What with Kanin’s upcoming jailbreak, wedding plans move to the bottom of my and Mirzayael’s to-do list. We’re soon to have bigger things to worry about than what delicacies we’d prefer at the feast. Still, the rest of the Fortress seems to be buzzing with anticipation; I haven’t seen the city this upbeat since we held the Celebration of Fyrethians festival six months ago. And we’ve come so far in such little time.

  Agate’s team has grown more produce than I ever could have imagined. And we even have pastures outside of the Fortress, down in the valleys of the Drifting Isles. Nek has reported more children have been born in the last six months than in the previous three years. I’m not sure if I was more shocked by this statistic, or by his report that our economy can easily support such growth. The whole city seems eager for the future; prior to this last year, I wonder if that’s something they’ve ever felt in their life.

  Metal clangs against metal as Mirzayael’s guards practice drills. I smile to myself; she’d like that I still call them her guards, even though she’s barely had time to visit in the last few months. Torim now manages the logistics of the small Fyrethian army, delegating his three captains to run day-to-day training. Salvia is the head of the air units, a felis named Mar runs the melee branch, while Opal, a healer dwarf, leads the arcane support units.

  As I watch the groups of soldiers perform their drills, I materialize another metal rod from the Dungeon Core’s inventory and add it to a growing pile. Mar and Salvia had asked for more resources that could be turned into weapons, and after Mirzayael encouraged me to help, I was more than happy for the reprieve.

  “Ouch.” Gardi winces in sympathy as Salvia is struck by their opponent. “They must be tired. They usually won’t let a strike like that get through.”

  I agree with a chuckle. “Salvia really doesn’t know how to take it easy, do they?”

  Gardi shakes their head. “They’ve only been pushing themself harder, recently. I know they want to be ready, but I try to tell them they’ll be useless if they push themself to exhaustion.”

  I quirk an eyebrow at Gardi. “Ready? For what?”

  The felis returns my faintly bemused look. “For the gods, of course.”

  The bar of metal I’d pulled from the Dungeon Core’s Inventory clangs loudly into the pile of metal before I can catch it, and I wince. Gardi’s ears flick backward.

  “Sorry,” I say. That was probably a lot louder for them than it was for me. “But—what do you mean? The gods…”

  The felis gives me a level look. “They’re coming, aren’t they? Everyone is saying so. Drills have become more frequent. And the test of the defense system last week—no one believes it was routine maintenance.”

  Well, so much for that plan. But I’m somewhat relieved to know the city is fully aware of the coming threat and not panicking over it; in fact, I’m starting to suspect the eager energy infecting the town is not over my and Mirzayael’s wedding plans afterall. Fyrethians are a cautious and proud people, after all; I should have expected this would be their reaction.

  “They’ll arrive at our doorstep sooner or later,” I admit. Very soon. “You’re taking this better than I would have expected.”

  Jorrians saw themselves as the hand of Lorata, after all. It was supposed to be their duty to ensure Fyreneth’s fortress never rose again. And now, Gardi is living on it.

  The felis’s gaze drifts away from me, a faint frown playing over their face. “I have conflicting feelings,” they admit.

  I don’t find that terribly surprising. “It’s okay to feel that way. I know this has been a big adjustment for you. In more ways than one.”

  Gardi’s gaze lifts to Salvia, and their frown softens. “I don’t wish ill on the people here. This city is something special, and I want to see what it will become. If the gods decide it needs to be destroyed…” They hesitate for a long moment. “...Then I suppose I’ll be in defiance of their will. I’m… I’m not sure I’d be able to fight them. But I’d try to protect people, at least.”

  I reach a gentle hand out and rest it on their shoulder, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “That’s already more than I would ever ask of you.”

  “But,” they continue, and I can feel them stiffen. “Salvia doesn’t feel the same. Of course they don’t. They will launch into the frey headfirst, if it comes to it. And I don’t fault them for it. Given our histories… I don’t fault them.” Gardi suddenly turns back at me. “Will you keep them safe?”

  The question catches me off guard. “I’ll try.” It’s the most honest answer I can give. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep them safe. Along with everyone else in this city.”

  It’s at that moment I realize I have the answer to Mirzayael’s request. I really would do anything for these people. And if that means adding a few more minds to my mental network—if that helps keep them safe—then I’ll do it without looking back.

  Gardi lets out a weary breath. “Thank you, Fyre.”

  I give them a sad smile. I hope that’s thanks I’ll rightfully earn.

  Gardi brushes a hand over their arm, a nail tinking against a plate of metal on their forearm. The sound draws my attention; they’re worrying their wedding bracer.

  “Ah,” I say, gesturing to the armband. “You two decided on a design?”

  Gardi lifts their arm to show me, smiling fondly. “It’s not perfect. But it suits us, I think.”

  The metal plate is simple—practical. I’d expect nothing less from Salvia. But etched into its surface is what appears, at first glance, to be a large, stylized snowflake. Upon closer inspection, however, the branches of the snowflake are made of feathers.

  I grin. “It’s absolutely perfect. Oh, Gardi. I’m so happy for you, two.” Unable to help myself, I pull them into a quick, fluffy hug.

  The felis chuckles, and when I pull back they’re grinning, showing off their canines. “Me, too. This is never a path I could have foreseen for myself, but I am happy to have walked it. Life is precious. We should seize the opportunities to express our appreciation for those we care about—while we still can.”

  I wonder if they’re thinking about the family they left behind, or the family they fear they might soon lose.

  They’re right, though—life can be shorter than anyone anticipates. I know that firsthand. I’m too forward-thinking to live every day as if it were my last, but perhaps I should try to embrace the present at least a little bit more.

  “I’ve also been working on a design,” I say, a flutter of nervousness dancing through my gut at the admission. “Though I’m worried it might be a bit silly. Would you like to see?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Gardi’s face lights up. “I would be honored.”

  I mentally access the design I’ve been crafting over the last few months. It was something that had been playing in the back of my mind even before wedding plans were made. I keep nit-picking at it, always finding some new detail I’m unsatisfied with. It feels like nothing I can think up quite captures how much I care. Perhaps that’s what Gardi meant when they said their design wasn’t perfect. What design ever could be?

  I ask the Dungeon Core to synthesize the bracer, and it lets out a dramatic sigh.

  Finally! The design has been rattling around in its mind for forever! It’s gotten so stale.

  I’m about to object to the claim that ideas can go stale, but actually, in some strange twist of logic, I think it might actually have a point this time.

  Then let’s get this stale idea out of your head, I tell it, feeding it some of my mana.

  The Dungeon Core happily complies, spinning the metal bracer into existence in the air before me. I hold out my hands, and it falls into my grasp.

  Unlike Gardi and Salvia’s design, the bracer I’ve designed for Mirzayael doesn’t feature a primary symbol. Instead, the surface of the bracer is raised, braids of metal weaving among each other in a delicate design. Portions of the metal are so dark they’re nearly black, while other materials like gold and copper appear to be threaded into the pattern. The coiling design doesn’t quite resolve into any particular shape, though from some angles the pattern appears almost flame-like, while at other times it seems more reminiscent of lines on a web. The different facets of the bracer catch the light in a dazzling display.

  “Oh,” Gardi breathes, staring at the design.

  I shift uncomfortably. “Is it too much, do you think? Too abstract? The fire and web motif feels a bit cheesy now that I’m looking at it—”

  “No,” Gardi stops me. “It’s beautiful. Armor fit for a queen.”

  Perhaps it’s a bit vain of me to do so, but I beam at their words, and my heart feels tight in the best possible way.

  Unwilling to have the Dungeon Core eat the bracer, and then complain later when I ask it to spit it back up, I put it in my rarely used (and often superfluous) single slot of my private Inventory. Now at least I know why I have it; Kanin even offered to expand my personal Inventory into two to four slots. Given the Dungeon Core’s effectively limitless storage capacity, however, I kindly turned the offer down.

  Even after I finish up with material production at the barracks, I hang around a while longer to watch when Kanin and Noli arrive to spar with one another. It’s getting close to dinner time, so it will probably be the last thing Kanin does before retiring for the evening—and then sneaking out to continue working on his spell circle somewhere far above us in the Drifting Isles.

  As the two spar, Kanin shifts into a less humanoid shape. It doesn’t happen all at once; he forms a limb to counter one of Noli’s attacks, then breaks another off to slip out of her grasp. In fact, I wouldn’t even necessarily say the glass and void form he takes is progressing toward one final shape; it’s more like he becomes whatever he needs at that moment. It’s fascinating and faintly eerie to watch—though Noli seems to find it delightful, and she spends the entire match smiling and laughing. How quickly we adjust to something new and strange in our lives.

  Gardi hangs back to wait for Salvia to finish practice, but as Noli calls for a break, panting and grinning, I decide to join them. My stomach’s been pestering me to go eat for a while now, anyway.

  “Oh, Fyre!” Noli waves as she catches sight of me. “Were you here for a match, too?”

  I tap the illusion stone that hangs about my neck, pressing mana into it so it can interpret for me when I talk. “No, no. I get quite enough of that with Mirzayael, thank you.”

  “Oh?” Kanin asks as he reassembles his glass into a humanoid form. There’s a mischievous hint in his tone. “You two like to wrestle?”

  Noli swats him.

  He holds up his hands with a laugh. “It was an innocent question!”

  I feel like I’m missing something. “We hold one-on-one sparring sessions at least once a week.”

  Kanin snorts. “It’s like she’s trying to set me up for it.”

  “Ignore him,” Noli signs to me with amused exasperation. “He’s a child.”

  “Sure,” I say, still not following. I gesture up toward the palace. “Would you like to grab some dinner with me?”

  Noli lights up. “I’d love to!”

  Kanin waves us on. “Then I’ll catch up with you both tomorrow morning. Ink’s been pestering me for more free time lately since I’ve been using my nights for… Well, you know.”

  I glance around, abruptly realizing Aquenno isn’t with us. “You’re not still being shadowed?”

  Kanin shrugs. “I guess not. He’s been more lax about it the last week or so. I guess he’s finally starting to trust me? Or maybe Noli’s boundless optimism is just too much for a grouch like him to hang around.”

  “Kanin! Don’t be rude!” Noli objects. “He’s still a champion, you know.”

  “Yeah,” Kanin says dryly. “He won’t let me forget it.”

  Noli gives a good natured eye roll, then—to my astonishment—she pats him on the head. I’m pretty sure if she were anyone else, he’d be fuming. “Have a good night, you two. See you tomorrow!”

  Kanin waves as he departs—and I swear I see a tendril of shadow wave as well—then Noli and I are left to trek up the city on our own. I’m more than happy to use the opportunity to practice a bit of my signs.

  “He seems happy you’re here,” I note. “He was rather gloomy after Zyneth left.”

  Noli giggles. “Would you believe that when I first met him, he was doing everything in his power to be independent? He tried to do everything on his own. Ever since he came back from that underwater trip, however, he’s been different. More conscientious, but also more…”

  “Guilty,” I supply. I’ve felt it every time I’ve touched his mind.

  Noli nods, smiling through a grimace. “He shouldn’t blame himself for what happened. It was the predator—the remnant—when it was more powerful and less… well, less of a person.”

  “Has it changed that much?” I ask, recalling the times I felt Ink cautiously watching me from within Kanin’s mind.

  “Oh, incredibly!” Noli signs. “Did you know it named itself? I think Kanin’s been wearing off on it, actually.” She laughs. “For better or worse. It’s learning. Growing. Developing empathy, I think.”

  Amazing. I’m not sure I’ve felt anything like that with the Dungeon Core, but the Core also seems more simple than Ink. Then again, the Core seems more complex than Sandro’s Shroud. Perhaps these remnants come in a spectrum of complexities—they certainly seem to come in a spectrum of personalities.

  “You know,” Noli continues. “My wife didn’t want me to come here.”

  The non-sequitur has me blinking. “Oh.”

  “She didn’t tell me not to come,” Noli clarified. “But I know her, and she’s worried about me. Worried that, by following Kanin, I’ll get tangled up in things bigger than us.”

  “Like gods,” I surmise. I can understand why that might concern her wife.

  Noli nods. “But you know, I think she’s just in denial. Kanin and I are already tangled up together. We have been since we both got caught in that spell that threw us together.” She touches a hand to her chest. “It was his void that sewed my soul back into my body. We’re connected more deeply than most people could imagine. And pretending like we’re not won’t make it go away.”

  I think about my Psychic Link. “I can imagine.”

  Noli chuckles. “No, you’re right—you probably can! And I’m glad Kanin has other Travelers like you to keep him company. I’m sure you all help with his homesickness in a way we never could.”

  Is he homesick? I’m not sure. We’ve barely talked about Earth. Though, from the memories he originally shared with me, the reason we’re all here in the first place is due to a botched attempt on his part to get home. Maybe he yearns for it more than he lets on.

  Or at least, maybe he yearns for his humanity.

  “At any rate,” Noli signs, “I just want to let you know that I appreciate all that you’ve done for him. He seems better than the last time I saw him. More hopeful, I think.”

  Or at least, eager to free the other Travelers. That guilt is still driving him, I’m sure. And I feel a twist of guilt myself; Noli had just been telling me how proud she was that he no longer tried to do everything on his own. And here I am, letting him venture into the Heavens by himself. Not that it can be helped but…

  “Just, keep me in the loop,” Noli abruptly adds. “If he needs help, he won’t ask me for it. But I want to be there anyway.”

  I can certainly relate to that—I’m not sure if Mirzayael has ever asked me for help directly. At least in my case I have a window into her mind, but not all friends can be so lucky.

  “I will,” I promise her. And it will probably be sooner rather than later.

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