Firebrand Risk
Kalon 7
May 11, 2025

The bed jerked–Innit swearing with an accompanied thud of hitting the floor–and Kalon jolted from her sleepy daze. She blinked her green eyes at the textured ceiling, held the blankets firmly to chest, and eased up against the pillows.

The clock on the bedside table indicated roughly thirty minutes had gone by, not enough for her to have properly dozed off but apparently enough for Innit to be dressed again. He was busily throwing scattered clothing off the floor into an open, heavily used suitcase.

“A tad late to tidy up for me.”

His shoulders tensed, showing he heard her, but he continued filling the suitcase without raising his head. He tossed her blouse onto the bed as he climbed to his feet.

“Those pants are around here somewhere….”

“There doesn’t need to be so much hurry. It isn’t even ten. Gramps and Grams won’t start to worry until at least eleven.”

She clutched the blankets tighter, pulling her knees to her chest at his lack of acknowledgement. He continued to spin in place, muttering about missing articles of her clothing while tossing his own into the suitcase. His gaze wandered fleetingly during these turns to the open case glowing a faint, sickly, pale blue.

“Is that a laptop?”

He lunged, slamming it shut, causing her to jump. Her heart pounded in her throat.

“Innit?”

“I kept tryin’ to say it, but….” He zipped his suitcase. “I’m goin’. I got stuff I need to do.”

“Okay, sure…. When will–?”

“Not stuff like that. Not stuff like a checklist. Stuff like… stuff. Like the sort that you ain’t get to hang up at the end of the day.” He kept his eyes turned down, his knuckles whitening on his suitcase handle. “All what matters is this stuff….”

Kalon’s eyes prickled. Her throat tightened. Her bare shoulders felt cold despite the warm air. She curled her toes into the sheets beneath the blankets.

Innit was giving the room a once over, muttering under his breath–what about she could not understand. Her mind filled with static.

“You don’t love me, do you?”

He froze, his fingers twitching as his hand hovered above the laptop.

“You never did.” Tears cut down her cheeks. “Oh god, I’m so stupid.”

“You don’t get to ask me that.” Innit shook, his eyes narrowed and shining. “You don’t get to just throw manipulations at me when I’m tellin’ you I got to do this!”

“Manipulations? Is that what you think?”

“Why not? This is the first I’m hearin’ about all this nonsense.”

“Nonsense! I’m asking if you love me!”

Innit snatched up his laptop. “You can’t ask that!” He stormed to the door, stopping, whirling around. “What happened to all the you not askin’ anything of me thing? What about no expectations?”

“It’s different now.”

“Why? Because we started sleepin’ together?” He scoffed. “That ain’t nothing new to either of us, and it’s stupid to think otherwise.”

“It was new for me because I love you!”

She slid her arm around her stomach, hugging herself as he headed for the door. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her breathing quickened. She chewed at unspoken words as her mind raced through random fragments from psychology books, romance novels, letters, anything that she could use.

She jerked to her senses at the sound of the door opening. Hot, angry tears fell from her eyes.

“You could build a life if you stayed.”

Innit paused, halfway out the door. “You ain’t gettin’ it.” He glared at her. “My friend died. I ain’t lettin’ him die for nothing.”

She flinched as the door slammed. She stayed perfectly still, ears straining for any sound from beyond the door. She wailed into the silence.

---

Dry coughs echoed around the study hall. One of the three visitors cleared his throat as if staving off a cough of his own. Dustmotes floated in the bans of light.

Kalon paused her walking among the tables–bat resting on her shoulder–to watch the dust sparkle. It was like in the orangerie, minus the mildew smell. She smoothed down her oversized, black tunic, feeling a curve not quite noticeable to anyone but her.

“Pardon, mademoiselle?”

She startled, gripping her bat extra tight. “Yes?”

“Irrigation for this area?” The man held up a tattered book. “This is about ancient Rome.”

“Rome was famous for aqua–.” She forced a smile at his blank expression. “So sorry, sir. Leave it there at your station, and I’ll fetch the proper book.”

The irrigation book was not on the second floor, but that was where she ended up. She wandered into one of the study alcoves, sat on the desk, and sighed up at the ceiling.

Grams and Gramps most assuredly realized there was more to Innit leaving that night than him telling her over dinner. They were too keen to fool, and she made it easy coming in a sobbing, disheveled mess. Grams had taken to staring at her from out the corners of her eyes, no doubt noticing that she had stopped wearing corsets and skin-tight pants.

Kalon wiped her eyes before the tears could fall, took a breath, and headed for the proper section. She gathered two books–one detailed, the other novice–and returned to the study hall. There was only one man there, and one of the missing two had asked her about the irrigation.

She hurried to the remaining man. “Pardon, sir, did those other two–?”

“I want no trouble!” He eyed her bat warily. “They said keep quiet. I’ll keep quiet.”

She smacked the bat on the table. “Which direction?”

Her boots echoed as she raced off in the indicated direction. Her head whipped to catch sight of reference numbers, letters, hanging placards to give her a hint at where they could be going.

She skidded to a halt in the histories area. Her stomach dropped, her mouth agape. They were frantically ripping pages from the books they held, stuffing them in various pockets.

“Stop it!”

Kalon swung her bat, connecting with the shoulder of one man. She caught herself from falling as the other shoved her aside, leaving his screaming partner behind. She glared at the downed man, taking stock of his writhing, and chased the other.

“GRAMPS! VANDAL!”

Her yells rang around the library. The perpetrator would run right into Gramps with there only being one usable exit. It was better if she caught him first.

She hurled her bat towards him, quickly closing the gap as his legs tangled and he toppled over. She reached for the pages sticking from his jacket, recoiling as her eyes flashed to his hand grabbing her bat.

She shuffled back, tripping over her heels and falling hard on her butt. She kicked away in an attempt to crawl backwards without turning her back to him as he slowly staggered up, bat loosely in his hand.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle, curling into herself. “No!”

“Kalon!”

Bang!

The vandal yelped, dropped the barely held bat, and grabbed his bleeding arm. He ran off as Gramps knelt next to her, placing a firm hand on her shaking shoulders.

---

“Pregnant?”

Kalon flinched at Grams’s tone. She nodded meekly, eyes wet, and wrung her hands in her lap. She tried to clarify, but shut her mouth. She tracked Grams’s pacing before her, hands on her hips.

“How could you be so… so….” She snapped her fingers at Gramps–tucked in a corner of their living room. “What am I looking for here, Vern?”

“Take a breath, Pistachio, love.” Gramps cast his sharp eyes to Kalon. “How this came about, was it willing?”

“Y-yes. Very.” She winced. “S-sorry.”

“Careless!” Grams wagged her finger. “That’s the word. How could you be so careless, Kalon, dear?” She turned to Gramps. “I told you that we should’ve barred that boy from this place! Bad enough when we thought she was just brokenhearted! What a scoundrel to shirk his–.”

“I never told him.” She ran her hand over her stomach. “I couldn’t risk him reacting badly.” Her shoulders shook. “I… don’t believe he would be capable…. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it….”

Grams sighed, sinking into an armchair. “Something will need to be done.”

“P-please….” Kalon held herself tight, tears streaming from her green eyes. “Please, d-don’t….”

“Hush, girl. No one will harm either of you.” Grams covered her face with her gnarled hands. “What to do first? Doctor? Dear, how far along?”

“Th-three months, maybe….”

“Short notice for your visit…. Well, I’ll make calls, see what can be done.” She gave Kalon a hard look from between her fingers. “Kalon, dear, I have a non-negotiable. Do not name this child after any craving.”

She laughed shakily, wiping her eyes. “I can keep it?”

“Of course you can! You’re its mother.” Grams dragged herself from her chair. “Now, to calls. I’ll continue my shock and disappointment for another two weeks at least. You’ve been warned.”

She bobbled her head, new tears forming, as Grams stalked off. She rested her hands over the tiny, unnoticeable bump, caught between sobbing and laughing with relief.

Gramps emerged from his corner, resting his hand on Kalon’s shoulder. “How are you feeling about this?”

She gave him a watery smile. “Better.”

“Good.” He straightened. “To be safe, I’ll limit your work with patrons. And for the near future, you’ll be down here helping Pistachio to repair and re-record those books destroyed today.”

“What–?”

“Old histories on this area back before the colonies. Nothing of real importance; more likely a renewed interest with the heir to Paris Colony being married recently.” His eyes hardened. “Destroying such old books to sell pages at random to bored shut-ins. How disgraceful.” He pat her shoulder. “Rest for now, my dear. I’ll give you the titles tomorrow.”

She murmured a combination of gratitude and apology as he left. She breathed deeply, prodding herself.

“We’re lucky.”

---

The vast slab of asphalt was dotted with cars. It lay before a long building segmented by doors and accompanying signs. Each indicated a different medical specialty.

Kalon exited the door marked for women's health. She still wore her bleach stained sport bra and the librarian’s coat. She now wore old sweatpants, and her long mass of brunette curls were better maintained and tied up. She held her care bag close, searching the parking lot for the silver minivan she arrived in.

The librarian waved her over. He held open the passenger's side door for her.

“Were you able to see the doctor?”

“Just one of the ladies.” Kalon tightened her grip on the bag, jostling the pill container inside. “She said… it was likely a miscarriage.”

The librarian's hands stiffened on the steering wheel. “And, did she explain to you what that was?”

“I had a baby starting to grow… and then I didn't.” She leaned against the window. “I didn’t even know. He did… I think. I think that's why the beating was that bad.” She bit her lip. “He never kicked me that much. He even did extra and said ‘that should do it’.”

“I do believe he knew. I also believe that was why he allowed me to take you. He knew should he have kept you, this would happen again, and each time it happened, there was more risk of a child.”

Kalon shook her head. “He would've killed me before then.”

“Yes… well, I didn't want to put such a dark thought into your head no matter the truth to it.” He turned a sharp eye to her momentarily. “How are you feeling about all this?”

“I don't know.” Kalon pulled her legs onto the seat. “I guess it's all too much too fast. I probably will feel more about everything after a few days.”

“Quite wise.” The librarian cleared his throat. “I wasn't going to ask so soon, but… how did you find yourself with that terrible man?”

“My parents sold me to him.” She picked at a thin spot on her sweatpants. “He convinced them that I'd never get a big enough marriage pool to make more than he was willing to pay.”

“Horrid lie to go along with everything else. You surely will be lovely, and you seem intelligent. Those are excellent qualities that would've set you apart once you came of age.”

She eyed him, frowning as she took in his lined face and gnarled hands. Her exposure to people his age was limited to three women who lived a few streets over from her parents’ house.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Why shouldn't I?”

She had no response, and turned her full attention to the scenery rushing outside the window. She crawled into the back once the mountains and vast fields bored her, settling among the piles of books.

“Kalon, was it? I was thinking, if you have nowhere else to go, you can come home with me. I have the room.”

“Oh?” She narrowed her eyes at the back of his seat. “You in the market for a maid with benefits?”

There was no warmth or humor in the chuckle he gave. His eyes flashed into the rear view, catching hers. 

“I am enough to be your grandfather. I cannot imagine such…degeneracy.” He smiled softly. “I do have a wife, if that sells the point more. She'd be happy to have a young miss around to dote on.”

“It isn't as if I have anywhere to go or could stop you if you just drove me to your house.” Kalon settled with a thin book. “Do I call you Gramps?”

His laugh now had warmth. “No, no, that's quite all right. My name is Malvern Gousa. Mr. Gousa, Malvern, or even Vern if you ever get comfortable enough.”

Kalon nodded absentmindedly, scanning through the book.

--------

End part was the second scene I typed up back when I thought I might get this done in time for Christmas. Now the only 'flashback'/old scene is one when Kalon meets Bex, and I'm not including that. But, the first scene of this I mentally have the whole thing from Innit's pov down. He's still a jerk in it, but he's also absolutely terrified and trying to be hardened. (And he doesn't believe her.) That's why librarians are armed and libraries are guarded, because peple steal and destroy books. You get some fanatics that really like--or really dislike--a colony, a person, ect. and they just start doing stuff to any information they can. And like Gramps says, some people here about someone mildly famous doing a thing, so they want to sell "rare" info related to thing. Even if it turns out not related. In this case Paris boy married Alouette, so those guys were just stealing stuff related to France. Could've been about the defunct monarcy. Could've been an art book on the Eiffle Tower. Didn't matter.

Oh yeah, and Kalon's pregnant. Happy Mother's Day.

community logo
Join the Firebrand Risk Community
To read more articles like this, sign up and join my community today
4
What else you may like…
Videos
Podcasts
Posts
Articles
February 09, 2026
Roulette vs Edamame

I gave Rou an edamame bean. She proceeded to add it to the undisclosed amount of crumbs and food under the oven......

00:01:07
January 26, 2026
Slip sliding away

There's a portion of the road around the corner from our house that is literally solid ice lol

00:00:21
January 15, 2026
Some Story Talk: Westfall's Ending

And some chatter on how I worked through if Gemini and Hudson would have a kid. It's been a while!

00:16:53
January 23, 2025
Some Story Talk: Mioko

HEY LOOK I finally recorded something again. It's audio only since I was driving... ha

But basically, I'd been tossing around new thoughts for Mioko's backstory (how he becomes bound to the crystal) and in the time it took for me to get to record this, I made up my mind on which route I wanted to take. It's kinda rambly, and there are car noises, but it's not bad! I may have to do more like this.

Some Story Talk: Mioko
September 23, 2021
Some Story Talk ep. 16

I talk around this in ep. 15 and mention it in the second intermission story spitballs. Time for research; here comes the marriage pool episode.

Some Story Talk ep. 16
August 11, 2021
Some Story Talk ep. 11

Time for a research episode talking about one of may favorite theories (that I have unwittingly been applying everywhere, and you just might be too): Bak's Sand Pile!

Some Story Talk ep. 11
March 08, 2026
Slippery Hours

Tim Story, Slippery Hours

Gemini rolled over in her bed with a long sigh, glaring into the dark room, dimly lit by what little moonlight could sift through the white cotton curtain of the window. Upon her familiar sheets, she felt more alone than she had in a long time. She shut her eyes and tried to rest, but the hours continued to slip by...


I sketched this pose for Gemini years ago, and it remained unfinished. I finally found the scene - and the song - to finish her for: a very long night realizing she may just need Hudson more than she thinks she does...

I think Tim Story's song was the biggest motivator and inspiration; the calm and beautiful yet anxious feeling really captures the moment and mood.

post photo preview
February 26, 2026
Beggar's Game

I saw her first in a beggar's game
Her eyes were wild but her laugh was tame
Those people knew her by another name
I knew that she'd be mine
I knew that she'd be mine

She took me in on a winter's night
The air was brittle and the moon was bright
My heart was heavy but her touch was light
Deep in the dance we wandered
Deep in my heart she fell...

  • Dan Fogelberg, Beggar's Game

Tier Dralcon, knowing a curse would soon take his life, turns to all manner of debauchery to drown his sorrows. In one of his lowest moments, he would have never expected Aurora Gallagher, the "Siren of Fortanya" and one of the most infamous residents of Fortanya's brothel, to take pity on him and show him a true, selfless love. And Aurora sure wasn't expecting to fall so deeply in love with him...

This song is the reason these two suddenly wanted to be paid attention to a couple months ago; it immediately spoke to these 2 and fits their story almost too well. I tried ...

post photo preview
February 14, 2026
Was it This Lifetime?

Was it this lifetime? It feels as though I've loved you forever...

I looked at a few too many Western romance book covers and wanted to try something similar; a guy and a girl, holding each other closely, looking into each other's eyes with longing and wonder as the sky bursts alight in a sunset... and because Gemini is involved, there's smoke and embers. A beautiful Will Ackerman song (and title) did the rest.

I'll probably use some form of this for the actual cover for "Westfall"... you know whenever I get to that point 😁

Will Ackerman, Was it This Lifetime

post photo preview
18 hours ago
P.Track.28

The sun was starting to set and Amias still had not turned up. Nellie sat out on the patio to enjoy the pink and gold sky while she waited, her feet propped up on a poofy ottoman. The lightning bugs were starting to twinkle on the woodline in the distance.

The sliding door opened some feet behind her.

“--be glad to get home,” Ava said. “It’s fun enough here, but I miss my friends.”

“What about that one girl,” her mom asked. “Isn’t she in your school?”

“Yeah… but it’s not the same,” Ava muttered. “I didn’t even bother inviting her to come with us tonight.”

Nellie slumped lower in her chair and slowly brought her legs to her chest, curling into a time ball to be as small as possible. It worked, and the Wagners passed without noticing her.

She sat with the sky darkening to red and the lightning bugs coming out in full force, her head full of a dull buzzing. It would make perfect sense for Ava to miss Emma, Olivia, and Sophia. They’d all known each other since elementary school. There was still something about what Ava said, about her tone, that was causing Nellie’s chest to tighten and the corners of her eyes to prickle.

“Good evening, my lamb. Were you waiting out for me?”

Amias still looked like a younger, tanner Victor Price. He held the handle of a sleek roller back in one hand, the other holding the strap of an overstuffed leather satchel across his body.

Nellie launched herself off the chair, and threw her arms around his middle, nearly knocking him back down the steps. She gave a sob as he patted her auburn waves.

“I wasn’t aware we crossed into this familiarity, my dear, but I’m glad of it,” Amias teased. He put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “There, there. Come, let’s go inside. The nastier nature wakes up when the sun goes down.”

They settled in the small den where the kids typically gathered to read their letters. It was dark and quiet, out of the way of the more common gathering areas like the large parlor, living room, and dining room.

Amias left briefly to make a cup of tea; Nellie declining his offer to make her a cup too with the summer heat seeping in through the slightly opened window. He propped his foot on his knee, gave his cup a smooth blow, and sipped.

“Ah, better,” he sighed. “Now then, my dear, you looked quite distressed. Anything your godfather can help with?”

“Not unless you speak teenaged girl better than I do,” Nellie muttered.

“Alas, not one of my many talents.” He smiled sympathetically. “Brue was a misfit magnet. I’m sure she went to her mother with such hardships as you have.”

“So… does that make you a misfit,” Nellie asked, a small smirk forming on her lips.

“Bite your tongue,” Amias said, hiding his own smirk behind his tea cup.

They spent the next fifteen minutes talking about little things. Amias and Nathalie apparently kept in touch with the occasion text or email, and she told him how she was unable to visit. He offered to substitute for her. He hadn’t seen much of the Regere since he returned from dropping off Morgan, typically accompanying Morgan’s mother Evora who was now very busy meeting various heads of state.

Nellie mentioned that Ira had come back to have similar meetings with chapters of the Order of Ferblanc and the Keepers. She did not mention the Piasa Bird, but she caught Amias eyeing the scar from her recently removed stitches once or twice.

“It sounds an awful lot like there really will be a new country,” Nellie said. “That’s so weird.”

“How so?”

“I guess I just think of the countries as set in stone,” she said. “But they aren’t. Even now, you get countries that fall and rise and everything in between. It’s just… weird.”

“It isn’t as common as it was, but, yes, they do change,” Amias said. He frowned into his empty cup and set it aside. “It’ll be good for the Auctorita to have true stability. We’ve had deals fail before because we were seen as illegitimate having no real boundaries. And, perhaps, I’ll have a title that means something instead of just ‘that dashing man following Evora at times’. My resume looks like it has a fifteen year gap in it.”

“Oi, Nellie, are you—Oh?” Arch appeared in the doorway. He straightened himself with a curious eye on Amias. “Sorry. Didn’t know Nellie had any visitors.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Mrs. Adams called us for supper five minutes ago. She’ll be cross if you’re any later.”

Nellie jumped to her feet. “Arch, this is my godfather Amias. Arch is a mage.”

“I recognized one of my own,” Aimas said with a nod.

“Amias…? Hang on, you aren’t Amias Baig, are you,” Arch asked. His mouth slowly dropped open on Amias’s–not at all bashful–nod. “You–you’re a founding member of the Auctorita!”

“You are?”

“I am,” Amias said smugly.

“Oh, sir, allow me to shake your hand,” Arch said, hurrying over and enthusiastically yanking Amias’s hand up and down. “As a mage, sir, it’s an honor. You’ve taught the Regere himself a thing or two!”

“You did?”

“I did, yes,” Amias said, enjoying the attention. He freed himself from Arch. “Care to show us to the dining room? I haven’t graced these halls in an age. I don’t remember where it is.”

Arch giddily led the way from the den. Nellie would not have been terribly shocked if he started skipping. She slowed her pace a bit to force Amias to do the same, putting a few extra feet between them and their escort.

“I thought the Regere was an all powerful mage,” Nellie asked in a low voice. “The magic I sense off him is…” She didn’t want to use ‘weird’ anymore, and crazy seemed just as bad.

“Quite, but he’s young,” Amias said. He gave a snort, shaking his head. “Probably stupid we appointed him the leader when the Auctorita formed, as young as he was, but it has all turned out for the best. Brue was a big part of that. She grounded him. Played the big sister role beautifully.” He pat her shoulder. “Now, my lamb, allow me to enjoy all this extra attention a moment.” He sped up to walk in step with Arch. “Have you heard about the disastrous time the Regere and I had outside Kabul?”

Amias was exuberantly greeted by Silas, and introduced to Brittney. The three of them seemed to grow louder and louder, and crowded the head of the table swapping stories. The kids were almost ignored; Mrs. Adams still kept a sharp eye on them from the end of the table to stop them from horsing around too much or using poor etiquette.

Morgan kicked her under the table. “You could have told me you were waiting for Amias,” he sulked. “We would’ve had a few moments together to speak of things.”

“Things urgent enough for you to assault me,” Nellie grumbled. She speared a roasted potato.

“He’s a link to my father, and do you remember what I was asking my father about on your behalf,” Morgan asked. His eyes darted to Fin, Itzel, Brody, and Arden, double checking that they were consumed with whatever it was they were talking about. “He’s supposed to tell us where your father is.”

“I don’t think that’s secret enough for you to be kicking me,” Nellie said.

Morgan huffed, and tore a large chuck of meat off his chicken thigh with his teeth.

“Master Morgan,” Mrs. Adams called down, “manners!”

Amias was having too much fun with Silas and Brittney, so Nellie, Morgan, and the other children were dismissed from the table by Mrs. Adams without much acknowledgement from the adults. Morgan huffed and fumed the entire way up to his room. Nellie was glad to be rid of him.

Nellie detangled her auburn waves in front of her vanity mirror, not really seeing herself. She hadn’t considered that Amias would be coming with news of Rhys. She hadn’t given her father much thought since Morgan said he’d ask for her, partly assuming–or hoping–he was ignored.

There was also the sick feeling she got when she remembered what she overheard Ava saying that evening. Her mind leapt back to when Ira picked her up so many months ago, asked her if the girls were friends, and Nellie’s instinct said they were not. It was possible that instinct was right all along.

Ira said people like them could make friends, but said he hadn’t. He tried to brush it off as the social differences between boys and girls–and it turned out he was a prince so that surely had some impact too–but Nellie couldn’t stop thinking he could’ve been lying to give her hope. False hope, like about finding Brue.

Penny still believed she would find Keena Fox despite having no memories of her.

Nellie scribbled on the notepad next to her bed: Text Penny. Ask if people like us make friends. Then, she crawled under the covers on her sleigh style bed, and passed out.

---

Amias was in the den the next morning wearing a velveteen dressing gown over his satin green pajama set. He had a newspaper resting against his knee and a small cup of coffee in his hand halfway to his lips.

“Ah, good morning,” he greeted. “Sleep all right? I was up half the night myself due to nature sounds.” He shuddered. “Crickets and coyotes and that blasted big foot.”

“Did you only come here because I had no visitors, or did the Regere send you with a message,” Nellie asked plainly.

He glanced into his cup, took a drink, and set it aside with his brows furrowed. He folded up his newspaper and set it across his lap like a paper blanket.

“Just jumping right into it with both feet this morning, are we? Two things can be true, Perenelle. Yes, I wanted to see you and Nathalie and I thought I should visit since she could not.” He heaved a breath. “And, yes, the Regere gave me a message to take along.”

“Which came first,” Nellie asked. “The message or you planning to visit?”

“Does that matter?” He groaned as she folded her arms. “Of course it does. You are so very like your father at times. It’s astounding. My visit came first, my lamb, since you insist on knowing. I was packing my socks, specifically, when Evora came to ask me to dinner. She asked why, I said I was going to visit you and Master Morgan, she said ‘oh perfect timing’ and had me go speak to the Regere to see if he even wanted me to pass on the message.”

“Which he did.”

“Yes; which he did,” Amias said. He smiled weakly. “Does that satisfy you?”

It made her feel a lot better knowing she had been Amias’s focus, not being ordered to visit to pass on some message. She gave a small nod and took the chair next to his.

“You’re allowed to come and go as you want then,” Nellie asked.

“I beg your pardon,” Amias said. “Were you under the assumption I needed permission from the Regere for every little thing in my life?” Nellie shrugged. “He’s the leader of the Auctorita, but he doesn’t control our lives. It is as if… What’s an analogy an American pre-teen would understand? I’m drawing a blank.”

“But he is your boss, isn’t he,” Nellie asked. Amias looked horrified at the notion but didn’t correct her. “Can’t he fire you if you don’t obey him? Or worse, with him being an all powerful mage?”

“All powerful is a stretch….”

“Not much of one.”

Nellie jumped at the sudden, cool voice and quickly found Morgan hovering in the doorway with a disgruntled expression on his face. His dark hair was still unkempt from sleep, and he still wore his pajamas and slippers. He held a napkin with both hands that was piled with buttered toast.

“I was waiting for you in the dining hall,” Morgan said. “Thought we’d eat and then go speak to Amias. Together.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” Nellie said, quickly adding, “then,” as her stomach gave a rumble.

Morgan’s scowl deepened.

“Now, now, Master Morgan, nothing has been said,” Amias said, a hint of pleading in his tone. “Come. Sit. You can have my seat if you wish. I plan on dropping off my cup once I’ve delivered the message anyhow.”

A rush of anger flared in Nellie’s chest as Morgan went and settled himself into Amias’s chair. He still looked disgruntled at the very idea that they would speak without him but there was now a smugness in his expression.

“What if I don’t want Morgan to hear the message,” Nellie asked, narrowing her eyes at her cousin.

Amias paled. His eyes darted from Nellie to Morgan–now glaring back at her–and back. He silently pleaded not to be put in that situation, but Nellie stubbornly folded her arms and crossed her legs.

“Master Morgan,” Amias said, his voice higher, “would you mind terribly to—?”

Morgan leapt up. He threw down the toast on the small table between the chair and stormed from the den.

Amias sank back into the empty chair while Nellie salvaged the toast. She was starting to get very hungry.

“Why must you antagonize him,” Amias muttered.

“Why must you cater to him,” Nellie asked. “He’s acting like a spoiled brat.”

“He is.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for it today,” Nellie said. She took a large bite of her toast, disappointed that it was now cold so more like wet, buttered cardboard. “I’ll tell him the message later. So… what is it?”

“China,” Amias said plainly. “The Regere last had eyes on the Commander in China.”

“China,” Nellie said slowly. “That’s… broad. He doesn’t have a city or something to go off?”

“If he did, he did not mention them,” Amias said. “All he said was to tell you that Rhys was in China. I must say, I was rather shocked by that. Brue wouldn’t have been caught dead in China as a human.” He shivered. “Dreadful place. I’ve seen what they do to street food there.”

She doubted Rhys would have been loitering around the city streets if he really was in China. The countryside, particularly the mountains, did look mystical in pictures she’d seen. She imagined it would be a good place for a dragon to live. 

How Rhys, a blond European, was supposed to get to those mountains was an entirely different question. From what little Nellie knew about the country, it did not exactly like outsiders wandering around without escort and she highly doubted he would have let a government official know why he was really there.

“Does the Auctorita work in China,” Nellie asked.

“My lamb, the Auctorita is truly global,” Amias said proudly. “We have footholds everywhere. Why, I believe we even send a researcher or two to Antarctica. For what end, I have no idea.”

“Does Rhys have any sway with members,” Nellie asked. “If he asked them to smuggle him into the country and out of the cities, would they?”

“Very likely, though I imagine that would put them at risk, and I’m unsure he would do that to lowly footsoldiers having once been one himself.”

She wondered if Amias meant they would be in trouble with the Regere or the Chinese government, but did not ask which. Hearing how far her uncle’s reach went was enough to cause the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. It was no wonder why Nathalie and Uncle Winston were so wary of him. That type of power and control was too much for anyone.

“Thanks, Amias,” Nellie said, rocking up to her feet. “I’m going to go tell Morgan.”

“Rather fast, isn’t it?”

She shrugged and left Amias to his newspaper. She didn’t have to go far to find Morgan. He was waiting around the next turn in the hall with his hazel eyes narrowed at her.

“You think I'm a spoilt brat,” he accused.

“You are, and you relish in it,” Nellie pressed. She crossed her arms. “Did you eavesdrop on the whole conversation?”

“Only long enough to hear you and that pompous fool laughing over what you really think of me.”

Nellie eyed him, frowning. There was an extra shine to his eyes. Morgan really did have hurt feelings over what he heard.

“We didn’t laugh a single time that conversation, for your information,” Nellie said. She sighed. “Rhys is supposedly in China. So, I guess cross-referencing anything with him is out of the question.” She smiled weakly. “End of the road, cous. Thanks for all the help. Let’s just enjoy the rest of summer break. Want to have a go at target practice? Callix said he’d teach—.”

“You quit too easy,” Morgan interrupted. He started to pace the hall. “China…. The Orient has a wealth of dragon lore, of course.”

“Are you… supposed to call it that?”

“I have a handful in my notes already,” Morgan went on, ignoring her. “We can narrow his location. Get a message to him.”

Her stomach lurched at the plausibility of Morgan’s plan. Amias already said the Auctorita had people all over the world. If Morgan asked his parents to pass a message to Rhys, there was no reason why they wouldn’t try.

Nellie stopped at her room first to grab the box of Rhys’s letters before joining Morgan in his room. They had correctly assumed that no one would go knocking on Morgan’s door, so now always looked over their dragon related items in his room rather than in Nellie’s or the library.

She scanned through the letters, reading only random phrases, while Morgan searched their file case and consulted the globe. She had thought about Rhys returning more often than naught since she was told about him. She was interested to meet–or get reacquainted–with the man that wrote so diligently to his big sister, but Morgan’s point about how much her life would change hung over her.

“These are the most prominent ones I have,” Morgan said, laying out the notes all with an artistic rendering. “Futs-long; says it dwells underground so an exact location is harder to find.” He slid the notes with a deep, orange dragon with a snake-like body to the side. “Shenlong; a sky dweller, so also not a clear location. But, my bet is the mountains where not many humans are.” He slid the notes with a deep, blue dragon also with a snake-like body to the side.

“These seem too specific,” Nellie said.

“Dragons are heavily featured in Chinese mythology,” Morgan said. “They have dragon gods for almost everything. Futs-long supposedly makes earthquakes. Shenlong makes rain.”

“Yeah… way too specific,” Nellie said. She scanned through the notes on Shenlong. “This sounds more like Zeus than a dragon story. …Zeus isn’t real, right?”

Morgan rolled his eyes and started flipping through his notes. “With migration, we should include the zmey gorynich out of Russia. Or the yamata no orochi of Japan. Ryujin seems more in the thought of these dragon gods.” He passed over the notes. “Kirin are generic. We can include them. Oh, and phaya naga. I’d say that’s an excellent candidate with the India connection and the,” he gestured to himself and Nellie, “the India connection.”

“Oh. Right.” Nellie looked at her tanned arm. “I keep forgetting that.”

“I don’t give it any thought either,” Morgan said, shrugging. “Our grandfather dislikes me and my father, and our white, American grandmother raised him as American as she could despite living in London.” He gave his pulled notes a satisfied nod. “This is a starting point.”

The flaming river dragon glared out from the top of the pile. Rhys had been looking for Brue for a decade. He must’ve thought of phaya nagas before now. Perhaps he looked in the Indian rivers, and could only now get into China. Or, Morgan’s theory that human genetics played a role was complete bunk.

“I still have no way of knowing Brue when we find her,” Nellie said, pushing the notes aside. She muttered, “If we find her.”

“You've been so negative lately,” Morgan said. “Summer camp not as rosy as you thought?”

She shot him a glower, but stayed quiet. Morgan did not need to know anything about her worries regarding Ava or making friends generally. He either wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t care, or encourage her to ignore everyone except him.

“What are we supposed to do now,” Nellie asked, steering the conversation back. “I don’t know if I want to send a message to Rhys. I don’t know what to say.”

“Ask him to come back,” Morgan said as if it was obvious.

“Ask him to stop looking?”

“No. Just to come back.”

She sighed and flopped back on Morgan’s bed. “He’s been looking for a decade. He’s not just going to drop everything and come running back because I ask.”

Morgan grabbed one of his pillows and curled around it. He stared but his eyes were distant as if looking at something far away and not at Nellie.

“I’ve been told, countless times now, that your father loved you and only left because searching for your mother was dangerous,” Morgan murmured, half into the pillow. His grip tightened. “You have nothing else to contradict that. You should hold onto it.”

“Nothing to… He did leave and never reach out,” Nellie said. “That’s a big contradiction.”

His eyes fixed on her. “My parents aren’t in love. I was born to fill a role, not because of love. Or to love.” He glared. “Hold onto these stories that your father loved you for as long as you can, Nellie, because the alternative does not feel good.” He flopped over and turned his back to her. “Think I’ll catch a nap before afternoon sparring.”

It was awkward sitting there while Morgan pretended to sleep. Nellie headed out with the box of her father’s letters in her hands. She stood with her back pressed on Morgan’s door, feeling the weight of Rhys’s words to Nathalie in her hand a moment before setting off to find her godfather.

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

This took so long to type that I forgot things like Arch being the escort into the dining room and what Amias was wearing in the morning. But, you get a bunch of dragins mentioned in this. Most are from my pretty dragon book, so I'll put up pictures in the chat. I wanted to describe them more since they're cool looking, but they are just looking at random internet drawings and not facing the real thing. Some dragons, like Futs-long, Shenlong, Jormungandr, Quetzelcoatl, ect. are very, very specific where it's a character and not just a dragon, so those would not be candidates (as Nellie rightly assumes). That does actually narrow out just about every Chinese dragon. They question of if those specific dragons are/were real or pure myth is a completely separate matter.

Read full Article
March 15, 2026
Happy Birthday, Abilene!
Taken from an email from Abilene historian Jay Moore

Jay Moore is a well-known historian 'round these parts, and we even had him kick off the State of the City with a brief history lesson. He then sent this in an email to an undisclosed list of folks, and my coworker forwarded on to me. I love me some Abilene history, so I'll share it here if you are interested too :)

I actually always wondered why Abilene didn't have the traditional small-town-Texas "courthouse square" and now I know why!

----

Happy Birthday to The Future Great!

On Sunday, March 15, our ol’ prairie town will turn 145 years old. Many cities and towns slowly evolve into being, but we can claim an exact day, even an exact hour, to mark our beginning: the day we were auctioned into existence at 10 A.M. on a Tuesday. 

Despite the fact that several hundred people were already milling about in northern Taylor County in the weeks prior to March 15, 1881, we consider that day as our delivery date since it was on that chilly morning that the Texas & Pacific Railway staged an auction to sell lots in the new town they marketed as “The Future Great City of West Texas.” And when auctioneer J. A. Hossack hammered the first lots sold, Abilene was born. 

So that he could be seen and heard by a crowd estimated from one to two thousand, Mr. Hossack climbed up onto some stacked railroad ties set up at Chestnut and S. 1st, behind him was a plat of the new town. He opened the bidding and John Berry of Belle Plain snatched up the first lot. He actually bought two adjoining lots at the northwest corner of N. 2nd and Pine. Those two 25-foot-wide lots have remained linked ever since. Today, they are the setting for Grain Theory. 

Prior to the lot sale, folks were camped out in tents or sleeping under their wagons while they waited on the auction date. There was a tent hotel set up, and at least one pop-up saloon was in operation. Twelve days before the auction, a baby was born here to A.M. and Fanny Barnett; the proud parents named their infant daughter, Abilene. A church was even organized ahead of the auction when William Minter gathered together a passel of Presbyterians for a worship service on February 27 at N. 1st and Pine. We already had a graveyard too; necessary because a man named John Snoddy was killed here a month before the auction. (A jealous husband was a person of interest in the case.)

A Kentuckian named Josiah Stoddard Johnston was tasked with laying out the town and marketing the auction. He saw to it that surveyors measured lots and staked out the streets, and he decided there would not be a town square, rather two parallel streets fronting either side of the railroad tracks. He did plan for a courthouse square despite the fact that Buffalo Gap was the county seat. (Don’t bring that up while eating at Perini’s.)

Streets north or south of North and South 1st were numbered while the intersecting streets were given names of trees, with several being trees you won’t find in these parts, such as Cherry, Butternut, Beech and Hickory. (I’m perplexed as to why he left out Hackberry. We got plenty of those allergen producers.) A couple of the tree streets, namely Sassafras and Apple, never came to be and, in time, Magnolia was renamed N. Treadaway. Also, Orange is not the Florida variety, rather, the Osage Orange, which, I believe, is the same tree as a Bois D’Arc. (And, if you can’t place Bois D’Arc, it is two blocks east of N. Treadaway.)  Johnston also decided that he would offset the north and south tree streets by a half block, so they don’t line up, and each arboreal road stops at N. 1st or S. 1st.

Well before sunrise on March 15th, a T&P engine pulling five passenger cars arrived here from Fort Worth. They were filled with speculators who rode out for our birth and to possibly invest in some Abilene real estate. But many of the buyers present that day were the Buffalo Gap crowd who understood that the new town of Abilene was, in fact, destined to be The Future Great City of West Texas.

So, let your hair down and treat yourself to a birthday cupcake on Sunday. We’re only 145 once. 

- Jay

Read full Article
March 10, 2026
The Next Step
A Westfall Short

Gemini rolled over in her bed with a long sigh, glaring into the dark room, dimly lit by what little moonlight could sift through the white cotton curtain of the window. She could just barely make out the shape of Kitty on the windowsill, but even with the feline’s presence, she still felt more alone than she had in a long time. She shut her eyes and tried to rest, but the hours continued to slip by.

She sat up with a frown, clutching the sheets in balled fists. She had slept, alone, in this very room for over three years now.

Why was it so unbearable tonight?

She and Hudson were never able to connect after they had parted that morning. Each had been pulled in a variety of directions, missing each other with every step. By the time she had returned from her hunt–and her chapel detour–the door to the shop was closed up, and she hated to disturb the Rowletts in their home just to tell Hudson goodnight.

But, ever since their “breakfast date” that morning, their relationship–and where it was headed–had moved to the forefront of her mind. Her prayer in the chapel had only solidified its position.

A wave of longing passed through her body. Its depth startled her.

She grabbed her glasses and kicked out of the sheets. She slipped her feet into her cowboy boots, and, with one leg of her pajama pants tucked into one boot, she rushed to the door and stepped out onto the landing.

She froze when she found Hudson on the shop’s roof across from her.

He seemed to be in a similar state of distress, and before he could get to his feet and move toward her, she scrambled over the ledge and ran to him. As he scooped her into his arms, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, hanging onto him as he folded his arms across her back.

“Gem–”

“Hudson–”

The two paused, having spoken their names in unison. They leaned back to be able to look at each other as Hudson repositioned his hold under her legs.

“Um, you first,” he nodded to her.

“Okay,” she took back one hand to smooth the hair behind her ear. “Well, I was laying there, and I couldn’t sleep... and it’s kind of ridiculous because I’m literally right over you, and I’m going to see you in the morning, but...” She bit her lip. “I just felt like I needed to see you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She huffed the weight from her chest. “Anyway, what were you going to say?”

His lips tugged to a half-smile. “The same thing.”

“Oh,” she blinked and found a smile. “Well, at least we’re on the same page. So... now what?”

Hudson’s lips skewed, and he shifted her in his arms to set her back down on the concrete roof. He poorly squashed a grin when he noticed her disheveled boots, glancing down at his own half-tucked shirt from his own haste. “Well, we were talking about what comes next earlier today,” he began, his face reddening.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Is it,” she paused, chewing her lip, “is it not too soon?”

He straightened up in apprehension. “Is it?”

“I–I don’t know,” she glanced aside nervously, “is there a set time you’re supposed to be dating–or courting–before you get married?”

He huffed a laugh. “I just asked Lil that same question earlier.”

“You did?” She grinned.

“Yeah–and, there isn’t.” He took a breath, “So, if we both feel like we’re ready to take that step…”

Gemini inched closer. “Are you?”

His thin lips were pressed tight as he met her eyes. “...Are you?”

“Yes,” she admitted softly, her eyes unmoving from his.

The admission instantly warmed his face, and he poorly hid a grin before blurting, “Me too.”

Just like the dream-like moment that followed their first kiss, the person standing before them at once seemed a little different. It was as if a new light had been shined upon them, revealing a deeper feeling than they had ever noticed before–in each other, and within themselves.

“Okay,” she fought through the awe-struck silence. “What do we need to do, then?”

“Well, generally, this is when I’d ask your parents if I could marry you.”

She shrugged and grinned at him. “I guess we don’t have to worry about that step,” she attempted to joke, but her smile faded when it had no effect on him.

“I dunno,” he tilted his head, taking her arms. “I feel like I need to ask somebody, or I’m not doin’ it right.”

She frowned lightly. “But, who could that even be? The only person I can think of would have been William.”

He sighed and looked at his boots.

“Besides, on Aravast, you wouldn’t have asked my parents anyway.”

“I would’ve asked your grandma,” he nodded.

“Wait.” She popped up with wide eyes. “What if I pretend I’m Mama Antonia and you can ask her?”

He seemed curious, yet doubtful. ”I dunno.”

“Come on,” she took him by the arms and led him across the roof. They scooted over the ledge and returned to the wooden landing outside her loft. Once there, she stood beside him and pointed to the door. “You are currently standing at my grandma’s house. What would you do?”

“Well, uh...” He gave a quick glance over his clothes and tucked in his shirt. He quickly brushed his hair from his forehead and straightened his posture, eying Gemini as she smirked. He then stretched out his hand and gave her door a few knocks.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned across him to open the door. Once it was open, she stepped back beside him. “The door opens, and Antonia Inova now stands before us.” Gemini grinned as the darkness of the room beyond the door gave way to a memory of her grandmother. “She’s about Paw’s height–but admittedly a little more round–and she has short, curly, white hair; bright green eyes; and round glasses on her nose.”

Hudson inspected the imaginary form of Mama Antonia. “Good evening, Mrs. Inova,” he bowed slightly. “My name is Hudson Rowlett, and I have a real important question to ask you, if now is a good time.” He lingered on the word, as if it had been a question. He was surprised to find himself growing almost as nervous as if he had truly been asking Gemini’s grandmother.

“Of course, Mr. Rowlett!” The words came from her granddaughter. “I’ve heard so much about you! Go ahead.”

“Well, ma’am,” Hudson clutched his hands together, ”I wanna start by sayin’ your granddaughter is the kindest, smartest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She’s lovin’ and carin’, and a Godly woman who’s brought hope to so many–includin’ myself. She’s…” he gently laid one of his hands on her shoulder, as if to further prove his point. “She’s truly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Gemini found it difficult to stay in character, squashing her lips tight against Hudson’s heartfelt admission.

Hudson again straightened his posture and took in a deep breath. “So, if I may, I would like to ask for her hand in marriage.”

She was quiet for a moment; though it was long enough for Hudson to break the illusion by glancing at her. But, with a wide smile, she squinted her eyes shut and threw out her hands. “‘It’s about time someone tamed that flame!!’” 

He broke into a laugh. ”You’re makin’ that up!”

“I swear–that was exactly what Mama Antonia told me she’d say!!” Gemini giggled as she practically leapt into his arms. “She told me if I approved of someone, she would approve, too–and I know she would have loved you,” she added with a warm smile. 

Hudson stole a kiss from her cheek before leaning back to better look into her eyes. “Well, since I’ve got Mama Antonia’s blessing,” he shot a coy grin, “I just gotta let Paw know and get his; and that won’t be a problem.”

“And then?”

The smirk warmed as he set her down and dipped his head. “Then, I get to propose to you–to ask you officially–only I’ve gotta do it as a surprise.”

Her expression scrunched. “Wait, so after all this, I can still say no?”

He blinked. “Please, don’t.”

She puffed out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already said yes–and I will continue to say yes as many times as I’m asked.”

“I think it’s more about the surprise than the actual askin’.” His hands slipped down from her shoulders to hold her fingers, running over a familiar blue bracelet on her wrist in the process. “Some folks propose ‘round all their friends or family so they can celebrate together; some folks’ll propose in private and then go out and spread the news... I just have to make sure you don’t know when to expect it,” he ended slyly.

“Oh, yeah?” She drew closer to him.

“And, I gotta get a ring for you to wear,” his words turned soft as he looked at her hands, “so I can put it on your finger when–”

He wasn’t able to finish as her lips pressed against his. He hummed as his eyes closed and he folded his arms around her back. He felt her hands around his neck, reaching up into his hair.

He huffed breathily when they parted. “You’re not makin’ this any easier,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” she exhaled through a smile.

He smoothed out a strand of white hair on her forehead. “Maybe we should try to get some sleep,” he offered.

“Yeah,” she smiled at him. “I’m glad you were here. I feel a little better now.”

“Me too,” he smiled back. “I love you.”

She squinted her eyes and buried her face back into his chest. “I love you too,” she murmured into his shirt.

Hudson held on as long as she did. Despite sleep finally weighing on his eyelids, he rested his chin on the top of her head and gazed up at the stars overhead. 

He smiled. He’d hold on all night if he had to.

 

-----

The Rowlett's house is 2 stories, and since the shop is one big tall ceiling, its roof is maybe 4 feet taller than the landing of the upstairs loft. And since I like to mirror things a lot, there's a scene early on after Gemini moves into the loft where she can't sleep and goes out to find Hudson up on the shop roof across from her. They semi-awkwardly sit on opposites sides for a little bit, talking to each other before they part ways. So despite being similar circumstances, the feelings have greatly changed this time!

I had the idea for Gemini to be Mama Antonia pretty early in all my drafts - as perfect as it would have been for Hudson to ask William for her hand... 😞 In the "Last Night on Aravast" sketch, Antonia tells Gemini the "it's about time someone tamed this flame!" line and despite Gemini rolling it off, it still stuck with her.

These two are just ridicuously cute together and I will ship them forever 😁

Read full Article
Available on mobile and TV devices
google store google store app store app store
google store google store app tv store app tv store amazon store amazon store roku store roku store
Powered by Locals