A constant stream of muttering blended with the opening and closing of drawers and the shuffling of their contents.

“He wants me to get out of his sight, I’ll get out of his sight…”

Two small hands covered in oversized fingerless gloves jammed another shirt into an old cloth bag. Its lumpy pear-shape was quickly filled with clothing and other meager belongings.

“He won’t have to see me ever again... I won’t have to eat any more of his family’s food, I won’t have to take up any more space in his family’s home…”

An angry scowl twisted his young face as he glared at the wooden nightstand he sat in front of.

“And I won’t have to be reminded of the stupid mistakes my real mom made that got me here in the first place…”

The doorknob turned. 

Wide green eyes beneath messy tan hair peeked over the bed he was crouched behind, and his heart leapt into his throat as the door opened.

A tall, lanky teenager with a dark mop of hair on his head was standing in the doorway.

It was James.

The boy’s form deflated with relief, though a different sort of pang began to take over in his stomach. Cautiously, he raised his shoulders in defense as his brother gently shut the door and walked around their pair of beds to see what he had been hiding.

James’ eyes grew wide. “Wh…”

Michael frowned, glancing at the cloth bag and the half-open nightstand.

James shook his head, gritting his teeth.  “Mm–you’re–leaving?” His voice squeaked between its youthful pitch and the deeper timbre it had been shifting to.

Michael hunched over.  “I have to. I can’t do this anymore… And you know why.”

James let out a breath and dropped onto the ground beside him. He frowned as he touched the bruise forming on Michael’s cheek. He, too, carried the marks of their father, but it was nothing his oversized pullover couldn’t cover.

“You should come with me,” Michael pleaded, tugging on James’ sleeve as he spoke into an ear barely visible beneath a mess of black hair.

James’ eyes lost their focus as his mind rushed with thought. His head slowly rocked from side to side. “I can’t,” he said simply, “can’t leave M–m-mom.”

The rock in Michael’s stomach sank deeper, and he curled further forward. “I don’t want to leave her either,” he admitted, “but I can’t stay. Besides, it will help both of you out if I just leave.”

"What–n-no!"

The boy wrung his fingers together. “The longer I’m here, the more Dad’s gonna get mad and yell at me–and the more you’re gonna get hurt because you try to stop him! And Dad doesn’t care one bit if he hurts you because he knows you can’t say anything back at him!” He scowled at the ground as his twelve-year-old mind attempted to process his thoughts into words. Finally, he spouted simply, “He’s just–mean–and I hate him!!”

“Michael–”

“I’m not even supposed to be in this family!” The boy blurted in exasperation.

“Don’t you even s–s-say that!” He grasped his younger brother’s arms and held tightly.  “Just because Dad s–says–ss–mm–it’s not true!” He finally spit out his words.

Michael looked hard into James’ eyes. “But it is. He tells me all the time that he’s not my dad. And Mom isn’t my mom, because my real mom was ‘worthless’. And you–you’re not even my brother.”

“Yes, I am.” He spoke the words clearly, though his mouth was beginning to bend with a frown. “I don’t care what anyone s... says. I don’t–mm–care that we have different m-moms. You are my brother, Michael.” Slowly, he let go of Michael and sighed. “But, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The boy grimaced sorrowfully. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore either,” he stressed, “that’s why I want you to come with me!”

The harsh squeal of their home’s back door had both pairs of eyes darting to their bedroom door.

Michael frantically pulled the strings of his bag tight and pulled it over his shoulder. He then grabbed a white scarf from the bed and looped it around his neck.

James grabbed his gloved hand as he began to stand up. He reached under the bed with his other hand and produced a worn deck of cards.

Michael’s eyes widened. “Those are yours,” he looked James in the eye.

“N-now they’re yours.” James set them into Michael’s hand with a light smile. “You’re w–w-way better at playing than me.”

Michael pouted. “But, I like to play them with you.”

“Why do you think you got–t-t-to be Ace when I’m just Jack?”

Michael sucked in a breath when he heard their nicknames for each other. He shook his head, but when James remained unmoved, Michael could do nothing more than accept the deck and grab him in a tight hug. 

James wrapped his arms around his younger brother and huffed into his hair.

“Take care of Momma,” Michael muttered into James’ pullover.

“I w–w,” he swallowed. “Okay.”

When they stepped apart, they looked at each other in pain, yet understanding. Michael tried to stand as straight as he could across from his much taller brother, while James’ form was almost slumped from the weight of their situation.

Another slam and an unintelligible shout rippled through the boys. Michael knew it was now or never. He stuffed the cards into his pocket.

“Thanks, Jack.” He tried to smile despite the tears in his eyes.

James’s lips pressed into a sorrowful grin. “B... be careful,” he whispered, “Ace.”

He almost couldn’t watch as his brother ducked through the window and ran off into the gathering darkness of evening. He caught one last glimpse when he passed under the light of a gas street lamp before he disappeared completely.

James was still staring out the open window when the bedroom door was thrown open.

“What did I tell you about keeping your door closed?” Calder’s voice bellowed, followed by heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. “How are you supposed to hear me if I need you? And why is the window open??”

The teen was pulled out of the way by the back of his shirt collar as the gruff man pushed through. He curled away into the corner, watching as his father forcefully pushed the window closed and loudly flicked the locks.

“You boys need to keep this window shut and the door open; do you hear me?” He shot an angry glance.

James did not reply. He cautiously watched as his father muttered under his breath and stormed back out of the room, shoving the open door against the adjacent wall in his wake.

He shut his eyes. His father hadn’t even noticed Michael wasn’t there.

- - -

James slipped his hands into his pants pockets. “It wasn’t m–much longer after that I decided I’d had enough; but, that was also the night Dad finally snapped and…” He sighed and glanced at the carpeted floor. “We lost Mom.”

Ace winced at the news. “Oh, James…”

“They locked Dad up, convicted him of murder, and then he was gone too.”

His body slumped forward and he shut his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” As much as disagreed with everything Calder had done in his final years, Ace was disconcerted to imagine him being executed.

His older brother simply shrugged somberly.

When he could reopen his eyes, Ace kept his gaze to the floor. “I got worried when I went back to the house a few years later and it was vacant.” He shook his head and crossed his arms tight against his chest. “I was worried something had happened to you, too.”

A peculiar expression spread to James’ face. “I got sent to Aunt Catherine’s out in Fairfield.”

“Aunt Catherine? Ugh,” Ace groaned exaggeratedly.

“Okay–we–we gave her a hard time as kids, but she really stepped up when I mm–showed up on her doorstep. She took care of me as best as she could until I could be out on my own. She talked me through the abuse; helped me realize I did not need to blame m-m–myself,” he cleared his throat.

Ace blinked. “You blamed yourself?” He was so taken aback, the words barely escaped his lips.

James shrugged again, repositioning his footing. “I mean–I was supposed to be able to protect her. I should have. And the second I tried to run away…”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that now,” James refocused on Ace, “but, it was hard to get past.”

Ace nodded and returned his eyes to the ground.

“Anyway, Aunt Catherine even found someone to help with my stammer.”

“That is cool; I noticed you’re talking clearer now. Maybe I’ll reconsider,” he added with a smirk.

“Though, I often asked her if we could try to find you so we could be a family again, but she didn’t think you’d still be alive, so… that didn’t go very far. I tried to come out here sooner, but I had a lot to get done in Fairfield before I could make the move. And, in the two years I’ve been here, I’ve been even more busy.”

Ace’s initial sarcasm warmed into a smile. “Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t run into you sooner; although, I guess I’ve spent a lot of the last two years in Kalgara.” He shook his head, his smile breaking toothily. “It’s funny, but also sad that we’ve both been worried about each other, but had no way of finding each other.”

James nodded, also smiling. “And, at last, here we are.”

Ace straightened his back. “Yeah–we’ve gone from putting on plays in our bedroom to standing in a theater you own!”

Both glanced upward at the underside of the balcony above them. Patches of new stucco were splotched across it and most of the walls. Rows of seats stood like a battalion marching toward the stage–though closer inspection proved many were worse for wear. Even the floor was stripped of its old carpet that once lined each of the two aisles, but new rolls rested in neat bundles at the foot of the stage. The stage itself was still dark, but new curtains now hung from the tall proscenium.

Still, the elegance of the theater was difficult to hide. Beyond the patches and in-progress repairs, the glamor of the old paint and the intricate carvings of the proscenium’s molding proved the theater was once a glamorous piece of architecture.

Ace opened his arms wide as he took it all in. “This is insane, James. How in the heck did you get a theater??”

“I mm–worked my way up.” He stepped up next to him. “I started at a dumpy tavern bussing tables, moved up to be the manager, then bought the place for myself. I made the place look nicer–then sold it. Then… I did that a few more times until I moved here and bought the tavern next door–”

“You own the tavern next door too??” Ace gaped.

“That’s how I got the funding to buy this place.”

He shook his head. “And here, I spent years wasting my money playing cards…”

“I n–noticed you kept your nickname,” it was James’ turn to smirk, “Ace.”

“But, of course,” Ace crossed his arms. “I'm honestly a little disappointed you don’t go by Jack.”

James chewed his lip. “I’ll admit, I used the name once or twice for different occasions.”

“Jack Harley?” Ace grinned.

His brother’s dark eyes narrowed. “Jack Gallagher.”

“You’re joking!”

“Not at all.”

He shook his head. “Gosh, if anyone deserves to be a Gallagher, it’s you.”

James chuckled before again growing somber. “I don’t blame you for–mm–taking a different surname after all that happened.”

“Well, legally, it’s still Harley,” Ace brushed it off, before he found himself losing his focus. “I actually did meet my birth mom after I left. I got to know her some; but she passed away four years ago.”

“Oh, I’m s… sorry,” James grew concerned, his brows furrowed under floppy black hair. “But I’m grateful you found her.”

“Me too.”

The brothers’ eyes began to wander through the room along with the thoughts in their minds. Ace’s attention ended up back on his brother, still dumbfounded to be in his presence after years of separation.

James, however, was staring back out into the lobby. “I have a question for you,” he said simply, eyes still turned away.

“Hit me.”

The elder brother waved for Ace to follow, and the younger stayed close behind as they returned to the light of the lobby and entered the office on their right. The smaller space, while intact, was full of paperwork, paint buckets, and spare wood planks leaning against three of the four walls. Despite this, James immediately picked up one of the papers and held it in his hands.

“Something I’ve–ve–b…” He cleared his throat and glanced upward a moment. “All the other places I’ve bought weren’t worth a lot, and there was enough personnel to take over if something happened to me. But the theater… it’s pretty much just me and a few folks I’ve hired to help rebuild so far.”

“Yeah,” Ace nodded.

“I really w-want a co-owner,” James continued, again looking at the paper in his hand. “And while I’ve considered Aunt Catherine–”

“Aunt Catherine?” Ace mimicked his earlier delivery with a smirk.

“She was the only family I had left,” James leaned on one of his feet, “until today, when I found my brother again.”

Ace managed a smile before both the color and the expression drained from his face. “Woah,” he held up his hands. “Hold on a second–”

“Let me finish,” James interrupted, waving the paper at him.

“No, but really–”

“Mm–Ace!” James broke into an exasperated smile. “I want you to be the co-owner.”

“What??” Ace was half-laughing. “You find me, and just… give me half a theater?”

James provided a matter-of-fact look in return.

Ace set his hands on his hips. “You haven’t seen me in years! You don’t even know if I’ve picked up any bad habits,” he ribbed him. “You don’t know anything about my money sense–or lack thereof.”

He shrugged. “I don’t need to. You’re my brother.”

“And you are very trusting.”

“Yep.”

Ace grinned and shook his head at the floor. “I’m honored, James. Shocked,” he glanced up, “but honored.”

“You don’t have to–to sign it today,” he waved the paper before setting it back on his desk. “Talk to your wife first.”

“Probably a good idea,” he laughed. “But seriously; thanks.”

“Thank you,” James turned back to him, his hands in his pockets. “I f–fin–nn,” he again cleared his throat. “I’m glad I found you, ‘cause I really didn’t want to ask Aunt Catherine.”

The brothers broke into laughter, rousing a feeling both had not experienced since the day Ace had run away from home. It was both joyful and nostalgic, carrying them both from the struggles of their childhood and into their present.

“Oh, man,” Ace concluded, leaning against the wall in James’ office. “This is definitely not where I was expecting this day to go,” he glanced at James, “but I’m very glad it did.”

“Me too,” James nodded in agreement.

Ace steepled his gloved fingers. “But, despite the recent development, are you still needing someone to play here once the place is up and running? Because I could always use the extra coins.”

James huffed out a laugh. “I–I th-think that can still be arranged,” he spoke as clearly as he could through his chuckling.

----

This snippet was originally to explore an idea I had about how Ace got his nickname - which also gives James a nickname. And it was ADORABLE. Since it was just the young part, it also included a flashback of when slightly younger boys actually gave each other the Ace and Jack nickames... but for the "real story" I didn't think I wanted a flashback in a flashback, so I took it out 😅

It's been 10ish years since Ace and James have seen each other (so much so they don't initially recognize each other in the chapter before - although they kinda do, but they also don't know if the other is even alive so they're like "nah, that can't be him") and they've both overcome a lot. James was older when things started getting really bad, which gave him more of a protector mindset, so he had a lot more grief/disappointment to overcome. He was also given help fairly quickly, whereas Ace kinda had to wallow in feeling unwanted and angry it until he had people enter his life who cared about him enough to pull him out. That is the benefit of them being separated for so long - you can see how they both were able to get through in their own ways.

The sun was creeping towards the flat, sparsely vegetated horizon as a large, mud-spattered pickup rolled up to a small, half completed house.

Magpie leaned heavily on the wheel. He pinched his grey-hazel eyes as the house went unfocused, shaking his head to clear the weariness. A tired smile tugged onto his bearded face as he noticed three figures sitting outside.

He exited his truck, slamming the door to ensure it stuck and to further alert the three sitting some meters away. He crouched down and held open his arms.

                “Daddy!”

Magpie braced as two girls around seven-years-old smashed into him. He squeezed them until they wiggled free.

The taller of the two—her black hair in two pigtail braids—scrunched her nose at him. “Why’re you all furry?”

                “Oh.” Magpie felt his beard. “I lost the head of my razor somewhere.”

The smaller girl—her dark red hair in matching ponytails—frowned. “It looks weird.”

                “Does it?”

Each girl took a hand before Magpie had time to ponder his appearance more. He allowed himself to be dragged over to the incomplete homestead, to the third figure sitting out front.

Balter’s black hair was tied up in a messy bun. She sat in a patch of dirt in a long, piecemealed skirt. Her fingers were at work shelling peas into a jar. Her shotgun and a large, burlap duffle bag sat to her side.

Magie met her lopsided smile with a broad one as she looked up from her task. He knelt, carefully putting a hand on her growing abdomen, and gently kissing her.

She stifled a laugh. “Sorry. I’m not used to the beard.”

                “I will get rid of it.”

                “Wait until tomorrow.” Balter smirked. “You never know, we might get used to it.” She lifted a full jar. “Maran.”

The taller girl took it, settling down to screw on the lid.

                “Rouen, can you grab the other bushel from the kitchen?”

                “Sure.” Rouen shook her head at Magpie. “It still looks weird.”

Magpie frowned. “Does it look so bad?”

                “Different.” Balter thumbed it as she touched his cheek. “It makes you look older. The question is do you want to look in your thirties before thirty?”

Maran climbed onto Magpie’s back. “I don’t want you to be old.”

Rouen bounced back to the group with a basket of peas. She set them before Balter.

                “Can we go play before dinner?”

                “Just don’t go deep in the canyon this late, and if one of you is climbing, the other needs her feet on the ground.”

Maran led Rouen by half a pace as they ran off towards the canyon.

Most people that the four them came across assumed Maran and Rouen were twins despite the differences.

Maran had black hair, and skin darker than Magpie’s olive tone—like Balter’s.

Rouen had dark red hair, and skin a shade lighter than Magpie’s.

They both had brown eyes as Balter did, but the shape was the same as Magpie’s, Rouen’s being a fraction darker than Maran’s. Both girls shared a handful of small features with Magpie.

The four-month age difference was a fact that never crossed the minds of random rovers and townies.

Magpie snapped from his daze as Balter stroked his arm. He allowed her to guide him to her stomach, beaming proudly at the squirms.

                “You are much bigger than when I left.”

                “Yes, I’m aware.” Balter laughed. “You’re lucky I like you.”

                “I believe I managed enough to finish his bedroom. I should not need to go trading for some time.”

                “There’s no rush. It’ll be easier keeping him in our room the first year or so like we did with the girls.” Balter looked at the horizon. “I need to start dinner. The weather is good. We can do a camp out.”

                “I will gather your utensils.”

Magpie returned to the truck first to grab his rifle and heave a rolled carpet onto his shoulder. He discarded it in the living room area, exiting into the kitchen to grab a large pan, a slab of meat, carrots, and a knife.

Balter had moved to the fire pit as he left the house. He left her the cooking wares and returned to the truck to continue emptying the bed and back of the cab.

Magpie took his rifle and wandered towards the canyon to fetch the girls while Balter finished up the cooking.

The four of them settled around the fire pit. Maran and Rouen excitedly told stories of exploring the canyon while Magpie was gone, begging for stories of his journey to and from the Henlopen Market in exchange.

Magpie left Balter to get the girls ready for bed. He scraped the food scraps into a bucket, setting the plates and utensils aside for washing. He checked that Balter had fully disappeared—that everything was still—before digging through the burlap duffle. He extracted a beaten laptop from beneath the balls of yarn and clothing remnants.

The laptop was open to Surviving Wanderlust, now in red tones instead of pinks when the site first popped up. The newest photo showed a vast field of wheat in the middle of turning from green to gold.

Magpie moved the cursor to hover over the bookmarked sites.

--

Maran chased after a white goat with long, woolly ringlets.

A large, off-white dog with dark ears whined at Magpie’s side; Magpie focused on twisting the wire fence around a new wooden post.

                “Maran, no more. You are upsetting the dog.”

Maran took to climbing into the next field where black and brown floppy-eared goats grazed.

                “Dad! Maran!” Rouen paused yards away, bouncing and waving to draw more attention to herself. “Mom says to come get lunch!”

                “Go on. I’m nearly finished.”

He watched the two girls disappear around a rock face on their way to the house. He did a final twist on the fence repair but did not follow the girls. He shouldered his rifle, patted the dog on the head, and began to walk the fence.

The pasture was small and split into two halves. One housed goats with mostly short hair, floppy ears, and usually were brown with black patches with a handful being white with brown ears. There were scatters on this side to indicate the flopped eared goats were mixing breeds, and some had mixed with the white woolly goats in the other half the of field.

Each pasture had two dogs, one that was awake and one that was sleeping in the mouth of the small, long barns.

Magpie lazily looked over both barns, feeding scraps to the dogs and checking the water levels in the trough that watered both barns. He spotted Balter rounding the rocks as he paused his search for more to do. He walked briskly to meet her.

                “You should not waste your energy trekking out here now that I’m home.”

                “Probably, but what choice did I have if you’re going to be out here avoiding me?”

Magpie scowled. “I am not avoiding. I merely am… processing.”

Balter crossed her arms, casting him a skeptical look.

                “It is not you that I’m avoiding.”

                “Yeah, Mags, I get the semantics of it.”

Magpie fiddled with his rifle’s shoulder strap. He squinted into the sun as a vulture flew overhead.

                “It has been years since I heard anything from Innit. Even longer has passed since I have set foot out of United Americas land. I cannot make sense of it if Innit is asking me to do so now, and after so long.”

                “He could just miss you. It’s not like he was great at being personable or likable. He’s probably had enough of solitude. I mean it’s been… what, seven years? Eight? Was I pregnant with Maran the last time you guys were face-to-face?”

                “She was an infant.” Magpie winced. “I would say… she was near half a year….”

Balter’s dark brown eyes rolled up as she mouthed months. She focused back on Magpie, narrowing her eyes with a frown.

                “He was there when you got Rouen?” She threw her hand up in exasperation. “Are you kidding me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

                “It was unimportant.”

                “Oh, right, I totally buy that.”

                “Perhaps… I did not want you angry with him.”

                “Why? Because he threw a fit when you chose the girls over whatever it is he planned on getting up to?” She scoffed. “Oh no, I see the rationale to it.”

Magpie stiffened. “I asked for his help when with Rouen, and he gave it despite protest. Do not be angry with him.”

                “I can still be mad he quit speaking to you over it.”

                “It wasn’t for long.” He shrugged. “He did reach out months later. Apologized.”

                “Apologized? Innit?”

                “Told me he understood my choosing you and the girls over all else. That was the last I heard from him. I took it to mean we were friends but now our lives were in separate directions.”

Balter’s brow knit. She stared off with a small frown, the cogs moving in her head.

                “That’s… way too understanding of him.”

Magpie was saved responding by Rouen appearing around the rocks. The corner of his mouth twitched at her huffiness. He had seen the same trait, the same mannerisms it bred, frequently growing up.

                “The food went cold. Maren and me didn’t wait.”

                “Sorry, honey. Dad and I just got to talking. We’re coming.”

Magpie feigned interest in the worn pattern on his rifle to hide the smirk tugging at his mouth as Rouen shot them a skeptical and irritated glare before running off.

Balter grabbed his arm as he made to follow Rouen.

                “Musa should be here tonight. He can post a message.” She pulled him to stop him from nodding and walking off. “Try not to worry about it. He could just be bored.”

Magpie forced a smile that did not hide his apprehension.

--

The sun was set when a lime green jeep towing a capsule tent crawled up to sit beside Magpie’s truck. The jeep was scratched and dented, colored faded in spots. The hood and one of the doors had been replaced with red parts. A sloppy, black word—Ruffian—was splashed over the hood.

Magpie protested as Balter hurried from the campfire as fast as she was able. He smiled widely as she squee’d, pulling the driver into a hug the moment he stepped out of the car.

Musa straightened his skewed red frames as he stepped back to catch his breath. “J’y crois pas! You’re pregnant again!” He gave Magpie a thumbs up. “Nice one.”

Magpie laughed as Balter playfully smacked Musa in the chest, and at Musa’s faux wounded expression.

                “You brat. I was last time I saw you.”

                “Yes, but you didn’t show yet and Maggy was not here.”

Magpie pulled Musa into a brief, one-armed hug. “Good to see you well.”

                “Same.” Musa peered at the campfire. “Where are the girls?”

                “Bed. I am certain they’ll be up early. Or soon, should they have heard us.” Magpie gestured towards the fire. “Come, you must be starved.”

The three adults gathered on the seats by the fire. Magpie sliced meat off the charred Gila monster, grinning and laughing at Musa’s travel story. Balter interjected at places to doubt his tale, add insight from her own time on the road, or mirror his emotion more strongly.

                “The travel is fun, but only due to knowing I have a place to park when I need it.” Musa pointed his fork at the house. “The homestead is come along nicely. How much is left?”

                “Nothing if Mags would stop being nitpicky.”

                “Adding a room for our son is not nitpicky. You are the one who cannot make decisions about the eating area.”

                “That’s because it’s hard to beat the open fire under the sky.”

Magpie smirked. “I cannot argue that.” He threw a piece of kindling on the fire. “I’m adding another room. It would be too much hassle having the boy mixed with the girls.”

                “That would save adding on later.”

Balter rolled her eyes. “You both are way overthinking things. We could live out of the jeep and be fine. We did it before.”

There was no arguing that fact. The three of them lived out of Balter’s jeep and pop tent for years, and only started to take long stretches camping in place after Maran came along. Those stretches extended once Rouen was around, but it wasn’t until both girls were walking and talking—able to run off and cause trouble—did he and Balter make the choice to set down roots on her parents’ land.

                “Uncle Musa!”

Maran bounded from the shadows. She jumped on Musa’s back, putting him in a stranglehold.

                “Ma chérie!” Musa pulled her up and over his head, knocking his glasses crooked. “Where’s your sister?”

Rouen dragged into the firelight, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She gave them a sleepy smile and an incoherent mumble. She shuffled into Musa’s hug.

                “Okay, girls.” Balter climbed to her feet. “You can hang all over him tomorrow. Back to bed.” She herded them away from Musa. “Uncle Musa and Dad have a lot of catching up.”

Magpie stood. “We shall wait.”

                “Yeah, I’m good sitting this out.” Balter kissed his cheek. “Don’t stay up too late, guys.”

Magpie picked at some meat left on a leg. He kept his grey-hazel eyes down, listening to Balter and the girls retreating.

                “This is about Innit’s message to you, no?”

                “It was that obvious?”

                “Only to anyone who knows you and Innit.” Musa smiled. “Don’t worry.”

He exhaled as a weight lifted. There was the concern over why Innit reached out, but also worry over Innit’s safety. He had ignored that the best he could.

                “Have you spoken with Innit?”

Musa frowned at Magpie as if he was crazy.

                “I suppose that was a foolish question…. You have been over that way recently, I wondered if he reached out to you first before posting a message publicly.”

                “I suspect Innit spares no thought to me like how I don’t think of him.” Musa shrugged. “He was part of your life, not ours. Just a blogger Balter sometimes teased when we crossed paths.”

                “Fair enough.”

Magpie tossed the leg bone into the fire. The flames rose and licked at the bits of meat he failed to pick off.

                “You want to ask if I could know why Innit wants to talk, no?”

                “There is reason then?”

Musa squirmed. “Have you…? Your sister….”

Magpie’s heart dropped into his stomach. He lunged for Balter’s sack, digging out her laptop.

                “You can’t find word there yet. I only hear whispers now.”

He swallowed roughly. “What whispers?”

                “Infertility.” Musa shrugged. “That we knew would come. She told you as much the last time you saw her.”

Magpie stared through the flames to the house where Balter was re-tucking the girls in. Seven years was a long time, a completely different life ago. He never wanted that separation. He was reluctant about it at times still.

                “Is my sister in danger?”

                “That I don’t know. She well could be, but I don’t see Innit reaching out for that.”

                “Then…?”

Musa shifted. The firelight reflected off his glasses, making it difficult to tell where his brown eyes were focused.

                “It is only whispers, as I said. Gossip. Idleness.”

Magpie stared pointedly, his grey-hazel eyes piercing through the smokey night and dim firelight. Musa’s reluctance stiffened his shoulders and caused his fingers to twitch towards the old rifle lying at his side.

Musa was not normally swayed by chatter. His suspicions on why Innit reached out was more than rumors.

Innit was also too cautious to simply extend word on something vague.

He braced to receive Musa’s update.

--

It was long into the night when Magpie entered the house; the nightshift dogs alerting had him checking on the flock and walking the fence for any sign of breech. He was careful with his steps as he navigated the living room, knowing Musa was sleeping somewhere on a bedroll and hoping he had the sense to be against a wall.

He peeked through the doorway of a small room bearing a flickering lantern. Two small mattresses were stuck inside, each bearing piles of blankets but only one held the room’s occupants.

Magpie checked both girls were adequately covered before retreating to the only room with a bed. He slid in, slowly pulling at the blanket to not disturb Balter.

Balter rolled over and slipped her arm around him. “Goats or chickens?”

                “Goats. All accounted for. The dogs must have frightened the coyotes before they came too near.” He rubbed her hand with his thumb. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

                “Your son woke me.”

Magpie stifled a laugh at the prodding he felt in the small of his back. He pulled Balter’s hand to his lips.

                “I apologize on his behalf.”

They lay still and silent. Magpie continued to rub her hand while Balter squeezed him gently.

                “Musa told me his suspicions.”

                “I had asked him not to.”

                “And that’s exactly why he did.” Balter sat up. “So? When are you going?”

                “I never said I was.” Magpie sat up and put a hand on her stomach. “I greatly dislike the idea of leaving when you are this far along.”

                “He’s not coming for a couple of months.”

                “The drive is long.”

                “I know that way better than you do.”

                “What if he’s early?”

                “Well, we’d both be in trouble whether you were here or not being this far from anything.” She grabbed his face with both hands. “I’m fine. He’s most likely fine.”

                “Most likely?”

Balter laughed shakily. “Sorry. I can’t see what’s going on in there. It feels fine, just like with Maran.”

Magpie took her hands from his face, squeezing them lightly. “Even so, I cannot risk getting sucked into something with the girls so young and you due.”

                “And I’m saying you should leave within the week so that you get back sooner. I know you, Mags. This will eat at you until you can’t help but check it out, and then I really will be worried about giving birth without you around.”

He did not counter her. He kissed her hands and rolled over. He nestled in the blanket, feeling the weight of her and his unborn pressed against him. His eyelids drooped with heaviness.

                “There’s no way Innit would have kids, right?”

                “…What?”

                “I keep wondering why he’d apologize.”

Magpie laughed, quickly turning into the pillow to stop from waking Musa and the girls.

--

The headlights cut the dusk, crossing Magpie’s dashboard and stirring him from his half-asleep boredom. He recognized the slate gray Cadilac’s lights before the old car crawled to stop three meters from him.

He stepped from the cab of his pickup, shouldering his rifle. He cautiously walked forward, his pace quickening and a smile slipping seamlessly onto his face as the car’s driver climbed out.

Innit’s platinum blond hair was a shade darker—but that may have been obvious only to Magpie’s sharp eyes—and no longer closely cropped to his head. It was short but gave an air of ease and maturity. His pale face sported a touch of red, as if Innit had been outdoors in the sun often and recently, and stubble.

Magpie threw his arms around Innit’s shoulders, and received an embrace in return. They laughed as they stepped away.

                “I cannot believe how long it has been!”

                “You grew a beard!”

                “Oh, no, I haven’t.” Magpie rubbed his furry chin. “I only do so while traveling.” He gestured to Innit. “Are you trying to grow one?”

                “Ouch, Magpie, that stings.” Innit smirked. “I ain’t blessed in that department. Just always like this no matter how long I leave it.” His smirk wavered. “I honestly wasn’t sure I’d see you.”

                “I needed convincing. Balter—.”

                “Oh, y’all still together then?”

Magpie glared.

                “Don’t look at me like that. I was tryin’ to be conversational. I reckon it’s good y’all stuck together since you were bringin’ Alouette’s kid to her to raise.”

Magpie stayed bristled. He waited until Innit sighed, groaned, and searched for something else to say before he relaxed his posture. He chuckled, coaxing Innit to do the same.

                “You ain’t got to worry me like that.”

                “It is too easy, but still too fun.” Magpie’s joyful expression waned. “But, I suppose this is not a visit for all fun. You would not reach out only for that.”

                “Reckon we both ain’t the type to meet up just for a chat.”

Innit ducked into the Caddy. He emerged with a smaller cooler bag. He held it up sheepishly.

                “I reckon you’re starved from the drivin’ and waitin’.”

                “You brought me food?” Magpie tilted his head. “Odd. I was always the one to keep us fed.”

                “Don’t go rushin’ to judgement! It ain’t my idea. My wife packed me extra sandwiches.”

There was a disconnect that made it difficult for Magpie to understand what Innit said. He tried to weed out Innit’s accent from each sentence, and then each word, to figure out where the problem was.

His grey-hazel eyes searched for clues on his friend’s angular face; the sky-blue eyes narrowing at his extended staring but otherwise calm.

Magpie fell upon Innit’s left hand, it gripping the strap of the cooler bag. There was a small mark on the second to last finger, between the base and middle knuckles that resembled the letter K.

                “Is that a tattoo?”

                “Oh, yeah.” Innit switched hands to better hold up his left one. “I ain’t one for jewelry and with stickin’ my hands in machinery at any point for some extra cash, it ain’t a great idea for me to pick up the habit. We just got our first initial tattoo’d in place instead.”

                “You and?”

                “Uh… my wife?” Innit laughed. “How tired are you?”

He looked from Innit’s mouth—trying to decipher the word tripping him up—to the bag of sandwiches to the tattoo. His jaw dropped.

                “You married? I cannot—. Who? Have I met her? May I meet her?”

Innit stiffened. “It ain’t that surprisin’.” He frowned, looking elsewhere. “Well… I reckon it is since we ain’t seen each other in years.” He shrugged. “She’s an assistant librarian. We had a quick thing that ended bad before it went anywhere. Reckon everything that happened back then was too raw still.”

They lapsed into silence over the nonchalance of Innit’s statement. They took the opportunity to drift away from the Cadillac, walking with no direction.

                “How is it you married if things did not go well?”

                “She—Kalon—reached out when I was driftin’ through the area near two years after I ran out on her.” Innit crossed his arms tight. “How old is Alouette’s kid now?”

                “Recently seven. Why?”

                “My boy is on the tail end of seven.”

Magpie halted, his rifle slipping off his shoulder. He caught it instinctually before it hit the pavement. His eyes were wide and wild as a grin overtook his face.

                “Balter will try to tell me she was right, but will be too shocked.” He lightly touched Innit’s shoulder. “I am happy for you.” He pat him and started walking again. “My biological daughter is also seven. Between the two.”

Innit smirked. “That’s right, you made mention of Balter havin’ your kid when we were snatchin’ Alouette’s.” He uncrossed his arms, his shoulders relaxing. “I got two girls too. Five and two.”

                “You have three children?”

                “Four, if all goes well the next half year.”

Magpie sank onto a metal bench surrounded by a rusted-out frame of a bus stop. He took the sandwich Innit offered.

                “Balter is due with my son in some weeks.”

                “A boy, huh? How’re you doing with that?” Innit threw the last bit of crust out into the dark. “Scares me as much as with havin’ girls if I’m honest. Probably why I ain’t got a preference for this next one.”

He smiled bitterly. “We lived too much for too young.”

                “If that ain’t the understatement of the decade.”

They listened to the waves lapping the shores of Sangatte as the stars twinkled above.

-----------------------------------

Way, way, way overdue and way longer than I was expecting/aiming. All the looking ahead with Ace and the gang made me want to do one with Magpie. I said soooo long ago that no one will remember, but I had this image of Magpie coming back from wherever and being greeted by a little girl/young daughter. I also had a really strong recurring scene of the daughters and him being joined by Balter (clearly after I was 99% sure they'd be a thing so sure they'd also have a daughter together) and Balter being pregnant. Which worked out since I wanted Magpie to have a son. But I'm thinking the bigger 'wut?!' is Innit. There is so many things that would need to happen certain ways for that to end up being his future, but it is in the realm of possibility. And it all stemmed from some years ago, boredly doing a dollmaker where the guy was blond and the wife was pregnant and there was the option to add three other kids. Just maxed everyhing out and then was like... Innit's blond... hmm. (If his wife's name is at all familiar, she's Bex's "researcher" from his extremely loose network of people. The wife in the maker was a brunette, and the only other brunette was Branch which was just a huge nope.)

I started this when I was still pregnant. Around when Magpie is telling Maran to leave the goats alone is when I went in to the hospital.

Aside from a gentle, trickling flow, the surface of the pond was almost completely still. The water was clear and cool, reaching deep into a rocky crevice where the water within it flowed from. 

An amorphous form emerged from the crevice and fought its way to the surface.

The silence and stillness of the surface shattered as two young men broke through, gasping for air.

Dorian rolled to his back in an attempt to float while he sucked in as much air as he could–while still holding onto a flailing Ace. Ace simply continued gasping, coughing, and otherwise shouting in a strange combination of panic and relief.

Despite the effort to keep them both afloat, the Kalgaran managed to find the bank a few meters away with his good eye. He kicked backward in that direction, lugging the worn-out and waterlogged Daethan with him.

The second his knees scraped the bottom of the pond, Ace clambered to his feet and staggered out–only to collapse face-first into the grass. He remained where he lay, still breathing hard to recover from their ordeal. His shirt bled to a deeper red in its waterlogged state, and the mantle around his shoulders barely clung to his drooping frame.

Dorian crawled up to the bank, flopped onto his back, and shut his eyes. He tugged open his orange leather vest to aid in catching his breath. The swim wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for lugging Ace’s dead weight along with him, but he was grateful both made it to the other side regardless.

Once he had calmed his breathing and relaxed his tensed muscles, Dorian opened his eyes and started to focus on the area they had been washed up in. It didn’t take him long to sit up with his lips parted in awe.

“Ace…”

The man in question propped himself up onto his elbows, water still dripping from his hair as he parted his bangs away from his face. He blinked and immediately pushed himself up to his knees. 

“Oh… wow…”

Ace and Dorian found themselves in an oasis of sorts; among the rocky crags that formed a high wall around them, they now stood in a lush, green meadow with leafy trees and taller pines gathering thickly around the edges. The underground river that had led them into the pool at their backs now trickled into a gentle stream that flowed through the middle of the meadow until it disappeared into the shadows beneath the trees.

“Where are we?” Ace managed to speak again, standing up to better take in the view. He clenched his gloved hand in a fist against his forehead to block the sun.

Dorian had also risen to his feet, idly squeezing the bottom of his vest to release excess water. Beyond the sloping edges around them, he could see the increasingly taller peaks that made up the southern border of the Tallelands. “If I had to guess, I think we’re inside Sungate Mountain.”

“That is the closest mountain to Fortanya,” Ace mused as he also scanned the area. “Who knew it was hollow inside?”

As the two continued to follow the edges of the mountain wall and scan for breaks in the trees, the chirping of the birds and the rippling of the stream filled in the silence. Despite the pleasant scene, the expression on the Daethan’s face was quickly souring.

“...How do we get out of here?”

Dorian’s gaze followed the stream back to the pool. The river’s mouth was far below the water  in the deepest crevice; and, even if Ace could swim, fighting the current to get back outside would be almost impossible in one breath.

“Because I am not–absolutely not–going back the way we came,” Ace solidified Dorian’s sentiments. “I will climb out of this place with my hands if that’s what it takes!” He balled his fists, squeezing out more water from his gloves in the process.

“Well, we can try to look for another way out,” his shorter companion tried, removing his vest to squeeze the remainder of the water from it. “If we start here and go around the edge of the mountain, we can look for caves or ledges to climb.”

Ace was also wringing out his short, black cloak. “This place is huge!”

“Yeah?”

His hands dropped to his sides “It’s going to take forever!”

“Do you have another idea?” Dorian cocked an eyebrow.

Ace’s focus shifted past Dorian’s sarcastic expression. “There’s a house!!”

Dorian turned around in disbelief, but sure enough, his eye fell upon a small stone cottage across the stream and tucked within the shadow of the pine trees. 

Ace broke into a sprint toward the cottage. “That means someone knows how to get in and out of this place!” His exuberance had him spinning around in front of Dorian’s steady pace like a child waiting for a parent to catch up to him. “Because I can’t imagine anyone swims against a massive flood current just to go to the market every–”

“Can you stop for a second?” The Kalgaran interrupted him.

Ace held his tongue as he slowed to a stop, glaring at the back of Dorian’s head as he stepped past him.

The shaded area where the house sat was peppered with beams of light that found their way through the leaves and needles that blanketed the area. The house was modest and seemingly well-kept, with faded blue shutters flanking a wide picture window and a rose-colored door locked against sandstone blocks. A small table with a single chair sat in a clearing beside the house, bathed in sunlight. Birds visited a feeder hanging from a sapling that was growing in the light, undisturbed by the two visitors who now stood nearby.

Dorian slipped his vest back on and stepped up to the door. He gently rapped his knuckles upon it.

The birds at once fluttered away, leaving the feeder swinging in their wake.

Ace kept his eyes on the window, hoping to see movement within. At best, through the dusty window and the dimmed interior, he could make out a small, wooden table and two chairs pushed against it.

After a moment, Dorian knocked again.

“Hello?” Ace chimed in, much to Dorian’s apparent dismay.

Still, there was no reply.

Ace shrugged and went for the doorknob.

Dorian grabbed his hand. “Hey!”

“What?” Ace looked at him incredulously. “If I lived inside a mountain, I wouldn’t keep my door locked!”

“That doesn’t mean we should just walk in!”

Ace jiggled the doorknob with Dorian’s hand still clasped to his wrist. “Lucky for you, it actually is locked.”

Dorian huffed and released him.

“But, lucky for me, I can still get us in.”

He blinked. “What? No!”

Ace pulled a small metal pick from his boot and slid it into the keyhole. Beside him, Dorian had backed away, as if to distance himself from the apparent crime Ace was committing. Still, he kept his eyes on the skillful hands of the former thief–if only for intrigue’s sake.

A simple turn of the metal produced a sharp click, and Ace opened the door into the house and stepped onto the threshold. “Hello!” He called again. “Sorry we opened your door–you probably don’t get a lot of visitors, but we could use some help if you’re in here!”

Dorian was both chewing his lip and frowning as he curiously dipped his head to see around Ace and into the home.

Ace turned around. “I’m not sure anyone’s in there.”

“Well, don’t–” He ended the sentence in a sigh when Ace walked in, regardless of his attempted warning. “You’re soaking wet!!”

He glanced down at his feet, squishing muddy water on the wooden floor. “I’ll clean it up!” He dismissed before continuing further in. He walked past the table he could see from the front window, taking careful steps. “They haven’t been gone long,” he commented. “There’s a loaf of bread on the table that looks pretty fresh. And the room doesn’t smell musty or moldy or anything.”

This finally piqued Dorian’s interest enough to draw him into the doorway. “It’s… certainly tidy.” Dorian slipped inside after Ace, though he paused to ensure his waterlogged shoes were still on the small rug at the doorstep. Pausing in the doorway allowed him to notice a series of hooks beside the door, and on one hook was a long, purple cloak. A darker pattern had been dyed into the fabric, and Dorian gently tugged on the edge of the cloak to spread it open.

The pattern was revealed to be the outline of a great bird.

Dorian gasped as he immediately released the cloak. He recognized this bird.

“Well, no one’s here.” Ace returned to the room, scuffling across the floor with a towel under his boots. “There’s only a bedroom and a washroom and this room, and no one is in any of them!” He paused, letting his hands drop as his expression skewed. “What’s up?” He asked when Dorian continued to stare at the cloak incredulously.

“I can’t believe he lives here… although it makes perfect sense.”

“Who lives here? What’s going on?” Ace scooted closer.

Dorian’s single blue eye glanced at him. “Have you heard the story of The Phoenix?”

Ace’s brows remained furrowed. “No.”

Dorian turned away. “Finish the floor. I’ll tell you outside.”

Ace obeyed, too curious to be annoyed at Dorian’s order. He shuffled back to the doormat, glanced behind to ensure the water was cleaned up, and left the towel near the door. He stepped out into the grassy glen as Dorian shut the door behind him.

Dorian rubbed his chin as he walked a few paces from the house. “I assume you haven’t heard of Alphega, either?”

“That one I’ve heard,” Ace stepped into his line of sight. 

“Really,” Dorian’s flat tone was betrayed by his surprised expression.

“Yeah; that’s the deity who came to this world but got burned at the stake–and now there’s some eternal fire in Kalgara he left behind.”

“That’s… the abridged version for sure,” he smirked. “Though, it’s impressive you’ve heard it at all considering you grew up in Fortanya.”

“You’re not wrong.” Ace returned the expression. “My mom believed in Alphega. She told me all the stories, but I don’t remember very much.”

“That’s a start,” Dorian nodded before tilting his head. “Your mom?”

“Adopted mom,” Ace clarified quickly. “You… you know the story of my real mom.”

Dorian nodded again.

Ace stepped closer. “So, who’s The Phoenix? And how’s he connected to Alphega?”

Dorian’s eye looked out across the meadow. “Before Alphega left this world, he appointed two men as guardians and granted them a portion of his power,” his hand stretched out in front of him. “The first was the Guardian of Life. He was granted power in the form of light that spread from his back as mighty wings to give him flight and agility. He could also wield the light as an impenetrable shield. With his power, he was told to protect others in need; those unable to protect themselves. Over time, this man became known as The Sentinel–ever-watchful for those needing aid.” The man glanced at Ace. “And the second was the Guardian of Death.”

Ace flinched. “Death?”

“This man was granted power in the form of mist and shadow that is said to flow from the cape on his back.”

“The cape in that room?” Ace commented aloud.

“With his power, he was told to tend to those who are dying alone. In their final moments, he will give them comfort and company as they pass from this life into the next; hence, the Guardian of Death.”

As his companion’s eyes drifted away in thought, Dorian continued. “In order to fulfill his role, he was granted the ability to transport himself across far distances and withstand life-threatening situations. His days were lengthened to centuries, and whenever he seemed to fall into death himself, he would rise again.”

The Daethen looked up. “And so, he became known as The Phoenix.” He shook his head as he tried to find words. “Dorian–I think I’ve seen him.”

“When?” His visible eye widened in surprise.

“When we were trying to break the curse, there was that point when everyone else was knocked out or had fallen down. I had just tried to save Hylas but… well, I had collapsed. I couldn’t breathe, and I was probably actually dying,” Ace’s unfocused eyes narrowed. “As I was laying there, I saw a shadow block the sun, and I heard a voice say, ‘it’s not your time.’” He glanced up. “Then the next thing I knew, I was waking up to a broken curse and you all were there.”

Dorian appeared both stunned and impressed. “That had to have been him,” he spoke almost as a whisper. “He must have been the one to break the curse, too.”

Ace half-smiled at Dorian’s shift in attitude. “And now, we’re at his house,” he said as he turned back to face the cottage.

“It’s incredible we have a chance to be this close,” Dorian was also looking toward the cottage. “Out of both Guardians, The Phoenix has always been the most enigmatic.”

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard of The Sentinel before, either, though,” Ace crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t there be some word about him around if he’s around too?”

“They’re both only there to fill gaps, really,” Dorian took a similar stance. “If you’re not in a place of needing protection–or have ways of protecting yourself–you may never see The Sentinel; just like someone who isn’t alone upon their death bed won’t see The Phoenix.”

“It’s just–you think there’d be more talk about a light-winged flying guy around–especially if he’s the less reclusive one.”

Dorian began to rub his fingers over his chin. “I came in contact with The Sentinel once,” he offered gently. “Moments after my parents were killed, a woman with wings of light took me and hurried me away. She’s probably why I’m still alive today.”

“She?” Ace blinked, only for a pang of compassion to hit him from Dorian’s seemingly idle admission. “...Your parents were killed?”

The Kalgaran at once seemed dismissive. “The Sentinel was an older woman when I saw her,” he only acknowledged the first of Ace’s questions.

Despite the urge to know more of Dorian’s past, Ace allowed the conversation to continue as it was. “So, we’ve each seen one of the guardians! That’s kind of cool.” When even this phrase fell upon silence, Ace decided it best to change the subject. “What all else can The Phoenix do, then?”

Dorian tugged at his shirt sleeve. “Over the years, he learned to contain the source of his great power within a gemstone pendant–leading many to credit The Phoenix with the creation of the first totem. In fact, there’s word that every totem in existence was created by him, or one of his successors.”

“Successors? Wait, so there’s been more than one?”

“There have been many Guardians over the years.” Dorian at last returned eye contact. “The Sentinel was not granted any sort of longer life, so when he–or she–dies or becomes too old, the power passes to another who is considered worthy.” He wrung his hands together. “The Phoenix is different; he lives many centuries before growing old, and then, since his power is contained within a totem, he must pass the totem on to his successor–usually a descendant.”

“Interesting.” Ace scratched his head, his drying hair beginning to fluff into its usual disheveled form. “Well, whoever he is now, I guess I can thank him for saving me when he gets here–unless we find a way out of here first.”

The Kalgaran’s face scrunched. “About that,” he said almost nervously. “Since The Phoenix can transport himself anywhere he wants…”

Ace’s hands dropped to his sides. “Oh no!” He groaned, only to shoot his hands back out at his side. “And how much do you want to bet he picked a place with no real way in or out on purpose!”

Dorian frowned. “We should still do a search on our own, just to rule it out. Hopefully, he’ll show up before too long.”

The gambler groaned another time, his head rolling back on his neck in annoyance.

Dorian pointed to the rocky wall to the left of the pool. “I’ll cross the river and go this way from the pool; you go that way. If you find something, make a note of where it is, and we’ll meet back here and look things over.” He paused when his orders were met with more groaning. “I’m sorry; do you not want to get out of here?”

“I do, it’s just…” Ace huffed loudly. “Why can’t my life ever just be… I don’t know–normal?? I swear, since the day I was born, bad luck has followed me everywhere!”

The Kalgaran remained unmoved. “You think bad luck is what got you here?”

“You think this was good luck??” Ace waved his hand at the mountainsides around them.

“I don’t think it’s luck at all.”

“You don’t believe in luck?”

“No.”

“So what do you believe in?” Ace took an accusatory step towards the shorter man.

“Alphega.” He answered simply.

Ace half-rolled his eyes as he turned the rest of his body away. “Well then: why did Alphega almost drown us and then bring us to a place we can’t get out of?”

Dorian narrowed his eye, remaining calm despite the gambler’s volatile nature. “It’s making us work together and forcing us to talk to each other.”

Ace’s mouth was already opening in a retort, but he slowly closed his lips. This was not the answer he was expecting.

“I’m not expecting you to believe in something you haven’t learned more about,” Dorian continued as Ace remained turned away. “But I wouldn’t mind if you tried to refocus the way you’re thinking about things.”

Ace turned around, unsure if Dorian’s words could be considered an insult.

“Instead of seeing everything as a series or good or bad luck, see everything as a point to learn something. You could see a challenging situation as a time you can make a choice to influence your future, or a way to look for something good in something that seems bad. The plans for our lives can be so far beyond what we could ever imagine.”

Ace tilted his head as Dorian’s words sunk in. “I am trapped in a hollowed-out mountain just to… talk to you more?”

“Perhaps. Or there’s something else planned for us here.”

Ace’s expression remained blank as he considered his words. “Okay. So… in order to get out of here, I need to go this way and you need to go that way.”

“If you don’t mind.” Dorian’s words extended like an open invitation.

“Okay.” He nodded with a hint of determination in his eyes.

The Kalgaran watched Ace pocket his hands and start away. He brushed his fingers through the hair that covered his right eye before smiling and following the rocky wall in the opposite direction.

---

This scene comes directly before "Aurora" - I original had them all as one short, but it wasn't very short that way, heh.

Right before all this, Ace falls into one of the canals in Fortanya and drags Dorian with him. Because it's the rainy season, the currents are quick and the canals are full, so they are briskly whisked (ha) into a cave that then leads into the Phoenix's "crater". They almost don't get there because Ace has panicked SO much (like he has to trust Dorian that there's light beyond the cave but they have to go underwater to go the rest of the way and Ace is not a fan). Then, they break through the water here.

I like this one because it's the first real time these 2 have been alone, and really get to start testing their new friendship. And by the end of this whole book, they absolutley get it.

I don't know how many times I rewrote their conversation, since even the original note I found had 2 different copies in it. Then, adding the revised bits of what the Phoenix actually does now, along with the Sentinel and not being a long drawn out speech was kinda tough. But, I also don't want it to get too preachy, since yes, Alphega is a mirror of Christ/Christianity... but that's not quite what this story is for. It's more for showing how you can believe in something bigger than yourself, but you also have the power to make your own decisions. Ultimately, your choices, and what you base your choices on, are what matter. 

And this conversation is just the start :)

(and, spoiler alert, Ace gets to meet his mom and Dorian is exactly right lol)