentioned. With the big library.” Kishar nodded before something behind me caught his eye. The branches he’d grown out of the table wilted.

  “What is it?” I asked, lowering my tone as I turned to look. A nearly translucent blue snake was moving across the floor towards the man wiping tables. I cursed, sticking my foot out in an attempt to press the end of her tail. Casper did not like sitting still, she was like me in that sense. I should’ve known that and I should’ve remembered to manage it after playing catch in that underground lab led to all those traps getting triggered. I wrapped my talons around her tail but they caught empty air. It was like the outside of her body had become intangible, with only a core of solid material remaining.

  Casper slipped into the worker’s apron without a sound, disappearing from sight. Neither Kishar nor I said anything for a moment.

  “She’ll be fine.” I muttered. I was more worried about her being connected to us, and us subsequently being kicked from town before we could get our bearings. Kishar frowned, the deep brown branch of his upper brown furrowing.

  “Are you sure? What if someone tries to adopt her or experiments on her like Raphael did to all those animals.” As he finished speaking he seemed to catch himself, immediately looking to the side and relaxing back in his chair. Trying so hard to look like he didn’t care, I was certain he did.

  Jackass. It seemed Raphael was awake again.

  Though I made a mental note not to bring up reading anymore. I was pretty sure he was touchy on the subject.

  “Kish, we once watched her eat a lion and dance around in its entrails. If anything, we need to worry about what she’ll do to the town, not the other way around.” I reached over to take a sip of his drink, it was oddly sour. I wondered if she’d be a good help against Leon and Vakari. Not that I planned on starting anything. But if something did start… Then again, I was beginning to realize she was borderline harmless during the day. My decision was made.

  “The lion was already dead.”

  “If you want, I can go over there and get her out of that guy’s apron. But I think it’ll be fine to just let her roam. Like an outdoor cat. She’ll come back when she wants.” I was privately a little happy she’d made the decision to take off without me having to make her. Walking around with a shadow that didn’t match my body was getting a little difficult to excuse. If she went chasing mice until we were ready to leave, it was all the more convenient.

  “I thought we were calling her a dog?”

  “Now you’re just being difficult.”

  “This feels immoral.”

  I shrugged and polished off his drink. “What’s the worst that could happen?”