Spirit Thief Aesling

The adventures of a spirit thief and her faithful pigbat companion.

[spiritthiefaesling]

Apologies for the delay in content, but it has been a busy time! And now with the holidays coming up, how about a little gift as we look away from the main story into that of a close friend and his celebration - a brief glimpse into

Colvin’s Hanukkah

[A side story]

Colvin’s home was thick with fabric, creating a comfortable warmth even in the throes of a frosty winter. It was, by all definitions, cozy, especially as it was not particularly large - though thankfully he did have a couple windows with window sills, even if it meant moving some things away from them when he wanted to light candles. His arrangement for this night was very specific and precise, something often unusual for the kinds of things he did but all too fitting for a night like this one.

The arrangement itself was settled on a small but cluttered window sill. In the center was his golden menorah, varnish worn with age and still covered in dry pieces of wax from previous years. All around it were pictures in picture frames - one had the Truths in their prime, with him and Pathos, Logos, and Legan. Opposite it was one of his parents, his mother smiling brilliantly and his father looking on in awe with a gentle grin of his own.

He dug a small scrap of paper out of his pocket, reading from it even though he was certain he remembered the words by heart. He wanted to do this right.

Colvin struck a match and lit a single candle from the little candle box, holding the paper in one hand and the paper in the other. “Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tsivanu l'hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v'imoteinu bayamim hahaeim baz'man hazeh.

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higianu laz'man hazeh.”

He was surprised he could still read Hebrew as well as he did, but all things considered, he barely needed to glance at the sheet at all, only checking for the gentlest reassurances of certain words as he reached the end of each prayer.

From there he carefully set the paper down, then picked up another candle and warmed the bottom of it with wax before placing it in the far-right branch. He lit it, then warmed the shamash and placed it in the center. When he was certain neither would fall, he took a step back and admired his handiwork.

With all the other lights off, it created a warm, welcoming glow in his apartment, even when only two candles were lit. Snow fell outside, dark clouds hiding the dying reach of sunlight that was likely making its way through the sky.

He collapsed on his couch and watched the menorah burn, occupied with his thoughts.

Colvin remembered celebrating the holidays on tour, him and Logos and Pathos sharing traditions from all their branches of life - singing all manner of holiday songs. Pathos celebrated Christmas and taught many of their hometown’s tunes, while Colvin lead them in rounds of “Lots of Latkes” and struggled to remember “Ma’oz Tzur” from the few times he had heard it at beyt knesset.

“Beyt knesset,” he mumbled to himself, thinking of the old synagogue downtown. “I haven’t been there in what… eight years?”

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and tried to get out what of “Ma’oz Tzur” he could still remember, which still wasn’t much.

“Ma’oz tzur yeshua-si, lecha na-eh li-sha-beyach...” From there, it devolved into vaguely Hebrew-sounding mumbles that more or less fit the tune, before he finally gave up and fell into a coughing fit. ”So much for a holiday like the good old times.”

He took a long glance at the candle’s flames before standing up and wandering over to the door, throwing on a heavy jacket and some actual shoes which, contrary to popular belief, he did in fact own. Bundled up and satisfied there was nothing nearby the menorah could burn down while he was gone, he trundled off into the snow.

The air was thick, wet, and most of all, cold. It bit easily at his face, pushing easily at his hair, and even sending a twinge of pain through his covered eye. He ducked further into his coat, wishing he had a scarf of some kind, and made his way out into the whiteness that was overtaking the world.

It took a couple minutes of aimless wandering for Colvin to come across somewhere with light - a single lamppost amidst the storm, its bulb flickering gently as it struggled to emit its glow. He stared at it, bemused, and glanced around to the pitch blackness around him. “The storm must’ve put the power out,” he murmured to himself. Though it wasn't terribly late, the windows of the stores and houses down the road were mostly pitch-back, save for the occasional glimmer of candlelight where someone was still awake or where others were celebrating Hanukkah, too. “A blackout during the festival of lights.”

When he glanced back at the lamp, he blinked in surprise, as the next lamp some fifteen feet had also been lit. It was barely visible with the snow falling so thickly, but he couldn’t resist the urge to meander closer to it. It, too, was having trouble staying lit, and as he approached it the one behind him sparked one last time and died. The next lamp on the road illuminated. He stared off at it and continued to follow the path that stretched out before him.

Colvin didn’t bother to count how many street lamps he passed by, but each was perfectly timed to keep him in their glow. He knew this was magic, and would’ve look at it with his enhanced eye had the cold already not been aggravating it. He couldn’t sense anything hostile about each light - to the contrary, each one seemed to emit the faintest aura of peace alongside their illumination.

Only twice did he have to cross the street, each time almost convincing him that whatever was guiding him had given up before he caught sight of the next step in his journey. It was after he crossed the street the second time the light above him flickered and died, and he stared in confusion for a long moment before examining the building he had been lead to. He gave the slightest, weary smile.

The synagogue.

Goel Tzedek was written on its side, the Hebrew of the same just beneath. The sign out front - which would normally be speaking of the holiday, no doubt - had gone out, just like the rest of the lights in the city. The front door to the building, however, was left open. He furrowed his brows, trudging down the sleet-covered sidewalk and into the building.

Unsure of where else to go, Colvin passed down the familiar entryway, the carpet beneath his feet the same red color it had been so long ago and just as clean. He passed by the larger assembly hall, and then the small gift shop he and his parents had bought his menorah at so long ago. He entered the prayer hall, the wooden doors squeaking gently as he pressed against them. He had expected the room to be dark, and yet there was still a light in its center. As his eye readjusted, he realized it was not just a light in the hall - it was a person. And, when she straightened up, he realized she was a spirit.

She stood tall and proud, and as he approached he recognized the energy she was exuding, the gentle warmth, as the same he had felt on the walk there from every street lamp. A trio of flames danced around her head, and her eyes burned with the same strength.

“Hello,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I hope you do not mind me intruding upon your place of worship.”

Colvin stared at her, transfixed by the flames for a moment before pausing and shaking his head to clear it. “I haven’t been here in awhile,” he said, wincing as his voice echoed unusually loudly throughout the empty sanctuary. “So it’s not really my place to say, but I can’t imagine anyone having a problem with it. Did you, uh… come to pray?”

Colvin recognized he did not know much about spirits, let alone if they themselves had a religion. Still, it was polite to ask.

She closed her eyes. “I did not, no. I come here during nights such as this one to watch over their light.”

He glanced behind her, to the ner tamid - the eternal light - above the Ark which, to his surprise, was still burning. Well, it was electric, but it looked enough like a lantern he supposed the word fit. It persisted, much like the real thing had done some 2000 years ago.

He nodded. “That’s kind of you.”

The spirit smiled, the expression as warm and welcoming as the power she emitted. “Thank you. I strive to do what I can for the people of this city.”

He wasn’t quite sure to ask her about the lamps, but he figured there was no harm in it. “Were you the one who lead me here?”

“When the lights of Braeden die, I do my best to ensure everyone is lead home, or to a place of comfort. But you were the only person out on the streets this night, and you seemed eager to go anywhere but.”

Colvin shrugged off his hood, her magic beating back the natural cold that had long settled into the vacant building. “It’s hard,” he said, “to be reminded of friends on a day of celebration spent by yourself.”

She nodded, eyes dim with understanding. “My name is Kyl’il,” she offered. “I am the Guardian Spirit of the city of Braeden. You are Colvin Jun, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I am mentor of young Dont, and through her, have bestowed the title of Spirit Guardian on bright Aesling, as well as her friends burning Markus and faithful Gregor. You have met them, I believe.”

“I have.” His single eye looked up at the ner tamid again. “Kyl’il, do you… mind if I sit with you for a while? At least until the storm clears?”

“Go ahead. Any friend of bright Aesling is a friend of mine.”

He sat down in the chair beside her, placed his head against his hands, and thought.

---

Colvin must’ve fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, he could see the barest shimmer of moonlight coming in through the synagogue’s windows. When he glanced aside, he could see that his coat had been moved off of him, and that Kyl’il was still there, sitting on her knees, eyes closed.

“How are you feeling?”

Colvin slowly blinked his singular eye. “...peaceful.”

“I am glad to hear it. Did you find what you were looking for this night?”

He bowed his head, and pressed his face into his hands. “I’m not sure. I do feel more calm now, though. Thank you.”

She gave him a gentle smile. “I did little, honest Colvin. However, if you would like advice, I would not mind imparting some. You still seem troubled.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Life is much like a path through a wood. If you come across a fallen log, no one would doubt you for doubling back for an axe.”

He stared at her, long and hard. Somehow, that was exactly what he needed to hear.

“Thank you. I…. really needed to hear that. Chag sameach, Kyl’il.”

“A merry festival of lights to you, honest Colvin.”

Colvin slid his coat back on, bundling up tight, and wandered out of the prayer hall, down the entryway, and back into the snow - where the lights had been restored to the city, and the bitter bite of the cold was no longer quite so sharp.

As he began his weary trek home, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and fumbled with a gloved hand until he got to his contact list. He dialed before he could regret what he was doing, and despite the late hour, somehow he was certain they would answer.

“Hey, Logos.” He spoke before the man on the other end could say anything.

“Ethos?”

“Yeah. Long time no see.” He closed his eyes and let out the softest sigh. “I’ve missed you. Do you want to hang out sometime soon? Catch up on things?”

“I’ll be going back home in a little bit,” Logos said. “Visiting a friend. I’ve missed seeing you, too, though. Just kept forgetting to call.”

“Or putting it off?”

Logos laughed lightly. “Yeah, well… You know me.”

“I do.” He waited, and for all that they had been through, even just the quiet between them was comforting. Knowing Logos was there.

“Heard from Pathos lately?” Logos said, breaking the silence.

“No, but you know them. Legan’s death hit them hard.”

“Yeah. I almost can’t remember the last time I saw them smile.”

Colvin glanced absentmindedly at his phone. “So, when will you be stopping by? You can stay at my place if you want. It’s small but it’ll save you some cash.”

“I’ll be by in a week or two,” Logos said. “And that sounds… nice. I look forward to seeing you.”

“You too.” Colvin allowed himself a small smile. “Vive la vérité.”

“Vive la vérité, Ethos.” Another brief moment of silence, and then together, they hung up.

Colvin stared at his phone. Wordlessly he tucked it into his pocket and wandered back up the stairs to his apartment. He opened the door to find, to his relief, that the candles hadn’t caused any problem at all. The shamash was still, barely and improbably, burning, though the first night’s candle was nothing more than smoke and wax.

He stepped closer to it, discarding his coat onto his couch, and stared when he realized that one of the photos he had set up had fallen over, the candle’s blue wax dripping down and staining its glass.

The faces of Colvin, the rest of the Truths, and Legan were now impossible to see beneath the surface. He reached one hand up to scrape it away and paused, before setting the frame back onto the window sill.

I’ll be seeing Logos soon, he reassured himself. I’ll have a new face of his to look at - and maybe Pathos after that.

But Legan… Legan was not, in hindsight, someone he had to worry about. He often heard about people whose memories of loved ones faded with time, whose faces in their minds became blurred and indistinct. Not Legan. There was a photo of Legan right by his bed, that he looked at every day. There were many things he owed Legan, and that was one of them: remembrance.

Still, he stared at it an usually long time as he got into bed, and by the time he finally fell asleep, his mind was adrift with better times, and new songs, the lyrics to a wordless tune he swore he heard Kyl’il humming unraveling themselves:

The flickering flames of the candle grow dim, and, though low, it still burns. Shadows surround and lash out in fear, and yet for the light they do yearn.

As the sun hides behind the horizon, and the moon finds its way to the sky, without a great dawn there'd be no such thing as dusk, and the stars would have no place to cry.

A sword in one hand, and a shield in the next, the goal: to protect and to fight. My children in arms, are all guardians. And use shadows to bring forth the light.

[elfowlgirl]

and then this month I got Matt to read the end of season 2, episode 12 of STA! super STA spoilers ofc but Matt’s readings are so good

[spiritthiefaesling]

concept art sundays: ok so max is p obvs drawing a lot on his canon self.... and also grell sutcliffe. just a little bit. and maybe a hit of phantom of the opera.

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 13 pt 2 - Rise of the Sun

Summary: The Guardians confront the head of Duskcove.

Word count: 6700

Warnings: Blood, death, violence

Shadows surrounded them in the next room, but Ashe could see a thin line of spirit energy and Gregor’s glaive started glowing faintly to light the way for everyone else. Thog seemed to have no issue with the dark, but Inien stayed close to the Warrior as they proceeded down another hallway, this one with multiple twists and turns.

“You know, this would normally be unnerving, but it’s nothing compared to the Prison of Lights,” Markus said after a minute.

“Lucky you, then,” Inien grumbled.

“We should be quiet,” Gregor said, before Markus could say anything else. “We need to pay attention for anything that tries to attack us.”

“Sorry,” Markus and Inien both said, before letting silence overtake them once more.

Ashe lost track of time as they kept walking. Had it been five minutes, or ten? Twenty, even? She had no idea, and it was starting to unnerve her. Finally though, after rounding one last corner, she could see a golden light ahead. It was faint, but definitely there. She quickened her pace, leading the way.

The room they came to was larger than any other in the complex, with a vaulted ceiling overhead that disappeared into darkness and balconies built along the walls. In the center was a platform with a device similar to Kyl’il’s map of Braeden, a golden orb that had many, many pinpricks of light covering it. Next to it stood a man in a heavy blue coat, the low sleeves revealing a white shirt and red vest. He turned towards them, revealing that his face was covered by a gold, winged mask.

“You must be the Lantern-Bearer’s Chosen,” he said, inclining his head almost respectfully. “I welcome you to Duskcove Industries. Rowian Igni Maxis, at your service.”

Ashe rolled her eyes. “He’s like you, only worse,” she whispered to Markus.

“I’d never be that tacky,” he answered.

Thog’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Max. “I’ve never sensed your kind of energy before,” he said, somewhat confused. “Everything about you, it’s taken from somewhere else. What the hell are you?”

Max’s grin widened, bearing familiarly dagger-like teeth, and he bowed dramatically. “Very good eye, sir!” He straightened, then leaned casually against his map.”I’m… Well, I feed off of the energy that others produce. Magical and spiritual energy, to be precise. I’ve been called many things over the centuries, but I believe the current term is a ‘vampire’?”

Gregor stepped forward. “Colvin said you’d saved his life. It was so you could use him as a food source, wasn’t it?” He pointed his glaive at Max, accusing. “You sensed his energy, and took him in so you’d be able to take all of it for yourself.”

Ashe tensed up slightly, but let out a small sigh in relief. With Gregor’s intuition, they wouldn’t be on uneven footing for the fight she could feel build in the room, drawing closer with the tension everyone could sense.

“I wanted to help the poor lad,” Max said, any sense of guilt lost as his smile stayed plastered on his face. “It’s not my fault if the result was mutually beneficial. Now, why have you - agh!” He grunted in pain as one of Markus’ fireballs hit him. He put out the flame on his sleeve, his affable smile replaced with a glare. “Fine, let’s get to it.” Shadows rapidly cloaked him, before his form disappeared.

Markus swore under his breath. “I can’t believe we’ve got another teleporter,” he grumbled, before disappearing himself. He reappeared on a lower rafter, scanning the room.

It took Max a moment to reappear, on one of the balconies. As soon as he did, he let out a low whistle. Barks and growls filled the air as more of the shadow-hounds slunk out of tunnels along the walls, quickly breaking into a run at the group as they scented them.

Ashe broke her next binding and let the blade of her sword transform to one of pure energy, not wanting a long fight with the dogs as before.. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Thog pick up Inien and run for the nearest set of stairs, depositing her on the balcony before taking up a guard position below her.

Jay circled above, doing his best to hinder their attackers, while Gregor tried to hold off the hounds until Inien could cast a spell that would let him actually damage them.

On his own balcony, Max continued to address them. “We could be partners, you know. I would gladly welcome the Lantern-Bearer’s strength!” He stopped as Markus teleported in front of him, drawing a sword of his own to parry the Rogue’s strike. “I’m collecting spirits, I’m sure you noticed. The more I gather, the less you have to purify. You could have time for yourselves, luxuries and hobbies beyond the thankless toil of a Guardian.”

“Forget it,” Markus growled, even as he noticed Ashe falter for a moment. He was about to teleport to her when she shook her head and redoubled her efforts against the hounds, trying to clear a path to the balcony where he and Max clashed. To his frustration, the vampire seemed content to merely block his attacks, and never strike himself.

Markus teleported behind Max, trying to throw him off, but Max pivoted and brought his sword up in time to block, not seeming to care as some of the poison on Markus’s blade bored pits in his.

“You can’t fool someone else with that skill,” Max pointed out, before continuing his monologue, pitching his voice to be heard in the whole room. “Really though, think of the possibilities! Spirit energy isn’t just good for weapons. It could replace electricity, solve the humans’ silly energy crisis. It could lead to innovations in technology. You could even use them for therapy with some people!”

Inien’s head snapped up, away from her spells. She stared at Max, something flickering in the back of her mind. Words like that were never so plain, never so -

“It’s a con!” she called out, all of the pieces snapping together for her, almost trying to reassure herself. “If people use devices powered by spirits, that means more people awakening their own magical energies. More people he can feed from!”

Max turned to look, startled, giving Markus an opening to properly strike him. Max snarled in pain, before catching Markus’s next attack by the hilt of his sword and using the contact to shove him back, down the stairs. Markus teleported before he wound up covered by shadow-hounds, reappearing on a third balcony.

Max took the chance to focus on Inien, and his smirk suddenly returned. “You’re the Witch, aren’t you? Inien the Bloody?” He laughed. “But your energy isn’t like the woman I met before. It’s all wrong. You have no right to that name, although maybe, if you helped me, I could make you great again.”

Inien’s eyes narrowed, and Jay screeched as he dove at the vampire.

Max knocked the bird away, using a bit of his own magic to do so before Jay even reached him. He was cloaked by shadows again, and reformed on the railing of Inien’s balcony. “Is that a no, then?”

“Stay away from her!” Thog growled, charging up the stairs. Max dropped his sword and met the charge, locking into a grapple with Thog for a moment. Then he let himself relax, leaning back some before using the momentum to shove Thog over the railing.

Markus and Gregor were both backed into a corner, and Markus didn’t dare leave the Warrior without a way of actually hurting the shadow-hounds. Ashe had taken Thog’s place, keeping the hounds from attacking Inien. Useless! she thought, anger at herself lending more ferocity to her strikes, but there was no way she could make it up there without causing them to be overwhelmed.

Inien backed up against the wall, her book falling to the ground as fear overwhelmed her. She tried to remember one of the incantations, but the words wouldn’t come to her, stumbling over them as if they were tongue-twisters.

Max picked up his sword. “A pity, but if I must kill all of you, I have to start somewhere.”

Desperate, Inien reached into her bag, her hand closing around the one weapon she had left.

-----

A long time ago, in a city far far away, darkness had already descended. The sky was lit by pinpricks of light amidst the settling clouds, and the moon peeked around them to cast its glow on the world below.

The clock tower, standing proud and tall in this distant land, struck twelve. Its cry echoed, each beat seeming to last a millennium, and by the time its last call finally died, I stood, waiting, at the bottom of the tower.

I wrapped both hands around my necklace, a small golden charm in the shape of a crescent moon. Power surged to my fingertips and at once, I felt it spread and begin to envelop me.

“Pretty Magical Spirit Thief Inien!”

My clothes changed in an instant, and boots formed at my feet. Gloves traced the magic up my hands and to my arms, my cape blossomed out behind me in a flourish. A familiar weight settled on my head and, with that, I opened my eyes and looked up.

I could feel the call already and in a puff of smoke I vanished, reappearing at the top of the clock tower and amidst an ever-growing collection of books. Shelves lined every space, with no rhyme or reason to their placement - or so it seemed.

"Hello," said a voice, cool and calm as per the norm. I turned my head ever so slightly to find my companion spirit in their usual spot - a small cushion in the center of the room, tomes scattered around it. Eight featureless blue eyes looked at four floating tomes.

"Vivefsi," I greeted it in a tone so sweet that under any other circumstances it would've made my hair curl.

They looked up, eyes growing wider in alarm - the most emotion I ever saw them express. "Inien?"

My dagger, pristine and white, settled into my hand. When I didn't reply, Vivefsi sounded slightly more panicked, if barely. "Inien? Inien, what’s wrong with you?" And then, much quieter: "...Victoria?"

I simply smiled - it seemed to be my natural state - as blood ran its way down my dagger and splattered across the closest of the spirit's precious books. The floating ones tumbled to the floor and their covers were stained as they landed in the red pools.

Magic burst into the air like snow from a snowblower and I held out my hand, letting it find its way into my grasp in the same manner I might purify a spirit.

Somehow, though, I knew, as my Guardian's magic entwined with my own, that it wasn't enough. That this weakling spirit's power would've never been enough, not for what I would eventually plan do with it.

I traced my eyes along the shelves of the library, endless books on anything I could ever care to learn about, and smiled. And, as intricate and half-formed ideas - a dozen ideas, maybe more - began to surface in my mind, I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I threw my head back and laughed.

---

"You're right." The brunette looked up at him and smirked, an expression easily recognizable from a time long past and altogether unnatural  on her young face. "If I'm going to be Inien, I might as well be Inien."

There was the briefest flash of white before she now stood, inches from Max, with her dagger embedded in his stomach. With a swift tug she removed it, and he choked and leaned forward, covering the wound with his hands as a thick substance began to seep from it - more purple than red and almost dark as night.

She spun the dagger once around her finger before grabbing it again, smile growing wider and eyes narrowing. The blood-like substance flew from it as it moved and was now pristine again, save for the usual red streak along it. "What you should've known about Inien is that I only care about myself. You couldn't pay me to put up with the likes of you."

A look of frightened realization dawned upon her face. It only lasted for a mere moment before her eyes closed, weapon still tight in her grip, and she collapsed across the floor.

Max’s body fell off the balcony, dissolving into dust before it could even land. The shadow-hounds lasted a moment longer, a few of them starting up mournful howls, before they, too, faded away.

Ashe shuddered, her feet not wanting to move as she remembered that Inien. She turned to the stairs leading to Inien’s balcony as Thog rushed past her, arriving at Inien’s side just as Markus teleported over. “Is she alright?” Ashe asked, forcing herself to move.

Markus nodded, two fingers against her throat. “She’s alive, at least. But that’s…” He looked down at the knife and bit his lip. “When did she get that again?”

Ashe picked up the knife and shoved it into her belt, trying to ignore the cold sensation that came from touching it. “Does it matter right now? We just need to get out of here.” She looked over at Gregor, across the room. “You okay?”

He gave them a thumbs-up, leaning on his glaive. Ashe couldn’t remember ever seeing him so exhausted. She jumped to the floor and hurried over to him, trying to not look eager for the distraction. Green sparks formed at her fingertips as she approached. Getting closer, she noticed the cuts and bites on his arms, and set about healing him as best she could for now.

“We got lucky,” he said as she worked.

Ashe nodded. “Yeah. If Inien hadn’t had that knife…” She couldn’t make herself say it. We would’ve failed.

“Before she comes with us again, we’re going to have to train with her. Or something.”

“If Thog lets her do something like this again.”

Gregor laughed quietly. “Do you really think his permission will keep her out of this? What would your family say about all the spirit stuff?”

Ashe grimaced, thinking briefly of Wren. “Point.” She finished patching up his wounds. “But that’s for later. Let’s just go.” She turned towards the exit, glad to see Markus and Thog already waiting for them, Thog holding Inien piggy-back and Jay resting on top of his head, a few feathers bent but otherwise alright.

They started down the dark corridor again, and Ashe put voice to what hung over all of them. “So what should we do? He’s dead, I think, but we can’t just leave all of this for someone else to use.”

“Is there any way to return the spirits to themselves?” Gregor asked. “Or… attach them to different artifacts, somehow?” He looked down at his glaive. “It might feel weird for them, but it’d be better than nothing, right?”

Thog let out a small growl. “It’s impossible. They’re too tied up in each other, too traumatized. The best we can do for the captured spirits is break those containers and hope the energy leads to new ones being born at some point.”

Ashe nodded. Now that they were facing the direction of the containment room, she could see the tangled mess of energy, the crossed lines and confused auras, at the very edge of her sight. “I still wish we could do more”

“Thanks,” Thog told her. “But at least, I don’t think any of them were fully awakened yet. Don’t worry too much about it.”

She bit her lip and hurried ahead, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

-------

She stood before me, same smirk upon her face that I knew I'd been wearing but mere moments before - or what felt like it. The only difference between our smiles were her familiarly jagged teeth, which did nothing to settle my unease. If I had to place a word to her expression it would be "accomplishment", or even "pride". Her smile became toothless and, suddenly, she spoke.

"You did good." She looked me up and down, and then at the dagger in my hand. "Glad to see you've still got it in you."

What to say to that? All the confidence I'd felt when standing before Max vanished and we were both well aware of it. She took the steps forward until she stood directly before me. It felt like she was looming over me, although I knew she was only a couple inches taller at most.

She held out her hands and, within them, a leather tome formed. She deposited it into my grasp. "I think you could learn to use this. Get yourself back on track with magic."

My head began to ache. I could feel the world slowly shattering around me, and yet she remained there, amber eyes locked on mine. "Besides," her gaze shifted to something cool, calm, and calculating, smile never faltering. "If you're going to be me, you've got a lot of catching up to do."

------

Inien woke up to find herself laying on the ground, scratchy grass poking through the back of her jacket and shirt. She sat up, blinking in the sunlight, before she remembered those last few seconds. “Are we okay? Did we win?” She started to stand up.

Markus was sitting next to her, and he placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving too quickly. “You took out Max for us,” he explained. “And the rest of us,” he gestured to the rest of their group standing nearby, along with Colvin, “destroyed the canisters that housed all that spirit energy.”

“So… we won.”

“Looks like it.”

Inien frowned, worried over his tone, but decided now wasn’t the time to ask. She waited a moment more, then carefully stood up, and smiled as Jay fluttered over from Thog. “You’re alright, too?”

The falcon cawed in answer, and started preening her hair, giving up when his beak wouldn’t go all the way through her braid. Inien laughed and hugged him, careful in case he had bruising or anything from when Max struck him.

Ashe noticed Inien was up, and led the others over to them. “How’re you feeling?” she asked, hesitant.

Inien shrugged. “I’m alright.” She noted Ashe had her knife, but tried not to focus too much on it. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it anymore. It had saved her life, but it had also given her a connection to her past that she wasn’t sure she wanted. Even now, her bag was weighed down by an extra book, and she didn’t want to consider what it was or how it got there.

“Then we should get going. The sooner we’re away from here, the better,” Ashe said. She turned to Colvin. “Are you coming with us?”

He shook his head. “No. I should finish what you all started.”

Gregor looked between the singer and the Duskcove building, tapping the handle of his glaive against the ground. “Will you be alright?” he asked. “There’s a lot here.”

“And it can’t be easy for you, considering,” Ashe added.

Colvin shrugged. “I have to. I let things get this far- I could’ve fought Max myself, or warned you all. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but… I felt like I had to listen to my teacher, you know? Now, I’m a little more free, and I can do what I should’ve before.”

“Thank you,” Markus said. A faint blush covered his cheeks as Ashe gave him a surprised look. “What? I might not like that he was here, but I can appreciate him saving us the trouble of doing all this ourselves!”

She shrugged. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect that. You’ve had a longer day than any of us.”

“Depending how you measure it,” Thog grumbled. He was back in his human form, although he kept tugging at his bracelets, anxiously readjusting them on his wrists, or patting the pocket where he kept his watch. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here already.”

“Right.” Markus urged everyone to move a few more feet away. “We can’t be sure how much space Kyl’il’s magic will take, and we don’t want to get Colvin caught up in it.”

Inien waited while everyone circled her, then held up the vial of ashes and threw it against the ground, shattering it. As soon as they touched the air, the ashes started glowing like embers, and light started to envelop them.

Before they were completely surrounded, Inien looked over Ashe’s shoulder. She met Colvin’s eye, gold and copper, and she thought she saw him nod and give her a grateful smile -

But then her vision was filled with white light, and she couldn’t be sure.

-------

They all reappeared on Kinir, at the base of the lighthouse. Kyl’il started to greet them, but Thog was already rounding on Inien, his expression a mix of hurt and anger and concern.

“Where did you get that knife from?” he asked, his hands on her shoulders, tone more stern than angry. “There’s no way you could’ve retrieved it, it was in the Prison, so that this sort of thing wouldn’t happen!”

Inien grimaced, and looked down as Jay made an indignant noise from where he sat in the crook of her arm. “It’s okay,” she muttered to the bird, before sighing and looking up at Thog. “I… found it. In Markus’s bag, last night. I could sense it, and I was curious, so I grabbed it, but then I passed out and when I woke up I was different.”

Thog turned his glare on Markus. “And how did you get it?”

Markus took a step back, raising his hands in a show of surrender. He couldn’t take Thog’s glare along with Ashe’s wounded look, and Gregor’s confusion, and Kyl’il’s intense but emotionless stare.

“I tripped over it, in the Prison of Lights,” he admitted. “I picked it up without thinking, and later… I don’t know. I thought I might be able to find a way to purify it.”

“Of all the cursed, hare-brained, wisp-addled ideas, you had to come up with this fucking shade of a volatile pigheart - ” Thog listed off a series of insults, and Markus had to marvel at the artistry of the spirit’s swears. Half of it he couldn’t even figure out what exactly the insult was for, but the gist of it was clear.

Markus waited until Thog had to stop and catch his breath, then said, “I’m sorry, alright? I should’ve told you right away, I know that, but after everything with that other thief and the masks I… I was worried you all wouldn’t trust me. Again.” He knew he had a few hours left of Kyl’il’s blessing, but even just saying that made him feel drained, and all he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

Ashe walked over and placed her hands on her hips as she stared up at him. “You’re ridiculous,” she said. “But you did the right thing. I think.”

Gregor nodded, coming to stand with them as well. “We might’ve just thrown it back into the Prison, if Thog had it there in the first place, and then who knows how today would’ve gone?” He glanced at Inien. “I wish it could’ve been with less harm done, but she is the one that finished off Max, so it can’t be all bad, right?”

Thog stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You haven’t lost my trust, kid,” he said. “More, I feel like I let you down, that you didn’t think you could come to me.” He scowled at the three of them, then took a step back so he could include Inien in it. “If you all insist on messing with dangerous magical stuff, I’d rather be able to know about it and keep an eye on you than be blindsided by it.”

“Sorry,” Inien muttered.

After a moment of silence, Kyl’il tapped her staff against the ground to draw their attention - a sound so quiet it was almost silent, and yet eerily commanding. “You all did well,” she said, and for a moment pride flared in her voice. “I could not have asked for better Spirit Guardians, stronger swords, or more furious flames. Even more than what I do as your spirit, I owe each of you a boon, especially you, tempted Inien.”

Inien bit her lip. “I just don’t want Markus to get in trouble,” she said, scuffing her foot against the ground.

“He would not be, so that is not something I will grant you in payment.” Kyl’il smiled at her, gentle and warm as a hearth. “But you do not have to have it now. In future, just know that you can ask a favor of me, and I will do all that is in my power to grant it.”

Markus rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, what I want isn’t something that can come from you, Kyl’il.” He looked at Ashe and Gregor. “I think… A lot of what’s happened, it’s because something’s wrong with me. Always has been, I think, because of how I first awakened to magic. I want…” He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. “Do you two think you could purify me?”

Ashe tilted her head to the side. “My energy purified Inien before, so it must be possible, but… Are you sure? We don’t know what it might cause.”

Gregor looked towards Kyl’il. “Is it even possible for two people to purify one source, without getting in each other’s way?”

“When it comes to another human?” Kyl’il frowned, and looked at Thog. “It should be possible,” she said, and he nodded in agreement. “It’s been done with a spirit, at least. You just both have to be dedicated to your goal, and your energies should work together.”

“Okay then.” Ashe placed one hand to her collar, considering breaking the last of her bindings for this. No, she decided a moment later. It might flood him with too much of my energy. I don’t want to change him, just get rid of any corruption. She looked at Gregor. “Ready?”

“I think so.” He held out his hand. Ashe took it, and then he touched his glaive to Markus’ shoulder while Ashe placed her other hand against his stomach. They both closed their eyes, concentrating.

Markus’s energy was fire, true to Kyl’il’s name for him. Every part of him flickered and burned, so it seemed that only a part of his whole self ever existed at once, but every emotion he could possibly have could jump up larger and brighter than the rest at any given moment. He was bright, and warm, and cold only in the absence of himself.

Next to her, she could sense Gregor, solid at his core but wavering at the edges - she wondered if that was because of the spirit in his glaive, helping to guide him here. Both of them could tell that whatever Markus sensed in himself wasn’t here, so they let themselves fall deeper into him, past the flames to what seemed to be a bed of coals.

The whole while, Ashe was careful not to reach out and touch any part of Markus she could avoid. She wasn’t sure what the contact might cause, or if she might hurt him. So she reined in her own energy, keeping it tight to herself even as she searched deeper into Markus’s.

Amid the coals, she noticed that some released a blue energy that she recognized as Dont’s, while others were ash-covered, and still more remained a steady black. She reached out to the ashen ones, and was flooded with mundane sensations - hands tingling from the bleach he used to clean, chest tight while turning away from his parents, the burn of alcohol at the back of his throat, the joy of cashing his first legitimate check. Ashe left it alone, not wanting to intrude. Clearly those were fine, which just left the black ones. She turned her attention to those, and - claws carving through flesh, his sword sinking into a body, more and more power calling to him, knowing that no one could dare defeat him, a thirst to display all he could do and watch everyone cower before him, welcoming the rage that meant he could use all of himself -

Ashe grimaced and cast her energy towards Gregor’s. He joined her, and together, they focused on the black coals, doing what they could to break them apart and destroy them. It was long work, and tiring, as it was difficult to pick out the corrupted coals without disturbing the rest. Ashe tried to minimize the amount she touched the other parts of Markus, but she still picked up on certain things - a need to be safe, collecting info he could use in a pinch, doubting every decision, an urge to help others, afraid of messing up, afraid to lose what he had, comfort as he sat next to Kyr and pieced together a small device, wanting to protect Inien, wanting to defend Ashe, lasting guilt over how he treated Gregor…

She tried to ignore those, to respect Markus’ privacy, but the deeper they went to burn out the corruption, the more visceral and vivid the sensations became.

Finally, they found what seemed to be the last bit of corruption. “You’ll do.” The words echoed in her head, Inien the Witch’s voice repeating over and over again, grating and bringing with it a terrible, creeping sense of agony. Ashe grit her teeth and focused, her energy entwining with Gregor’s as they worked to crumble it away, letting the flames of Markus’s soul burn the dust and rid himself of the last of what ate away at him.

Their job done, Gregor and Ashe retreated back to themselves. When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurry with tears. She wiped them away, then realized that the guys were crying too.

“Better?” she asked quietly, looking up at Markus.

He nodded, and pulled them both to him in an embrace. “Yeah. Thanks, both of you.”

Ashe pushed away after a moment, not sure if she could handle the extra contact. She still had no idea what to do with everything she’d felt, everything she’d learned. “It’s the least we could do.”

Gregor nodded. “Yeah.” He looked thoughtful, and stepped away from them. “I’m… glad we could help you, Markus. Thank you for letting us.”

Markus wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just turned to Ashe. “May I?” he asked, gesturing at Inien’s dagger.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Thog said, watching them. “You should take time to get used to how you are now, learn what’s changed, before you go messing with more corrupted things.”

“I have to do this,” Markus insisted.

Ashe nodded, and handed the blade to the Rogue. “Just be careful, alright?”

He smiled. “Like I’m ever reckless,” he teased, before turning his focus to the blade.

At first, nothing seemed different than when he’d tried to purify it before. It was still dark all the way through, and still seemed to want to consume him. But he was patient now, and knew he had to have a gentle hand. Feeling what his friends had done for him, he had a better idea of how to approach this.

Finally, he realized that parts of the knife’s energy shied away from him, bending back and curling in on itself. When it did, the rest seemed to surround those portions as well, tearing at them and covering them. So that’s your game, he thought, and reached out to the parts trying to surround him. He let his energy press against it, burning his way through it. The darkness fell away in shreds, and eventually, he started to see light replacing it.

After a while, he noticed that not all of the darkness was disappearing. He almost redoubled his efforts, until he realized that the parts not burning away weren’t actually shadows - they were like bits of writing, tying the energy of the rest of the knife together, guiding its flow and ebb. He could even sense a curiosity from it, a need to learn from and absorb everything around it.

Amused by the true nature of the blade, the remaining energy of Inien’s original Guardian Spirit, he finished his work quickly. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to tell the difference between the gentle interest of the knife and the all-consuming possessiveness of its corruption.

He finished, and when he looked down at the blade, the red stain on it was gone. He glanced to the others, and smiled as he saw Dont had finally shown up, floating between Gregor and Ashe as they all watched him, although she seemed very tired. It was almost like she’d just woken up before coming out here, the lucky pigbat. He held up the knife. “What do you think, Hedwig?”

Dont snorted at him, but flew closer and peered at the dagger. “It’s… Definitely calmer,” she admitted. “Good job, Markus! Your first purification!” She turned towards Kyl’il. “What do you think? Should we make Inien a Guardian as well?”

The light spirit pursed her lips, considering. Before she could answer, Inien spoke up. “I’d rather not.”

“Why, though? I thought you wanted to help them!” Dont said, moving closer to her - though she was careful to stay a few feet away, wary of Jay as he focused on her.

“I do, but…” Inien shrugged. “I want to on my own merit, not a spirit’s. And…” She shuddered. “When I touched the knife, I got some memories back. What I did - it’s still strong in my mind, and I can’t shake it. I don’t want that kind of power until I know I can handle it. I don’t want to be like how I was.”

“An admirable idea,” Kyl’il said. “And one I must agree with. You are showing quite a lot of strength, tempted Inien.”

She grimaced at the name, then turned to Markus. “If it’s okay, though, I’d like to keep the knife. Just in case.”

Markus started to hand it to her, but then pulled back and looked at Thog. “What do you think, boss?”

Thog shrugged. “At least I’ll know she has it, this time.” He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “Just. You can keep it,” he said to Inien, “if you let me help you learn magic. It’s risky to be messing with this stuff on your own. You never know what attention you might attract.”

“Sure thing, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes and then smirking as Thog shuddered.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled.

Markus laughed and handed the knife to Inien. Then he looked to the sky, and realized the sun was already starting to go down. He let out a low whistle. “How long did that take?”

“Long enough.” Thog rolled his shoulders and neck, and all of them could hear his joints popping slightly. “And I’ve had enough excitement for today. We’re going home.” He and Inien walked away, Thog’s form shifting into his spirit one as they approached the edge of the isle.

Kyl’il watched them, then turned her attention to Dont and the three Guardians. “You all have earned your rest,” she said. “I thank you again.”

“Just tell us next time, please?” Ashe said. “We’ll fight whatever spirit tries to pick a fight with you for telling us things, but I don’t want this to happen again.”

Kyl’il actually laughed, the sound low and startling like the crackling of coals. “Very well, then. You’ve earned that much.”

Gregor shook his head, stifling a yawn. “Thanks,” he said, although he sounded slightly unnerved. “Shall we, then?”

“Yeah.” Markus turned to follow them, startled when Dont flew over and landed on his shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

“I just wanted to…” Dont paused, her snout scrunching up as she considered something. “I wanted to thank you for saving Ashe, before. Miss Kyl’il told me you acted rashly, and recklessly, and not at all how you would prefer to be, but if there’s one thing that can bring out that part of you, I’m glad it’s for her sake.”

“For both of them,” Markus corrected in a whisper. “But I appreciate it, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Dont gave him an affectionate headbutt, then left him to ride on Ashe.

The rest of their walk passed silently, and once they used the boat, he let his transformation drop. “I’ll see you guys later,” he said, taking out his phone. “I’ve got to do something normal for a bit before the adrenaline wears off.” He raised his phone to his ear as he walked away. “Hey, Kyr! You’re never going to believe what happened, do you have any dinner plans? No? Great!”

The three of them watched him walk away, and then dropped their own transformations. Ashe stretched as she did, frowning at the stiffness she still felt, and the bruises still on her arms. “Great,” she mumbled to herself, pulling her sleeves down to cover them.

“Hopefully these’ll clear up,” Gregor said, touching his cheek and wincing. His own bruise was still there, opposite his scar. “Do you want a ride home, Ashe? Once we get to the museum and get my car, I don’t mind.”

“That’d be great, yeah.” She paused, looking at him. Something was different, but she wasn’t sure what for a moment. “Wait. Is that a new coat?” she asked, finally realizing that he wore a leather coat, much fancier and more stylish than his previous worn-and-puffy winter jacket.

Gregor rubbed the back of his neck. “Captain Camberwell got it for me as a Christmas present,” he admitted. “Didn’t you notice it before?”

Ashe shrugged. “I don’t really pay attention to what people wear. It took me like, three months to notice when Aeva started doing the whole goth thing, and even then it was only because everyone else was teasing her for it.”

“Wow, and I thought I had a bad attention span,” Dont chirped.

“Shut up,” Ashe grumbled, although she was smiling. She was quiet for a few seconds, then looked at Gregor out of the corner of her eye. “Do you ever… Consider it? Telling her about the spirit stuff?”

Gregor shrugged. “Of course I do. But then I think about how, even if she did believe me, it would throw everything into disorder. The police have no way to battle spirits, but they have to keep the citizens safe. And what if it got bumped up to being something the military handled? It would just cause a lot more problems than it would solve, from what I’ve seen. Although, thinking about it now, I can kind of see how people might’ve been taken in to follow Max. He was going to give them a way to fight back without having their own magic.”

Ashe crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, but most spirits are just acting on instinct. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a malevolent one that’s like Thog, or Kyl’il.”

“And if we ever do, then I might consider telling Azura. For now, though…” He shrugged. “It’s better to keep it to myself, I think. Safer.”

“Safer, yeah.” Ashe sighed, and suddenly shivered as she realized how cold it was. Even with her own jacket on, she could feel it. “I just really wonder, sometimes.”

Gregor took off his coat and dropped it over her shoulders. “You’ll make the right decision,” he said as she looked up at him. “Just don’t rush it, and they’ll be fine.”

She pulled the coat closer around herself, mulling everything over. As always, it seemed like too much to handle, but if she’d lasted this long, she could keep going. She had to. She took a deep breath, before smiling at him.

“Thank you.”

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 13 pt 1 - Another week of doubles for Concept Art Sundays! this week we got to see Colvin in his battle attire - which is mostly just an old Truths jacket, some cloth, and the gloves Maxis got him. They have the Duskcove symbol on them.

And THOG! He is a spirit, after all, so he has a spirit form. It ended up looking very... Ben 10. When he first took a form, he was known as Garrisons. At some point later, he picked up the name Thog.

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 13 part 1 - Descent of the Moon

Summary: There’s no time to rest from their recent ordeal before the Guardians return to Duskcove.

Word count: 6100

Warnings: Blood, death, violence

At first, I thought it was a shadow. It was only when the faintest light began dancing around my ankles that I realized what it truly was - a flame so dark, so dim, that it only resembled a shadow.

I narrowed my eyes and scowled at it. "You're not fooling anyone."

The not-shadow exploded with a flash, moving and dancing intricately as sparks of red and yellow and orange spun themselves together into form. My expression remained stoic as always. This was quite clearly a show, an attempted display of power or ability or whatever stupid thing it was spirits cared about. I was not impressed.

"You're not corrupted. What are you doing here?" I crossed my arms with a disdainful eyebrow raise.

The smile formed first, so wide it almost cut its face in half. Its hair spiraled upward into a mass of streaked flame, just above wide eyes that immediately set to studying me as it glided across the floor.

"Why, hello," the spirit crooned as I adjusted my posture ever so slightly, more aggressively. "A new Guardian?"

"By your standards, I'm sure."

Its grin widened. Many years later, my apprentice would get that same look in his eye that this spirit held. "I like you. You've got a bite."

"I don't care what you think. What are you doing here?"

"I've not been tainted, so I don't believe I owe you that knowledge. My name, though, is Orien, if it concerns you in the slightest."

It didn't.

"If there's no corruption here, then I'm leaving." I unfolded my arms and corrected my bookbag's strap. It peered at the bag with interest.

"Oh, a student of Vivefsi, if I'm not mistaken. They've got a good taste in humans, if you're the standard to go by."

I frowned. "I'm hardly a student of theirs, for one thing - "

"Ah!" Orien pulled back in exclamation. "Then you've got so much still to learn!"

" - Because I've taken to learning myself. Selective information is hardly of use to me. The library contains hundreds of books on whatever I care to know."

"But the library is hardly a start." Its grin grew wider, eyes brightening with interest. "What can beat a first hand account, the proficiency of experience?"

It eyed the pristine white dagger I held in my right hand. As it drew nearer, moving to grab my arm, I adjusted my grip so that the blade faced it. It paused.

"I remember Vivefsi. Drawled on too much for my liking. Either deafened you with useless facts or silence. Have you, for example," it continued, "considered... not having a spirit companion?"

"It's crossed my mind," I responded in a tone that held only the slightest interest. "Though there's no way to achieve it that I can see. Too much focus on trinkets and bindings."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong!" I glared. It did not seem to care. "A Guardian's weapon is created by their spirit companion, using a little bit of themselves at its core. There is only one way to kill a spirit - with its own magic."

It gestured to my dagger. "And, I'm sure you must have read, that magic of the same kind is drawn together, though my experiments on the subject remain inconclusive."

At once, the stream of memories were broken, and I could taste it - void, power, magic... infamy.

And then Inien, this Inien, turned to me, smiling a jagged and all-knowing smile, before the world dissipated. I was left lying on Thog’s couch, with the weary fatigue of cognizance, blanketed by the heavy smell of coffee, and the faintest taste of copper on my tongue.

-----

The stench of sulfur surrounded the three of them as they popped back into the museum parking lot. Markus staggered, and Ashe put her arms around his torso to try and hold him up.

“Easy!” she said. “Easy, you did it, we’re back okay.”

“Yeah.” Markus stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. “But we’re not done yet.”

Gregor checked over his car, glad to see that it hadn’t been damaged in last night’s fighting. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“We have to see Kyl’il.”

“Are you kidding?” Ashe gently helped Markus to the ground, propping him up against Gregor’s car. “You’re barely awake as it is. I don’t know how you managed to transform again and get us all the way back here. You need rest, Markus.”

“Yeah, but…” He pointed upwards, to the streetlight next to them. “How come she hasn’t checked on us yet? Something might be wrong.”

“Dammit, you’re right.”

Gregor handed Ashe his keys as he walked over to them. “Here, you unlock it, I’ll help him get in.” He stifled a yawn. “We all need sleep, but we can’t leave things as they are. Even if Kyl’il did come to us, we’d need to figure out what that all was about last night.”

Ashe grumbled but did as she was told, opening up the back door. It was a strange sight, Markus with his horns and claws in the seat of a car, and the oddity of it made her smile despite everything. She returned Gregor’s keys and got into the passenger seat, her leg bouncing impatiently for the drive to the edge of Braeden.

They both transformed once Gregor had parked next to the worn path leading to the ruined bridge, and Ashe offered her support to Markus again, helping him walk to the boat since he had no energy left to teleport them directly across the water to Kinir.

As they got closer to the island, Ashe felt the air getting hotter, and a faint surge of electricity across her skin that gave her goosebumps. She shared a brief look with Gregor, worried, but neither of them said anything.

The three made it up the stairs carved into the cliff on the other side, only to find Kyl’il already waiting for them. She stood in a rough circle of blackened grass, and some of the flowers beyond that were wilting under the heat the spirit was emitting. Her clothes flickered like flames, sparks danced along her horns, and Ashe couldn’t look directly at her face, as her eyes seemed to burn as brightly as the sun.

Ashe started to speak, but a squealing form slammed into her chest, almost making her stumble. She looked down to see Dont, eyes twinkling with tears, and smiled. “You’re alright.”

“So’re you!” the pigbat answered, flying around the three of them as she scrutinously inspected them all. “You’re alive! I’m so… I’m sorry, I couldn’t do anything before, but you’re back and you’re okay and - !”

“It’s alright. You did what you could,” Ashe insisted, holding up her free arm. Dont landed in the crook of her arm, accepting the hug.

Looking around, Ashe also saw Thog and, next to him, a young woman. It took her a moment to recognize Inien, Jay on her shoulder and her hair still bearing that touch of white, but taller and with slightly sharper features. She seemed nowhere near as old as she had been back when Markus had still been her apprentice, but still, the sudden change in her appearance was striking. The two were standing well away from Kyl’il, outside the range of her searing energy.

“You all did well,” Kyl’il said, her voice harsh despite her words. “Considering what you’ve had to deal with.”

Ashe looked at the spirit, tired eyes focusing on her horns to avoid the pain of meeting her gaze. “What do you mean by that? You must’ve known about what was going on there, Kyl’il, that they’re doing… something with spirit energy. Why didn’t you send us after them when they first showed up?”

Gregor glanced at Ashe. “You might not want to be so accusing right now,” he mumbled.

“No, bright Aesling is right,” Kyl’il answered. “I did know that Duskcove Industries was here.” She spoke the name as if it was venom, words she hated having on her tongue. “But I could not do anything, even tell you all about them. They’re not within Braeden - even that warehouse is just on the edge of my territory. Another spirit guards the countryside, and I dare not anger them. It is an ugly thing, when spirits war with each other.”

Gregor shook his head. “But they’re a human company, right? And why would that other spirit allow them to exist?”

“Some of us don’t interact directly with mortals, or only care about their affairs when they affect that spirit’s being as well as their domain.” Kyl’il’s voice grew quieter, and a feral smile crossed her face. “But all of you are my own, even if you use young Dont’s power, as she is my apprentice. An attack on you is an attack on me, and I am allowed to retaliate even if Duskcove Industries is outside of my territory. So I will use my magic to send you to their headquarters, and you three will be the full blaze of my power, turning them to cinders that all will see in the wind, and know not to trespass against me.”

Ashe blinked. She’d never seen Kyl’il like this, and it unnerved her. Turn them into cinders. The words circled around in her head, made her want to throw up. These were humans and despite what they’d done to her, trying to imagine doing what Kyl’il wanted them to do made her feel small.

I’m only seventeen.

She looked to her friends, ragged and tired, but determined. She bit her lip as a burst of devotion seemed to flood her chest, washing away all other emotions.

For them. Anything for them.

Markus, next to her, nodded. “It makes sense. It’s about what I did.”

Gregor shook his head. “But we’re all tired. There’s no way we can do this now, especially with Markus in the state he’s in.”

Kyl’il approached them, grass burning away with each step, although she still stopped a few feet away - each of the Guardians felt uncomfortably warm, but at least they weren’t being burned. “You can, and you will, for the good of this city. I have the utmost faith in your strength.” Her voice brooked no argument.

Thog circled around Kyl’il to the three of them, Inien following him with short steps that wouldn’t disturb her falcon. “Be careful,” he warned. “The rumors say that Duskcove is collecting spirit artifacts. I met with Rat last night, to reassure the guy that I’d still buy from him even if they approached me with some kind of deal. There’s no way to be sure what’s going on, if some of the spirits have been tricked or are working with them by choice, and you all know just how varied spirits can be.”

Markus, Ashe, and Gregor each nodded, slowly. We don’t really have a choice, do we? Ashe thought. She wanted to go home and sleep, let the nightmares of the day wash away with her dreams, but at the same time, she knew Kyl’il and Markus were right. They had to take care of this now, before something larger happened. The whole situation frustrated her, but at least she could use her anger to work past her weariness.

“I want to go too.” Inien’s voice cut through the sudden quiet, drawing everyone’s attention.

Thog glared at her. “Absolutely not,” he said, at the same time as Markus.

Gregor looked at her, concerned, but didn’t say anything.

“Why?” Ashe asked. “And - what happened to you, anyways?”

Inien seemed sheepish for a moment. “A magical mishap,” she said quietly, tugging on the end of her braid. But then she looked at each of them, her eyes bright and her voice sure. “I’ve been studying, since I recovered from my coma. And I need to see this, what all of you are fighting, what you’re risking for everyone. I want to help you. I can cast a few spells already - I even fixed Jay’s wing!” She smiled as the bird crooned happily, and raised her hand to pat his talons.

“You… you broke the lock on my books,” Thog grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he realized it. “Do you have no respect for privacy?”

Inien shrugged by way of answer, and Thog said something else, too quietly for Ashe to hear. But that wasn’t her concern at the moment. She looked at Kyl’il, questioning.

“Tempted Inien is not one of my Guardians, or a spirit in my realm, or a human threatening it. This decision is not mine to make,” she said.

“More help wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Ashe admitted. “And we gave Markus a chance almost right away, why not Inien? Especially if she has figured out some magic already.”

Gregor crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you really considering this? Even with that mishap, Inien’s still clearly a kid.” He glanced at her. “Maybe even still younger than you, Ashe. We can’t put anyone else at risk with us, especially since this is something so much larger than a simple purification.”

“Spells can be worked from a decent distance. We’ll just keep Inien behind us, and she can help without putting herself in too much danger. Markus is barely able to stand on his own, and you and I only got sleep because we were knocked out last night. We need the help.”

Inien stepped closer to Ashe, matching her expression as the Thief glared at Gregor and Markus. “You can’t argue against that.”

“And you, patient Garrisons?” Kyl’il suddenly said, looking to her side.

Ashe turned, distracted, and tensed up as she saw another spirit - a strange being, face half-shrouded by an odd cloak and watching her with four empty, blue eyes. Sharp spines that curved out from rough hide, a plate-like substance across its stomach and under its tail, and golden jewelry that seemed to almost wrap around it like chains. She stared as Dont left her to circle around the spirit curiously, then realized Thog wasn’t around anymore. “What’s going on?”

Gregor followed her gaze, taking up supporting Markus as Ashe let go of him to call her sword to hand. “Where did you come from? What happened to Thog?”

“I’m still right here. And I’m just Thog, Kyl’il. I have been for a long time.” The deadpan that came from the spirit, though its voice was harsher, clearly matched the curator’s familiar tone. “This is simply my natural form - I wasn’t sure if I could take it since the two of us became one, but I suppose it works.” He straightened up some, suddenly gaining a couple inches of height before looking at each of them in turn. “If my ward is going, I will as well, and do what I can to Iimit trouble.”

Dont flew back to Ashe, then to Gregor and Markus, circling them hesitantly. “I want to go too, but I shouldn’t. The weapons Duskcove’s guards used… They just sounded like so much screaming to me. I’d do more harm than good. Still!” A faint beam of light followed her wings as she circled them one more time, then stopped in front of each of the three and bumped her snout against their noses in turn. “For luck!” she said.

Ashe rubbed her nose, smiling at the pigbat’s enthusiasm. “Since when can you give us luck?” she teased.

Dont landed on the ground, staring up at her. “I can’t, but… Who knows, maybe spreading more of my energy over you will help somehow! Whatever I can do to help, however small!”

Kyl’il took the last few steps to stand directly before them. She still looked agitated, with sparks flickering from her horns, but she was no longer emitting enough heat to burn anything around her, and her eyes were closer to their usual glow instead of a searing brightness. She looked at Markus, considering. “I am glad for what you did, burning Markus. I saw what your actions at that factory, and I know what it cost you. I am grateful to you for being my flame, and dispelling the darkness around my Guardian.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his forehead, softly. A small imprint of her symbol glowed on his skin for a moment, then faded away.

Markus suddenly straightened, standing on his own for the first time since leaving Duskcove’s factory. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of awe and breath no longer quite as shaken.

“Twelve hours. That’s all the energy I can give you. If you do not rest after that, you will cause permanent harm to yourself,” Kyl’il explained. She held up her hand then, and a small vial etched with her flame-flower and filled with ashes appeared there. She offered it to Inien, who cautiously accepted it and tucked it into her satchel. “When you are ready to return, break this, and I will summon all of you back here. Now, are you ready?”

The five of them huddled together, Jay still clinging to Inien’s shoulder. “I believe so,” Ashe said.

“Then go, and burn with the fury of all the lights in the sky.” Kyl’il said, before chanting something in a different language. Pale light enveloped them, blocking their view of the lighthouse. It dissipated a minute later, revealing a snow-covered field with a large skyscraper just in front of them.

There was barely time to notice more than that, as guards standing by the door raised weapons at them. Ashe and Gregor both rushed forward, knocking the two out before they could fire.

Markus strode ahead of them, to the glass doors. “Don’t see a doorbell,” he commented, casually drawing his sword from the depths of his cape. “So let’s announce ourselves.” He struck the doors, sending pieces of glass clattering to the floor.

“Did you have to warn everyone in there?” Thog said.

“I’ll do whatever I can to hurt anyone here,” Markus answered coldly. “If they refuse to run, it’s not my problem.”

Ashe glanced at him, then returned her gaze to what remained of the doors, wary in case they were rushed by more guards. “Just be careful,” she said, unable to think of an argument that might cool his rage.

Their group proceeded forward. Inside was a large, empty chamber. No greeting desks, no guards, just bare floor and walls. At the end were two spiral staircases, one leading upwards and one going down. “Which way should we head?” Gregor asked.

“Down,” Inien said, Jay taking off for the stairs the second the word left her lips. At the odd looks she received, she shrugged. “If you’re going to hide stuff, put it in the basement, right? Upstairs would be offices, for appearance’s sake.”

Thog shook his head, his heavy tail thumping the floor once in aggravation. “You and I really need to talk about even the vague intuition stuff you remember.”

Inien shrugged again, then fell behind everyone else as they moved towards the stairs. They had to go one at a time, Gregor in the lead. The stairs descended seemingly without end, and Inien lost count after enough to cover three floors. She let her mind wander, trying to ignore the tense feeling in her shoulders.

-------

The small white creature hovering near my head seemed, to their credit, somewhat confused. I continued to relax in a nonexistent chair before the flickering screen - that was, somehow, getting a signal - and finally, they spoke up. “Where did you get that, Inien?” “For the millionth time, Tori. Or even just Victoria. We’ve been over this, Vivefsi, I’m only Inien while I’m transformed.” I then shrugged and smiled. “I got it... around. I’ll tell you if you tell me where you get your books.” Vivefsi paused for a moment, each of its six ears twitching at once and eight nondescript blue eyes possibly studying me. “Point. So why is it here?” I gestured to the television. “We don’t have one at home, and I don’t think it would go over well if I just showed up with one.” They moved closer, almost over my shoulder. “What are you watching? It seems… somewhat childish for someone of your age.” “It’s some kids show, yeah, but it’s the only good thing that they show on Saturdays.” I threw my hands to either side as the screen flickered brightly. “Come on! These villains are such idiots. If they just used a damn gun or something they’d beat these kids half their age. Or even just got competent help!” Oh the irony. The spirit tilted their head and just seemed more confused. I patted the floor beside me. “You can watch with me, if you want. Shows like this may not be your thing, but they air a lot of nonfiction stuff, too. I’m sure there’s something you’d like.”

They settled onto the wooden floor, wings and tail tucking in uncertainly. There was another bright flash as something on screen exploded. They frowned. “That’s not even remotely in accordance with the laws of physics! How could they - “ “Says the tiny floating spirit.” They looked at me, ears bending in a way that I figured was to be interpreted as a glare. I laughed.

-------

At the bottom of the stairs was another large chamber, although this one was narrower than the entrance. Inien was the last to leave the staircase, and as soon as her feet touched the floor, an alarm started blaring.

Inien backed up onto the stairs, only to hear a loud clatter above her. She looked up and saw a metal grate slide over the top of the stairs, barring them from retreating. She reached for the spellbook in her bag, even as Jay started circling near the ceiling.

Ashe, Markus, and Gregor moved closer together. Thog kept a few feet away from them, his eyes shifting focus quickly as he tried to notice the entirety of the room.

The alarm continued to sound as panels along the walls slid back, revealing multiple small tunnels. A rumbling seemed to emit from each, shaking the world around them - after a moment it became clear that it was an angry, inhuman growling. All at once, dark shapes emerged from the tunnels: twisting, inky beings, canine in form but with no discernable features besides mouths. The growls turned into barks as they scented the three Guardians and their companions, rushing at them.

Thog punched the first to leap at him, only to be tackled by two more. He let out his own feral growl as he wrestled them, trying to free himself. Ashe tried to move to help him, only to be cornered by three of them herself. She scowled and slashed at them with her sword. The shadow-hounds whined in pain, but the cuts she made quickly healed and they lunged at her. She had to use the bulk of her blade to fling them away from her.

Gregor wasn’t faring much better, having to act defensively because any damage he did was superficial to the hounds. Markus, however, was throwing his fireballs at them, and the ones he hit would yelp and limp or move sluggishly after. Above them, Jay continued to circle, diving at any of the hounds that tried to flank the three and trying to distract them before the hounds could use their numbers to overwhelm them.

Inien, meanwhile, paged through her book until she found a spell that looked promising. She reached for the energy that she still barely understood, the core of herself that she wanted to control, and focused it outwards as she recited an incantation. “Breath of the north, sight of the mountains, still their blood and freeze!”

Loud creaks filled the air as ice started to encase the shadow-hounds, stopping them in their tracks. The ones not affected by the spell panicked then, and ran back into their tunnels. The alarm stopped a moment later.

Ashe took a breath and turned to look at Inien. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Inien said as Jay returned to her shoulder. She tucked her spellbook under her other arm and descended the stairs to rejoin the group. “Is everyone alright?”

Thog grunted as he got to his feet from under one of the frozen hounds. A few deep scratches ran across his thick hide, the wounds shedding pale blue blood. “Well enough,” he said.

Markus walked forward and hit one of the frozen hounds with the pommel of his sword. It shattered into pieces, and he nodded to himself. “Just give me a moment,” he told them, raising his arm to strike another.

Gregor grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t. They’re only doing what they’ve probably been trained to.”

“They’re a part of Duskcove,” Markus answered coldly. “I won’t leave anything here to follow us.”

“But we don’t know what they are - what if they’re pieces of a corrupted spirit? Or just normal dogs with a spell on them?” Gregor shuddered as he thought about it. “Spirits usually dissipate when we defeat them, right? Why are these staying here as you destroy them, even with the spell? We can’t just act blindly. We have to take care for anyone we might be hurting.”

“Don’t worry too much,” Thog said, before Markus could answer. His eyes had a faint glow to them, as did his claws. “There’s no life in these things. They’re… chimeras, I believe, humans used to call beings like this. Artificial. Created by magic, but with no spark of life in them.”

“And,” Ashe added, touching Gregor’s shoulder. “We don’t want Inien’s spell wearing off and them coming after us, right?”

The warrior nodded after a moment. “You’re right.” He let go of Markus’s wrist. “Okay, let’s take care of these, and keep going.”

The door at the other end of the chamber was unlocked. The next room was lined with shelves, each holding a canister with either glowing white liquid or wisps of something smoky inside them. Ashe approached a shelf, frowning as she looked at it. “What do you guys think these are?” she asked, turning to them.

Thog, Markus, and Inien were all tensed up. Thog had his weight forward, almost crouched over the ground, looking ready to lunge at something. Inien was simply frozen, her eyes wide, and Markus’s hand was white-knuckled as he tightened his grip on his sword.

“I’m not sure, but it’s…” Markus shook his head and growled, his voice unusually rough. “It’s something evil, I can sense that.”

“It’s filtered,” Inien said. “I can…” She closed her eyes, vague flashes of equations and circles coming to mind. “M-my memories keep flickering through my head. It’s something similar to what I researched, before, I think.” She took a step closer to Thog, and Jay made a worried sound. She raised her hand to lightly touch the falcon’s wing, trying to reassure him. “I’m not sure beyond that, but it shouldn’t exist.”

Thog bared his teeth as he moved forward. “Spirits,” he grumbled. “It’s all spirit energy. There’s… No wonder Dont was so shaken. Even I can hear their screams, and she’s much more sensitive than me.” He raised one claw to tap at a canister. “It’s so many.” Again, his eyes and claws started emitting a faint light. “Their forms were taken from them, and they’ve been forced together.” As he spoke, his words became angrier and angrier, full of more emotion than any of them had heard before. “No body, no source, nothing to cling to - it’s the worst thing you could do to a spirit that’s started to become its own self.” He slammed his fist against one of them, but it merely rocked in its place, undamaged.

“And if I ask you all to break them, the energy released would probably drive us all mad before it evaporated.” He turned towards the far wall, where another door waited for them. “Let’s just keep moving for now.” He started walking, Inien following him closely.

Ashe shared a look with Gregor and Markus. Markus shrugged, and Gregor had a frustrated expression, but none of them could think of anything to say for now, so they followed as well.

“Stay behind us,” Ashe reminded Inien as they caught up.

The teen rolled her eyes, but complied, pausing to let the three Guardians move ahead of her.

The door at the far end of the room led into a hallway. They proceeded cautiously, halting and waiting every few steps to make sure there was nothing trying to rush them. Finally, after about five minutes, they rounded another corner into a third large room, as bare as the entrance had been.

A familiar figure waited in the center of the chamber - a strange purple jacket across his shoulders, bare hands wrapped in blue gloves, long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. His single, orange eye shone with an expression Ashe couldn’t read, and to either side, Duskcove guards flanked him, their weapons immediately locked on the Guardians. Ashe stopped when she saw him, her eyes narrowing and a heavy weight settling over her shoulders. “What’re you doing here?” she said, her voice high-pitched in shock.

“What I have to,” Colvin answered, his voice so quiet they could barely hear him. He inclined his head, just slightly, and the guards fired.

Ashe backed towards Inien, with her sword up to block the shots coming at them, as her other companions dodged and moved closer to attack. Jay’s wing clipped her cheek as he flew ahead as well, shrieking a challenge as he aimed his talons for the nearest guard’s eyes.

Markus teleported behind the group, and managed to get a sneak attack in that dropped one of the guards. As quickly as he had been, Colvin was suddenly in front of him, and Markus barely managed to dodge his blow.

Ashe waited a moment to be sure no one else was aiming towards Inien, then joined her friends. Take out the small fry first, she thought, focusing on the nearest guard, who had their own attention on Thog. She struck the guard’s arm, making them yell and drop the gun, but not before they got a shot off.

Thog was a second too late in sidestepping, and the burst of energy caught his leg. He howled in pain, and for a moment, his body seemed to waver, silhouette becoming fuzzy and unclear at the edges. He curled in on himself, sinking his claws into his arms and drawing blood. The pain seemed to help him collect himself, and he immediately rushed at the guard, slicing at their chest.

“You alright?” Ashe asked, lifting her eyes to pick out a new target.

“Yeah.” Thog gestured towards Gregor, who was trying to flank Colvin while he tried to corner Markus even with the rogue’s teleporting. “I’ll help them. You cover me.”

“Gotcha.” As Thog charged forwards, Ashe went for the next Duskcove guard. She aimed for wrists and arms as much as possible, trying to strike with the flat of her sword. She’d rather break bones than kill, and without their spirit-weapons she doubted the guards could do much to any of them.

Occasionally she noticed a flicker of flame, or a rush of air, as Inien whispered incantations that at least distracted the other guards, if not knocked them out. Jay kept up his own attacks, screaming warnings as someone just out of her line of vision aimed at Ashe, giving her just enough time to jump to the side and switch her target.

Finally, the only opponent left standing was Colvin, surrounded by Ashe’s teammates. Thog was panting heavily, on all fours, his tail lashing back and forth as he waited for an opening. Gregor had all of his armor on but was pale from exertion, a dark bruise on his cheek. Markus had broken one of his horns, but his sword had been knocked from his hand, and he clutched his side as he knelt on the ground, teeth bared in a snarl. Colvin, for his part, seemed reluctant to strike first, his arms up in a defensive stance.

“Ashe!” Markus shouted, seeing her. “We need more power - break your bindings!”

My bindings? Ashe’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt ice in her veins. Sensations rose to the front of her mind - a swirling tempest, a thousand thousand deaths all weighing on a pinprick of light, a vague loss as more energy was pulled from her and into a twisting mass of blue and gold, a white-masked shadow looming over her, a voice that never left her alone, “Weak, burdensome, never enough” -

She stumbled as something struck her back. She whirled, raising her sword, only to see Inien there. “You can’t be more useless than me here,” the brunette hissed quickly. “So hurry up and use more of your power!”

Ashe slowly nodded, steeling herself. She turned towards Colvin again, two of the bands around her arms falling away. She felt her ears changing shape and sliding up on her head, could see the flow of energy in the room. There was so much, lasting trails from the Duskcove weapons along with a faint blue aura around Colvin, and the paths her allies had taken during the fight. The thinnest string of flame that tied her and Markus and Gregor together, and a twinge of yellow that did the same with Inien and Jay.

“Let us by, Colvin,” Ashe said, as green sparks danced along her sword.

He met her gaze, single eye burning. “Sorry, but I can’t.”

“Fine, then.” Ashe rushed at him, as behind him Markus managed to stand and throw one of his shadow-daggers at Colvin, just slightly to the side so he couldn’t dodge that way.

Colvin raised his arm to block her, barely reacting as Ashe’s sword cut into his wrist. She pushed some of her energy at him, using the contact as a focus, and he did flinch at the lightning arcing at him and along his arm.

Thog and Gregor took their chance to attack then, Thog swinging low and Gregor using his glaive to strike at Colvin’s shoulder. He twisted away from Gregor’s attack, but Thog managed to bowl him over, and he slid along the floor on his back.

Colvin made no move to get back up, cradling his cut and singed arm against his chest. “...Good job,” he said after a minute. He closed his eyes and relaxed, a wry smile crossing his face. “I’m sorry I had so many people with me. It wasn’t a fair fight. So I’ll tell you to be careful - the person up ahead isn’t someone you want to face while already worn down.”

Inien was the first to move closer to him. “Why are you even here?” she asked, repeating Ashe’s thought from before.

“Maxis - he’s the head of Duskcove - took me in after the Truths disbanded,” Colvin said. Even as all five of them circled him, he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “My energy was out of control, because it had no idea how to react to Legan’s transformed spirit, but having his eye forced that interaction. I was constantly having fits and breakdowns because I didn’t realize there was magic happening. I barely knew there was magic...”

Markus’s scowl deepened. “So, what, you can overlook him exploiting spirits or whatever the hell is going on here?”

Colvin shook his head. “I probably would’ve died or gone insane without Max’s help. Despite what he’s doing here, I owe him my life. So I had to make an effort to defend him when he said he expected trouble. I pay my debts.”

Ashe knelt next to Colvin, and gently squeezed his uninjured shoulder. “Thanks for the warning,” she said, trying to shove her own anger at the situation away. “Get some rest, Colvin. Sorry about your arm.”

He looked down at the cut, and chuckled to himself. “I’ve had worse. Good luck, all of you.”

Ashe stood, and looked at her friends. “Everyone ready?”

Gregor rested his glaive against his shoulder. “As much as I can be.”

Inien, Thog, and Markus each made their own agreements.

“Right. Then let’s go meet this Max guy,” Ashe said, taking the lead into the next room. Even as light lit the corridor between them, it seemed unusually dark - a gaping darkness just beyond the doorway that consumed all that dared enter.

END OF PART 1

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 12: this was an old idea. this episode was SUCH an old idea and this is concept art i did when it first came up

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 12 - Rampage

Summary: When his friends disappear, Markus goes on a campaign of war, even drawing on magic he swore to never touch again.

Word count: 5500

Warnings: Brutality, extreme violence, bloodlust, death

“So,” Markus said after a long moment of silence. “How’re things?” “Things’re good.”

He and Inien sat, relaxed, in Thog’s bland, white living room - the curator had gone out on a meeting and asked Markus to keep an eye on his charge. The blond couldn’t help but feel as if he were being tested, waiting with Inien in Thog’s home instead of the museum, but it was nice. If he were being tested, he was being trusted, and if there was anything he could be trusted to do, it was protect the few he was privileged enough to call friends. Even if it meant an awkward attempt at small talk.

“What have you been up to? School doesn’t start until January, right?”

Inien seemed to be conflicted for a moment before replying. “I’ve been… studying. Thog’s got a lot of old books. A few are just catalogues or dusty biographies but there’s some really interesting stuff.”

“Old and interesting how?” He raised an eyebrow. “Anything that’s one of those, let alone both, I thought he kept locked away? Especially the spirit-related ones.”

“I know how to pick locks.”

His eyebrow raised further.

“Or at least enough to deal with the dusty old chest he keeps them in.” Inien shrugged. “I mean - I don’t think he’d trust me with them. He doesn’t even know I know what’s in them.”

“So you want to learn magic, is that it?” It wasn’t that Markus looked distrusting - he looked interested, understanding. To whatever degree, she appreciated it.

“Well, I mean…” She averted her amber-eyed gaze from his. “I… I’m bored out of my mind and I want to help. You guys go out and - and fight, and work with spirits, and learn about all this cool, weird stuff… And I’m… almost afraid to even ask about it. Considering, y’know...”

“I can’t really blame you for that.” He leaned back against the couch, somewhat uncertain. “Just… be careful, okay? I can’t really stop you, either, because you’ll get back into them - and magic - somehow.”

She smiled, a little.

“But you don’t have a spirit to draw on like we do, and, hell, I didn’t even know you had access to magic after all… the stuff that happened. So just don’t fucking hurt yourself, alright?”

Inien huffed. “I thought Thog was bad.”

“Well excuse me for caring.” He smirked back.

“If you must know, I can do magic, and I think I’m getting the hang of it. Look, I healed Jay’s wing a bit. He can flap it properly now.” As if on cue, the bird sitting beside her happily flapped his disheveled wing. “I mean, he still can’t fly yet, but we’re getting there.”

The blond shook his head. “I never pictured you for a healer, of all people.”

“Well, it seemed helpful,” Inien pointed out. “And, you know, least likely to make me drunk with power or something.” She fidgeted with her necklace for a moment, glancing around the room. Had she just heard her name?

Markus nodded. “I’m glad that you’re putting thought into it, at least.” He frowned at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just. Distracted.” She shook her head, trying to ignore the way she felt tugged towards something - something here, somewhere, wanted her attention. Instead she asked him, “You won’t tell Thog, will you? I don’t want him trying to stop me until I know more.”

He rolled his eyes. “If he asks, I’m telling him, but I won’t just say something out of the blue. He does know how to help with this stuff, I’m pretty sure. Guy’s been around for a while.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Exactly.” He finished off his can of soda, crumpling it in his hands. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you guys keep the recycling bin in the garage, right?”

She nodded, getting an idea. She needed time alone to figure out what was going on, just a few seconds. “Oh, and tomorrow’s garbage pickup. We have the trash out already, but I think the recycling’s almost full and we forgot about it. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Markus stood and left the room. Inien waited until she heard a door close, then moved closer to his bag. Whatever she was hearing, or sensing, or something, was here. It itched at her mind, demanding her attention, and she wasn’t sure she could’ve kept herself away still even if Markus was still there.

She found it, at the bottom of the main pocket, wrapped in some heavy cloth. She carefully closed his backpack, scooted back until she sat against the sofa, and then unwrapped it. Her fingers tingled as it was revealed, a knife, white as bone save for a dark red spot on the blade.

Her hands twitched, eager to grab it, though she knew she should hide it to investigate it properly later. Under the couch would be all she could manage for now without causing suspicion. She wrapped the knife up again, carefully, and shoved it under the couch, as far back against the wall as she could reach. The cloth fell loose from it, though, and her fingers brushed against the blade. She squeaked and pulled away from it, away from the energy that suddenly reached for her like a former friend.

The first thing Inien saw when she sat up was red.

It seemed to cover nearly if not every surface - the few places that weren't that horrid shade seemed to almost flicker and fade, the colors too dim and too dull to even be seen against the gore that filled the space.

The air, too, was as thick and hot and heavy as the color. It smelled putrid, filling her lungs like liquid, and when she breathed it was almost as if she could taste it. She tried to take a deep breath, to clear her mind of whatever feeling was creeping up on it, but found she could hardly manage more than the slightest gasp before her throat seemed to close up on her.

A pressure squared down on her shoulders and her mind and she squeezed her eyes tight, the darkness behind closed lids still tinted as images flickered past. She felt her dagger in her hand, a smile on her lips, the scent of death in the air; she felt a great roar shake the world, a loving hunger growing in her chest, and nothing to see but the future before her; she saw a small creature with its white fur painted like a canvas and bleeding moonlight, a man with her blade in his stomach, a boy with anger in his eye and tears on his cheeks as red blossomed in a scar across his face.

She felt the world crashing down on her, like the bursting of a floodgate that all at once seemed to overtake her.

She saw her own hands stained with blood, and a strange welling began in her chest - so distant, but so familiar.

Still drowning in the red, Inien passed out.

-----

Even though it was barely six o’clock, the sun was down and the museum’s windows were dark. Ashe leaned against the glass of the front doors, hands over her eyes so she could see past the glare cast by the security lights overhead. She tapped on the glass, but already knew there wouldn’t be an answer.

“I think no one’s here,” Dont said, her own snout pressed up against the glass.

“We could break in and check,” Ashe muttered.

“What, for old times’ sake? I don’t think Thog would appreciate it.”

Ashe shrugged and turned around, just in time to see a familiar car pulling into the lot. She approached as Gregor got out, his own expression mirroring her own confusion. “Seems we had the same idea,” she said, grinning at him.

Gregor waved up at Dont, circling overhead, then frowned at Ashe. “Markus isn’t here? Or Kyr? I thought they were turning the lounge into a lab or something.”

Ashe shuddered, thinking of the random piles of parts and wires that were slowly accumulating in the museum basement. “I hope that’s not their end goal. Small projects is one thing, but a whole lab? No way would Thog go for it.”

Gregor laughed. “True.” He looked around, surveying the area. “You know, I probably should’ve texted Markus to see if he was here before driving over.”

“That makes two of us.” Ashe leaned against his car, shaking her head amusedly. “It’s weird. I just got used to him living here, and now we have to think of him having a life? Jerk.”

He snorted at her sarcastic tone. “Not all of us live and breathe spirit stuff.”

“Yeah.” Ashe sighed and pulled on the sleeves of her jacket, good mood suddenly replaced with frustration. “He’s lucky. The only people he knows are already in.”

Gregor turned towards her. “You think so? Because I think it might cause more worry, with how we draw trouble to ourselves.”

“Better than not being able to tell your friends anything about why you’re never around.”

“Ashe…” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s difficult, but - ”

“No, you don’t!” She interrupted, slapping his hand away. “You really, really don’t! You have to lie too, but at least your best friend wasn’t attacked by a spirit. At least you haven’t dragged anyone else into this! You had to lie on one report, and change around your shifts, sure, but you can do that. I’m missing school and I don’t get to talk to anyone anymore and it sucks, Gregor! And I keep thinking I’d rather - ” She cut herself off, realizing what she was about to say. She stepped back and shook her head, letting out a frustrated groan.

“I’m sorry,” Ashe said, looking at the ground. “You didn’t deserve that. There’s just a lot right now.”

Gregor nodded, and took a moment to think. Ashe was clearly holding onto a lot, and adding to that would not be helpful at all.. As he considered, Dont drifted down, worried. She landed on Ashe’s shoulder and nuzzled up to her. Ashe smiled, barely, and grabbed the pigbat so she could hug her.

“You know,” Gregor said after an uncomfortable silence, “It’s really not good to bottle stuff up. I know you can’t go to a normal therapist. Not about all of this, obviously. And Markus and I are only so useful. But maybe - talk to Kyl’il? The stories about her make her a guide for lost travellers, right? This isn’t all that different.”

Dont nodded. “Yeah! And she has lots of experience with Guardians! I’m sorry, Ashe, I should’ve realized you needed the suggestion earlier.”

Ashe wiped her eyes on her sleeve, trying not to cry. “Maybe you’re right. Thanks.”

Dont nudged her hand. “Of course I’m right! It’s… Hold on…” She sniffed the air, her whole body suddenly tense. She wiggled out of Ashe’s arms, looking around. “You guys need to transform,” she said, beating her wings and taking flight again. “Now.”

The two did so, calling their weapons to hand immediately. Ashe looked around, trying to see whatever Dont had sensed, but she didn’t have long to wait. Multiple cars screamed into the lot, big armored trucks and vans. Ashe turned her back to Gregor’s as the vehicles formed a semicircle, with the museum their only avenue of escape.

“What the hell?” Ashe muttered.

“Just be alert, there’s something very wrong here,” Dont whispered, hovering just above them.

People jumped out of the cars, all of them dressed in armored vests and helmets. Most of them carried what looked like guns, except with glowing canisters in place of the magazines. A few at the front took aim and fired, releasing orbs of the glowing material. Ashe had just enough time to swing her sword up, blocking the blasts with the blade, though they didn’t bounce off like she expected. Instead of a small impact, she felt like something had reached out for her, tried to grab her. She grimaced and tightened her grip on her sword.

A voice shouted over the group of attackers. “Give yourselves up! We are to take you in alive, but we will fight if you refuse to come along.”

Gregor shook his head. “Who are you people? You’re trespassing.”

In answer, there were more shots. Ashe and Gregor both dodged this time, moving back towards the museum. Above them, Dont shrieked, suddenly in pain. “Murderers!” she screamed. “Enslavers, breakers, how dare you!” She made as if to dive at them, but her flight was wobbly. She retreated to the top of the arch over the entrance, sniffling. “It isn’t right!”

Ashe gritted her teeth. “They seem like humans,” she whispered.

“But they’re attacking us,” Gregor pointed out. “And Dont’s sensing something bad. I say we incapacitate them, and chase them away for good.”

“Right. After you.”

They faced the crowd of armed people, so different from their usual fights. Gregor ran at the front lines, his glaive a blur in his hands. Ashe attacked the group to his right, trying to keep the flat of her blade towards them as she struck at knees and hands and weapons.

But their foes didn’t seem to care that they might their allies, and fired again on them. A few blasts hit Ashe’s side before she could block them, and she was overwhelmed with anger and fear and bliss, all at once. She froze, not pained, but her instincts in disarray. She wanted to tear and rend these intruders apart, and flee from them, but also stand there and thank them for showing up.

She gasped as she felt a tug at her back, and suddenly realized Gregor was pulling her back towards the museum. His face was pale, his hands covered in sweat, but he was still moving and still trying to get her to move. She followed his lead, running as she heard more shots. The museum doors were still closed, but she simply shattered the glass with her sword and stepped inside.

She and Gregor paused with their backs against the wall, both of them panting for breath. “What’re they doing?” Ashe whispered.

“Surrounding us,” Gregor said, looking around the corner. “They’re taking their time, and sending a group to the back. Dammit!” He shook his head. “I don’t know what that was, but it’s - ”

“Not good,” Ashe finished for him. “It was like fighting a spirit, when those bullets hit me, everything they try to lure people close to them.”

“Or at least the non-active ones,” Gregor said. “What do we do?”

“No idea.” Ashe closed her eyes. “I think I knocked out… four of them?”

“And I got six. But there’s at least fifty.”

Dont suddenly flew into the museum, hooves over her ears and eyes shut. She banged into the front desk, squealed, and reoriented herself as she looked around. “There’s more coming!” she said as soon as she spotted the two Guardians. “And the spirits, they’re screaming, whatever the second group has, it’s worse than this group.” She whined and scratched at her snout. “There’s too many voices, I can’t pay attention to all of them!”

Ashe swore and ran over to Dont, even though it put her within sight of the doors. “It’ll be okay,” she said, kneeling to be at eye-level with the pigbat. “Just hide for now, okay, Dont? Gregor and I will take care of this. We’ll help those spirits.”

Dont nodded, although she didn’t look convinced. She opened her mouth to say something, but then a loud hum filled the air. She called a warning just before the hum became a roar, and Ashe’s senses were overwhelmed with heart-rending sorrow.

Ears ringing, tears in her eyes, the last thing she felt was metal cuffs around her wrists.

------

Markus returned to see Inien passed out on the floor, and immediately called Thog. The curator started yelling at him for interrupting his meeting, but went silent when Markus simply said, “It’s Inien.”

“Shit.” Thog took a deep breath. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t do anything but make sure she’s alive.”

That was three minutes ago. Markus kept walking back and forth between where Inien lay on the floor and the front window, flicking the curtains back to check for Thog’s car. Jay waited, perched on a bookshelf, eerily silent as he stared at Inien.

Finally, he heard the rumble of a car in the drive. Markus hurried to open the door, his hands shaking. “I don’t know what happened, I just left the room for a moment.”

Thog brushed past him and knelt next to Inien. His eyes widened, taking in that she was suddenly taller, her hair a bit longer, her face slightly more defined. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know!” Markus sat on the floor as well. “I left the room for just a minute, and then I heard a scream, and… She was like this. She’s still breathing, she doesn’t seem injured, but she did seem to be having some kind of nightmare at first. Lots of twitching and stuff.”

Thog took a deep breath. “Alright. I need to… Kyl’il and I might have to work something out.” He looked at Markus. “Just go to the museum. I’ll call you when I know more.” He glanced around, brow furrowing in concentration. “You didn’t sense anything, either?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Markus’ thoughts went to the knife in his bag. Stupid, keeping it with me. Especially here. He picked up his backpack as he stood. “Let me know if I can do anything.” He hurried outside to his motorcycle. He needed to ride - it was the easiest way to distract himself, other than using his magic.

He took a little longer to get to the museum than normal, not ready to have his feet on the ground and to be consumed with worry again. Finally, though, Markus arrived, puzzled as he saw Gregor’s car in the lot. Does he have a key here? Or did I forget to lock up? Were we supposed to meet?

He checked his phone, but he hadn’t missed anything. It was then that he noticed the lights in the parking lot were out, too. He shuddered, and cautiously approached the museum. As soon as he got close enough to see that the doors were broken, he transformed. With the comfort of magic wrapped around him, he rushed inside, tense and ready to teleport out of the way of any attack. “Gregor?” he shouted.

Markus looked around, frantic. There was blood on the floor, and scorch marks on the walls, although not the sort that Ashe’s or his own magic sometimes left. The walls were actually damaged, not just somewhat sooty. He turned, sensing something familiar, and vaulted over the admissions desk to find Dont curled up in a ball underneath it, quivering.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice high-pitched with panic.

“Ashe a-a-a-a-and Gr-Gregor…” she whimpered. She lifted her head just enough to look at him, although her eyes were glossy, staring at some point beyond him. “Overwhelmed! T-too many, too much sc-screaming. Captured…” Her wings twitched, flared out for a moment, but then she curled in on herself again. “I couldn’t! I’m sorry!”

Markus patted her on the head. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered. “I’ll find out what happened.” He wanted to pick her up and hold her until she calmed down, but wasn’t sure how she would react right now. “Just try and rest, okay, Dont? I’m sure you did plenty.” Even fighting spirits whose presence made her cringe or fly unevenly, he’d never seen this strong of a reaction out of the pigbat. It unnerved him.

He stood and looked around again, and this time he spotted them - a person in a dark purple uniform and armored vest, sprawled on the ground just inside a gallery. Markus teleported over, seeing that she was unconscious. He snarled impatiently, and placed his hand against her arm. Less carefully than he might’ve been otherwise, he sent a spark of magic through her.

The woman flinched, and her eyes fluttered open. Seeing him looming over her, horns gleaming in the moonlight coming through the windows, she cried out and reached to her side - presumably for a weapon she didn’t have anymore.

“Who are you, and what happened to my friends?” Markus asked, his voice cold and measured.

The woman yanked away from him, backing herself up against a wall. “I’m no one, and I have no idea,” she answered.

He leaned forward and grabbed her shoulder. She yelped, and he realized his claws had pierced her skin. He loosened his grip, wondering at that; he hadn’t meant to hurt her, just scare her a little. “Look, you, I have no patience for games. I - fuck!” He tasted blood. He’d actually bitten his tongue! Swearing again, he felt his teeth, and realized that his fangs were just a bit longer as well.

A side effect of my emotions? he thought, curious. But that was secondary, not as important as getting information. He stared the woman down. “You seem to be just a human. I can’t sense any magic from you. So tell me, what the hell happened here and why are my friends gone? Answer quickly, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

She stared back, but only for a moment, before breaking away from his glare with a sigh. “They aren’t worth my life. It’s Duskcove Industries. The boss wanted spirit-users, and you all seemed like the closest group. They’re probably at the new warehouse until proper transport arrives from headquarters.”

Normal humans took them out? It didn’t make sense. Markus bared his fangs at the woman. “How? There’s no way they’d lose in a fair fight.”

The woman smirked. “Our weapons aren’t normal. I don’t know how they work, exactly, but no spirit-user is any match for them.”

He snarled again and backed away from her. “Get the fuck out of here before I make sure you can’t,” he ordered.

She didn’t need a second prompting on that. She scrambled to her feet and ran past him, headed straight for the doors.

Markus shook his head and went back to the admissions desk. “Dont? You still here?” he asked, walking around it once more.

A small squeak was the only answer he got. He scowled, but tried not to let his impatience show. “I’m going to go get Ashe and Gregor. When you feel better, go see Thog, okay? Someone has to tell him what happened.”

He waited until he heard another - likely affirmative - squeak, then straightened up and looked around. He needed speed, and he wasn’t going somewhere he’d been before. Even though he hadn’t really used them before, he instinctively knew what to do. Without hesitation he reached up and gripped one of his horns, crushing it in his grasp. It shattered into pieces of pure magic that hung in the air around him before curling his way down his arm, down his back, forming wispy, shadowy wings.

Markus walked outside, unfurled his wings, and took flight. They weren’t substantial, so they didn’t tire him to use, and the wind whipping by assured him of his speed. With each hurried wingbeat, he felt his rage working into his very being, giving him more and more reason to settle this.

Someone had invaded his home. They’d attacked his friends. Whoever they were, whatever they wanted, he was going to make them pay.

He swooped over the warehouse district near the docks, but didn’t notice anything different. He kept flying, until some of the vacant lots were replaced by farm fields, and there were no more docks jutting out into the ocean. He was about to turn back, thinking that he’d missed it, when he saw a long, low building in the middle of a parking lot. It was very out of place, away from the rest of the city’s industry.

He landed in the parking lot, noting a few heavy - armored? - vans and trucks parked close to the building itself. A dull, unlit sign at the edge of the property in the same purple as the woman’s uniform declared “Duskcove Industries - Working Magic For You”.

Markus growled and threw a flickering fireball at the sign’s support struts, causing it to tilt dangerously. He turned towards the building and stalked closer, breaking his other horn as he did. On his next breath, he could sense so much more, smelling and tasting fear and tiredness, boredom and selfishness.

And, just barely, a prickle of electricity and the coolness of water. It has to be Gregor and Ashe, he thought, breaking into a run.

The door burst open as he threw his energy at it, not even bothering to shape it into a proper attack. Inside, the building seemed to be more factory than warehouse, with lots of conveyor belts and heavy machinery filling it. There were also more armored guards, with guns that looked to hold glowing ammo.

As they scrambled to get a bead on him, he teleported upwards, perching on the edge of one of the processing machines. A ball of flame formed at his fingertips, more black than blue, and he threw it at the nearest guard. He didn’t wait to see his handiwork, but couldn’t help the morbid glee when he heard a scream of pain.

A second guard got hit with a dagger made out of shadow, the black energy spreading a few inches into the veins surrounding the impact point. Another scream, another teleport, another downed security guard.

But there were dozens of them, and he couldn’t stay lucky forever. One of them managed to shoot him. Markus winced, feeling a weight on his shoulders, a sudden sadness, until his anger welled up again and he shrugged it off. He teleported close to one of the guards, drawing his sword in the same instant.

He was cocky, though, and didn’t notice their comrade with a switchblade hiding behind one of the machines. Even as Markus used the flat of his sword to break the first guard’s wrist - or at least bruise it enough to make them drop their gun - the second managed to stab him in the shoulder.

He shouted in pain and whirled on them, not thinking as he retaliated. The second guard fell.

Markus cut through the rest of them, letting his instincts take over, intent on making sure they knew he would grant no forgiveness or mercy. A few more managed to strike him, both with their glowing guns and with more ordinary weapons, but the pain only enraged him more, giving more ferocity to his strikes, more fuel to his fire. Anger no longer simply welled in his chest so much as overwhelmed him.

Through it all, he kept his mind on one goal: Find Gregor. Find Ashe. We should be a team. This isn’t some other world like before, we’re always together here, and I WILL get them back.

He didn’t dare consider any alternative, because it would mean being alone again, and that would paralyze him with fear.

Finally, he found a stairway leading down. He barely even noticed that no one was shooting at him anymore as he descended, all of the guards on the upper level defeated. Below was a large chamber, doors leading to other rooms off of it, and more guards. These ones were ready for him, holding onto what looked like small cannons instead of just guns.

“You don’t want to stand in my way,” he said, stopping, giving them one last chance.

“That’s my line,” one of the guards said. “You can surrender, and we’ll keep you with your friends. If not, well, we already have two. Killing the third won’t cost any of us.”

Markus’ tail twitched back and forth, and he flared his wings out, instinctively trying to make himself look bigger. “You have no idea what you’re provoking.”

“Neither do you.” Without warning, the guard fired, the blast hitting Markus too quickly for him to react.

He was awestruck for a moment, taken by the beauty of the world, this moment, the sense of being alive and the passion burning through his veins. He heard another blast, and the awe was replaced by fear, then joy so profound that he thought he might weep at it, until the fourth of them that fired gave him anger.

It met his own, and he snapped out of it, teleporting overhead. He was slowing down, his wounds and spent energy finally catching up to him.

This has to be quick, he thought, as he dropped down on them.

He sliced through one of the guards, and tossed a shadowy dagger at the knee of another. Before they could aim their heavy weapons at him again he teleported behind them, knocking the third to the floor by digging his claws into their chest. They fainted as blood welled past his nails. Markus turned towards the fourth, who had backed into a corner. They were quaking too much to aim properly, although they were still holding onto their weapon.

“Run,” Markus said, their fear cutting through his rage, just for a moment.

They shook their head. “No way. Not after you… you…!” They glanced towards their comrades, all down, only two of them clearly breathing.

“Fine.” Markus called up one of his fireballs, and - petty as he hadn’t been since working for Inien - pushed it into the guard’s arm, much as he had done to Ashe before they’d switched bodies.

The guard shuddered, their arm spasming. They dropped their cannon as they collapsed in a faint. Markus stared down at them until he was sure of the slight rise and fall of their chest, then turned away. He leaned against the wall, his knees trembling. I used too much, he thought. But there’s so many rooms to check. I can’t stop until I find them.

------

Ashe woke up in a dark room. There were no windows, just a door and a faint sliver of light coming from around it. She could just make out Gregor next to her, silhouetted by the glow. Both of them were handcuffed to rings in the wall, and her pin and Gregor’s badge both lay on a counter just beside the door. They were frustratingly out of reach, even with how little she could move her arms.

She sat there, tense, waiting. There was nothing else to do. Eventually, Gregor woke up as well, and managed to shift so he was at least sitting properly instead of on his knees.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“I’m the one that got knocked out first, I think,” she answered. “We weren’t prepared for that. For… whatever this was.”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “After you fainted, I tried switching to all of my armor, but… Whatever they have, it’s like it attacks your self, not your body.”

Ashe nodded.

She wasn’t sure how long they were there, but eventually, they could hear some kind of commotion. Screams and shots echoed down to them, distant at first but consistently closer until they were just outside. She edged closer to Gregor, as far as the handcuffs would let her.

Then the doorknob started glowing, white-hot, before it simply melted away. She flinched from the brightness, and when she looked up, there was Markus in the doorway.

She could see a surge of magic around his blond hair before he came fully into view - black, dancing wisps of energy that curved like horns from his forehead. Long fangs, long like his claws peeking out from between his lips. Blood - none of it seemingly his own - stained across his clothes, his hands, his skin. Even untransformed she could almost see the dark energy he exuded, a menacing, malicious black aura. His eyes shifted, cold and uncaring blue that caught on her own emerald -

And then he smiled and all the darkness, the unease, seemed at once to melt away.

He used his claws to cut through the handcuffs on both of them, careful not to nick either of them, and then pulled each of them to him in a tight embrace. His transformation blew away from him in shreds of shadow as he cried into their shoulders, sobbing and hiccupping and mumbling, “You’re alright, I made it, thank goodness…”

Ashe patted his shoulder, looking over him to the chamber outside. She could see other open doors, revealing paintings and statues and such that looked like they should’ve been at the museum. But in the main room, there were bodies, and more blood, and none of them were stirring.

She bit her lip as tears sprang to her own eyes. She rested her forehead against Markus’ shoulder, holding onto him tightly as well.

Gregor kept his expression calm as he surveyed everything himself. “Yeah, we’re okay,” he insisted. “We’re all alive. We’re here.”

The sun was rising when they stepped outside, the sky a brilliant mix of pink and orange. Together, the three of them turned away from Duskcove’s building, and back towards their home.

[elfowlgirl]

drawing i did on stream a while back of Rowan/STA!Zalvetta. they used to play piano

[spiritthiefaesling]

Break Week!

Hey everyone, sorry to disappoint, but there’s no episode this week. Like with the first season, real life things got in the way, and since we’re in the leadup to the finale we need the extra time to make sure everything’s perfect.

Similarly, there’ll be no Concept Art post this week.

Sorry for the delay, and we’ll see you next Friday!

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 11: I’m honestly not quite sure what to put here - there’s enough concept art this week for a double! Let’s see...

On the top, we have Z-Wing! Shortly after the first SPELL livestream, back when Battle of the Bands was still just a bare-bones concept, I suggested we do something with them as an enemy band. Later, it developed into being more about them versus our gang of Guardians in one massive misunderstanding. Vachon and Chriel have adorable Guardian apparel, while Krista just wears a puffy jacket, scarf, and jeans - she doesn’t mind the lack of flair.

And then our lovely band, The Shrouded Isles! In all honesty, the gang reminds me of different styles from different eras - 90s, 80s, 70s? or 00s, 90s, 80s? Anyway, Ashe has an interesting style going on (who knew she’d look so good in pink), Markus is going with what he thinks is “cool”, and Gregor’s simple.

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 11 - Battle of the Bands

Summary: It’s time to rock and roll when there’s a spirit on the line at Braeden’s annual Battle of the Bands - but is there more to the competition than it seems? 

Word count: 6700

Ashe and Dont walked into the basement together, one beaming brightly - as per usual - and the other looking slightly uncertain, hands in her jacket pockets. Gregor sat on the couch with a pile of paperwork in his lap, and Markus on a barstool in the kitchen, flicking through his phone. To Markus’ left was Inien, peregrine falcon happily perched on her head and textbook in her hands and on his right, Kyr, fiddling with a small pile of gears, gizmos, and assorted gadgets.

The two approached the kitchen’s bar, and Ashe pulled a stool around to the other side of it so she sat facing the trio. The detective got the message and stood up from his seat to join them; Inien rolled her eyes and closed her book; Kyr shuffled the pile off to the side, though he still absentmindedly continued whatever he was doing with the objects still in his hands - Dont glared quite pointedly at him for that - and Markus tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Ashe set out a sheet of paper onto the granite countertop, and looked at everyone gathered around.

“I thought Thog said after the staircase incident, Jay had to stay at home?” Ashe raised an eyebrow at Inien.

The brunette frowned back. “Well, he was feeling lonely. Thog is too busy with work today to come down here, so I doubt he’ll even notice.”

“Ahem.” Everyone’s attention shifted to Dont, who fidgeted briefly and nervously at the sudden scrutiny before she began to speak.

“It has come to my - our - attention,” Dont announced as she settled down onto the countertop, “that there is a new corrupted spirit we’re on the hunt for. It is, however, a special case - so breaking in and stealing it might not quite work.”

Ashe gestured to the sheet of paper. Its colors were vivid and vibrant to the point of being almost blinding. Sharp green letters proudly proclaimed “BRAEDEN’S 28TH ANNUAL BATTLE OF THE BANDS!!!” In smaller type, it continued, “Your chance to compete! Inherit the honored trophy! Be part of the tradition!!”

Dont pointed with her hoof to the picture of a trophy in the corner of the advertisement. “That’s the same trophy they use every year. When you win it, they engrave the name of your band on it and the year on it, and it’s passed from winner to winner. First off, the trophy is corrupted. Kyl’il’s known for the past couple years but there haven’t been any Guardians around to deal with it and it hasn’t been too harmful.

“Second, we can’t exactly just go and break into someone’s house for this, if it’s even still in the city before the competition. So our primary plan of action should be… to win the Battle of the Bands.” She paused. “And if that doesn’t work, then we can commit burglary.”

Markus’ eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to try something like that! I can play guitar, so I’m good.”

“Even if a few of you,” the pigbat glanced at Gregor and Ashe, “lack any musical ability, the magic should be there in the music. Not as much as in Phantom of the Opera, maybe, but there’ll still be some. You can take advantage of it.”

“I took a few bass lessons,” Ashe mused. “Though I’m not so sure about my singing.” At the others’ looks, she rolled her eyes. “Bass like the alternative to guitar, not the cello. I’m not that snooty, come on. Everyone else was playing guitar so I wanted to try something a bit different. I only did it for about a year, but I still remember how it goes.”

The detective looked uncertain. “I’m not so sure about this.”

"Well, Gregor, didn't you used to be part of a band a few years back?" Ashe smiled.

Gregor looked at her, returning her smirk with something that could almost resemble a glare.

"You, Wren, and that pretty redhead Azura Camberwell were in it, right? And Captain Ventis - "

"Was our 'manager'." Gregor's cheeks momentarily tinged as red as his Warrior outfit. He looked around, saw Markus’ curious stare, and sighed as he continued. "He bought us ice cream while we practiced in Wren's garage. We were the 'Outriders'... because we rode outside the lines. Even though back then our bikes still had training wheels."

“And you played the drums.” She gestured towards him. “It’s enough for the magic to work with. So that completes our group!”

Dont clapped her hooves happily. “It’s on Friday night and today’s Tuesday, so you’ve got some time to figure out what to call the band, and where to get your instruments, and figure out what song you’re playing… Honestly, I’m surprised they’re still accepting applications this late and without an audition. They must be getting pretty desperate.”

“Nah, there’s just always a last-minute rush,” Kyr said, still fiddling with his current project. “I’ve got some classmates that pay a lot of attention to it, and say the roster always gets like ten groups bigger the day before the performance. But it’s secondhand, so take it as you will.”

Markus looked between the two sitting on either side of him. “What, you guys don’t want in? C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Inien shrugged. “You three have clearly got it handled. I’m good.”

Kyr seemed uncertain. “I’m… not so great at the musical stuff to begin with. I like to use my hands, but in more of a ‘take it apart and put it back together’ sense than a ‘make it seem pretty’ sense. Art’s not much my thing, either.”

“I can call Colvin,” Ashe offered. “And see if he has any old equipment we can use or knows where to get it.”

Markus’ brow furrowed. “You’re keeping in touch with him?”

She nodded. “He’s nice. I think you two would get along pretty well.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"And if we're using The Truths’ equipment, we could at least do something nice in return - maybe cover one of their songs?”

Markus pulled a face. “I’m not so sure that the musical stylings of a boyband that died five years ago is such a good idea.”

Ashe brushed some of her red hair out of her face and looked at him with pleading green eyes. “Please?”

His frown deepened. “Fine. Just stop with the look, I’d rather you be intimidating me than trying and failing to look cute.”

Her expression settled back into a glare. “Oh, you’re a real charmer.” From her jacket pocket she drew out an unmarked CD case and passed it to him. “I borrowed their first EP from Wren. Pick a song.”

“Hm.” Markus slid the CD into his own pocket, then looked between his companions. “All that’s left is a name.”

Ashe rested her head in her palm as she leaned against the countertop. “That might be hard. It’s really hard to have a name that sounds good and conveys what you want it to convey.” She raised an eyebrow. “What was it you said the other day? Something something something and his… ‘thrilling intent’?”

Markus considered it for a moment. “...Nah. I don’t even remember the context of it anymore, and it doesn’t sound like it makes sense.”

“How about ‘The Shrouded Isles’?” Kyr spoke up from beside him, seeming almost lost in thought.

“I like it.” Ashe nodded, then glanced between him and the others.

“Where’s the name from?” Gregor asked.

Kyr continued fiddling with what he held, gaze averted before answering. “When I was a kid… I used to write a lot of stories. The one I liked the most took place on a far away series of islands, inhabited - and then uninhabited - by humanity. ‘The Shrouded Isles’.” He tilted his head. “I should get back to that someday.”

The blond wrapped one arm around Kyr’s shoulder. “It’s settled, then.” He pulled the CD case from his pocket. “Now, does anyone have a CD player? Thog won’t let me use his computer.”

---

“Alright.” Markus stood before his two companions, hand on his hips and guitar over his shoulder. His guitar, a dark grey, had a black neck and a streak of fire running along it, with the strings bright white. He wore a black tank top and poorly shredded blue jeans. His gloves were fingerless and black, his boots the same shade and with a grey heel. A red cloth wrapped around his left arm, a studded white belt around his waist, and a pair of sunglasses rested over his eyes. “Is everything ready for tonight? We should head out in the next half hour or so.”

“When did you learn how to take charge?” Ashe smiled. “Yep, I’ve got my bass, Gregor’s drums are at the community center and we can store all our stuff there overnight. Colvin’s friend will be in to pick them up in the morning.” Her outfit was a bizarre mixture of pink and green, which went surprisingly well with her fluffy white hair in her transformed state. Her bindings were still in place beneath her clothes, though only her collar showed - she wore a dark green half jacket and long fingerless gloves; a pink toque, belt, and accents on her black boots; a white sleeveless shirt with a similarly colored heart on it; and a black skirt over white pants. Her bass was a blueish green with sharp curves and corners, with a grey neck and white strings that matched Markus’.

Gregor’s outfit was much simpler than his companions. He wore a black vest over a white t-shirt, grey pants and black boots with a red scarf wrapped around his neck.

"We're all wearing black boots!" Markus frowned. "One of us has to change."

"First off, I'm behind a drum set, so I don't think it really matters." Gregor pointed out. "Second, I'm just using my work boots. You're the one stealing my look."

"Honestly, Gregor, when you're not in that stuffy uniform you look five years younger." The blond looked him up and down as he swiftly changed the subject. "What's your secret?"

Gregor smiled. “That’s a secret, isn’t it?”

Markus frowned and turned to face Ashe again. He raised an eyebrow. "...Ashe, did you steal that out of Inien's closet?"

Ashe fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "No. She helped me pick it out, though. I think it's cute."

"Admittedly, when I think of you I don't really think 'cute'." She looked momentarily offended, but her expression softened as Markus continued: "And yet somehow you look both cute and badass in that."

She smirked. “Glad to see I changed your mind, then. The community center’s at the edge of the art district, so we should head out.”

“Alright!” Markus lead the charge up the stairs, grinning broadly as they went. “Tonight, we’re gonna win this!”

---

The man stepped off the stage, eliciting a patter of uncertain clapping. His hair was a dark, heavy mop, and his guitar had clearly seen better days. His music, at the very least, had been original - it seemed to be some variety of metal about a deity of some kind, or a religion. Its exact meaning was vague, maybe even to him.

The announcer took the guitarist’s place, eyeing him for a moment and muttering something under his breath. He moved to the closest microphone, then adjusted the stand so it was low enough to accommodate him and stroked his thick ginger beard with one hand before speaking. “And up next, our final competitors for the night… Covering ‘I Wrote You a Message’, by the hit band The Truths, The Shrouded Isles!”

The drums had been long since set up, a never-ending string of solo acts giving the stage space to hold them before the last performance. The trio took their places at each of the microphones - Markus quickly adjusted the one before him back up to a comfortable height - and they all got ready to play.

The blond strummed a few tentative notes on his guitar, and Ashe plucked a few on her bass. Behind the duo, Gregor tapped each of his drums experimentally. They all exchanged nods.

Markus played first, the quiet, careful beginnings of the song. As Ashe and Gregor added their own instruments in turn, it grew in tempo and volume. The blond grinned, letting the power of the music and the magic wash over him as he sang.

“The letters written, Aloft on the wind.”

On cue, Gregor and Ashe jumped in.

“(Can't you hear them?) The words calling, Burning from within. (Can't you hear them?) It doesn't matter anyway, After all that we have been… Listen - baby, I wrote you a message. (And it can do anything.)”

In the crowd he caught a brief glimpse of Kyr, standing happily beside Inien and Thog. Dont bounced excitedly on Inien’s head, waving her hooves back and forth as Kyr and Inien danced and Thog gave a muted smile. Colvin, on the other side of the room, seemed equally happy to be there and gestured with a fist at the group as if cheering them on.

“I keep trying to explain, But I've hit a word limit. Don't know enough to end, Or try to begin it. I could use an editor... Maybe even a critic. Just let me start again - Gimme a minute. (Gimme a minute!)

The letters written, Aloft on the wind. (Can't you hear them?) The words calling, Burning from within. (Can't you hear them?) It doesn't matter anyway, After all that we have been… Listen - baby, I wrote you a message. (And it can do anything.)”

Most of the other contestants were in the crowd by now, having already performed. A few were grinning, however reluctantly, though a trio that seemed to be angrily conversing were by far the most noticeable. He made eye contact with one of them - the girl with the shaggy blond hair - and was startled by the fury he saw there. The magic caught his next words, and he wrenched his gaze away to keep his focus.

“Put down all these thoughts, Like they've bled out of my soul. Who would've known all this Would've taken such a toll? I know you read it, inter - pre - ted it, Let's go and take a stroll. C'mon, I promise you, When it's over, we’ll all know. (We'll all know.)

The letters written, Aloft on the wind. (Can't you hear them?) The words calling, Burning from within. (Can't you hear them?) It doesn't matter anyway, After all that we have been… Listen - baby, I wrote you a message. (And it can do anything.)

Listen - baby, I wrote you a message. (And it can do anything.)”

And the three of them sang the final line together, as they all played the last note:

“Listen - baby, I wrote you a message - And it can do anything!”

With that, the room exploded into cheering and applause. Markus basked in it for only a moment before he looked over to Ashe. She and Gregor were smiling as well, though now that the magic - and adrenaline - were wearing off, he could see the smallest spots of red blossoming on her cheeks.

He waved to the crowd. He noted that the trio of girls were gone, and for a moment a frown threatened to overtake him - it was quickly wiped away when he caught sight of Kyr’s excitement as the redhead waved back. Markus’ smile widened at that, and then he turned back to the others as they began to move their equipment off the stage.

---

“So, where do you think we should put it?” Markus grinned as he spun the trophy around in his hands, admiring both its golden shine and his reflection in it. “I’m quite partial to the new cafe section, myself. Let everyone who comes by see what we’ve accomplished here!”

“Even if magic had a hand in it?” Ashe asked as they continued walking. The darkened buildings of the city rose up around them, lit only by the brilliantly glowing streetlamps as they continued maneuvering through the art district. She waved at one, curious as to whether or not Kyl’il was keeping an eye on them.

Markus stuck his tongue out at her. “Yes, even if magic was involved. You’re the one who’s transformed, thank you very much.” He continued to inspect it, then frowned as he came across the crack that ran down its side. “Speaking of which, can’t you just purify the spirit already?”

“I’d rather wait until we get to the museum. It’s dark and cold outside and I don’t want to spend more time out here than I have to.” Ashe rubbed her hands together, and sparks momentarily jumped from them. She frowned.

“I second that.” Inien ran her hands over her arms. “I’m wearing tights underneath this skirt. Why is it always so cold in this stupid city?”

“I told you to wear a jacket,” Thog remarked.

“A jacket doesn’t help cold legs!”

“I have a motorcycle, you know,” Markus pitched in half-heartedly.

“And I have a car. It would’ve helped if you’d brought it, for one thing.” Gregor looked at him.

“Also, your motorcycle can only hold two people. Were you planning on leaving the rest of us behind?” Inien raised an eyebrow, the intimidation factor of her expression seriously dampened by the pigbat perching on her head.

“First off, if you’d brought your car as well, we’d all fit.” Markus slung one arm around Kyr’s shoulder. “And of course not! I’d never do that to you guys. This is all hypothetical.”

Kyr’s expression clearly conveyed that he didn’t quite believe Markus, either.

“Anyway,” the blond swiftly attempted to change the subject as they approached the building.

Thog reached into his vest, drawing out the jingling set of keys and fiddling with the glass door for a moment before opening it. He propped the door open with his foot and looked at his companions. “Kyr, would you mind taking Inien home? I’ve got some things I need to work on tonight and it’s getting late. She knows where the key is.”

“Stop treating me like a kid, dad.” Inien stuck her tongue out, but dutifully followed Kyr as he nodded and lead the way back to the sidewalk. She eyed his beat-up, rusty car with suspicion as she climbed in. The engine sounded like it was coughing as it revved once, twice, three times before finally springing to life, and after the duo each gave a parting wave, took off down the deserted street.

Dont settled in on top of Ashe’s head, who muffled a groan at the sudden weight. “I keep telling you, you’re too heavy to keep doing this. How do you even stand my hair?”

“If I’m too heavy, then why does Inien put up with it?” the pigbat sassed back.

“Why does Inien put up with anything?”

Dont went silent as she contemplated that comeback.

“You’re just lucky no one noticed you in the crowd,” Ashe finished with an eyeroll and followed the others into the building, careful to close the door behind her. She waited for the quiet click of the lock as it settled into place.

Markus waved the trophy in one hand. “C’mon, let’s go into the gallery and get this thing over with. If we do it in here I’m afraid you’ll blind me.”

“Great. The adrenaline’s wearing off and I want to sleep,” she mumbled and followed him, with Gregor bringing up the rear. Ashe looked up to the skylight as they entered the room, then frowned as she realized that the clouds were covering whatever illumination the moon would normally cast. Markus, standing next to the doorway, flicked on the lightswitch.

They all caught the briefest glance of the intruders before he turned the lights off. “Very funny Markus, now turn them back on before they get the jump on us,” she hissed. He gave an exaggerated sigh and light once again flooded the gallery.

Their appearances registered easily as outside the norm, and as Markus put one hand to his glasses, he knew instantly where he recognized them from. Gregor held his badge out in front of him, but the newcomers made no move to interfere. They seemed content to wait as the duo were each encompassed in a brilliant glow, their clothes replaced by their Guardian apparel, with their weapons gripped uncertainly in their hands. Ashe shrugged her jacket off and placed it carefully to the side, and the two trios stared each other down.

“Who are you and what are you doing in our town?” Ashe’s voice cut through the tense silence, echoing dimly off the museum walls. She wondered distantly when or if Thog would notice.

“We have come to stop you,” the brunette said matter-of-factly. “We only came because we heard of the trophy, but your infestation seems to be more imbedded in this city than we thought. We might have to stay longer.”

“‘Infestation’?” Gregor gripped his glaive uncertainly as he eyed the darker haired girl’s sword. Spots ran along it - almost like rust, only stained in purple and white instead of red. “If you’re not with us you’re against us, I take it.”

They nodded.

“At least tell us your names before we decimate the museum - and you.” Markus twirled his sword. “So I don’t have to keep thinking of you as stuff like ‘blond with the shaggy hair’.” The other blond’s frown deepened.

“Right back at you, spaghetti-noodle-demon,” the one with the sword replied.

If her choice of words bothered him, he didn’t show it. “I’m Markus,” he gestured to himself with his blade, “and these are Ashe, and Gregor.”

The intruders introduced themselves from left to right, glowing letters appearing with their voices.

“Chriel.” Her voice tried to remain neutral, but Ashe could hear excitement waiting in her tone. Her weapon, which she held easily in both hands and was almost as long as she was tall, worried Ashe. As she looked at the marks running down the blade, the Spirit Thief was reminded of Inien’s bloodstained dagger.

“Vachon.” The next girl was clearly foreign, evidenced by the way she said her name, though Ashe couldn’t pinpoint her accent. The Thief didn’t like the unusual look in her eyes, or the sharp teeth she glimpsed for the brief moment she spoke. I thought Inien dealing in dark magic was rare, but these three are evidently using it.

“Krista.” The final girl sounded as if she were bored, or simply uninterested, and flipped to a page in her book with practiced ease. Her outfit was simpler than the rest, but she did not seem to care, and she stood slightly further back than her companions.

“You were one of the bands at the show, right?” Gregor asked, though he still kept his blade trained on them.

“‘X-Zero’ or whatever it was. It sounded like some kind of old video game.” Markus continued, grinning as the trio glared at him.

“We’re Z-Wing,” Krista snapped, then glanced over to Vachon as she flinched, one of the brunette’s purple-and-white pistols simultaneously going off with an echoing bang! She’d been spinning it around her finger in an attempt to seem cool, but now just looked sheepish - the blast, thankfully, disintegrated shortly after it exploded harmlessly against the wall.

And, like that, the fight began.

“If Thog doesn’t notice that, then he needs his hearing checked,” Ashe hissed as her sword formed in her hand, hilt and blade appearing in small sparks of energy. She held back a yelp as she dodged a fireball that sprung to life from the blond’s fingers - after it passed by, it erupted into a cloud of butterflies, which fluttered away.

Krista looked impressed with herself. “Fire fly,” she announced, then flipped through a couple more of the pages.

“She’s a Witch!” Dont called from nearby the ceiling, startling half the room. “She’s not like a Guardian, or like Inien was. She doesn’t transform - she just uses magic.”

“And yours is a Thief.” A wispy ball of darkness ascended to Dont’s height, and, despite a lack of discernable features, seemed to regard the pigbat coolly as it continued speaking in a deep voice. “And a Warrior, and - what is that, another Thief? Or a Rogue?”

“A Rogue,” Dont replied. “And the other two of yours are also a Warrior and a Rogue. Nice choice.”

“Hm.” He didn’t sound impressed by Dont’s deduction. She frowned.

“Go, Franzibald!”

Gregor leapt backwards across the museum’s tiles as Chriel’s sword bisected the space he’d been occupying moments before, the edge almost catching on the lower part of his uniform as it slammed hard into the tile. As he landed, he moved into a crouch, waiting for a beat and then charging at her glaive-first.

Chriel blocked the glaive expertly with her own blade, swatting it away with heavy force and leaping back like he had. Rather than charge, she instead smirked and shouted: “Rev time!” Her smile grew wider as a spectral ripcord grew from the end of her sword, and when she pulled it, it began to vibrate in her grasp. She dove forward.

Gregor looked afraid for a moment, leaning back uncertainly. He only had the briefest instant to run his glaive through his hair, armor springing into place, before trying to catch the blade with his own. “What’s going on?” was all he managed as Chriel’s sword leapt hard back and forth against the Glaive of the Waves. “It’s like a chainsaw…”

“Some spirits’ magic, like mine and Miss Kyl’il’s, manifests with the ability of bindings to help in difficult combat,” Dont piped up. “This dark spirit’s magic clearly works quite differently.”

The spirit, still hovering beside her, grew darker. Stray wisps of energy - some letting off sparks - seemed to flow off him like water, and the colors within them flickered like fire between different shades of purple. As he spoke, an edge grew in his deep voice. “Not. A dark. Spirit. How many times do I have to go over this?”

Dont tilted her head. “At least once would be helpful.”

The two Rogues traded blows, although neither of them managed to land a strike. Flames flew from Markus' hands in all manner of twisting, flickering shapes, and Vachon alternated shots from each of her pistols.

Whenever a blast came close to Markus - which was rarely - he teleported out of the way, managing to toss a dozen more burning daggers at his opponent before she even realized where he'd gone. Yet she was still able to keep up with his attacks. When she didn’t dodge his flames with simple slides and shuffles, Vachon rolled out of the way in easy flips and cartwheels before resuming her assault. Other than Markus stopping to shake out his wrists ever so often, and Vachon slamming the heels of her hands against the bottom of her pistols in something that might've resembled ‘reloading’, the two seemed locked in their stalemate.

It was only when Markus disappeared in a puff of smoke and took a couple seconds longer to reappear that anything really changed.

He fell suddenly from the sky behind her, rapier clutched tightly in his hand and aiming straight for her neck. Moments before the blow would've landed Vachon spun and took a step back, hands held up to either side of her head. The brunette threw them both back and shouted simultaneously, "Vent hole!"

A spout of hot air cut through the floor before her, pushing Markus up and away in a heavy blast of wind. His cape flew out behind him before he slammed hard into the tile with a loud groan.

"You know, just 'vent' would've worked," Krista commented offhandedly.

"I did not want to take any chances." Vachon grinned a mouth full of daggers, then leapt out of the way as Markus attempted another strike.

"I've been hit harder," he muttered as he glared at her and his hand alit with fire once more.

The two stared at each other for a long moment before she opened her mouth.

"Speed pie!"

A blueberry confection popped into existence a few feet away, shooting through the air with impressive momentum before smacking Markus hard in the side of the head and knocking him over again.

"It was the best I could come up with!" she announced before either of her companions could even spare a glance from their own fights - which was good, as both were more than preoccupied.

Krista announced each spell as she cast them. “An’ry crows! Beeswax!” And then, a moment later, she added more brightly, “Donut!” The Witch took a bite of the frosting-and-sprinkle covered confection that had popped into existence in her free hand as she watched the ensuing chaos.

Ashe took a couple steps back as the floor around her began to bubble with a murky yellow liquid. She kicked off hard as it started to pool at her feet, arcing back to catch herself with both hands. A moment later she pushed off once more to land in a standing position - she barely got the chance to register which way was up before the crows swarmed her.

The amount of crows - whether it was a couple or a dozen - was lost on her as she was too busy shielding her face from their irritated pecking. Some cawed mockingly, and she heard wingbeats overhead. Still gripping her sword, she made a blind strike; the two she’d hit dissipated into clouds of murky purple. The rest, stunned momentarily, resumed their attack. She easily ran her blade through three of them like a magical corvidae shishkebab, then spun and sliced through two more.

The lone remaining crow simply stared at her in horror for a moment before cawing in fear and hurriedly flying away. Ashe lowered her blade back to her side, and frowned at the puddles of beeswax that now coated Thog’s precious tiling. “I hope we don’t have to clean those up later,” she mumbled as she shuffled a couple feet to the side. A clear path now waited between her and Krista, so she dove forward once more.

“Force ctrl!"

Ashe’s sword was halted when a shield of translucent violet light sprung into existence around the Witch, who continued flipping through her book with careful ease. She struck the barrier, hard, twice more, though it still did not give way, leaving her entirely blocked off from her opponent. Ashe’s eyes narrowed, and she took a step back, still panting and waiting as best she could. Possibilities ran through her head but the likelihood of any of them working seemed minimal at best.

Purify it? No, I don’t know what that’ll do if her own magic is tied into it. She seems the least likely to be using corrupted magic - Dont said that Witches don’t transform like Guardians do, but she might’ve been empowered by that dark spirit somehow anyway.

Slowly, her mouth slid into a smile. Not quite trusting the mage behind the forcefield - who looked ready to sling a couple more spells any minute now - she notched the hilt of her sword on her belt, to be ready at a moment’s notice. She placed both hands on the field and concentrated, letting energy spring to her fingertips.

If you can’t pop a balloon with a needle, add a little more air.

It only took a moment for the area around Ashe’s hands to start sparking, and thin wisps of the purple material that made up the shield to bulge out ever so slightly before awkwardly pulling themselves back into place. Krista’s head whipped up, a panicked expression quickly growing and the half-formed spell flickering and fading from her grasp as she began to realize exactly what it was the Thief was doing.

Ashe only had enough time to take a step back before two stray sparks on the shield collided and, with a violent BANG! like a firework or a gunshot, the shield imploded, blowing both of them clean off their feet.

“Ashe?”

“Krista!”

There was a long pause before either of them responded, combat halted for but a moment as the duo each tried to find the energy to support movement. “I’m okay,” Ashe groaned and Krista coughed. The floor around them was scorched in a perfect circle, and it was then that Thog entered the room.

He strode nonchalantly past the newly-resumed combatants and up to a nearby wall. The darkened spirit, which had been waiting by the ceiling as he and Dont watched the fighting, flew down to join him.

“Hey, Thog,” the spirit greeted, color momentarily brightening. “It’s been a long time.”

“Nice to see you too, Strak. How’ve you been?” Thog settled in beside Strak, leaning against the wall and more or less ignoring the fighting going on little more than a few feet away. He held a bottle in one hand and took a swig of it.

“Oh, you know. Picked up some squads, traveled a lot… The usual. Nice new look, though I kinda miss the blond. It suited you. Still stuck hanging around here, then? Anything new?”

Thog shrugged. “We had a bit of an incident here a few weeks ago. Inien - you know about her, I assume - summoned forth the Bound One from underneath the museum.”

“Was it rebound, or did its power spread? This place looks as well kept as it always did.”

He gave a small smirk. “Thanks, finished the last of the repairs not even two weeks ago. Actually, it got purified by white-hair and her friends over there.” He gestured into the direction of the combat with his bottle.

The spirit’s rolling energy momentarily paused. “Wait… Those are yours? Or… What’s the candelabra usually called?”

“They’re Kyl’il’s, yeah.”

The energy reversed direction, stopped once more, and then continued its usual flow. “Oh, I’m sorry then. Huge misunderstanding going on here. They were manipulating the magic during their performance, and the blond kid had an off aura… I thought I felt another dark aura in the crowd, so I figured… Should’ve noticed you were there, too, considering how you usually are. Have you been masking it?”

Thog shrugged again, seemingly skimming over the question as he replied. “Understandable. I’m sure they thought the same, what with Sharkteeth and the sword Bandana’s got. I figured it was a sparring session, considering no one’s gotten hurt too badly yet.” He gave a small grin as Gregor deflected a blow, making Chriel’s sword scratch against the floor. “And you’d be surprised with how fast some of the guys I know can fix a place like this.”

“Hang on, lemme call this whole thing off.” Strak moved towards the fight some, his voice momentarily amplifying. “Hey! Fight’s off everyone, this was just a misunderstanding.”

Both groups of fighters froze in place, still breathing hard. Ashe, Markus, Gregor, and Dont all looked at Thog, who waved and downed the last of the bottle. “Are they not using dark magic?” Vachon spoke up with an uncertain look at Z-Wing’s foes.

“I thought you three were using dark magic?” Gregor’s brow furrowed, glaive still pressed hard against Chriel’s blade.

“Like I said, misunderstanding.” The spirit tilted left, and then right, as if looking between the groups. “Had I known you were Kyl’il’s, this whole thing could’ve been avoided. You have my... sincerest apologies.”

“And how sincere is that?” Dont seemed skeptical, flying up next to it. The two trios of Guardians each tentatively lowered their weapons, eyeing their former opponents with distrust before exchanging looks with their teammates.

They all took a few steps back, then slowly made their way over to the duo of spirits, assembling into a makeshift circle - a bit of a lopsided one, as each team still seemed wary of the other.

Krista stared at Ashe for a long moment, then glanced to Gregor and Markus before finally averting her gaze. “Glad to see that this was all a waste of time,” she muttered.

Dont hovered over her shoulder. “I don’t think so. You guys met each other, and knowing more Guardians is always a good thing.”  Krista’s scowl deepened and she didn’t reply.

“So,” Markus looked Vachon up and down. “Are you a vampire?”

Her brow furrowed. “No, of course not.”

He grinned a sharp-toothed grin. “Vampires exist, then?”

The brunette glared, and bared her shark-like teeth back at him.

“Well, my curiosity satisfied.” Markus glanced over to Gregor and Chriel, who were studying each other’s weapons with interest.

“What’s with the purple on your sword? And the chainsaw thing you did?” Gregor pointed to the streaks along the other Warrior’s blade.

Chriel assumed a fighting stance, sword in her grip and grinning broadly. “My grandpa’s a blacksmith, and so am I. I made Franzibald here with my own two hands, but when someone,” her gaze shifted to Strak for a moment, “made us Guardians, he put too much magic into my weapon. Those purple marks are where the magic nearly broke through.”

She hefted it over her shoulder with one hand. “On the bright side, my sword is really strong, although Franzibald doesn’t like being held by anybody but me.” She paused and thought for a moment as she searched for her next words. “The chainsaw effect is called ‘Rev Time’, and it’s kinda like… a level up ability?”

“Like bindings!” Dont waved her hooves in excitement. “And from what I can tell, Krista’s still just a Witch, but her magic was enhanced by Strak’s - which is why it manifests the same way that the other two’s abilities do.”

“Very clever.” Strak’s voice was a bizarre mixture of sarcastic and sincere.

“What about yours?” Chriel gestured to the Glaive of the Waves. “You did something with it and then a bunch of armor appeared! And you held your own against Franzibald, which is pretty hard to do, if I say so myself.”

“You can catch up later. Trade phone numbers or something,” Strak grumbled before Gregor could respond. “We should be getting out of here so they can clean up - our train leaves in a couple hours and we need to pick up your luggage from the hotel.”

“Oh, right.” Chriel momentarily looked confused and then embarrassed before turning to Krista. The Witch rolled her eyes, but tore a scrap off a corner of a page in her book and handed both it and a pen to Chriel. The Warrior quickly scribbled something on it and handed it to Gregor. “Here.”

“Never know when another team of Guardians might come in helpful,” Ashe added in a low tone and Chriel grinned at her.

Strak dipped in the air as if nodding. “Nice catching up with you, Thog. See you in a decade or two.”

Thog smiled ever so slightly and nodded back. Z-Wing was encompassed by pillars of brilliant blue light and, all at once, disappeared.

“Are you sure we should keep contact with them?” Markus raised an eyebrow.

Ashe shrugged. “When we weren’t trying to maim each other they seemed pretty nice. Except for Krista.”

“Something tells me she’s always like that.” Gregor transformed back and slid the piece of paper into his vest pocket. “All things considered…”

“Like I told Strak, I’ve got everything set here. We open late Saturdays, anyway, so this place should be in top shape again by tomorrow.” Thog scanned the room. Beeswax still coated the floor, and there were a few chips in the tile and marble, but most of the damage had disappeared as magical effects tended to. “Not too bad at all.”

“You knew that spirit?”

The curator shrugged, then looked at Ashe. “You’d be surprised by the connections some of us have. You seemed to take ‘because I am a spirit’ as an answer for how I know Kyl’il.”

She frowned, sighed, and held out her hands to Markus. “Give me the cup.”

Markus obediently passed her the trophy. It began to spark with greenish energy in her grasp, and then was enveloped in a flash of brilliant light - the long crack down its side was now gone, and the various names etched into the base seemed gilded as well as cut into the metal.

“Well all that… was a thing that happened,” Ashe murmured as she handed it back.

“Yep.” Markus spun the trophy in his hands. “It sure was.”

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 10: well last week’s concept art would’ve worked better for this week but uh

kinda running out of stuff to post. been v busy lately and what i do have is for stuff i can’t show yet :/ so here is the original civilian markus sketch

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 10 - A World Without Magic

Summary: Dreams, nightmares, reality - all one in the same.

Word count: 7000

Not for the first time, Markus was unable to sleep. He lay on his cot, holding up the knife and wondering.

He had tripped over it, back when they had been wandering through the first part of the Prison of Lights. No one had noticed it before the lights went out, and he had picked it up as if by instinct. Afterwards, he couldn’t figure out how to explain why he had it - that he hadn’t handed it over to anyone right away, asked Ashe to try purifying it, thrown it back in to be forgotten.

Everyone was still trying to decide if his screwing up the mask situation meant he couldn’t be trusted. Again. He didn’t want to give more fuel to that fire.

So he had the knife. Inien’s knife, her transformation weapon. Somehow, purifying her must’ve severed part of her connection to it, since it still existed without her magic. At first, he’d thought that it radiated darkness, a trait fitting its corrupted state. Now, though, he was sure it was more like it absorbed light. It was so stark, white as sun-bleached bones except for that dark red stain, that everything else paled next to it. It took the good things around it and absorbed them, removing them from the world. Studying it like this, Markus could definitely see how Inien got to the point she did. Just having it must’ve furthered her corruption, dragging her away from anything good.

And what do you think it’s doing to you, dummy? he thought, sighing. He shoved it into his backpack, hoping that Thog wouldn’t find it in the morning. He could never be sure how much the curator could sense, when it came to these things.

------

Ashe leaned against one of the streetlights in the parking lot, turning her pin over in her hands. “Inien - the witch - she hurt him bad,” she explained to them. She’d called Markus and Gregor once she was done at Colvin’s, and here they were, Markus sitting on the trunk of the detective’s car and Gregor pacing back and forth next to them. “It’s hard to reconcile with who she is now, but we should all be aware of it.”

Markus took off his glasses and cleaned them, thinking about what to say. “I don’t think it helps anyone to pretend Inien didn’t do this stuff,” he said quietly. “Who knows how much of this stuff will come back to haunt her? To haunt us, in protecting her? Even if she doesn’t remember and tries to be different, it was still her.”

Gregor stopped pacing to look at the two of them. “Markus has a point. Ignorance helps no one,” he said. “But I guess the question is, now what do we do?”

“Let sleeping dogs lie?” Markus offered. Ashe shot him a look, and he shrugged. “Gregor’s not the only one with platitudes.”

She rolled her eyes. “That aside, it probably is best. He accepts that Inien isn’t the same anymore, or seemed to when I left him. We should probably just go about our lives as if today didn’t happen.”

Gregor and Markus nodded. Markus waited a minute, then got to his feet and made shooing motions at both of them. “Now that that’s settled, you both need to get going. Ashe needs to study and I know you like waking up early, Gregor.”

“Since when’re you a mother hen?” Ashe grumbled.

“Since Gregor lost his flock,” Markus replied, momentarily looking smug.

Gregor sighed, but didn’t feed the flame. Instead, he looked to Ashe. “Do you need a ride home? Or are you at school this weekend?”

“Winter break just started, actually,” Ashe said. “And I don’t think my aunt and uncle would like me showing up in a police car. So I’ll take a ride to like, a block away or something, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all!”

Markus stepped back and waved as Gregor’s car pulled out the lot, then turned back towards the museum. Thog wasn’t at the museum tonight; since Inien started living with him, the curator spent a lot more time at his house - probably to keep her away. Which left Markus alone with his thoughts, once again.

He headed for his room and dug the knife out, studying it once more while being careful not to touch the blade. Probably not a good idea to let it cut him. He tried to balance it on his fingertips, an idle motion, while he thought about what to do. I need to show everyone that I can do things right. Handing it over like this is out of the question. I could just throw it back into the Prison, but Thog might sense that door opening again...

The answer came to him in a flash. I can give it back already purified! He set the knife on his cot, then stood and transformed. Enveloped in spirit magic, able to call on his own power, he could definitely sense the darkness of the knife. Its aura almost felt hungry, as if it wanted to devour everything good in the world.

Markus suppressed a shudder as he picked it up again.

He tried to recall Dont coaching Gregor through purifying the mirror. Carefully, slowly, he probed the knife with his magic. There was so much corruption in it, and he felt it pressing at himself, trying to weigh him down. He managed to shake it off even as he searched deeper, looking for anything that wasn’t just a desire for destruction. He could almost get it, like a flicker out of the corner of his eye, something straining to be found, but as soon as he turned towards it it  disappeared.

What must’ve been a few minutes later he pulled back into himself, a headache starting just behind his eyes. He felt suddenly exhausted, but more than that, his blood was boiling.

“You’re just a stupid knife! You’re not even possessed!” he shouted, tossing the blade aside. It landed lazily across the carpet. “You practically drove Inien to destroying herself, you led to Ashe almost dying. You took Colvin’s eye and dragged all of us into this! What are you, to think you have any right?” Frustrated, he called up a ball of flame and threw it at the floor where the knife lay. It sizzled and dissipated, and the knife seemed to turn dark blue for a moment before returning to its bone-white appearance.

Markus growled as he flopped back onto his cot. “What the hell even is the point, if I can’t even do this?” he grumbled. “Can’t even find the original part of it, much less get rid of the corruption.” He barely remembered to let go of his transformation as he fell asleep, fumbling to take his glasses off before they wound up crushed or bent.

---

He woke up to the sudden thud of something landed on the carpet. Markus immediately sat up, expecting Thog, an intruder, or some spirit - instead, he got a smiley, young blond man who carried a jacket and pair of shoes in his hands. He waved to Markus.

“Sorry for waking you up, great party by the way.” Then he grinned wider, looked Markus up and down. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”

Before Markus could process any of that, the man winked and was out the door. Markus rubbed his eyes before looking around the room. It certainly wasn’t his place - it was even messier than his old apartment had been. There were tons of beer bottles and cans crowding the trash and strewn about. There were a couple cups with ping pong balls shoved in them, all clustered together on a long table. He turned on the lamp for a better look, but immediately regretted it. The sudden light sent a bolt of pain through his head, like he’d been stabbed. Even with his eyes shut, the pain persisted.

What the hell is this? Poison? A spirit possession?

It was only after the pain subsided and he could think that it hit him.

He had a hangover.

It never occurred to him before, but ever since Inien and spirits and Ashe, he hadn’t gotten blackout drunk… which still made him question the hangover. Why now? Last I remember is my room at the museum.

He stood up, getting more used to the hangover, remembering what to do to lessen it, but he knew he shouldn't focus on that. He was in someone else’s bedroom, after attending a party he didn’t remember.

Thankfully he had everything on him: keys, wallet, and phone. He tried his phone first, started a text for Gregor to come pick him up. He didn’t care what favor it would cost him, he needed out. It took him a second to realize the number wasn’t appearing with his name.

He switched menus and started scrolling. But no matter how long he stared at his contacts, he couldn’t find Gregor. Nor Ashe, or Thog. Just some random names, and a couple of nicknames he didn’t understand. He looked though the messages on some. Lots of flirting, lots of promises for dates and meeting up at parties, congratulations on setting shots records.

“Maybe Kyr switched the names,” he muttered. “Or our phones.”

He kept scrolling, ignoring the dread settling in his stomach. Nothing. No conversations he recognized.

“Maybe… maybe… Maybe I need some air.”  He hurried out the door, into, again, a strange living room and kitchen. More people were sleeping on couches and the floor. He managed to step over them as he tried to find the door out.

---

It was still somewhat early, the sky barely changed from pink and orange to blue. His first instinct was to find Thog, even if he wasn’t at the museum yet. Markus set about trying to get his bearings, so he could get to Thog’s place in the suburbs. He had only gone by to see it once since getting the key, just so he would know where it was in case of an emergency, and that should be enough to get him there.

But first he had to figure out where he actually was. Markus scowled up at a street sign, not recognizing the intersection. He was clearly downtown, but where? The financial blocks, the corporate offices for the shipping companies, the legal offices? Was he close to the arts district and should just head to the museum to wait, or maybe he was closer to where the skyscrapers gave way to larger estates for the richer citizens of Braeden? Adding to the difficulty, his motorcycle was nowhere in sight, so he’d have to walk.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and picked a direction. Finally, he found a street he recognized, although it was just Main. Not much help, except for knowing he was roughly in the center of the city from east to west. So he just had to follow it until the names switched to numbers, and then he’d definitely know which way to go.

He thought about grabbing a cab while he walked, stepping around folks rushing to their jobs or to catch the bus for a morning commute, but the cold air was helping clear up the remains of his hangover. He did stop to buy a bagel and water from a coffee shop, frowning at the scraps of loose change in his pockets and all-too-familiar credit cards, but otherwise made a beeline for Thog’s neighborhood without delay. He tried to ignore how the city seemed quieter, how there were fewer people calling for petition signatures and fewer bikers shouting to make way, tried to ignore that he was noticing more people asking for money and more people slinking around instead of just walking through the crowd.

His instincts were screaming that something was wrong, but he had no idea how to deal with it - or could even place his finger on what it was - so he pushed them away until he could at least get a hold of the others.

---

Thog’s place was small, a simple green tri-level with heavy brown curtains covering the windows. It was weird thinking of the grumpy spirit owning it, but Markus also knew it had actually been the human curator’s, inherited from his parents. He still wasn’t completely sure how much of Thog was Thog and how much was Dan, but Inien had told him he was much more relaxed at home than the museum, so maybe it only came out there.

Focus! He ordered himself. He was letting his mind wander too much, trying to delay seeing more unsettling things today. The grass of the lawn was a little overgrown, but he chalked that up to Thog not caring about it, even though when he rode by before it had been well-trimmed and flowerbeds sprawled along the white fence. Markus tried not to wonder what had happened to them as he walked up to the door.

No one answered his knock, so he got his keys out and found Thog’s by the bit of dark grey nail polish he’d put on it. He inserted it into the lock and - it didn’t fit. “The hell?” he muttered, taking it out and flipping it. It barely went into the lock that way. This wasn’t right, he knew his keys were ordered properly: red for his motorcycle, black for Inien’s old place, green for the museum, blue for his own room, and grey for Thog’s. “Someone’s really taking this prank too far,” he said, systematically trying each key, just in case.

None worked.

“Thog! Inien! Open up already!” he shouted, pounding on the door.

The unease he felt was close to being a full-blown panic. Had something happened to the two? Another person seeking revenge, like Colvin?

Markus turned and left Thog’s, headed instead to the neighbor’s. He took a deep breath and put on his best smile as he rang the doorbell.

A muscled woman with her hair tied back and a flour-covered apron opened the door. “Yes?” she said, looking over him suspiciously.

“Hi, sorry to bother you,” Markus said cheerfully. “But I’m looking for your neighbor?” He pointed to Thog’s house. “Dan? I work with him at the museum and was supposed to give him a ride into work today.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your car?” she asked, looking past him at the empty street, the only visible cars parked neatly in driveways.

“I used the alleyway,”  Markus said, hoping that there was one that cut past the houses. He hadn’t paid attention when walking up the other side of the block. “I wasn’t sure how full the street would be and didn’t want to block traffic.”

“Awfully polite of you.” She shrugged, leaning against her doorframe. “You say you work at the museum? I thought the only other folks there were the gals that run the front desk.”

“I’m a recent hire.”

“And Dan gave you his home address? Nuh-uh, it took me four months of gift baskets to even learn where that man worked. No way did he tell you that.” She considered him again, and took on a knowing smirk. “Unless you’re a fox-chaser? Didn’t think he aimed young, but I’m not really one to talk, with my husband.”

Markus’ face turned bright red. “It’s nothing like that, Miss! Official business only.”

“Well, in that case.” She glanced at the street again, as if expecting someone else to appear. “I think he must’ve forgot that you were gonna pick him up. If you are here for that. I really don’t like your look though, and my kid said he saw a strange guy messing with the neighbor’s door. I really suggest you clear out, before I decide to call the police.”

Markus took a step back, inclining his head to her. She shut the door in his face. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, then turned and left. Thog clearly wasn’t here, and sticking around would only lead to trouble. He would check the museum, but the police station was on the way, and he might as well see if Gregor had also noticed all the weirdness going on first.

---

It was still very early, only 9 in the morning, but the station was busy. People sat in the lobby, complaint paperwork in hand or being spoken to by officers. Markus tried not to let the anxiousness pervading the room feed his own panic, took deep breaths to keep himself somewhat collected. He didn’t make a habit of visiting police stations, but this seemed busier than Gregor had ever described it. And hadn’t the detective said before that there were only two people at the front desk at a time? Here there was a line of desks, partitioned to give people some privacy while they told the bored-looking officers why they were there.

Markus looked around as he tried to remember what floor Gregor worked on, but lucked out and spotted him near the elevators. He had his back to Markus as he talked to a few others, hands tucked together at his back and feet a regulation shoulders-width apart.

He definitely looks the part while he’s here, Markus thought, stepping carefully through the crowd and waiting. Finally, the other officers saluted Gregor and walked away, and he approached. “Gregor! So glad I found you.”

He turned, frowning as he looked over Markus. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Do I know you?”

“Very funny.” Markus lowered his voice. “There’s something weird going on with Thog, I think, and I think my phone’s busted. I wanted to see if you’d noticed anything.”

Gregor stared at him. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” he said. “Maybe one of the rookies? But I don’t know you, or this ‘Thog’ person. If you’d like someone to be paged, you can ask at the desks.”

Markus’ throat went tight. “You’re Detective Gregor Hartway,” he said quickly. “Aren’t you? Unless he suddenly has another double. This really isn’t funny!”

Gregor’s brow furrowed. “You must be very confused, sir. I’m the only Gregor Hartway on the force, and I’m a Lieutenant.” He gestured to the insignia on his shoulder. “Never been a detective. I can do more good working directly for the people and keeping an eye on multiple investigations than assigned to individual cases.” His voice was clipped, impatient in a way, as if he had better things to do, but at least he wasn’t dismissing Markus.

The blonde started to say something else, but was cut off by another voice, rough as sandpaper. “Hartway!” Both Gregor and Markus turned towards someone who had just disembarked an elevator. He was an older man, with silver dotting his black hair and beard. Old burn scars covered part of his face and hands, and an eyepatch hid one eye entirely. He was dressed in red and blue, and leaned heavily on a cane with a wing pattern across the grip. “Dilly-dallying on the job?”

“No, Ventis, sir!” Gregor immediately snapped to attention. “Just helping this gentleman with a few questions. Is Captain Camberwell meeting us for lunch?”

The man chuckled to himself. “I am retired, you can drop the ‘sir’. And no, Azura is not. Too much on her plate at the moment that she refuses to delegate to you.”

“I suppose I should be grateful,” Gregor mumbled, before looking at Markus once more. “I have an appointment. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mister…?”

“Velafi, and no, thank you.” Markus said automatically. He wanted to keep pressing, but obviously that would do no good here. Whatever was going on had affected Gregor too, to the point that he didn’t remember anything. He waited until the two had left the building before leaving himself, jogging a block and then ducking into an alleyway.

He could barely hold back his panic now. Whatever this was, curse or spirit or something even worse, it was powerful. Something was vastly rotten in Braeden, and he would fix it. He just had to be able to cover more ground.

Markus held his glasses up, trying not to stutter. “Handsome Dark Magical Rogue Markus!”  Normally he loved the incantation, the grandeur of it, but right now it seemed like too much. Too long, too attention-grabbing, when what he needed was to be fast and quiet while he figured all of this out.

A second later he realized it hadn’t worked. No flame, no burst of magic, no nothing. Shaking, he focused instead on the mark Dont had given him, but even with that he couldn’t sense anything. No magic pulsing deep within himself, no power waiting to be called upon - not even the faintest hint of dark magic that he knew still dwelled deep beneath.

“This can’t be right, I need my powers, I need to find everyone, I need to make sure…” he whispered to himself, blinking back tears.

He had to keep moving. That was the only thing to do. Whatever was going on would reveal itself at some point. For now, he had to find Ashe and Kyr. Make sure they weren’t affected like Gregor. He was certain that Thog could take care of himself, but he had to see his friends immediately.

So he hailed a taxi and directed it towards Varyndir’s, hoping that he was wrong and everything would be fine.

---

Varyndir’s was also vaguely different. The grass seemed less well-kept, the front of the main building less open. Hadn’t there been an archway leading into the lobby, and all the sense of importance that rich people liked sponsoring? Now the doors seemed plain, the walls less layered and detailed.

Markus adjusted his scarf and headed for the directory office, waiting behind a mother with a sniffling kid. After a minute, a bored-looking secretary shut down someone pitching for an office supply company and waved Markus over. He glanced at the mother, who stepped aside for him.

“I’m waiting to talk to the principal,” she explained. “You can go ahead and get your business settled.”

“Thank you.” Markus nodded to her, then stepped up to the secretary’s desk. “Excuse me, I’m here to see one of the teachers. Kyr Fiore? I have an appointment with him about a scholarship being presented to his class.” He’d come up with the lie in the cab, and had on his best con man smile to dazzle the secretary with.

“Oh?” She typed on her computer for a moment, shaking her head. “Thought so. We don’t have anyone on staff by that name.”

He tried not to look shocked, instead smacking himself in the forehead. “Right! Sorry, Mister Fiyore is at another of the schools my organization visits. My apologies.” His thoughts were racing, trying to remember anyone Ashe or Kyr had mentioned from here. “My contact here should actually be, um. Dunstan, I believe? He’s a science teacher.”

The secretary sighed. “Why am I not surprised? We keep telling him he needs to schedule outside presentations through the main office. I need to write you a pass. Name and organization?”

Markus relaxed slightly. “Horatio Protagoniste, at your service.” His smile changed to a smirk, and he bowed dramatically, glad to hear a giggle out of the stern-seeming woman. At least he still had some charm, even with today’s weirdness. “I represent the Vestern Security Firm, and their Protectors of Tomorrow’s Knowledge scholarship.”

“Fancy.” The secretary wrote on a sheet of paper and stuffed it into a case on a cheap lanyard. “Keep this visible while you’re on campus, and please remember to return the lanyard before you leave.”

“Of course. Any excuse to see a pretty face again,” Markus assured her, earning another giggle. He smiled to her, and the others in the office, then headed away from the administration building and towards the classrooms. He tried not to let the lanyard bother him - yet another unfamiliar thing. Sure, he knew the office had visitor passes, but no one had ever stopped him for not having one when he came to bother Ashe before.

Stranger and stranger, and more worrying.

He didn’t even know where Ashe might be. He didn’t dare try sneaking into the dorms without his magic to fall back on, and even if he knew her schedule he had no idea what classroom she was supposed to be in. So he slunk down the halls, carefully peeking in through the windows on the doors, hoping no one would notice him.

Thankfully, it only took three rooms to find Ashe. He barely glimpsed the red puff of her hair, but immediately knew it was her. He straightened and knocked on the door, hoping that the teacher wouldn’t be too angry at the interruption.

She was even sterner-seeming than the secretary he’d spoken to, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun and everything about her outfit the epitome of sensibility. She looked at him with dark eyes, her mouth set into a frown. “And who are you?”

He held up the lanyard with his ID badge. “I’m here to speak with one of your students about a scholarship opportunity. Miss Kelly Garren? I know the timing isn’t the best, but I have a lot of appointments here and can’t do them all during lunch periods.”

The teacher sighed. “If it’s for her college possibilities already, then I can’t argue too much. Kelly!” She turned towards her class. “This Mister Protaganiste - ” she butchered the pronunciation, and Markus had to suppress a nervous laugh - “has a scholarship to speak with you about. You can come take today’s quiz after the rest of your classes today.”

“Yes’m.” Ashe stood up, her eyes darting back and forth around the room. Other students were starting to whisper, and Markus could see a few of the girls craning to get a look at him in the doorway, but she seemed more nervous than just for hearing her name whispered among peers..

Still, he didn’t say anything until they were in the hallway. “Let’s find somewhere out of the way to talk, shall we?” he offered. “I believe I passed an empty classroom.”

“Sure,” she mumbled. She was trying to look at him, but only out of the corner of her eye, not directly staring. It was very off-putting and not at all what Markus expected. Were Ashe’s memories weird too?

He led her to the empty classroom and held the door open for her. She stood in front of all the desks while he sat down on one, unsure how to approach this. “I’m so glad I found you,” he started, worry getting the best of him for a second. Then he realized that she probably was under the same spell or possession that Gregor was, and cleared his throat while he thought of something else to say. “Your grades and extracurriculars made you especially notable from our pool of candidates.”

“Did they?” She didn’t sound curious, or even interested. Just as if she was caught in chit-chat with someone on the bus, wanting the conversation done with but unable to step away.

Markus continued anyways, desperate to spark some bit of recognition. “Yes! You, um. Even though you’re just a junior, you’re on track for our Charoth tier of scholarship rewards. It could pay for the entirety of a community college degree, or a decent chunk of the larger ones. It’s quite a magical opportunity.”

She fiddled with her sleeves, tugging them further down over her hands. “You say that, but… I haven’t applied for any scholarships yet. I’m not even looking at colleges, since I probably won’t be staying here.” She stated it plainly, without any concern or worry.

His heart was pounding. Why would she leave Braeden? “The company I represent, they pull from standardized test results - ”

“Which aren’t available to anyone but the Department of Education and the school systems.” She finally looked up at him, her green eyes colder than even when he’d almost strangled Gregor. “I don’t know if you’re a journalist looking for dirt on Eileen’s friends to use against her dad, or one of Dad’s assistants trying to earn points by checking up on me, but I’m not interested, alright? Just leave me alone.” She didn’t wait for an answer, simply turned on her heels and left the room.

Markus hurried after her, just in time to see the door shut on the classroom she was supposed to be in. He walked up to the door and glanced inside, watching her walk with surprising calm back to the cluster of desks she shared with her friends. Only one of them glanced up at her, the one with glasses and brown hair, before returning to her notes.

He stepped away before he risked the teacher or any of the students noticing him lurking, hurrying from the campus. Ashe was still defensive over her friends, still herself in that way, but her friends didn’t seem very concerned or even curious over her. That, and Ashe had never been that compliant with anything - even if she called him out for lying at the end of it, until that point, she’d been somewhat agreeable.

It just wasn’t her.

One place left, he thought, bursting into a run.

---

He didn’t feel the wind biting through his clothes, didn’t bother brushing his hair out of his eyes. He couldn’t think of anything besides Ashe and Gregor, how everything was wrong and it felt like a stab in the back, but worse.

It was only when weeds brushed his knees did he look up. It was supposed to be the park, but it looked more like the lawn to an abandoned house, a mix of yellowed, dying grass and tall weeds. He kept walking, feet taking him on paths he knew should be paved. Just more weirdness, more things to set right. Somehow.

The next time he looked up, it was in front of the museum. It looked smaller, less grand than usual. The paint was chipping off the front and the letters “MELINDA MUSEUM” looked like they were hanging on by a thread.

He pushed at the door, only for it to creak in protest.

“Figures.”

He knelt down and picked the lock, grateful for the small distraction from the turmoil that was going on inside his head. With a small pop, the lock opened and he quietly slipped inside.

The lobby looked… normal, like nothing had happened. No repairs from the fight with Charoth, no velvet ropes to keep people out of exhibits where spirits had been taken. The floor was plain white tile, with what looked like a large sticker advertising the exhibit. The medallion was gone, with no indication it was pulled out - like it had just never existed. He looked at the cork board next to the door, usually announcing new exhibits. In their place, large posters advertised for “VIP Galleries, Available for Rent. Contact curator, Dan” as well as “Auction. South Eastern Collection”.

Markus couldn’t stand to look at them any longer. He turned and walked into one of the galleries that had collections in them. Most were locked, and he didn’t want to waste time picking all of them. Every so often though, one would be open, and he’d be met with blank walls and empty glass displays.

He kept walking, making it to the exhibit in the back of the museum when he saw it.

A painting of a cityscape, gray skies and bright buildings. The name, Nuages de gris, barely registered with Markus until he remembered and realized it was also wrong. Perfect condition. Never touched.

No spirit. No purification. No fight to keep Ashe from getting it.

He didn't know what he was doing until he rested his head against the frame, tears in his eyes.

“Why…. Why has this happened?” He whispered, as if praying to the painting, until the words started exploding out of him. “Wh - Why is this here?! Wh - Why is any of this here?! Gregor is a detective! The museum isn't like this! Braeden isn't like this! Ashe - !”

He paused, unable to get the words out because his voice was hoarse from screaming.

“Ashe is so much better than that,” he mumbled, pressing his cheek to the cold plaster of the wall.

“Now who's making all the noise at this hour?” A voice said from the neighboring gallery.

Markus barely paid attention, wiping the tears away. “What happened? What did I do to deserve this?” He winced as his brain supplied a list of answers.

“What do I do to fix this?!” He said, louder, voice shaking.

Someone touched his shoulder. He whirled around, ready to scream again, then froze as he took in this new appearance.

It was Dan. Not Thog, Dan. He looked older, like before the fight with Charoth, and he wasn’t wearing his bracelets. No chain of a pocketwatch peeked out from his pocket, and his frown was less weary and more worried.

“You alright, son?” the curator asked. “You probably shouldn’t be here.”

Markus sagged against the wall, sliding to the floor. “It’s not right,” he mumbled again. “None of it. This isn’t supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to be alone.”

Dan knelt in front of him, his knees creaking in protest. “Sounds like you’re having a bad trip. I didn’t realize parties around here had that hard of stuff.” He held out his hand. “You shouldn’t be sitting on hard tile if you’re feeling rough, take it from experience.”

Markus hiccuped as he tried to take a deep breath, but let him help him up. “I don’t understand.”

“You need help, and I’m here. And I can’t have you possibly throwing up or passing out on the exhibits. There’s little enough here of value anymore, I have to keep what I do have safe.”

He almost laughed. That sounded more like the curator he knew. If it didn’t just highlight how messed up everything else was, he would’ve found it comforting. Instead, Markus was shaking as Dan helped him to the front doors. By the time they’d crossed the lobby he was calmer, his breathing back under control and his tears gone.

“Do you want me to call you a cab? Where should you be at, son?” Dan asked.

Markus shook his head. “I’ll be alright. I just - needed to get some things out of my system,” he said. He made sure to keep his words clear, so that Dan wouldn’t think he was about to have another breakdown. “I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

“It’s alright, I just could’ve sworn I’d locked the doors. You almost gave me a heart attack, when I heard screaming in the painting gallery.” Dan stepped away from him. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright? You don’t need someone to stay with you or anything?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll even come in tomorrow so you know I’m okay, give a proper visit to the museum. Thanks again for your help.” Markus shook Dan’s hand and walked away, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

It started to snow as he wandered away from the city, towards the seaside cliffs. Before he knew it he was headed north, towards Kinir. Surely Kyl’il had answers.

The horizon was bare, even in the darkness. He couldn’t see the lighthouse’s silhouette. He let himself feel his panic now, let it urge his steps forward when all he wanted was to stop and cry in frustration. He stood on the edge of the cliff, and couldn’t see the stairway that led under the ledge where the boat was usually moored. But there was an intact bridge here. He crossed it carefully, noting that it was repaired in pieces. It was simple wood and rope, some pieces frayed or rotted but others very new. Some of the knots looked ready to come loose, clearly made in haste or by inexperienced hands, and the balance of the bridge was nowhere near centered.

Still, it was usable. He stepped onto the small island, observing it and feeling his heart shatter into even more pieces. There were no flowers, not even grass. All of it was bare dirt and a few weeds, obviously barren and wasted away. There had been a lighthouse here, once, judging by the overgrown and fallen-in structure at the center, but it had been abandoned long, long ago.

Markus walked towards it, dread hanging over him. Nothing was right here. Everyone was worse off, and he couldn’t be sure what was causing it. Surely even something as powerful as Charoth couldn’t simply erase Kyl’il and all everything had ever been? This was more like the entire world had been scrubbed clean of spirits, and left to flounder without them.

He curled up on the uneven stone that had once been a floor, much as he had in the warehouse where he first met Inien. He bowed his head against his knees, shaking and crying until exhaustion from wandering around all day and his distress caught up to him. He fell asleep, fitfully.

---

His dream was dark. He floated, alone, silent, nothing present to comfort him. He twisted about, searching for something he knew wouldn’t come, until - there!

A flame had appeared, some distance away. It moved closer to him, he was sure, although distance was hard to judge in this absolute shadow. He reached out for the flame, and felt it envelop his hand in comforting warmth.

“So this is where you wandered to, burning Markus.”

All at once, he woke, his breath heavy and chest tight as if he’d been running for miles. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around, tears springing back to his eyes.

He was in Kyl’il’s lighthouse, the various torches and candles more comforting than anything he’d seen before. Charoth crouched on one side of him, hand outstretched curiously. Kyl’il knelt at his other side, one hand over his chest and the other under his head.

“Take deep breaths,” she said quietly. “You’ve been far, and lost there for hours. It must have taken a strain on you.”

Not caring that it was immature, that it might make him look weak to the spirit, Markus turned towards her and cried, a child sobbing into his mother’s lap.

“It’s okay,” Kyl’il assured him, running her fingers through his hair. “You’re back where you belong. The world is as you know it, I promise you.” Her touch was comforting, sunlight and autumn bonfires and an oven heating a house all at once.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to calm down. Finally though, his tears were spent, and he felt much more at peace. He sat up and leaned back, looking at her. “I’m sorry.”

“It is understandable,” she answered, standing. “After what you caused yourself. What Dont’s magic allowed.”

He felt something tap his arm. He turned to Charoth, the small spirit prodding him with his staff. Markus sighed and lifted his hand, only a little startled when Charoth let go of his staff to fold both of his hands around Markus’s, studying him closely.

He shook his head, deciding to worry about it later. He looked up at Kyl’il. “What did happen? How did I cause it?”

Kyl’il waved her staff, calling a chair over. She sat gracefully and looked past Markus, considering. “It never becomes easier to explain, even though most Spirit Guardians go through this.” She tapped her fingers against her staff for a moment before turning her gaze to him. “It is unclear, even with what I have heard from others of my standing. But it seems that, after a while, something about human will interacts strangely with spirit magic. We are as we are, but you? Humans always want better, always try to consider the possibilities of how the world might be different. It’s as if… As if you cast a spell, unintentionally, to create a pocket dimension. You wanted something so badly, but you couldn’t make it happen here, so you created a world where it was truth.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Depending on the power of your spirit and the strength of your will, yes.” Kyl’il smiled. “It seems that young Dont has more to draw on than I knew, and that you have stronger wishes than I would have thought.”

“Oh.” Markus ran his free hand through his hair. “Thanks, I guess.” He looked at Charoth, who was tracing the lines on his palm. “And this is about?”

“When you left the dimension you created, it collapsed. It is… a kind of death, I suppose.” Kyl’il’s smile widened, more amused than comforting. “Is it any wonder that he is curious?”

Markus rolled his eyes and pulled his hand away from Charoth. He did not want to think about that right now. He got to his feet. “Thank you,” he said. “For getting me out of there.”

“Patient Thog said he could not sense you this morning, and I could not find you, so I thought it might be something like this. As I said, it is not the first this has happened.” She stood as well, and walked him towards the door leading down to her library. “I hope that, whatever you saw, it helped you figure out what you can do to make the here and now better.”

Markus nodded. “I believe so, thank you.” He left, rushing down the staircase. As soon as he was outside, he transformed, hollering in excitement as his magic rushed over him.

He teleported away from Kinir and ran across the rooftops of the city towards the museum, not caring that it was daylight, not caring that he might attract attention. He was alive, and he had magic, and anything was possible before him. He could help Gregor, and Ashe. He knew Thog, and Inien, and had her knife. He could do anything he wanted, with his magic and a little help, no matter what stood in his way.

[spiritthiefaesling]

STA is on AO3!

Spirit Thief Aesling Season 1 and Season 2 have now been uploaded on AO3!

(Please bear with us while we fix AO3′s buggy-ness, however it should still be readable while we fix it.)

~Mod Kappa

[spiritthiefaesling]

have you guys ever thought about uploading the series on ao3?

The idea has been posed before, and in fact, all the chapters are currently drafted on AO3. We’re just waiting for AO3 to approve an account so the 3 of us can be listed as author.

We will make a post here when it’s posted :D

~Mod Kappa

[spiritthiefaesling]

Season 2, Episode 9: The references for Colvin! It’s actually thanks to that second drawing that the whole thing with The Truths exists to begin with - shortly after I drew it I made the joke that he looked like he belonged in a boy band and it... spiraled....