Firebrand Risk
Art • Lifestyle • Writing • Culture
Breeching Halcyon Hall
May 31, 2024
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Bennett School for Girls, Halcyon Hall

Panel 1. Halcyon Hall, Millbrook, New York, nighttime. The windows glow with light. The shrubbery able to be seen is tidy. The building exudes stateliness and warmth.

Panel 2. Babette de Benedetto—late teens—is kneeling, pressed up against the stone wall of Halcyon Hall. Her curly, black hair is knotted in a bun. She wears trousers and a long-sleeved blouse, but a short, black cape covers most of her torso.

Panel 3. Babette holds a Colt pistol, pointing it down at the ground.

Panel 4. Arlene crouches next to Babette. She wears the same short, black cape as Babette, but is wearing the hood. Arlene has a strained, worried expression.

Arlene

The rest of campus is dark. It must only be the coven awake.

Panel 5. Arlene’s blue eyes widen in fright.

Arlene

Is that your father’s pistol?

Panel 6. Babette pulls on her hood.

Babette

Stay at my back.

Panel 7. Arlene grabs the end of Babette’s cape to stop her from fully standing.

Arlene

You mustn’t!

Babette

There is no other choice.

Arlene

But, Babette…

Babette

They should well know the consequences!

Panel 8. Babette stands, hand on the doorhandle ready to enter.

Babette (v.o.)

I gladly would leave this to others—

Panel 9. Babette charges through the door, gun drawn. Arlene follows with one hand out and the other clutching the gem hanging around her neck.

Babette (v.o. continue)

—but then I wouldn’t make a good leader.

Panel 10. A college-aged girl in black appears. Her outstretched hand has a chunky ring with a jewel on it. Her hand is glowing as if made of embers.

Panel 11. Babette squares herself and pulls the trigger.

Panel 12. The witch falls back, dead.

Panel 13. Arlene appears petrified. Babette is standing resolute, but her hand shakes.

Babette

They’ll be aware of us now. Stay guarded.

Panel 14. Arlene keeps her terrified expression.

Arlene

You killed…. This is too much. We cannot fight the whole Halcyon Coven just us two!

Panel 15. Babette grabs her wrist to steady her gun hand.

Babette

They mean to wipe us out. We had little choice.

Panel 16. They raced through the dimly lit, stately hall with Babette in the lead. Her gun stayed down while Arlene kept her pose with one hand up and one clutching her necklace. There are sounds of several people moving erratically upstairs, some shouts to alert others.

Panel 17. Babette shoots a witch on the stairs as she heads up. Arlene is facing the ground floor, blasting another witch off her feet with a slice of wind.

Panel 18. Babette glanced over her shoulder.

Babette

Don’t leave any alive!

Arlene

I cannot! That’s too far!

Panel 19. A fireball blasts apart a door at the top of the stairs, sending Babette stumbling down a few steps. The coven Matriarch—aged in her sixties with her hair and clothes stereotypical of a school marm—is framed by the destroyed doorway with her hand like embers.

Panel 20. Babette’s hood is off due to the blast. She glares at the Matriarch.

Panel 21. The Matriarch glares back.

Matriarch

It’s the de Benedetto Coven! Raid! It’s a raid!

Panel 22. Babette rushed towards the Matriarch.

Panel 23. Babette shoots once, twice, but the Matriarch deflects both with a mostly invisible shield.

Panel 24. Babette dives down, shooting low.

Panel 25. The Matriarch yelps, faltering, as the bullet rips the hem of her long dress, blasting the wooden floor.

Panel 26. Babette rolls towards the Matriarch, firing another shot. The Matriarch has already rushed from the path, swinging her hand down at the floor.

Panel 27. The floor splinters in a jagged line towards Babette.

Panel 28. Babette rips off her capelet, grips an Italian cameo pinned to her shirt, and throws her hand towards the floor. The line abruptly stops like slamming into an invisible wall.

Panel 29. The Matriarch’s face twists.

Matriarch

Secure the witchboy! Stop that little witch!

Panel 30. The Matriarch sneers.

Matriarch

Leave me to handle Babette.

Panel 31. Babette tucks the pistol away, glancing down towards Arlene.

Babette

Run, Arlene! Find him!

Panel 32. Babette holds out a hand like a shield, the other gripping the cameo. Arlene races off, still on the ground floor and trailed by two witches.

Panel 33. The Matriarch adjusts the clunky, gemmed bracelet on her wrist.

Babette (v.o.)

She is too practiced to tip her hand. She means to bait me to attack first.

Panel 34. Babette’s hand clutching the cameo glows.

Babette (v.o. continue)

So be it.

Panel 35. Babette clasps her hands together, pulling and swirling them apart to gather particles in the air.

Panel 36. The air between Babette’s hands turns smoky and sickly hued.

Panel 37. The Matriarch’s eyes widen fearfully; she steps back and starts to rapidly, repeatedly, draw a circle over her head.

38. Babette pulls her hands apart and disperses the smoky, sickly air towards the Matriarch. A gentle drizzle started over the Matriarch’s head, but she was now coughing.

39. Babette pulls her broach off her shirt and draws a line down her arm with the pin. A line of hot, glowing light follows the path.

Babette

Return my brother, and this ends.

40. The Matriarch snarls. Lightning is sparking on her fingertips. She is not coughing anymore, now sopping wet from the drizzle dispersing over her head.

41. The glowing light spreads across Babette’s arms, looking like lava and embers. The sparks on the Matriarch’s fingers look weak and dull in comparison. A hint of frustration over this is on her old face.

42. The Matriarch struck first this time, sending a jagged bolt of electricity directly towards Babette’s face.

43. Babette blocked with her arm, the magma light brightening as she absorbed the brunt of the magic. Babette clenched her teeth and winced as the residue electricity raced over her, static’ng her curls.

44. Babette counters with throwing a handful of glowing, hot rocks at the Matriarch with one hand, following with a blast of heat from her other.

45. The Matriarch waved her hand, deflecting the hot air. A burst of steam hisses as the rocks hit a wavering water shield.

46. The Matriarch shrieks as the rocks pepper her, knocking her to a knee.

47. Babette steps closer, burning brightly, and with more glowing rocks dancing in her hand. She is staring down at the Matriarch.

Babette

You should have returned my brother.

48. The Matriarch grits her teeth, flicking her hands.

49. The Matriarch stares at her hands in shock.

50. The Matriarch stares up at Babette with more fear than defiance as Babette’s shadow crosses over her.

51. Babette’s expression is grim as her flames light her face, the Matriarch’s cries and shrieks deafening.

52. Babette dashes off, pinning her broach back to her shirt. Over her shoulder is the charred remains of the Matriarch, still kneeling in place. The blackened floor is crumbling beneath her.

53. Babette is drained, sweat on her brow and hands shaking. She rests against a wall and hold her hand out.

54. Babette’s hand flickers a glow, dies, and leaves her with a pained expression.

Babette (v.o.)

I over exerted.

55. Babette checks the gun’s magazine.

Babette (v.o. continue)

I’ll need to reload next encounter.

56. Babette runs off.

Babette (v.o. continue)

I hope Arlene is safe.

57. Babette skids to a halt and ducks behind the corner she nearly clears.

58. Three witches loiter outside a wooden door, murmuring inaudibly. They appear bored and sleepy.

59. Babette’s face lights with excitement and relief.

Babette (v.o. continue)

There you are!

60. Babette steels herself, exhaling and holding the pistol ready.

61. Babette whips around the corner and fires.

62. The middle witch yelps as the bullet rips into her shoulder. The two others stare at her in puzzlement, defenses half-raised.

63. Babette drops the empty magazine, shoving a fresh one in place. She is still moving forward, zigzagging.

64. Babette fires again and hits the left witch squarely through the neck. The right witch is fully on defense. The middle witch is still crying and holding her shoulder.

65. Babette winces as the right witch lashes out, slicing her upper arm with a bright, mint green energy. Babette fires and hits the right witch just as the slice hits her arm.

66. The middle witch disappears inside the door they had been guarding.

67. Babette bursts through the door after her.

68. The room was a bathroom with three stalls and three sinks.

69. Babette looks at the tiled floor.

70. Blood droplets.

71. Babette keeps her pistol up near her shoulders, creeping along the blood trail.

72. Babette stops outside the last stall, at the end of the blood trail. Muffled, sobbing, wheezing is coming from inside.

73. Babette kicks open the door.

Babette

Where is the witchboy?

74. Babette pulls the trigger before the witch waves her hand or opens her mouth.

75. Babette storms into the hall, gun poised.

76. Babette runs up a floor.

77. The floor is empty, darkened, and full of closed doors. There is eerie creaking sounding throughout the hall.

78. Babette remove her broach, squeezing it hard enough for the pin to puncture her hand.

79. Blood droplet hits the wooden floor.

Babette (o.s.)

Truvari. Frati.

[Find. Brother.]

80. Babette falls against the wall, breathing hard. The blood droplet on the floor glows, and a thin line of light stretches from it.

81. Babette grits her teeth and staggers down the hall.

82. Babette turns a corner. Indistinct murmuring reaches her ears.

83. Babette squares against the door, taking a deep breath.

84. Babette taps the door with the gun, waits.

85. The doorknob twists. Babette kicks it, knocking it inward and toppling the witch on the other side.

86. The room beyond the door was a small dorm with two beds. Four witches were in the room; three sitting in the middle of the room and one fallen over near the door. The three in the middle were surrounding a boy of fourteen that greatly resembles Babette (olive skinned, brown eyes, thick and curly black hair—short).

87. One witch sitting on the floor was holding a bloody knife. The witch behind the boy was forcing his arm out. There was a cut dribbling blood on his forearm.

88. Babette’s eyes blaze.

Babette

Zinnia, down!

89. Babette shoots the witch behind Zinnia, and the one with the knife. The third on the floor is lunging for a wand on the nightside table.

90. Babette rounds on the third witch.

Zinnia (o.s.)

Babs, watch out!

91. Babette is knocked back by the door smashing into her. She fires into the ceiling in her disruption. The fourth witch is readying a wand while bracing against the door.

92. Babette shoots through the wooden door. First shot skims the fourth witch’s shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp. Second shot pierces her, dropping her.

93. Babette shoulders the door, shoving the body aside and opening the door wider.

94. Babette shrieks and drops to a knee as a surge of electricity hits her.

95. The last witch holds her wand steady with one hand. Her other hand is bloody and gripping Zinnia’s arm. There is a smear of blood over her mouth. Her eyes are dilated.

96. Babette shakily raises the pistol off the ground, pulling the trigger despite it not lining up with the witch. It clicks empty.

97. Babette tucks the gun away and grabs her cameo with a trembling hand. Her breathing is jagged.

College Witch (o.s.)

[pained shrieks]

98. Zinnia huddles next to Babette, eyes fearful. He holds the knife used to cut him with one hand. He shakes Babette’s shoulder with his other.

Zinnia

Stand! Please, stand up! Let us go!

[beat]

I’ll find Mamma. Where did you part?

99. Babette shakes her head. Zinnia’s lip shakes.

Babette

Mamma isn’t here.

100. Babette’s vision blurred as she took stock of where the witch was. The witch was cradling her bleeding hand while trying to keep a grip on her wand. She was gritting her teeth, glaring at Babette and Zinnia.

101. Babette tries to stand, but falls back to her knee. Her hand releases the cameo broach.

Babette

Run, Zin.

102. Zinnia holds his bleeding arm to Babette’s mouth. Babette turns her head away.

Zinnia

Lick it.

103. Zinnia touches his wound with a finger.

104. Zinnia forcefully stuck his finger in Babette’s mouth.

105. Babette knocks his hand away, spits uselessly.

106. Babette’s pupils dilate. She stops breathing roughly. She is no longer weakened.

107. Babette snatches her cameo as she stands, holding it out and drawing a circle as she does. A bright bolt of light bounces off the invisible shield as it is drawn.

108. Babette launches a counter, fire burning on her skin before she shoots it.

109. Fire rips across the ceiling, walls, and floor. The beds are on fire. The books burn up. The witch stands in the middle, frantically waving her wand at the flames to keep them at bay.

110. Babette swirled her hand above her head, gathering the heat and smoke. Crackles of electricity appeared in the growing cloud.

111. The cloud burst and dispersed as Babette stumbled. Her hands dropping to her sides and her breathing harder.

112. The witch was still fighting the flames, but most were now out. Her stamina was weakened but miles above Babette’s.

113. Babette’s eyes dart to the knife in Zinnia’s hand.

114. Babette grabs the knife and jumps at the witch.

Babette

Shut your eyes, Zinnia!

115. Babette plunges the knife into the witch’s neck where it meets her shoulder.

116. Babette is sprayed with blood as she pulls and rips the knife out.

117. Babette stumbles away, grabs Zinnia, and half falls out of the room.

118. Babette ushers Zinnia towards the stairs, now leaning heavily on him. Zinnia supports Babette around her waist and holds her arm.

Zinnia

You killed—.

119. Babette pushes Zinnia away to throw up.

120. Babette wipes her mouth, smearing the blood that sprayed on her face.

Babette

There was little choice.

[beat]

Let us get you home. I’ll face consequences after.

121. Babette and Zinnia made their way to the first floor, passing the body of the Matriarch down the grand stairs.

122. Babette wretches open the front door.

Arlene (o.s.)

BABETTE! WHERE ARE YOU?

Babette

Arlene…

123. Babette forces Zinnia outside, handing him the knife.

Babette

Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute.

124. Babette shuts the door between her and Zinnia as she hurries back into Halcyon Hall.

125. Babette cups her hand to her mouth.

Babette

ARLENE!

Arlene (o.s.)

BABETTE?

126. Babette hurries towards the direction of Arlene’s yell, seeing broken and burned pictures and decorative end tables. There were few bodies maimed by magic—two—with signs blood or burnt fabrics to indicate injured had retreated.

127. Arlene was on a decorative wooden bench, legs sprawled out and out of breath. Her hood was off and singed. She was dirty, scuffed, damp.

128. Babette crouched in front of her.

Babette

Thank God! Are you injured?

Arlene

I believe just exhausted. Did you find him?

129. Babette nods and pulls Arlene up.

Babette

He’s out front. We should hurry.

130. Babette helps Arlene back towards the front entrance.

Babette

I will never stop repaying you for your help in rescuing Zinnia. I know you crossed lines—.

Arlene

I’d rather not think on that right now.

131. Babette and Arlene shuffle towards the doors.

Babette

Of course. But, I will not forget this once I lead the coven. I promise.

132. Doors bang upstairs freezing Babette and Arlene in place by the door.

133. Babette yanks the door open, shoving Arlene in front of her.

Babette

Hurry!

134. Babette shuts the door behind her but does not move further. She freezes with her hand on Arlene’s shoulder.

135. Babette’s eyes widen.

136. Arlene was shock-still, wide eyes staring at the knife in her chest. Zinnia held the handle. His eyes wider but expression otherwise neutral.

137. Zinnia rips out the knife. Babette falls with Arlene to the ground, trying to hold her upright.

Babette

Arlene! Hold on, I’ll… I’ll…

138. Babette fumbles her cameo.

Babette

Zin, I need…

139. Zinnia is staring down. Remorseless.

Babette (o.s.)

Zinnia…?

140. Babette drops Arlene as she shoves herself away from Zinnia’s knife, hitting up against the doors.

141. Babette snatches up her cameo and stabs it into her hand with gritted teeth. Glowing power surges from the area, flickering.

142. The glow fades as Babette tries to stand.

143. Babette slides back to the stones, breathing heavy.

144. Zinnia stands above her, her vision fading in and out.

145. Blackness. Thud of Babette falling over.

Zinnia (o.s.)

Sorry, Babs.

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The Number Runner
A Tale of Ace Gallagher Short from Book #4

Ace’s nose twitched as he entered the smoke-filled room. He blinked to adjust his eyes to the dim, orange lighting that filtered through the haze. It had been quite a few years since he had set foot into the Queen of Diamonds tavern; the room seemed smaller than he remembered it.  

“Hey there, cutie,” a voice cooed nearby.

He cringed. It was still just as sleazy, however.

He purposefully scanned the room, bypassing the stares of many patrons who were blatantly eyeing him. His eyes fell upon the corner booth and squinted to focus. When he found the familiar figure at the table, his lips couldn’t help but pull to a smirk.

He walked directly to the booth—past the smoke, drinks, cards, stares, and legs—and set his guitar case on the ground beside it. 

The wide-brimmed, feathery hat of the booth’s occupant scarcely turned his direction, continuing to block the light from the hanging bulb over the table. 

“Fancy a game of Blackjack?”

The hat tilted at these words, but the eyes were still out of sight.  “Who’s dealing,” came her voice.

“I believe you are.” Ace grinned.

His password was accepted: the brim tilted up and the warm light lit her ebony skin as she flashed a smile. “Gallagher. Boy, has it been a while.” Despite an unassuming purple cloak that covered her shoulders, she still created an air of confidence that poured from her brown eyes and bounced off the black ringlets that fell from her hat. “I’d thought for sure you’d given it all up.”

“I only have one to play this time, Jacqueline.” Ace slipped gently onto the bench across from her. His pale complexion seemed to glow in the harsh light, and with the light in his eyes he quickly remembered why Jacqueline always wore a hat.

Jacqueline’s lips pressed into a pout. “Ah, I see. Must be really important, then, if it’s dragging you out of retirement. You were one of my best; one I could always count on every week.”

The former gambler smiled at the table. “I want to run 447.”

Her eyes widened as her thin brows arched into the hat. “The number of engagement!” She kept her voice low despite her obvious surprise. “I think I understand what’s been keeping you!” She chuckled and rested her chin on the laced gloves that wrapped her hand. “I suppose congratulations are in order?”

“Not just yet,” Ace hid the flushing of his face by giving his cheeks a quick rub. “If I win, it’s all going to buy her a ring.”

“Ooh,” Jacqueline’s smile widened, “you know, they say you get a little more luck when you run for a good cause.”

“I’ll take all the luck I can get,” Ace watched as the number runner turned to a bag at her side and pulled out a small, leather-bound booklet.

She tugged at a ribbon bookmark and opened the booklet flat on the table. Her fingers delicately ran across the lines of ink, written in a code only she would understand. Her lips pulled askew.  “Someone’s already called that one.”

“What? Ugh,” Ace slumped back. “Of course they would.”

Jacqueline’s finger pointed upward. “Now, now—I still have you covered. How about we look up the number for her name, or some other quality about her?” She paused, looking up into her hat. “How about we run the number for a ring?”

Ace’s confidence returned. “Oh—perfect—yes!”

Jacqueline held her hand out flat to quiet him.

“Sorry,” Ace said softer. Number running was an illegal trade in the territories under Daethos’ rule; only those who knew Jacqueline’s business knew how and where to find her, and they were very keen on keeping it that way.

Jacqueline turned back to her bag and slipped out a larger book. The pages were worn from age and use, but both of these contributed to her finding the section of the book for Ace’s new number relatively quickly. “080,” she said succinctly as her finger stopped on the entry in the book, “the number for rings.” She glanced back at the smaller booklet and scanned the lines with her eyes. “No one has chosen it this week.”

“I’ll run it.” Ace pulled a few coins from the pouch at his side and slid them carefully across the table.

Her fingers fell upon his before they released the money. “If you double it, I’ll set the standard bet higher for the rest of the week; make the pot bigger.”

The green-eyed man narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“I am allowed one favor per week,” she explained, retracting her hand. “I’ll give it to you to help your cause.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You would actually change the standard bet for me?”

“Of course.”

“Even if all your regulars walk up right after I leave?”

“I can’t say it any louder.” She tapped her fingertips on the table with a subtle fierceness.

Ace took in a deep breath. He was already giving up more than he had hoped, and now he would have next to nothing left to pay Vance for rent; but everything he put in would come back to him—plus a lot more—if he won. He swallowed and nodded.

“Thank you,” Jacqueline accepted the second set of coins from Ace and hid them away.

“So, where's the number getting pulled from this week?”

“Now, you know I’m not allowed to say.” The dark eyed woman flashed him a look as she penciled Ace’s number into her book.

“Come on,” Ace attempted a hasty smile, “you can’t give me a hint as a welcome-back gift?”

“Is my favor not enough for you?” The look grew even more intense as her eyes narrowed.

“Alright, alright,” Ace sat back. “Thanks, Jacqueline.”

“Anytime.” She folded up her books and returned them to her bag. “It’s good to see you, Gallagher. You know, you can always stop by even if you’re not playing.”

“I was honestly not even sure you’d be here. I remember when you got kicked out at the Mallard after two months.”

“The Mallard… that’s aging yourself right there.” Jacqueline fingered her smile. “They caught on fast.  But the folks here are either extremely oblivious or just don’t care. I’ve been quite fortunate.” She gave her hat the smallest of tips. “Check in the usual place on Monday for the number.”

“Will do. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

Ace slipped out of the booth with a final grin, took his guitar case by the handle, and returned to the door. He could feel the familiar spark in his veins; the heat of adrenaline and the rush of confidence. It had been quite a few years since he had felt it, but it felt the same as it always had: warm and inviting…

He inhaled a puff of cigar smoke and choked. He had spent enough time here.

 

----

Oh man I'm not sure why I like this one so much; I was devastated when I thought I lost it; but I just had it saved in a different spot on my main hard drive all along 🙄 I think it's just a fun interaction between Ace and someone who's known him a while and has enough spunk to make a lasting impression.

I remember the moment I was inspired to write it; I was driving to ladies choir practice and caught the beginning of an NPR show with a woman talking about growing up with her mom being a number runner - basically an illegal form of lottery. I was so intrigued about the concept (like most gambling things. kind of hilarious how completely interested I can be about learning about gambling, but I have zero interest in doing it - perhaps because I have learned so much lol). So when I got back home I looked up the audio to listen to the rest of the show, and I knew I had to include the concept in Fortanya, since folks there are well versed in all the games and ways to bet on things. And it fit in really well as a start to Ace's spiral back into making terrible decisions all for the sake of trying to get enough money to buy Athena a ring. 

BUT... spoiler alert... after losing the joust, he returns to Fortanya to some very good news - and that's how the soon-to-be newlywed Gallaghers get their house ;)

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February 24, 2025
Warning
A Tale of Ace Gallagher Short from Book #1

A spattering of applause followed as Ace bowed, set down the guitar, and returned to his table.

Athena was both leaning on her hand and using it to cover her mouth and chin. She took one look at Ace's ear-to-ear grin and added her other hand to her ever-reddening cheeks.

“So?” Ace slid back into the seat breathily.

“I’m not sure I like all this attention,” Athena spoke through her hands and flashed him a coy glance. “But you play–and sing–really well.”

“I had good inspiration.” He admitted as his own cheeks flushed pink.

Athena relocated her hands under her chin. “You are quite the charmer, Ace.” Her expression faded when she noticed Ace’s head droop, struggling against the pain from his ever-worsening curse–despite trying to hide it behind a clenched fist.

When he glanced up, his expression soured for a completely different reason. 

“Well, if it isn’t Ace Gallagher,” the first of two young women stepped up to the table, her body twisting within a short, clingy black dress as she spoke. “I must say I’m surprised.”

“Surprised you’d risk showing your face again after all you did the last time you were in Montrose.” The second added as she casually leaned her hip against the table beside him. Her ruffled skirt had a slit up to her mid-thigh, and she was sure to twist it towards Ace.

The young man grunted to clear his throat, glancing between a somewhat confused Athena and the two women. “Oh yeah?”

The first girl sneered. “You left quite a few casualties in your wake.” She gave a quick glance to Athena, who seemed both confused and concerned. “Sweetheart, allow me to break it to you easy–you're not the first lady he’s ever sung that song to.”

“Or the second,” the other added, rolling her eyes.

Athena’s mouth opened, but Ace was quick to recover the attention. “All right, ladies; if your issue’s with me, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave her out of this.”

“Oh, this concerns her too,” she put up a hand to shield her mouth from Ace. “Watch where he puts his hands,” she hissed a whisper.

“Hey!” Ace spouted, banging both hands onto the table. He caught Athena’s eyes for a moment before the girls again pulled them away.

“Also, when you leave, you’d better make sure you have everything you came in with.” She narrowed her eyes at Ace. “The cozier he gets, the more will end up ‘missing’.”

Ace's fingers clenched. “That's not fair!”

“What you do isn't fair!” She spat.

“Look: I’m sorry–is that what you're looking for??” Ace’s brows were heavily furrowed as his breathing grew increasingly labored.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t undo what you've done!” The girl mocked, sliding her hip across the side of the table and leaning into his face. “‘Sorry’ means nothing when you’re still stealing from any woman you can charm!”

Ace was pressed as far against the back of his chair as he could be, his face flushed from anger, disappointment, and the confrontation itself. “Is there anything else you’d like to say while you're accosting me?” His voice was a raspy whisper.

The two girls turned to Athena. 

Her expression and stiffened posture remained guarded as she looked back at them.

“I think we’ve made our point.” One said without even a glance over her shoulder. “Come on, Jess.”

The young women sauntered away, returning to their seats at a table with two other women, joining their pairs of eyes to the glares beating down from across the room.

Ace grunted to clear his throat, his body relaxing as the threat settled. “Sheesh,” he raked his fingers through his hair almost nervously. “Now we’ve really got all the attention.”

Athena turned her head away from the stares and looked cautiously upon Ace. “Can we step outside?”

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

The young woman stood and started to the door with Ace struggling to keep up. He had scarcely stepped outside when Athena abruptly turned around.

“Was that true?”

Ace straightened up. “What?”

“Was what they said true?”

He wheezed in a deep breath, watching Athena’s once warm eyes turn cold. “Come on,” he said nervously, “don’t tell me you're letting them get to you. You know how–uh–exes can be sometimes–”

“Do you really steal from any woman you can charm?” Athena repeated their words bluntly. 

The gambler could tell bluffing would no longer work. “When you’re desperate and starving on the streets,” his voice softened, “you sometimes do things you're not proud of.”

Athena’s form sunk with disappointment. “So, was I next?” Her words were barely a whisper.

“What–no!” His fist clenched at his chest.

“How can I be sure?”

Ace's jaw went slack. “I'm gonna get this from you, too?”

“I’d like to know if I can trust you.”

“You can,” he answered succinctly.

“Not if I’m the next pawn in your game,” Athena frowned.

“Pawn,” Ace grit his teeth and coughed, “that's absolutely not what you are!”

“Then, look me straight in the eye and tell me you weren’t just going to steal from me,” she took a step closer to him, “that all this singing and charming and rescuing isn’t just some ploy to get something out of me.”

Ace hesitated as realization struck. After years of taking all he could, he had never once thought of stealing from Athena. He had never once thought about how he could use her to his advantage. He had reached into his own money bag to pay for her rescue without a single thought to what could have happened next, and in return, she had been kind to him. That was all he could have asked for.

Athena’s lips pressed tightly as Ace lingered in silent thought. “I think I need to go.”

Ace jolted out of his mind. “Wait!”

“I’m sorry,” Athena backed up. “I really do hope you can get healed from the curse, but I think it’s best if you finish without me.”

“Athena!” He reached for her hand, though she kept it out of reach, “I would never steal from you! You are not a pawn! I–I may have sang that song to other people, but, I swear, this is the first time it's ever felt right–” 

“Then, maybe we can catch up in Fortanya,” she dismissed him and turned away.

“Athena, please!!” He struggled to breathe and retain his composure as the woman walked gracefully away from him. He could not immediately find the strength to run after her; he could not cause his feet to move.

He could only watch as she continued down the road in silent agony.

“Allan!” She called, squinting at the skies in an attempt to find the black bird against the darkening sky. She whistled his call as she continued walking, but she still received no answer. “Where is he…”

She had barely turned the corner when she was met by Mioko as he approached from camp.

“Hey Athena!” Mioko's smile was quick to fade when he noticed her pained expression. “What's up?”

Athena attempted a smile. “I just... I need to head back.”

“Oh, okay,” the Weivan nodded, allowing her to pass. He paused, turning as a heaviness filled his chest. “Back to camp, or back to Fortanya?”

Athena glanced over her shoulder at him. Her face was bent with disappointment, tainted with a hint of sadness. She could not immediately find words to speak; she could only turn and continue on to camp to collect her belongings.

Mioko watched her for a moment before returning his attention to the street. He quickly pointed out a familiar face approaching from across the road.

“Dorian,” he rushed toward him, “did you see Ace?”

The Kalgaran had initially backed up when the Weivan came at him. “No; why?”

“I think something happened,” he turned as his hand pointed behind him. “Athena just came back without him and went back to camp… I think something may have happened between them.”

“All the more reason to stay out of this,” Dorian muttered and attempted to step past him.

“I just want to make sure everything’s okay,” Mioko, instead, stepped into his path. “We need everyone to continue on the mission.”

“Technically, we only need you and Ace,” Dorian tilted his head in an attempt to look around Mioko. “You’re the one who knows the counter-curse Ace needs. The rest of us are just here because…” He trailed off.

“Because Ace owes you potions?” Mioko replied, eyeing him.

“Yeah,” he draped his thumbs on his pants pockets.

Mioko nodded. “Well, I guess we can just go back to camp and wait to see if he comes back soon. I haven’t seen Hylas in a while, either.”

“Didn’t he say he was going to check with the Patrol office here? Also, we told everyone we were leaving for the mountains tomorrow. What’s it matter where they’re up to tonight–”

A rustling in the bushes beside them garnered both of their attention. 

As the shadowed figure stepped into the street light, Dorian quickly unslung his staff and thrust it at the young woman who appeared.

“Wait,” the Amorfian threw up her hands. “I mean no harm.”

“Then, stay there,” Dorian inched the staff further.

“Dorian,” Mioko glanced at him, only to look back at the tall Amorfian before them. “What do you need, miss?”

The Amorfian gave Dorian a weak scowl before turning her silver eyes to Mioko. “I’m sorry for overhearing but… did you say Hylas?”

“I did,” Mioko answered, still looking at her in awe. “He’s traveling with us; though, I haven’t seen him since we set up camp.”

“Oh,” her eyes fell away. The furred collar that draped over her shoulders was soon hidden behind her long black hair as she turned her head. Her deep black dress aided in blending her back into the shadows–save from her pale arms and legs.

“But you can stay with us until he returns.”

“What??” Doran finally broke eye contact with the Amorfian to shoot Mioko an incredulous look. “She’s the one who tried to steal your totem the other night!”

“Her?” Mioko gazed at her, half-dumbfounded and half-taken aback.

She wrinkled her nose at Dorian in disgust. “Oh, like you’ve never made a mistake in your whole life.”

“You accidentally tried to steal from him?”

“No,” she barked at him, only for her voice to soften, “I simply know, now, I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have been so desperate…”

The Weivan could see the guilt in her wandering eyes, and he took a small step forward. “I can imagine it’s difficult to be so far from your home. Did you come here to look for Hylas?”

“And what is he doing so far away from his home?” Dorian added under his breath.

“The same could be asked of you, Kalgaran” her eyes narrowed on him. “I didn’t think any of your kind were allowed to leave after your king was murdered.”

“Hold on,” Mioko stepped between the two when he noticed Dorian’s bristling. “Making jabs at each other isn’t helping anything,” he stood firmly. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re all waiting for people, so you can wait with us until Hylas and the others return. Then we can decide who needs to continue on to break the curse with Ace.”

“Curse?” The Amorfian’s bitter expression lightened.

A scream broke out in the forest nearby, silencing all three.

“...Was that Athena?” Mioko asked worriedly, eyes darting into the distance.

- - -

Disappointed and upset, Athena walked briskly down the streets of Montrose. She clutched the straps for her sword and her bag of belongings–both slung over her right shoulder after her brief stop at camp. The street lights stationed along the way were bright, blocking her ability to see past them. In the spaces between them, however, she continued to scan the skies for Allan.

She again whistled his call, slowing to a stop and holding out her arm. “Come on, Allan!”

A croaking sound swooped past her, and a raven fluttered onto a wooden sign of a building across the street.

“Oh,” she sighed with relief. “You were worrying me!” With another whistle, she held up her forearm higher.

The black bird tilted his head and leapt from the sign. He again swooped past her arm and flew down the cross street instead.

“Hey!” Athena darted after him. The street lights were sparsely placed on the cross road, and she quickly lost him in the shadows. “Allan!” Judging by the flapping of his wings, she rushed down the road until its stone-paved surface gave way to a grassy glen.

She caught a glimpse of him in the moonlight before he slipped into the forest.

“He must think we’re going back to camp,” she grit her teeth and ran after. “No!” She called and gave another whistle. “Come back! Allan!”

She fought through low-hanging branches and pushed through patches of moonlight until she ran straight into Hylas.

“Oh!” She bumped into him as the man held out his hands. “Sorry–I’m–chasing after Allan–did you see him?”

“Shh,” Hylas laid his hand on her shoulder and attempted to calm the young woman as she caught her breath, “deep breaths.”

Athena stepped back. “Sorry.”

The Amorfian’s silver eyes glistened as he eyed the bag on her back. “Are you going somewhere?”

She instinctively touched the straps still on her arm. “Oh, um,” she paused, “yeah, I’m… heading back to Fortanya.”

“Alone? At this time of night?”

“Well, once I find Allan, I’ll probably just go stay at an inn until morning…”

Hylas stepped forward just as she took a step back. “Are you not going to continue with us?” He paused, waiting for an answer that never came. “Is everything all right?”

The young woman frowned, finding concern in his eyes. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

He scooted closed. “It’s Ace, isn’t it,” he said simply. “He hurt you.”

Athena stopped moving away, pausing. “What–how did you…”

“I could see a connection growing between you,” he glanced aside. “And since he’s not here with you now…”

She sighed. “He disappointed me,” she admitted.

“It’s such a shame. He seems nice, but I’ve heard it from more than a few Patrolmen: he’s a wanted man.”

“Wanted?” Athena turned her head slightly towards him.

“Patrol has been instructed to keep an eye on him. Without real evidence, he has to be caught in the act or in an altercation before he can be captured for thievery,” his eyes slid back to her, “but I’m sure you know he’s a gambler too. It’s only a matter of time before he gets careless–and gets caught.”

A pang of regret pulsed through her. Despite everything she had just heard, thinking of Ace as a criminal didn’t seem right. Would a man with no remorse admit that he had done something wrong? Or perhaps he truly did feel different around her–enough to confess something he may never have confessed before.

“I need to go find him,” she muttered to herself and started to turn.

She jumped as Hylas took her elbow.

“But, you don’t need someone like him,” he held her arm firmly. “A gambler and a thief is no man for such a beautiful woman as yourself... he’ll always care about luck more than you... and luck is such a fragile thing...”

Athena felt her back against a tree.  She was so distracted she didn’t even realize she had moved until Hylas held her arms against it.

“...Almost as fragile as you are...”

“Hylas,” Athena gazed up at him as he held her tighter.

A toothy grin spread across his face.

She tried to wrench her arms out of his grasp to no avail. She gnashed her teeth and tried to kick him, but she was shoved backward into the tree and held firmly against it with his body. Pinned, she threw her head into his chin.

He yelled and recoiled, but only held Athena tighter as tiger-like claws poked into her arms and fangs inched closer to her cheek.

Athena screamed–only for Hylas to clap his clawed hand against her mouth.

“I’d shut up and hold still if I were you.” He sneered.

 

-----

Eeep. I forgot about this part, lol. But I had part of it rewritten so I finished it out for another short.

I fleshed out the tavern scene since... honestly I'm not sure what prompts Athena to freak out and leave in the first draft, but having two of Ace's "exes" show up and show just how much of a not so nice kind of person he's been really drove that home. I also hate but love how Ace's hesitance is from realizing "oh dang this girl really is different" but that hesitation makes Athena think he can't actually look her in the eye and say it. Oof.

Hylas has been kind of a creep around Athena prior to this, and this makes his true intentions known. Athena walks through the dimly lit forest in the original, but I felt as a single lady (even though she can defend herself) she'd be a lot smarter than that and take the route through town. But geting distracted and led away from passer-bys and street lights made that fit a little better.

Never fear, however, because Ace also heard the scream and runs to the rescue!

After all that gets settled is when the "Giselle" sketch takes place - and Athena learns whole truth about Ace's 'history'. I'm acually filling in gaps, omgosh.

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February 16, 2025
Children of the Moon

Pay no attention to the writing on the wall
The words seem empty cause there's nothing there at all
We let the wise men beat the drums too soon
We were just children of the moon

No one to turn to
Nowhere to run to even if we could...

Children, children of the moon watch the world go by
Children, children of the moon hiding from the sky...

~Alan Parsons Project, Children of the Moon

This is a redraw of a pencil artwork of the "original 5" gang from the Tale of Ace Gallagher....... that I drew 20 years ago. WHAT. It was fun to give it a fresh digital look with all the skillz I have now!

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