Firebrand Risk
P.Track.11
November 10, 2025

The messages to Ira stayed unread for the rest of February. Nellie only sent one more, asking if he was all right, but that too stayed unread. She started to worry as mid-March crept by and took to searching the internet for any signs of Ira York whenever she was able.

“Boo!”

Nellie jumped, nearly dropping her school laptop on the floor. She frowned at Ava as she laughed at her, sinking into the seat next to her and pulling out her sketch pad.

“Mrs. Huffman is going to be angry if she comes in and sees that out,” Ava said. “You know she’s all upset over this AI art stuff.”

“I’ll put it away when she comes in,” Nellie murmured, keeping her eyes on the screen. The bright light mixed with her blue eyes, giving her a glazed look.

Ava pushed her glasses up her nose. “Clayborne York,” she questioned, leaning over to look.

Nellie tilted the screen down to distort the image of the middle-aged man with Ira’s blue eyes. She gave it a second of thought, and readjusted the screen so Ava could see. It was just the two of them in art class, and the other few students that arrived early did not so much as glance at them.

Clayborne York looked like the type of middle-aged dad Nellie would see in a soccer stadium waving a Manchester banner, and that was despite the expensive suit, neatly kept blond hair (starting to look duller with age), and the way he held his broad shoulders. It was something in his smirk, and the twinkle in his eye that gave the fun loving impression. He was more relaxed than Ira typically was, but not completely absent the weight Ira seemed to have during the times he would space out.

“I bet he was cute at our age,” Ava said, grinning widely. “Who is he?”

“Ira’s dad,” Nellie said. “The college guy that was visiting after I moved here.”

“And…?”

“And I haven’t heard from Ira, so was thinking of maybe emailing his dad,” Nellie said. She slowly shut her eyes with a groan. “Oh, wow, that sounded lame outloud.”

Ava frowned, chewing her words before saying them. “Eleven is probably too young for him,” she said tactfully.

“I’m twelve, but it isn’t like that,” Nellie said with a laugh. “He’s a family friend.” She felt that was not enough, and added, “Our fathers were cadets together.”

“Oh, so that’s why,” Ava said with dawning. “We couldn’t figure out why he was visiting after you told us he wasn't a relative. Wait… twelve? Since when?”

“Last Friday,” Nellie said, embarrassed.

Her cheeks reddened the longer Ava stared, clearly aghast that Nellie had kept her birthday quiet. She was saved trying to explain herself by Mrs. Huffman trotting into the room with the class bell on her heels. Nellie quickly put the laptop away. She made an attempt at drawing Cecily–poorly–while Mrs. Huffman droned on about texture.

Nellie had not been able to look at Clayborne York’s profile long enough to find a contact number or email. She would need to resume once he was home, hopefully on the laptop and not on her phone. It would be helpful if she was allowed to bring her school laptop home.

The person who would be able to tell her where Ira was, and convey a message to him, was probably Penny, but Nellie did not know a thing about her other than her first name. And, it was likely a nickname. In retrospect, Penny did not have an English accent like Ira did, but that did not help narrow down her identity.

She lingered in the doorway until the car rider monitor called her. She rushed to the pearlescent sedan with a wave at Emma and Olivia, giving them a small, fake laugh as she climbed in.

“Which ones are those,” Nathalie asked, giving them a wave as they rolled forward. “Shame all your friends were occupied last weekend.” She gave Nellie a strained smile. “Was school any more tolerable today?”

“Normal amount of tolerable,” Nellie murmured. “You haven’t heard from Ira, right?”

“From Mr. York,” Nathalie asked. “No. Not since he flew home. Are you having difficulty reaching him?”

“Yeah,” Nellie said. She dug her fingers into her knees. “I’m starting to worry. Should I call the Order of Ferblanc?”

“I… don’t believe that to be wise,” Nathalie said carefully. “I’m not exactly sure what it is they do, but Mr. York not calling them until the last minute when it came to that… thing, makes me believe they must be extraordinarily busy doing similar heroics.”

“It does seem extreme…,” Nellie said.

The larger of the two outbuilding–the one Nathalie claimed for her studio–had been fully outfitted with electricity. A bathroom was added, raising the amount of the property to two; Nathalie claiming foresight for Nellie’s approaching teen years. Ash’s house was still unfinished. Electricity and water had been added, but it was ripped to the studs and lacked a roof. It was slated to be complete as soon as Nathalie was paid for her recent ballerina statue.

“Can I use the laptop,” Nellie asked, shouldering her bag as she stepped out of the car.

“I suppose so,” Nathalie said. “Don’t lose track of time though, please. I’ll need you to pop dinner into the oven tonight.”

Ash had again destroyed her bedding. She did not bother to scold him, instead sitting on her bed and going into the recent orders tab to place another order for a comforter, pillow, and sheets. He was a wild animal with a supernatural flair. It was more their fault for locking him indoors and they had both come to accept that.

“You’ll be an outdoor dog-thing once your house is done,” Nellie said, patting his head. “I guess I’ve been worrying you’d run off and get hurt. Or just run off in general….” She stroked him, staring at the confirmed order screen unseeingly. “Please don’t run off on me, Ash.”

---

Nellie snapped thin branches, panting, as she tore through the forest. She leapt a fallen tree, twisting to see over her shoulder as much larger sounding branches broke. She tripped, tumbling head over heels through the dead leaves and mud hidden beneath. She stayed perfectly still as all the sounds vanished, waiting.

Black smoke elegantly wafted around her left side, bounced before her, and began to solidify into Ash. He crouched, hackles raised.

“No,” Nellie begged, half-laughing. “You win. You win.” She flopped backwards. “Let me catch my breath.”

Spring Break had started and it brought Nellie an enormous amount of relief to not go to school. A twinge of dread lingered in the depths of her mind, a mental countdown to when she would return to the tedium and mean stares from her teachers.

She climbed to her feet, shaking the leaves from her clothes. “Come on, Ash, let’s get back to the lady,” she said. “It’s got to be near lunch.”

She always referred to Nathalie as ‘the lady’ to Ash. In part, because Nathalie did not like to acknowledge Ash by his name, but also to avoid Nellie needing to definitively put a label on her. It was surprisingly easy to never say the words ‘mom’ or ‘aunt’ in everyday life. She knew it would need to be spoken aloud at some point, but that could wait until she was not enjoying the freedom of traipsing about the woods with her smoke wolf.

It was pleasantly warm, and the bright sun fell into the clearing before the small house causing the black asphalt to deepen. Birds pecked dropped seeds from the made feeders Nathalie had made, hopping along the tar happily.

Something made Nellie slow her casual pace, something that she could not put her finger on that stood out from the cheerful scene. Her shoulders tightened as Ash began growling at her side.

“Ssh, boy, don’t give us away,” she whispered, patting his head. She inched nearer, heart pounding and the hairs on her arm standing erect. “J-just… cover me.”

She stood back from the door, stretching to reach for it but not wanting to get any closer should she need to run away. She cringed as the door let out a slow, sharp squeak.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called, her tone strained. “Do hurry inside before the flies follow. Someone is here to see you.”

Inching into the doorway revealed a man in a tailored suit and a flamboyantly loudly patterned fuschia tie. He reminded her of Vincent Price but if he spent a lot of time in the tropics, his olive skin was either fully natural or the result of long, warm vacations. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties but the only lines she saw were crows feet that crinkled up when he smiled fondly at her.

She smiled nervously, warily eyeing the length of him. There was something about him that she could not figure out, some feeling she could not name. It was not hostile, just not usual.

“My, look at you,” he said, a hint of some accent. “You–.”

Ash snarled, poofed, reformed in front of Nellie, and lunged. He smacked into a barrier, light spreading through the air from his impact. He tossed his head about, growling and ready to spring again.

“Easy there, friend,” said the man, holding his hand before him. He stood like bracing against a wall, his face twisted in concentration. “Would it be inconvenient to put the creature outside?”

Nellie stared, mouth open. She snapped to after a few seconds. “Ash, outside, boy,” she ordered. “It’s okay, boy.” She tilted her head at the man. “He’s a friend.” She firmly urged Ash out the door and shut it to prevent him poofing around her back into the house.

“Friend,” he said, amused. He sat on the worn soft looking completely out of place, crossing his legs to reveal his socks matched his tie. “Perhaps when you’ve grown, but for now I’ll have to be content with godfather.”

“G-godfather,” Nellie stammered. She turned to Nathalie. “I have a godfather?”

“Godfather,” Nathalie cried at nearly the same time. “What on earth–? Is my brother a Catholic? Oh, I knew that group was some sort of cult!”

“Dear woman, calm yourself,” the man said, although he looked highly entertained. “The Order of Ferblanc is no cult, though it pains me to admit that. Perhaps they went through periods of cultishness, but that could be my distaste wanting more than anything.” He raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Or are you accusing his most recent association?”

“No,” Nellie said firmly, holding her hands at each of the adults like forcing them apart. “No, no, no! I don’t care about if my father is a Catholic or a cultist or former cultist or whatever. …Well, I do, but not right this second.” She pointed at the man. “Name. Please.”

His lip curled. He stood, and gave a sweeping bow. “Amias Baig.”

“And you’re a witch,” Nellie asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite her heart beating from her chest.

“Witch,” Amias said, scandalized.

“Wait, no, not a witch,” Nellie said. “What was it Ira called you guys…?”

“Mage.” Amias sat again, knitting his fingers on his knee. “Ah, yes, so the little prince truly was here. Oh, how his father fretted.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Sent inquires to us asking after him and everything. Poor child. Such a tight leash.”

Ira had been delayed by the white screamer and Cecily running off. It did not strike Nellie as unusual that his father would worry, especially since he was surely informed why his son was roaming about. Amias did not seem concerned about Ira. He could know where he was and why he was not looking at his messages. He could know about her parents, what happened to her mother and where her father disappeared to.

Nellie–and the adults–jumped as Ash let out a long, discontented howl right outside the door. She moved to let him in before recoiling, shooting a look at Amias.

“Ash doesn’t like you,” she stated.

“Naturally,” he said, nodding. “We magic types put animals on edge by default. It’s a dangerous thing, magic, and in some ways unnatural.” He laughed lightly. “Unless you are of the natural type yourself, but those are few and far.”

“Magic is… that weirdness I’m getting off you,” Nellie asked.

“Rudely stated, but yes,” Amias said. He lifted his eyes to Nathalie. “And you feel nothing, correct?”

“Confusion and mild anger,” Nathalie said wryly. “Are you staying long enough for refreshment, Mr. Baig, or do you need to be on your way?”

“Oh my, I like you,” Amias said coolly. “Tea. Preferably black. And, if you have a cake, I’ll take a bite.” He twisted to put Nellie more squarely in sight and Nathalie further from it. He gave her a sad smile. “You were so young last I saw you. When word reached the Regere of where you were, I leapt at the chance to see you.”

“The Regere,” Nathalie asked, stepping next to Nellie and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“My uncle,” Nellie murmured. “The one… Rhys didn’t want near me.”

Nathalie paled, she inadvertently painfully digging her fingers into Nellie’s shoulder. “Wh-what? But, how?”

“The Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie said, staring at the grain in the floor. “I gave my name when I called. They must've recognized it. Ira did.”

Nathalie released Nellie, stepping away to pace. She covered her mouth in horror, her brow furrowed.

“So… about that tea,” Amias asked. He tensed as Nathalie glared at him. “Water is also perfectly fine.”

Nathalie held her glare for a few seconds before snatching her phone up off the table. She stormed into her room, slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. It was no great leap to think she was calling Uncle Winston as some form of reinforcement.

Amias stood and walked up to her. He put his hands on her shoulder before thinking better and raising them off so that they hovered inches above. He gave a snort, shaking his head with a smile.

“Suppose going right for a hug is too forward given that I’m a stranger now,” Amias said. His smile grew more fond. “You look a good deal like Brue. Have her freckles. Her smile, from the little I saw of it.”

“I,” she swallowed, “look like her?”

“I’d say you have a good mix, but I can see her in you, yes,” Amias said. He clapped her shoulders and returned to the couch, squirming about with a disgusted look. “My, this thing is tattered.” His warm, brown eyes wandered the floor, ceiling, and walls of the old, cramped house. “Well….” He allowed his words to trail into obscurity.

“Did you train with the Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie asked. “Is that how you and my father–?”

She abruptly stopped at Amias’s roar of laughter. Her face burned with embarrassment, her mind churning backwards to discover where she went wrong. She giggled nervously, grasping.

“N-no, that wasn’t right,” she said. “You don’t seem to like them.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Amias said, wiping a tear from his eye with his finger. “Oh, how I needed that! Oh, my, come here.”

Nellie sat on the coffee table across from Amias. She took his hand as he offered it, still feeling embarrassed as he gave it a squeeze. His grip was strong, warm, and his hands soft as if he had never done any manual labor or even roughhousing. There was the smallest tingle on her skin where his skin touched, like the lingering effects of putting her hand under a tap that was too hot.

“Firstly, my connection to you comes from Brue more than it does Rhys,” Amias said. “Your father and I were amiable, but your mother and I were the best of friends.” His lip curled. “Rhys was too serious.” He patted her hand. “The Order of Ferblanc are the opposite to mages. They’re sensitive to magic but contain a sort of nullifying element in their person. They supposedly exist to combat when people misuse magic.”

“Did my mother have that type of sensitivity and… power, I guess for lack of a word,” Nellie asked.

“Oh no,” Amias said bluntly. “No, no, Brue was completely desensitized to magic. Hadn’t the faintest I was a mage, but completely unperturbed when she saw me do magic.” He laughed. “You’d have thought she witnessed me fold a duvet. Just a mild ‘oh, neat’. I was more surprised over her lack of surprise.”

Rhys had described Brue as flippant and airheaded in the first letters that mentioned her. Nellie had not thought much on it, perhaps because of how rigid Rhys came through in his letters, but having no strong reaction to witnessing magic was a point to her father’s assessment.

“Of course, once I was made aware that she was the Regere’s sister, it all made sense,” Amias said.

“Made sense… that she had her job,” Nellie asked unsurely.

“Made sense that she was desensitized and unfazed by magic,” Amias said, eyeing her carefully. “My lamb, has no one plainly stated to you that the Regere is a mage?”

“He is,” Nellie blurted. “I’m part magic!”

“It doesn’t exactly work that way…,” Amias said, amusement once more returning to his face. “Related to magic, perhaps, as in the same way you are related to him.” He chuckled. “Sounds like the little prince didn’t deem to mention it.”

Ira only mentioned the Regere was powerful. There was no actual reason he needed to mention that her uncle had magic.

“He did mention something else,” Nellie said, straightening. She set her gaze on Amias. “He said my mother was a dragon.”

Amias’s face flinched. “Did he?”

Nathalie emerged from her room in a whirl, causing Nellie to jump to her feet and Amias to straighten. She clutched her phone, putting a hand on her hip, and chewing the words popping into her head. She heaved in a breath and let loose a long, loud exhale.

“Mr. Baig, we should talk,” Nathalie said, her tone clear she was not requesting. “Nellie, please go see to that animal. He was clawing outside my window.”

“One moment, my dear,” Amias said, rising. He looked down at Nellie intently. “We will talk about it. Allow me to set your aunt’s mind at ease. She deserves as much.”

Nellie and Nathalie both avoided looking at the other. It was the first time someone had used ‘aunt’ with them together. Nellie gave a curt nod, and hastened outside before Nathalie could reassure or condemn the term. She shushed Ash, locking her arm around his thick, furry neck to comfort him and keep him still, hunkering beneath the living room windows.

There was a long stretch of silence before Nathalie broke in, asking, “Is my little brother a Catholic?”

“Seems an odd thing to fixate on,” Amias answered.

“You think so,” Nathalie asked scathingly. “I think it’s the perfect representation of how little I know about my brother. Of how much of his life he decided not to divulge.”

“The Order of Ferblanc has ties to Catholicism from what I understand,” Amias said. “They originally were the exorcism and demonology arm back in the Dark Ages, but split away the more the religion turned towards souls, the afterlife, and politics. Is that satisfactory enough?”

Nellie could hear the floorboards squeaking as they shifted. The squeak retreated, signaling to her that Nathalie was moving towards the kitchen. She would not be able to eavesdrop on what Nathalie asked.

“Crawlspace,” Nellie muttered. “Stay here, Ash.”

She army-crawled under the house, hissing over her shoulder at Ash to be quiet and stay put. She pushed the large, plastic tubs of junk out of her way the best she could.

“Rhys told our older brother that this… Regere is dangerous,” Nathalie said. “He was very clear that he have nothing to do with Nellie. Am I going to need to pack up and move now that he knows where she is, or is he content to respect Rhys’s wishes and leave her be?”

“The Regere is a complicated man,” Amias said. “At the moment, he expresses no want to interfere with Perenelle, but he does have a desire to meet her at the same time.”

“Is he dangerous,” Nathalie asked again, more firmly.

“Extremely,” Amias said. “His amount of power makes him so by default. Would he harm Perenelle is what you wish to ask. No. He would not.” There was a long pause. “Not intentionally. May I vent just a moment?”

“I suppose so…,” Nathalie said unsurely.

“I’m angry with Brecken over Brue,” Amias said. “But, I am removed enough from the family aspect to understand he is not fully at fault.” He cleared his throat. “More to the point we need to discuss, Perenelle isn’t a normal child. If–.”

“Of course she’s normal,” Nathalie snapped.

“No, she’s not,” Amias said. “That animal outside is proof enough without her confirming she senses my magic.”

Nellie tensed as the floor creaked over her head. She tried not to imagine Amias or Nathalie suddenly falling through, telling herself that the floor held so far and it was still strong. She did start to shuffle back towards the exit though. She could hear Ash still snuffling at the opening, scratching at the ground to widen it to enter himself.

She pulled out from under the house, pushing Ash back to climb to her feet. She smooshed his face, ruffling his head, and trotted off towards his house. She ushered him inside just as the front door opened.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called. “Oh, good, you’re shutting him away. Keep him in for now, please, and come….” Nathalie scowled, putting her hands on her hips as she looked Nellie up and down as she approached the house. “You’re filthy!”

“We were roughhousing,” Nellie lied.

“Well, come say goodbye to Mr. Baig before you wash up,” Nathalie said. “We’ll go out for lunch.”

“He can’t leave,” Nellie said. “He promised we’d talk!”

“And so we shall, my lamb,” Amias said, coming to the door. He smiled down at her. “I was informed you’re on break from school. Your aunt has agreed we can meet for lunch tomorrow.” His eyes darted to Nathalie. “So long as she chaperones.”

“Okay… as long as we can talk,” Nellie said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… um… Mr. Baig.”

He regarded her with amusement, but did not urge her to call him anything else. He gave a nod to Nathalie–recieving one in return–and walked off the steps. He looked odd in his fine suit walking up the driveway. He followed the curve through the woods, walking out of sight.

“Sorry he kept calling you my…,” Nellie trailed away, looking down at her soiled shoes.

Nathalie clasped her arm around Nellie’s muddy and cobwebbed shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Come get washed up.”

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

I just put Nellie's birthday as March 15th so it was right in the middle of the month. Which is what I did with Rook, so they have the same birthday, I guess, lol.

Spring Break for what would be Nellie's school zone started April 1st in 2024. I wanted so badly to put in an April Fool reference, but Amias wouldn't know/celebrate/acknowledge that day, neither would Nathalie, and neither would Nellie both because she was raised by Nathalie and because the kids now don't seem to participate after age 8.

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Nellie wasn’t sure what she expected when she reunited with Rhys. When she was small, before she knew about her parentage and the Realm, she would sporadically imagine her father turning up with a big smile and some kind of treat as a souvenir for her and Nathalie from whatever adventure she invented as his excuse for being absent. He'd apologize and the three of them would laugh and act like the years of desertion was a funny, fantastical story. In other imaginings, she would scream at him while he blubbered about how sorry he was while Nathalie wept how proud she was that Nellie had grown well enough to not let anyone off the hook for wrongdoing.

Admittedly, Nellie had not had such fantasies since learning Rhys was her father. She was far too distracted with the upheaval of everything she thought she knew. Even still, the silence had not been what she predicted.

Rhys had fed them some sort of meat that had long been dried with lumps of sopping rice he had stolen from nearby fields. He said nothing the whole time he prepared the meal, nor while they ate it. He didn't so much as look at either of the kids, and only quietly acknowledged the little fox when she'd prod at his knee for bits of his food.

“This is growing quite awkward, Uncle,” Morgan said.

Rhys flinched as if struck before sliding into a rueful smile. He slipped the fox another bite of meat, giving her head a small pat.

“I take it that you being here is no coincidence,” Rhys said. His voice was slightly hoarse from lack of use.

“We were searching for you,” Morgan said. “My father said you were in China, and so we convinced Beast and Brigitte to smuggle us in.”

Convinced was not the word Nellie would have chosen given Beast and Brigitte apparently were just humoring them until Evora arrived. The only consolation of this revelation was that it was very likely they tipped Silas off, and he explained things to Nathalie. She would still be beside herself with worry, but the knowing would help some.

Nellie cleared her throat. “What’s her name?” She pointed to the fox when Rhys’s brows knitted with confusion.

“Oh.” Rhys looked glad to talk of something other than the situation they found themselves in. (Morgan turned sulky.) “She hasn’t got one. Not that she’s told me at any rate.”

“Well, I think she deserves a name,” Nellie said.

“And I think it a stupid idea to create a bond with a huli jing,” Morgan grumbled. He suppressed a small smile. “But, I am still alive, so there’s that.” He dangled the last bit of his meat at the fox. “I’ll name you. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

Morgan lured the fox outside, leaving Nellie alone with Rhys. She had finished her food and couldn’t use it as a distraction. She scratched at the dirt with the toe of her shoe. There was so much she wanted to say, but nothing took hold strong enough in her mind.

“How’s your Aunt Nathalie,” Rhys asked conversationally.

Nellie’s hands balled up. The whirling thoughts and emotions narrowed to anger.

“I thought she was my mother until seven months ago,” Nellie growled. Her eyes prickled with hot, furious tears. “Do you know how messed up all that is?”

She wanted to yell about being uprooted from Florida, and then from her entire sense of self, but she could not find the words. Nathalie, Uncle Winston, and her grandparents shared a degree of blame, but Nathalie at the least had apologized for the unintentional deception. 

It all started with Rhys. It started with him abandoning her.

“That must have been confusing,” Rhys said quietly. “My intent was just your safety, Perenelle. I hadn’t expected to be gone so long.”

“And here I am with Morgan,” Nellie said scathingly. “So much for keeping me away from the Regere.” She glared at him. “Do you even know how old I am now? I’m twelve. Twelve! Did you even think about me at all in the last–?”

“Of course I have,” Rhys said sharply. “Everyday.”

His tone cut off Nellie’s building anger. There was an edge of offense in it that she hadn’t expected. She was preparing for him to be more regretful, maybe even get teary-eyed over all the missed years. She was unsure how to proceed. Making him angry wasn't her intention and it probably wasn't smart seeing that she and Morgan were in the wilderness with him. She doubted he would hurt them, but Nathalie’s podcasts were full of people lamenting such thoughts as they described horrific attacks or dead friends.

“Forgive me,” Rhys said with a heavy sigh. He pinched at his eyes. “The lack of nicotine is bringing out my worst.” He got to his feet. “Shall we?”

The three humans and small fox headed into the forest away from the hut. Nellie fell back to walk with Morgan, partly because following in Rhys’s trail was easier than trying to keep pace.

“How was it,” Morgan asked under his breath.

Nellie shrugged glumly. “Any luck with the name?”

“Something Chinese, of course, but my knowledge is extremely limited,” Morgan said. “What lead does he have on your mother?”

“I didn’t ask,” Nellie said.

“What? The entire reason for this trek into the wilderness—.”

“I know! But, there was sort of a lot going on, Morgan,” Nellie said coolly. “There still is.” She gestured at Rhys’s retreating back. “How am I supposed to talk to him about anything? I don’t remember him!”

Morgan charged ahead. “Uncle!”

“You really don’t need to call me that,” Rhys said, pausing for them to catch up.

“Nellie had something to ask you,” Morgan said.

Nellie glared at him as she drew in a breath to address Rhys’s mildly polite stare. “We were researching which dragon Brunhilde could be, and wanted to ask you which ones you’ve ruled out.”

Rhys’s expression stayed almost identical except his jaw stiffened. He turned away from them after an uncomfortable few seconds and started back through the trees.

“This path takes us back to the river,” Rhys said. “We’re bypassing the areas without banks this way. Keep close. The feihu don’t usually hunt here, but we cannot let our guards down.”

“Uncle,” Morgan fumed, stomping after him. “We’ve gone through too much trouble–.”

“Trouble?” Rhys stopped, rounding on them. “Is that what you call nearly getting yourselves killed? Trouble! You’re children. You leave matters such as these to adults.”

The anger that had been disrupted earlier flared back up at Rhys’s admonishment. He had no right to scold them. He didn’t know them; it was hard to believe he even cared about them outside of the grace of the average adult making sure a random child didn’t come to harm. It was her life that had fallen into disarray when he left. Nathalie lying, the rest of the family covering it up, not knowing about the Realm and her connection to it, Morgan: all of it came back to Rhys choosing to ditch her with the instructions to keep her from Brue’s family.

“No!” Nellie stopped, fists clenched, and glared at Rhys. “Me and Morgan put too much work into this. And, she’s my mother. I’m involved now, and you don’t have any right to tell me not to be!”

She would have stormed off for dramatic effect, but she had no idea where she was. She settled for standing stiffly, eyes narrowed at this stranger.

Morgan’s eyes darted between them before he cleared his throat. “Shall we? I don’t want to be stuck out here once it grows dark.”

“No,” Rhys said, tearing his eyes from Nellie, “you don’t.”

They continued on. Nellie made it a point to cross her arms and glare whenever Rhys turned to check on them, but that act was growing more difficult the sweatier and sticker she grew. Morgan started checking his phone reception once they felt the ground beneath turn into a downward slope.

“How did you get your phone anyway,” Nellie asked as her cousin once more tucked it away with a groan. “Mrs. Adams keeps them in her office.”

Morgan looked affronted. “You think this is my real phone?” He scoffed, holding up the black rectangle that looked remarkably like his phone. “This is just a Huawei I bought at the airport when we arrived. Just in case we needed a contact phone.”

“Quite the survivalist," Nellie said, rolling her eyes. She jerked her head at Rhys’s back. “What’d you think? He never answered you. He might be as much of a dead end as before we found him.”

“Perhaps… If we can delay him disappearing until my mother comes, then we can eavesdrop while they talk,” Morgan suggested. “He’s bound to tell her something useful. She is practically my father’s mouthpiece and ears when he’s not around, and it is his sister that was dragoned.”

It was the only plan they had.

After walking in a definite downward incline for several hot, sticky moments, they heard the river and the tourists rafting upon it. The trees thinned, and the river gleamed silvery at them. Rhys didn’t tell them which way to turn or warn them against the uneven shore. He turned and walked, and clearly expected them to keep up.

Morgan stole a glance towards a raft drifting nearby, half ducking behind Nellie. “I’ve a thought… Isn’t it suspicious for three obvious foreigners to be wandering the river with no guide?”

“Can you turn into a human for a bit,” Nellie asked the fox gleefully hopping rocking beside them.

Nellie only managed to spread her arms and partially shield the huli jing from the river–the rafters too busy to notice anything anyway–as she morphed into her girl form.

“Right… I don't think anyone will believe that the CCP employed a twelve-year-old in dirty shorts,” Morgan said dryly.

She hadn’t noticed until then that the huli jing was dressed in dirt stained shorts and wore no shoes. She had been too distracted by her growing freckles and turning into a fox. Nellie suspected the baggy t-shirt she wore with bold, black Chinese characters also was not up to the standards of a government official.

“Can you age up and change clothes?”

“She can’t,” Rhys called over his shoulder. “She’s not old enough. Watch your steps on the rocks. They’re quite slick.”

“Ah,” Morgan said knowinging, a superior expression on his face. “She must be under fifty. Lore says huli jing can’t turn into a woman until around fifty. Well, no matter. We’ll think of some excuse if stopped.” He held his phone over his head. “Oh, excellent! The slashed circle has disappeared. I should get a bar shortly.”

The girl was bouncing from rock to rock, happily humming. She would circle around Rhys and then return to Nellie and Morgan, hover around Morgan’s shoulder to stare at his phone, and bound off again.

The river widened and human noises picked up. The bridges came into view, the shores widened and shallows expanded. They trudged up a well worn path from the river to the residential district outside the palace.

“Am I correct in assuming that you have been placed with Mrs. Wu,” Rhys asked.

The girl skipped ahead, spun with her arms out—garning disapproving looks from passersby—as hurried off in the direction of Mrs. Wu’s apartment.

“Perhaps something starting with X,” Morgan mused, staring at his phone which now was slowly loading an internet page. “Hmm, sounds like ‘sh’... interesting.”

Morgan absorbed himself in his phone. Nellie did not want to get any closer to Rhys, still dragging a few feet behind him. She gave the girl skipping at her side a strained smile, getting a head tilt and perplexed expression back.

“Not happy? Rhys. Father. Not happy?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Nellie admitted. “And it’s not just because of the language barrier. …Species barrier?”

They fell behind further. Nellie did not want to be scolded for running off, did not want to sit there while Rhys stepped in to play father, did not want to wait for Morgan’s mother to appear for what was sure to be more scolding mingled in with trying to step into a family role. She wished someone had the brilliant idea to bring Nathalie, but she didn’t get her hopes up.

Her attentions turned outward as the sounds of mean giggling fell upon her ears. A group of girls around her own age were sniggering, pointing to the huli jing’s dirty feet and t-shirt. Pre-teen girl teasing, as it turned out, was an international language.

“You can’t make sandals,” Nellie asked. She pointed to her sneakered feet. “Shoes? It probably isn’t very comfortable without them when you have human feet. Our feet are kind of useless like that.” The girl cocked her head. “How’d you get the clothes you have on? They’re just… on you whenever you transform. How come you don’t go from naked fox to naked girl?”

The fox-girl’s face lit up. She pointed dramatically into the crowd. “Naked! Naked! She’s naked!”

Nellie frantically shushed her, grabbing her wrist and wrenching it down. Most of the crowd was Chinese from what Nellie saw, and they stared at the pair of them as if they were rabid dogs. A few foreigners speckled throughout were turning on the spot, trying to catch sight of this naked girl.

“Clothes,” the girl said simply, tugging her t-shirt collar. “No more yelling.”

“Yeah… okay,” Nellie said, her heart rate still recovering from the outburst. “Let’s figure out how to get you shoes too. You’ll get even less stares.”

She caught sight of Rhys’s blond hair momentarily up ahead in the crowd, crossing the street before approaching the nearest vendor. She browsed the cheap, rubber sandals, smiling politely as the stall keeper aggressively waved random pairs around her face calling them deals and bargains in very broken English.

“Cute,” the girl said, picking up a pair with flowers stamped across the band. She broke the tie keeping them together, dropped them, and put her feet in. She skipped off.

“Wait!” Nellie scrounged in her wallet as the vendor chittered angrily at her. “Sorry. How much?” She was confident the figure was double what the sticker on the bottom of the sandals said.

“Hold it,” Morgan said, appearing by her side, and stopping her from handing over any money. “Xinyi! Come here. …Please.”

The girl—now a good ten feet away—stopped, tilted her head at Morgan, and then raced over with a wide grin on her face. She yanked on his arm, bouncing in place.

“Xinyi? Me? Pretty!”

“Yes, yes, I thought so too,” Morgan said dismissively, failing to suppress the proud smirk on his face. “Shoes.”

He paid for the sandals after showing the vendor the price written on the bottom. The three of them mixed back into the crowd as much as they were able with Nellie and Morgan being foreign and Xinyi happily tripping about like an excited puppy with something stuck to its foot.

“Xinyi,” Nellie murmured to Morgan.

“My best guess is it has something to do with being joyful,” he said, shrugging. “Characters play such a massive role in the meaning, and I don’t know any of those.”

“Naming her and buying stuff for her… Careful, little cousin, that could mean trouble,” Nellie teased.

“I was saving you from being overcharged!”

She wanted to continue her teasing, but the crowd froze and split with an angry, “You two!”

Brigitte was a ball of fury. Her short, purple ombre hair looked as though she’d been yanking it in all directions for the last few hours. She stormed over with her small, dark fists clenched into sharp balls. Nellie thought she was going to pummel them.

The crowd was giving her a clear path towards them, and it got worse when Beast appeared. They were practically running to get out of his way as he took long, brisk, intimidating strides towards them.

“Just hold firm,” Morgan said, straightening himself. “Once they see that we’ve found….”

They both noticed at the same time that Rhys was not anywhere near them nor in view.

Lina rushed between Beast and Brigitte and the kids, holding up her hands in surrender and hissing about causing a scene. She gestured frantically back towards the apartments, keeping up a babble of appeasement and apologetic nods that she directed to anyone nearby. She glared coldly at Nellie and Morgan.

“Come,” she commanded.

Morgan looked as if he wanted to challenge her a moment before deflating and dragging his feet after the adults. Nellie spun on the spot, seeing no sign of Rhys or even of Xinyi, before trotting along. They went single filed into Mrs. Wu's apartment with Nellie and Morgan wordlessly instructed to sit before the three angry adults. Mrs. Wu shuffled around them offering tea; Lina declining and politely ushering her off to the kitchen.

“We found him,” Morgan said quickly.

Beast and Brigitte did not look happy, or stunned, or whatever Nellie imagined would have been reasonable. They looked angrier. Beast swelled to fill the room, ready to unleash on them.

Nellie’s hackles rose. “You don’t dismiss him,” she snapped, jumping up. “You were never going to help us!”

“Watch your tone, girl,” Beast growled, his deep voice reverberating through the room.

“Or what? You’ll call Morgan’s mom to come get us?” She narrowed her blue eyes at him, relishing the satisfaction at the look Beast and Brigitte exchanged. “I heard you last night.”

“That is no excuse to run off during the night,” Lina cut in. “The mountains are dangerous.”

Morgan turned in a vain attempt to cover the bloodstains on his shirt. Nellie’s hand went to her arm as guilt swirled in the pit of her stomach. She tightened her jaw and met Lina's dark eyes.

“Why wouldn’t we run off if this whole trip was lie after lie,” Nellie asked.

“We are not just kids,” Morgan said. “And I don’t say that because of who my father is, before you roll your eyes and think me a spoilt brat. Nellie and I faced a dragon. How many adults in the Auctorita can say the same?”

“A dragon,” Brigitte said, scrunching her face.

Nellie watched each adult in turn with mounting apprehension. Beast was scowling heavily as something seemed to click into place. Brigitte was bemused and shifted uncomfortably while Lina looked the most perplexed—likely never seeing a dragon and only vaguely aware any still existed.

Before anyone had a chance to break the static building in the room, the front door opened, and Xinyi walked in. She froze with all eyes on her (Lina turning stark white) and gave a little yelp. She shrank into her fox form with a faint pop, scrambled over the sandals left in her place, and dashed back out.

Mrs. Wu came shuffling from the kitchen at a surprisingly brisk pace, lamenting after the little fox and waving a biscuit of some sort.

“Xinyi,” Morgan called, hurrying out into the hall, but stopping abruptly with his back foot still visible.

Rhys filled the doorway as Morgan backed up into the apartment. Xinyi in her fox form peeked around at his ankles, sniffing the air while he held out a small, tastefully wrapped box towards Mrs. Wu.

“I remember you liking these the last time I darkened your doorway,” he said politely.

Mrs. Wu gave a bow—Rhys mimicking her—as she took the package. She peered at Xinyi and spoke softly but with reverence to the fox, beckoning her in and holding out the biscuit to further entice her.

“C-Commander,” Brigitte stammered.

Beast and Brigitte looked as if they were facing a ghost. Rhys, for his part, barely acknowledged them outside of a curt nod. He looked instead to Lina.

“Remind me of your name?”

“Wang, sir. …About the huli jing…?”

“She’s been helpful,” Rhys said. “It wouldn't hurt to have her around as an asset. Now then, may I trouble you and Mrs. Wu for some water?”

Rhys’s expression turned steely the moment Lina and Mrs. Wu exited to the kitchen. His eyes snapped to Brigitte and Beast; Brigitte shrank while Beast did his best to draw himself up to his full height—impeded by the low ceilings.

“Why are these children here,” Rhys demanded.

“You daughter–,” Beast started.

“No,” Rhys said sharply. He shook his shaggy head. “No, no, you will not attempt that. You may’ve convinced the children that you were sympathetic to their cause, but I know much better, don’t I?”

It was a slap in the face to hear Rhys demand an answer to his question. Nellie hadn’t had time to ponder why she and Morgan were in China when it was clear that Beast and Brigitte were just keeping them busy. It would have been much easier to laugh them off back at Silas’s compound than to smuggle them into a country with such strict security measures.

Rhys’s eyes narrowed as the seconds ticked on. “What are they doing here?”

“The Regere…,” Brigitte trailed off, her voice small.

“Of course,” Rhys growled. “Am I right assuming Evora was called to gather her child? When is she arriving?”

“Shortly,” Beast said. He stared down at Nellie and Morgan. “She’s ending her Singapore trip early for this. Your childishness could've cost the Auctor–.”

“You will not shift blame on them,” Rhys interrupted coldly. “You are the adult, Beast. You were in command.”

“These are kids, not soldiers,” Beast growled. “Kids don't follow orders.” He sneered. “But, I guess you have no practice.”

Rhys looked less than bothered by the accusation, which irked Nellie. He should’ve been bothered, ashamed, embarrassed, sad, anything except accepting and indifferent.

Her thoughts were halted by Xinyi–still in her girl form–cuddling into her shoulder, trying to get her head pat. She patted her glossy, black hair awkwardly as Morgan side-eyed her with bemusement.

“Xinyi, is it,” Rhys said, redirecting his attention away from Beast. “You've been enormously helpful. Would you like to learn how to be human? Mrs. Wu surely would be very glad to adopt you as a granddaughter.”

“I insist against it, sir,” Lina said, reappearing with a tray of tea. “She’s a huli-jing.”

“That doesn't mean she's bad,” Nellie said. “She saved our lives out there. She didn't have to do that.”

Lina pursed her lips. She focused on handing out the tea.

“Wang, I would appreciate a conversation with you and Mrs. Wu once this mess with the children is handled. If you would indulge me.”

Lina gave a noncommitted grunt as she retreated back into the kitchen. Rhys gave Xinyi a small smile that had the girl beam back. Nellie leaned away from Xinyi as a stab of jealousy shot through her core.

A frantic pounding sounded on the door. It was thrown open before Brigitte even touched the handle, and she only just jumped aside to avoid the metal door smacking into her.

The middle-aged woman bearing a frantic expression on her pointed, tanned face could only have been Evora. Her black hair was starting to unravel from its tight bun; her brown eyes scanned the small room and she immediately thrust herself upon Morgan once they found him.

“Oh! Oh, my baby!” She rapidly placed kisses on every inch of his face while he tried scrambling from her embrace. Her accent thickened on the next “baby boy” and she was no longer speaking English after that.

Amias slid into the apartment with a small roller bag in his fist and a duffle on his shoulder. He looked haggard.

“Amias,” Nellie called, hurrying over to hug him. She shot Rhys a look from her peripherals as she gave her godfather an extra squeeze. “It’s good to see–.”

“Are you insane,” Amias said, grabbing her shoulder to hold her at arm’s length. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed out there, Perenelle! I’ll be telling poor, dear Nathalie all about it. You have me at my word on that!”

“Trying to play the parent; pathetic,” Beast sneered.

“Acting as a proper godfather,” Amias said coldly. “Or just a responsible adult in general. Perhaps, you should consider giving it a try, D’Von, before carting my goddaughter off to China!”

Beast scoffed. “You were more fun when you drank.”

Red blazed across Amias’s face. Nellie pulled away as his grip on her shoulder grew painful.

“Enough of the bickering,” Rhys said, clearly and sharply. He continued on as if oblivious to Evora’s and Amias’s bug-eyed stares and gaping mouths. “Evora, I trust you booked a room? We can speak this evening.” He pushed his way towards the door. “Now, I’ll be outside for the time being.”

The other adults exchanged glances that Nellie didn't care to decipher. She hurried from the apartment before Amias could grab hold again. Xinyi followed closely with wild eyes.

“I'm supposed to chase after him, right,” Nellie asked her.

“Chase,” Xinyi repeated with enthusiasm.

She gave chase at a slow walk, dragging her feet down the flights of stairs. Xinyi mimicked her until her boredom took over. She entertained herself by jumping up and down the steps.

“Shouldn’t he be coming after me,” Nellie asked. “Shouldn’t he be curious about me? Even if just a little bit? I mean… he hasn't seen me in ten years. And, it's not like he was getting any updates either. It's really hard not to think he doesn't care…” Xinyi tilted her head at her. “Human problems, I guess.”

Nellie peeked out into the street; Xinyi doing the same a head below her. Rhys was standing a few short feet from the apartment building entrance, smoking a cigarette and purposely ignoring a short, Chinese man in a business suit similar to Lina’s who was side-eyeing him.

“Rhys. Father.”

“Yeah, but where do I go from there,” Nellie said. “I don’t want this to mean I’m leaving Nathalie. Maybe he feels as stuck too? Like, maybe he’s trying to figure out if he’s supposed to step in now that I found him?”

She teetered a moment before going over to join Rhys. She wrinkled her nose at the cigarette and turned her head away to wave the smoke away.

“It is an unpleasant smell,” Rhys said. He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. The bureaucrat next to him cleared his throat loudly. “Right. My apologies.” He picked up the squashed butt and tucked it in his pocket. “Evora’s escort; courtesy of the Auctorita’s spy network. Man of few words. Pay him no attention. Something on your mind?”

“Something on my… Are you serious?”

Rhys gave a wry smile. “Which of the many do you wish to start with?”

It was a simple question with a complicated answer. Nellie wanted to know what Rhys was doing in China, which dragons he already investigated and ruled out. She wanted to know if he would be coming back with them; why did he blame the Regere, and would this meeting mean she would have to say goodbye to Nathalie. That was the one she felt most heavily.

She mustered the courage to tell Rhys flat-out that she didn't want to leave Nathalie, but he suddenly went rigid. She switched gears to ask what was wrong, but knew before she had the chance.

An immense pressure bore down on her. The small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickled.

The Regere was approaching the apartment building, dressed in a business suit with his dark hair smoothed back.

“Perenelle,” he called upon seeing her. He froze. “Rhys…?”

“Brecken.”

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

Oh man, longest one yet! Wish I could think of some comments, but my exhaustion is peak today. (I'm got to schedule this so that I can hopefully remember to come back and add one, lol.) There was something about Xinyi's clothes. I think it had to do with huli-jing using illusion magic. Like, she wore the dirty shorts (stolen from a laundry basket) and the t-shirt (stolen from a souvienger stand) long enough that she became familiar enough to incorporate them into her image of 'human'. That might've been all...?

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A Better Friend
A Tale of Ace Gallagher Short from Book 1

Dorian’s face held no expression as he walked down the sleepy residential street alone. The sun had long set by now, and he knew most shops would be closed at this hour. Still, he felt it was worth returning to the medicinal store he had visited earlier in the off-chance the owner may be working late. If not, he would have to delay his delivery another day.

“I should have gone straight there after buying the oil,” he muttered to himself. “I doubt they’re going to hire me again after this. That means I’ll have lost another–”

His sentence was cut short and his visible eye narrowed.

Another set of footsteps was echoing off the rows of houses beside him. They were quick and deliberate; and, although they were still a good distance away, they were rapidly approaching.

He debated turning from the road in the hope the person behind him would pass him by, but he opted to gradually increase his pace to see if the footsteps would follow. 

Unfortunately, they did.

His heart pounding in his chest, Dorian dug his heel in the ground and abruptly spun around.

Mioko skidded to a halt a few feet away, his arms spreading wide beneath his blue cloak to check his balance.

Dorian, at once, exhaled. “...You?”

“Hi,” Mioko replied. “I just wanted to make sure you get what you need.”

His lips pressed tightly together for a moment. “I’ve already told you: I don’t need help.” 

“I know,” Mioko glanced at the ground, “but the medicine store will be closed by now. You know that.”

“And so, you’ve come to bring me to your ‘source’ for the lavender oil?”

“If you’d like me to,” he wrung his hands between the cloak and his back.

Dorian sighed sharply, rolled his eye, and turned around. “All right; fine.” He gestured ahead of them. “Lead the way.”

A light smile lit up Mioko’s freckled face, and he fell into step on Dorian’s left–where his visible eye could have him in his peripheral vision.

As the moonlight peeked out from the clouds overhead, the two young men continued toward the center of town with only the scuffing of their shoes and sandals along the cobblestones filling the space between them. Dorian had no desire for small talk–especially not with someone so keen on inserting himself into his business. Mioko knew by Dorian’s tone and posture he was not in the mood to talk, and he tried to keep his wandering thoughts to himself.

This did not last for long.

“Are you Kalgaran?” Mioko looked at Dorian’s blue hair curiously.

Surprised by the question, Dorian shot him a quick glance before directing his attention back to the road ahead. “Yes,” he answered simply.

At once, the Weivan’s tan eyes lit up. “I knew it! I’ve never met a Kalgaran before.”

“We don’t usually leave Kalgara.”

“So, why are you here?”

Without thinking, Dorian again glanced at Mioko. With an exasperated puff of air through his nose, he again turned away. “I’d like to not answer that question.”

Mioko, at last, also looked back to the road. “Okay.” He said just as lightheartedly as the rest of the conversation had been.

Dorian gave him a mildly curious glance from the corner of his eye, and, thankfully for him, the rest of their trek continued in silence. They passed through one section of Royal Road before crossing a narrow foot-bridge over a canal of flowing water and leaving the bustle far behind. They continued until they reached a second bridge that led to a row of stone-bricked houses covered with vines, and they approached a small gate leading to the second home in the lot. The flickering of the oil lantern on the street cast its glow upon them both as they came to a stop beneath it.

“Mioko, this is someone’s house,” the shorter man glanced at him.

“It is,” he smiled.

With that, he stepped through the gate, up three stone steps, and rapped his knuckles upon the wooden door.

An inaudible voice followed, and soon, with a warm glow behind her, a woman emerged with gray hair pulled back in a bun, long ears on the sides of her head, and a floral dress wrapped around her broad frame.

“Mioko!” She immediately wrapped her arms around him. “You certainly choose the oddest hours to come visit!”

“Sorry, Aunt Sue; I’m helping a friend right now,” his voice was muffled against her shoulder as he weakly gestured behind him.

The woman leaned to one side to see around the tall Weivan.

Dorian, still beside the gate, sheepishly held up a hand. “Ah–hello, ma’am.”

Sue’s smile could have rivalled Mioko’s. “Oh!” She hurried down the steps and met Dorian with grasping hands and cooing words. “I am so glad to see Mioko making friends! I’m Susanna Hildersley–Mioko’s aunt.”

“Dorian Swift,” he replied as if unsure.

“Well met! Now, please–come in! I’ve just put a kettle on!”

Unsure of how else to respond to her hospitality, Dorian simply allowed himself to be whisked inside her home. He was met with the warmth of a deep fireplace and a ceramic kettle hanging from a hook above the coals. A modest kitchen was nestled beside the fireplace, and what little he could see of the sitting room beyond appeared even cozier. Long wooden beams spanned the ceiling across both rooms, and well-worn wooden planks covered the floor.

Sue went straight into the kitchen to start pulling out a container of herbs and tea leaves. “A chamomile blend should be lovely at this time of night,” she said mostly to herself.

Mioko glanced at Dorian, who was still somewhat taken aback by the whole situation. “We can’t stay too long,” he took a small step forward. “Mostly, Dorian is needing some lavender oil.”

“I will gladly purchase it from you,” Dorian interjected before the Weivan woman could answer.

Sue, however, beamed another smile and waved him off. “Not to worry, young man, I have plenty!”

“But…” 

“A friend of Mioko will always receive what he needs.”

Dorian chewed on his lip and watched Sue set down the tea, cross the kitchen, and disappear behind a beaded curtain at the far end. He jumped when Mioko’s face leaned into his line of sight.

“Come see!” He said excitedly.

Dorian, again, had no choice but to follow. Slipping through the beaded curtain, he passed through a small wash room before exiting the back of the home with Mioko and Sue. He was instantly met with the yellow, diffused glow of a modest greenhouse at the far end of the small backyard.

Once he stepped inside, he found himself unable to take another step. His wide eye simply scanned the rows of shelves that lined the room–absolutely filled with plants, herbs, bottles, and jars of every kind. Tall vines stretched from generous pots on the floor and spread over the ceiling; jars of oils and salves glistened in the lamplight; bundles of drying flowers hung from the rafters, and healthy sprigs of lavender grew from a collection of pots below. The air was heavy and smelled as much like a greenhouse as it did a beautiful spring garden, and the foggy glass that surrounded them would have let in a dazzling amount of daylight if it wasn’t past sundown.

“You… you’re a potioneer?” Dorian could hardly speak from amazement.

“I prefer to call myself an ‘herbalist,’” Sue smiled as she reappeared from behind a small shelf near the back of the room. In her hands was a flask of amber-colored liquid. “How much do you need?”

“Oh–just,” his fingers formed the top and bottom dimensions of the flask he once had, “a small flask is plenty. I may have some spare bottles–if they aren’t all broken.”

Sue again waved her hand before Dorian could sling his backpack to his front to look inside. “No worries, dear; I have plenty of flasks too.” With that, she uncorked two small flasks and filled them each with the amber oil. 

The smell of the lavender saturated the room in the process, and the young man closed his eye as he breathed it in. “That’s the purest lavender oil I’ve ever smelled,” he muttered.

“Aunt Sue grows the best lavender in town,” Mioko offered proudly as he rocked on his feet.

The woman, however, only smiled and shook her head as she carried over the two flasks. “I am simply passionate about what I grow. I may have never had human children, but I have raised many hearty herbs in my time.”

The hint of a smile tugged at Dorian’s lips as he accepted the flasks. “I need to repay you somehow.”

“You’re a friend of Mioko’s,” she smiled. “That’s all the payment I need.”

His smile faded somewhat shamefully, eying the contented young man beside him. “I could stand to be better.”

With that, the three returned to the house to the sound of the kettle whistling loudly. Sue quickly scuffled across the room to the fireplace and used a nearby rag to remove the kettle from the coals. “Are you sure I can’t interest you boys in some tea before you leave?” She glanced at them as she carried the kettle to a ceramic plate on the counter.

“No, thank you; I need to finish my delivery.” Dorian lifted one of the two small flasks.

“Dorian is a potioneer,” Mioko commented.

“Ah! Then, perhaps I’ll see you again.”

A grin tugged at Dorian’s lips. “Perhaps–but I will insist on paying you next time.”

“We’ll see,” the Weivan woman smiled wide and followed the two young men to the door. As Dorian started down the stone steps, she turned to her nephew and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Will you be staying here tonight, Mioko?”

“No; I’ll be heading on a journey with our other friends in the morning.”

“Oh!” She once again seemed surprised. “Where to?”

“Montrose–then into the mountains to find a dracleon!”

Sue’s chuckle was as much nervous as it was dismissive. “Well, come back in one piece, all right?” She fingered the yellow crystal around his neck before laying it gently upon his chest with a light pat of her hand. She then leaned around him to again find Dorian lingering near her gate. “Keep an eye on him, will you? He can get a little… distracted.”

Mioko cocked an eyebrow and frowned, but he made no attempt to correct her.

Dorian simply smirked as he nodded his head. “Thank you, Ms. Hildersley.”

“You are always welcome, Mr. Swift!”

The gate was closed with a small creak, and the two young men heard Sue’s door close lightly behind them.

The smirk narrowed on Dorian’s face. “You didn’t tell me your source was your aunt.”

“You didn’t ask,” Mioko replied matter-of-factly.

He huffed a short laugh. “Fair enough. Well, I do appreciate the help,” he paused, “even if I didn’t think I needed it.”

The Weivan shrugged with a light smile.

“I’ll see you around, then,” the Kalgaran took one step toward the street.

“Are you coming with us to Montrose in the morning?” Mioko took a step closer, eyeing the staff strapped to Dorian’s back as the young man pulled his backpack to his front to store the vials of oil inside.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he glanced at him.

“Oh.” Despite the shortness of the word, the disappointment within Mioko’s voice was more than apparent.

Dorian frowned and slung his bag to his back. “Look; you’ve been very kind, and I appreciate that you already consider me a friend–considering–but, I really don’t want to get involved in this whole curse-breaking thing. I have enough to do to keep myself afloat these days.”

Mioko again closed the gap Dorian attempted to make by taking another step. “You wouldn’t want to see Prince Ignarathos? You wouldn’t want to see the sword of legend?”

Dorian half-smiled. “No.”

The Weivan’s brows furrowed. “But… the adventure–and the discovery–and helping someone in need–”

Both eyes darted to the street, almost in unison.

A black wolf froze mid-step, its ears high on its head with eyes wide. The faintest gleam of silver glint within them before it turned its head and ran.

Dorian’s brows were low, as if thinking, as his eye followed the trail of the wolf.

“We could use your help,” Mioko returned to the conversation. “You’re a warrior and a potioneer.”

“No,” he repeated more firmly, “but I do wish you and the others well on your journey.” Dorian gave a short bow and turned around completely this time. As he started away, he was prepared to hear Mioko’s sandaled feet following after him. When he didn’t, he bit his lip and continued walking away in silence.

Mioko remained at his aunt’s gate, watching Dorian disappear over the stone foot bridge at the end of the road. Once he had allowed for ample distance between them, he sighed lightly, crossed the bridge, and started back to Ben’s house at a leisurely pace.

The moon’s light ebbed between the rolling clouds, leaving only the flickering lanterns overhead to light much of the way. He wandered slowly through the empty streets for quite some time, and he only came to a stop when he caught sight of a black cat darting into a shadowy alley. He curiously tried to look after where it had run, but he lost its trail in the darkness.

“Hm,” he hummed aloud, lingering at the edge of the alley. The moonlight peeked out long enough to light up an overgrown patch of weeds springing up between the broken cobblestone. As the light faded back into shadow, he shrugged and turned back to the road.

A strike to the side of his neck dropped him to his knees as his vision blacked out.

A furred, humanoid creature seemed to rise from the shadows themselves, and it took a wide stance over the currently incapacitated sorcerer. Delicate fingers emerged from the deep black fur, flipping away the corners of his cloak as they searched his fallen frame for valuables. Then, they paused and hovered over the faintly glowing yellow crystal around his neck.

The fur faded from the creature’s face, revealing the features of a pale-skinned young woman from among the dark black hair. Her rosy lips tugged into a smile, revealing a pointed canine tooth.

She gave a heavy tug on the crystal in an attempt to break the chain, but this only caused the man to groan as his eyes flickered back into consciousness.

Within a dizzying blur of sound and shapes, Mioko could just barely make out a feminine face hovering over him.

“Stop!!”

The woman’s silver eyes darted up, glinting in the lamp light, as a blue-haired young man rushed at her with a staff in hand.

She released the gemstone and immediately leapt into the shadows, returning to her catlike form just as Dorian swung the staff in a wide circle. He clipped the cat’s back leg, producing a sharp yowl before a flurry of feathers shot up from the alley and disappeared beyond the rooftops.

“An Amorfian!” Dorian growled through his teeth, his posture still lowered in defense.

Mioko huffed a groan and limply tossed his hand against his chest. When his fingers did not immediately find his crystal, he gasped and scrambled to a seated position–where he felt the crystal slip behind his back into his shirt collar. He reached around his neck to grasp it within his fingers, and, at once, released a long sigh that closed his eyes and slumped his entire form.

“She nearly took that,” Dorian’s voice came, reminding the Weivan he was not alone.

“Dorian,” his tan eyes blinked open as he dropped the crystal back upon his chest. “Oh–thank you–I–I don’t know what–”

“Don’t worry about it,” he crouched and reached out his hand.

He bit his lip and took it, and he accepted the stocky young man’s strength to pull him back to his feet. A short wave of dizziness sent him staggering into a nearby wall, and he meekly glanced at Dorian.

Chewing his lip, Dorian again extended his hand.

“Come on; we’ll go to Ben’s together.”

 

-----

I am *actually* working on the Tale of Ace Gallagher Book 1 (!!) and a lot has been changing along the way. It's kind of fun because it's similar enough that I know where it's going, but it's different enough that I'm writing a lot of new content to get there. This is one of those scenes.

In the original story, Dorian and Mioko go to a library to research the Sword of Ignarathos, but now that Ace is well versed in the lore (the new opening chapter) and they get the rest of the story from Ben about Tier, they don't need to do that. But in an effort to make their meeting and teaming up more realistic, Dorian actually has no desire to team up at first. He's there because Ace breaks an expensive potion ingredient when he runs into him (lol) and once Ace pays up, he leaves. Mioko, however, has other plans for him 😁

Speaking of Mioko, I was surprised to find him so much more... carefree at this point in the story, lol. He's always been pretty chill and content overall, but knowing how much things in later stories affect him, I guess I forgot he starts off pretty happy-go-lucky.

Dorian is a bit more crass and dismissive than I remember him starting off as, but obviously he ends up fitting right in among the rest of them (and now, maybe thanks more to Mioko). After all, they literally just met hours before this 😅

Also Raeya making her striking entrance... 😆 Still not sure if I want to go the more realistic route of her not having clothes if she's been shifting forms or just have "otherwise unexplainable don't pay attention to this aspect" clothing when she's in human form... still on realistic right now so we'll see, heh.

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May 13, 2026
P.Track.32

“We may need to consider trying a different site tomorrow,” Lina mused as they sat around at dinner that night. She was treating them at a cozy restaurant near the palace, not wanting Mrs. Wu to go through the trouble of creating another feast for them.

“It better be an easy trail,” Brigitte grumbled. “Don’t go switching locations and have me play escort on the hard trails.”

Morgan caught Nellie’s eye as the adults half-argued over where to next look. She shook her head, hissing at him to be quiet. He ignored her, clearing his throat loudly.

“Are we ever going to discuss the fox,” Morgan asked once he had their attention.

“There is nothing to discuss,” Lina said dismissively.

“Is there not,” Morgan asked coolly. “It followed Nellie all over the mountain today. I suspect it was what was looking at her last night.”

“There is nothing to discuss, Master Morgan, because it is a relatively harmless creature if ignored,” Lina stressed. She turned to make it clear she was now talking only to Brigitte and Beast. “The Fanjing Mountains may be a good area. True, full of tourists again, but the former Commander may be attracted to the temples.”

The locations Lina, Beast, and Brigitte kept talking about were all tourist spots. Nellie could understand how they needed to use these places as a starting point, but there was something about how quickly the adults were willing to leave that struck her as odd. All they had done was walk up the mountain a bit, but perhaps Lina was reaching out in some discreet way.

Nellie watched Lina sternly speak to Mrs. Wu later that night. The gestures towards the door made her guess it was on the importance of keeping the door locked. She ducked back into the bedroom as Lina turned to go into the kitchen.

“You find them suspicious too,” Morgan said from his mat.

“I think that’s too strong of a word,” Nellie said.

“That fox isn’t native,” Morgan mused, looking at his phone. “It looked like a corsac fox. Those are much further north.”

“It also turned into a girl, so I don’t think it follows the standard habitat.”

“A huli jing,” Morgan said. He pointed to one of the many fox figurines in the bedroom. “My belief is that Mrs. Wu is a remnant of the fox worshippers. The communists say they killed them all during the revolution, but that in itself would just be propaganda.”

“Lina is very protective and wary over Mrs. Wu inviting that fox in,” Nellie commented.

“Well, they’re not exactly safe creatures,” Morgan said. “Most of the stories say they’re dangerous.”

“Ash is supposed to be dangerous too.” She shushed Morgan as he started to talk, leaning her ear closer to the crack in the door as the adults moved back into the living room.

“--Fanjing and then Tianmen. That should satisfy those kids enough,” Beast said.

“Yeah, just enough of a bone toss to make them feel like they tried,” Brigitte said.

“And the Regere is aware of their location,” Lina asked, an anxious tone in her voice.

“Talked to Evora this morning,” Brigitte said. “Worried sick, poor thing.”

“She should’ve given her brat more discipline,” Beast said. “We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. And don’t worry; I’ll move my bed out here. That fox won’t get in tonight.”

“Then I only must worry after you leave,” Lina sighed.

Nellie dived onto the mat next to Morgan, shushing him again as he opened his mouth to ask what was happening. She rolled away from the doorway, pulling the cover up to her ears, and shutting her eyes tight.

“What’s going on,” Morgan demanded of Brigitte.

“Can’t adults just have a chat without kids,” Brigitte snapped. She dragged out Beast’s mat, and then her own. “It’s way too stuffy in here with all of us. And I bet you lot want time without chaperones.” She kicked her mat out the door. “Don’t stay up too late. You’ll be sorry.”

Nellie sat up and lowered the blanket. “Well, now I'm definitely not suspicious. They’re not trying to find Rhys at all. They're just… dragging us sight-seeing until your mom picks us up.”

Morgan’s expression clouded. He flopped back with a huff.

“They never took me seriously after all…” He rolled over to stare at her. “What should we do? We came all this way. It would be an utter waste to just go along with them.”

“I don’t know,” Nellie murmured. “Can we just go look on our own? Is that even possible here?”

They lapsed into silence but the thickness in the room indicated neither had fallen asleep. The lights outside the room went out, and all fell quiet out there. Morgan’s breathing eventually evened and deepened, leaving Nellie to mull over what to do alone. Nothing came to her.

She wrestled the photo of Rhys at his graduation from a tight pocket in her bag. She stared at it as if waiting for it to tell her what to do.

Next she knew, she was jerked awake.

The eyes were staring at her again, inches from her face. This time, Nellie eased herself up and took in the rest of the small fox. She reached behind herself and shook Morgan vigorously until he grunted and snorted.

“Wha-what’s wrong,” he grumbled, sitting up. He inhaled sharply. “Huli jing… Nellie, we should–.”

“Ssh!” Nellie sat up straighter, smiling. “It’s not safe for you here right now. We’re leaving when the sun comes up. You can visit Mrs. Wu after then.”

The huli jing cocked her head. Her eyes flashed as they caught the picture next to Nellie’s pillow. She gave it a sniff, causing Nellie to quickly grab it. She was too familiar with Ash’s record with paper to risk it.

The fox grew and morphed into the girl. Morgan gave another sharp breath, but didn’t voice whatever was going on in his head.

The girl pointed to the photo. “Him?”

“Rhys,” Nellie said. “My father.”

“We’re looking for him,” Morgan chimed in, inching closer. He snatched the photo, and held it out for the girl to better see. “He’d look older, but I doubt there are a plethora of blond, middle-aged European men traveling alone through here.”

The girl tilted her head.

“He wants to know if you’ve seen Rhys come through here,” Nellie explained.

The girl pointed. “Rhys?” She shrank back into a fox, flicked her tail, and darted from the room.

Nellie and Morgan exchanged a quick glance, coming to the same conclusion. They quickly changed and tiptoed out to the dark living room.

The fox swished her tail in the open doorway, then darted into the dark hall outside.

They missed the sunrise completely as they followed the fox along the twisting river in the shadows of the peaks. They were wet and sticky with sweat by the time they started climbing out of the river banks. The echos of tourists on the river were just starting to reach their ears as they disappeared into the trees.

“Th-they'll be fully aware we've g-gone by now,” Morgan huffed.

“They would’ve known hours ago,” Nellie said, clutching a stitch in her side. They were surrounded by trees. “I don’t think they’d be able to follow us.”

“I’m not certain that’s a positive,” Morgan said. He straightened, brushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead. “Where’s that huli jing?”

The small fox appeared on a nearby boulder with a little yip. She seemed offended at the accusation Morgan hadn’t had time to voice.

“Are we almost there,” Nellie asked. Her stomach gave a rumble. “Or are we need food at least?”

The fox dashed into the woods.

“Don’t give her more tasks,” Morgan said irritably. “We aren’t sure she even grasped the first one.”

“She’s not stupid,” Nellie said.

“Huli jing are tricksters. We should remember that.”

Nellie was too tired to point out that Morgan had no reservations when they were creeping out of Mrs. Wu’s apartment, nor when they were tripping along the banks of the river. 

She jumped down off a boulder and into a wave of hot, nauseating, stink. She clamped her hands to her nose and mouth as acid surged in her throat. Her blood going cold when she saw she had landed in a pile of dead animals.

“Ugh! What is that dreadful stench!”

Morgan paled as he joined Nellie. He hastily covered his nose and mouth, but bent lower to look at the nearest carcass. A noise of revulsion gurgled from his throat.

“They’re bloodless…”

“As in… they've been drained?” Nellie gulped. “Like by a vampire?”

She wasn't positive vampires were real but Morgan’s lack of a snide remark led her to believe they were. She never heard of—or rather watched a movie—of vampires living in the forests.

The two of them jumped with little eeps as the huli jing appeared, this time as her girl form. She scowled at the dead animals.

“Dangerous. Stay close.”

“This wasn't you, then,” Morgan asked, his voice higher.

The girl narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. She gave a huff, and stomped off into the trees.

“You should apologize,” Nellie said, leading the way after the girl. 

“To a fox?”

“Yes, Morgan, to a fox,” Nellie said. “It doesn't really matter what she is. She understands you, and you hurt her feelings.”

Morgan was grumbling, whacking branches from his face just behind her when a crash sounded from above. He screamed, a mixture of pain and panic.

Nellie whipped around and saw a winged, tawny creature half his size upon him.

“Morgan!” She grabbed the nearest stick thick enough to hurt.

“Careful!” The girl broke back through the trees, and surveyed the scene. “Late.”

She popped back into a fox and launched at the creature gnawing at Morgan. Nellie beat at it, breaking the stick quickly, and resorting to a thin, whipping branch. She smacked the creature with a loud crack. It released Morgan and threw itself at Nellie.

Her muscle memory from the weeks of sword play with the boys kicked in enough that Nellie was able to whip the feline-esque animal across the face, and again across the chest. Her third counter was deflected by one of its leathery wings, and she was knocked over. She screamed as its fangs pieced her upper arm, having thrown it up just in time to keep it from chomping on her neck.

Morgan’s foot came out of nowhere, kicking viciously at the animal’s head. The teeth tore through Nellie’s arm, but the creature was off.

“You all right,” Nellie asked, staggering up.

Morgan was holding his shoulder near his neck which was seeping dark, red blood. He was very pale and shaking, but gave a small nod.

Nellie barely glanced at her own injury when movement caught her peripheral vision. She whipped her stick as the animal lunged at them again; she kept herself firmly in front of Morgan as he started swaying dangerously. She was vaguely aware that the huli jing was gone just as another of the winged feline-esque animals dropped from the canopy.

There wasn't a way out that she could see. She was injured, essentially lost, and Morgan was now on his knees. Frightened tears fell from her eyes as she readied her stick. Nathalie was never going to know what happened to her.

The little fox broke through the trees behind the two winged beast, giving a snarl. She somehow wore a smug expression.

A crash sounded a split second later, and Nellie saw something large and two-legged brandishing fire at the creatures. One was set ablaze; it raced by her yowling in pain. The other was speared through the neck with a sharpened stick as it swung around to attack this new presence.

Nellie spun and dropped by Morgan now that the immediate threat had passed. He was still seeping blood, but it looked as if it had slowed. He was extremely pale and trembling. She tried to get him up and found him surprisingly heavy. Panic struck her again as she realized what had been inkling in the backs of her mind; there was no way she was going to be able to carry Morgan to safety.

“Stand aside.”

She barely registered that it was a human voice, adult and masculine with a definite familiar English accent, before she was swept aside. She staggered up to her feet, twisting her hands anxiously, as she stared at the broad back of the strange man crouching over Morgan. His fair-hair was shaggy and flecked with white.

She swallowed roughly and looked at the dead animal nearby. “What were those?”

“Feihu,” the huli jing, now in her girl form, answered. “Dangerous.”

“They’re pack animals. Those would’ve been scouts.” The man stood with Morgan draped in his arms. “We need to move.”

She trailed after this man with the huli jing–once again as fox–on her heels. Her heart was thumping rapidly but the adrenaline from the attack had already waned too much for that to be the reason. She was taking in this man's shaggy, wavy hair; his shirt simmered faintly with metallic threads. She was beginning to shake and it had nothing to do with her bleeding arm.

He led them to a tiny hut made out of the trees and underbrush in the area. Nellie wouldn't have noticed it on a first look, but definitely would've poked her head in with little hesitation once she spotted it. It was curious and inviting all at once.

Morgan was laid out on a bed of dried grasses and huge leaves. Nellie slithered in, sinking to his side. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she took in his pallid complexion and shallow breathing.

“He'll be all right in a moment.” 

Nellie couldn’t look at his face, and focused her attention on his calloused fingers sprinkling a fine, pink powder into Morgan’s wound. Nellie chewed her lip, and weakly asked, “Is that alicorn?”

She shrunk and hastily looked away as the man rounded on her, but not fast enough for her to fail to notice that the surprised eyes were the same blue as hers.

“You know alicorn?”

The huli jing–now a girl–popped into the hut. She sat next to Nellie and cozied up like an affectionate cat. She pointed at her freckles and then at Nellie’s, just missing her eye with her pointed fingernail.

“Freckles. Cute.”

“Ah, so that’s where you got them.” Nellie turned her head to avoid his eyes. “Hold out your arm, miss. A pinch will do you right.”

The silence was heavy enough to crush the hut. She stared at her mending arm to avoid looking at Morgan, who was breathing normally and returning to color, and at this man she was too sure of the identity of. He had a bit of scruff on his face, as if he had not shaved in several days. It was very different from the photo tucked in her pocket.

Morgan gave a small groan. Nellie clamoured over their rescuer to get closer, grabbing his arm to help him sit up.

“Morgan!” Nellie threw her arms around him, fighting against a blubber but not able to fully stop the tears.

“Morgan…?”

“I’m all right,” Morgan muttered. “Somehow.”

Nellie pulled away to give Morgan space to breathe and process where he was. She pulled at some split ends in a lock of her wavy, auburn hair, avoiding looking at all the humans. She gave the girl a weak, sheepish smile.

“What good luck on our part,” Morgan said, eyes locked on the blond man. He scoffed. “I doubt you remember me. I would’ve never looked twice at you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She laughed shakily, unable to help it. The tone was so much like Uncle Winston and Nathalie. She found herself shaking once again.

“Rhys.” The girl pointed boldly right at the man’s stunned face. “Rhys. Father. Rhys. Found.”

“You mad, little fox. What on earth are you on about?” He froze. “How… did you learn my name?”

Rhys looked to Morgan, his eyes widened as he no doubt began to see the similarities to the Regere. He spun on his seat towards Nellie, but she once more was unable to look at him. Her insides kept squirming. Her eyes burned, ready for fresh tears, and she had a sudden desire to not cry in front of him.

“P-Perenelle?”

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

Finally! Still managed Wednesday, but it was close. We're rounding out towards the end of Nellie's book. There are a couple of reasons why the huli-jing isn't named yet, the first being she was named way, way, way, way back whn this was 'girl goes monster tracking with friends' which is where Ava ended up coming from. Nellie had two more friends in her crew, a huli-jing that I cannot for the life of me remember the name of and can't find it anywhere (had an x and I think q because those are sh and ch and that still blows my mind), and a drow (troll) called Mehitable. The other reason the fox as no name right now is because no one named her. Mrs. Wu wouldn't dare since she sees her as a god-adjact creature.

Oh, but Nellie found Rhys. Or he found them.

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