Mioko could scarcely keep his head upright. His labored breathing was growing faint; his skin paling beneath the freckles that peppered his skin. He was supported almost fully by the steel bars he leaned against with only one hand grasping a section above his tawny hair.

He raised his head painfully. His brown eyes were dull as the glimmer of life was eked from them with every breath.

He found a familiar Daethen knight sitting at the other end of the hall, idly picking under his fingernails with one of his throwing knives. His feet were propped up on a chair beside him, and in a box on the desk behind him lay the various trinkets and baubles that had been removed from the sorcerers apprehended the day before.

The once glimmering yellow crystal worn around Mioko’s neck was among the pile.

Mioko winced and used his arm to pull himself further upright. His other hand slipped, shakily, through the space between the bars. His fingers stretched as far as they could go, as if trying to close in any gap between them and the crystal across the room.

He was much too far away.

“Ed,” his voice came weakly.

The knight’s movements slowed, but his attention was not moved.

“I need my crystal.”

Ed still did not move.

“Ed, please,” Mioko pleaded. “You know I need it; it’s not just a totem–it’s my life!” He breathed, “I swear, I won’t use its power…”

“Yeah–he swears!” The man in the cell beside him scooted closer to his own bars. “And give me mine, too! We won’t do anything!”

“Just give them all back to us!” A woman called from down the hall. “Please, I’ll die without my opal stone!” 

“Come on, Ed,” the man spoke again, stressing the man’s nickname. “You can trust us!"

“Shut it.” The knight’s reply was simple.

Mioko bit his lip as his hand slid down the bar toward his hair. His eyes scanned the cells as the others chuckled and mumbled amongst themselves. He winced, knowing well that not a single one was bound like he was.

He stretched out his hand again. “You don’t have to give it to me, just... could you place it closer?”

“Place it closer, Ed!” The voices returned with no effort to the sneer of sarcasm. 

“Place mine right here!!” A hand slapped against the stoney ground outside a neighboring cell.

Mioko drew a sharp breath as another wave of weakness rippled through his body. It stung and numbed him all at once, causing him to shiver. His hand dropped to his side while the other slipped from the bar. He tried to stifle his rasping breaths, saving what he could to keep conscious.

The woman across from him peeked through her cell as the voices around them grew ever-louder. “You’re... you’re not making that up, are you?” She inched closer, peering through squinted eyes. Realization spread across her own freckled face. “Were you the child who escaped the Fae of U’dien?”

“Will you all be quiet?!” Ed growled loud enough to be heard over the noise.

The woman climbed to her knees as she glanced at Ed. "He’s not lying–he’s the boy from my village who escaped the Fae!"

“Escaped the Fae??” The man beside Mioko shot her an incredulous look.

“But all children die when they leave U’dien!” Another called.

“And he will too without that U’dien crystal!” The woman barked back. “He truly does need it!”

“Shut up–all of you!!” Ed snapped, stomping to his feet as he turned toward the hall of cells.

The voices were reduced to silence. Even Mioko had looked up warily as his forehead pressed against the bars.

The knight’s eyes narrowed on him for a moment before he turned away. “You are in holding until the King says otherwise–nobody’s getting anything back until then!!”

“Sir Edwards,” Mioko tried one last time with all the firmness he could muster.

His eyes darted toward him. "Save your breath."

The Weivan was unable to determine if Ed’s words were meant in dismissal. The tone was more somber; more empathetic. Could it be that the man knew his detainment wouldn’t last much longer?

Ed returned to his chair, but he did not sit down. The yellow crystal was barely visible from the corner of his eye. His frown deepened. With a simple turn, he walked up to the iron door and left the room.

Mioko hissed through his teeth and slid further down the bars. He could only hope the crystal would be returned before it was too late.

–

The Phoenix’s Duty Short
Ed brings Vance to King Rei, offering his services to hold back the curse of Ignarathos. In return, Ed bis declared the Duke, and he is able to order all sorcerers to be freed.

–

Almost everyone in the hallway looked up through their bars when the heavy iron door opened back up. They remained silent as a different knight entered and took a set of keys from the desk beside the box of totems. They watched with anticipation as he took them to the first locked cell and swifty unlocked it.

“Wait–are we free?” The woman inside stood.

“That’s what they say,” the knight replied. “By order of the Duke, or something. Take your things and go.”

“They’re releasing us!” Another shouted down the hall. “Hey–they’re releasing us!!” 

Among other cries of gladness, the woman joyfully stepped from the cell as the knight moved to the next lock. She ran to the desk and overturned the box of totems. Spreading them across the desk, she found her own opal necklace.

“At last!” She cried, holding it in her hand.

As each door was unlocked, the man or woman within rushed to the table to pick up their totem. Hands and fingers grasped at chains and baubles, but each sorcerer only took what was theirs. After all: someone attempting to take more than their own would have had a hard time escaping with the amount of magic users present around them.

When the freckled woman retrieved her silver hair pin, her hand hesitated over the yellow U’dien crystal. Her eyes drifted over her shoulder in an attempt to look for Mioko, but the amount of bodies rushing past–and his cell appearing to be open–coaxed her to leave.

One by one, individual cells were unlocked as word was spread through the halls of the dungeon. By the time the knight reached the hall Athena was in, a flood of recently-freed sorcerers was already moving swiftly through the stone corridors before her–all funneling to the great iron door at the far end of the dungeon.

She caught the knight’s arm as he dragged the door open. “Excuse me, but I need to find the cell of a Weivan with short red hair–”

“Lady, there’s a hundred Weivans with short red hair in this dungeon,” his lips skewed beneath his helmet. 

“His name is Mioko–”

“I can’t help you.”

She frowned as he moved on to the next cell, and she took a deep breath before blending into the crowd. She weaved in and out of the steady flow of people, frequently catching a glimpse of someone with red-hair, but they were never the man she sought. She continued through the ever-emptying cells until she reached the last, long hallway. An iron door was open at the far end.

The newly appointed Duke stood at the desk near the doorway. His elbow was bent at his waist, and his hand was closed.

“Ed,” Athena called, starting toward him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Athena? Since when did you practice magic?”

“I don’t,” she stepped aside when another sorcerer rushed past her, “but, they took Mioko away from his daughter, and when I tried to stop them, they–” 

Her sentence was broken with a horrified gasp. Her eyes had fallen upon the unmoving form of a Weivan with short red hair, curled on his side within an open cell. “Mioko!!” She cried, dropping to her knees. “No–Mioko!!” She grasped his shoulders, rolled him to his back, and shook him, but he remained limp and lifeless in her hands.

Ed swallowed. He opened his hand to reveal the yellow crystal of U’dien–the last of the totems left on the desk after every other sorcerer had fled their cell.

Athena’s tear-filled eyes darted toward him, focusing in on the trinket in his hand. “You know–you know he needs that!!” She spat, flying to her feet and rushing toward him. “You know he will die without it–you know and you took it from him!!”

The Duke flinched as Athena practically leapt at him; fists pounding his chest as her shrill words stung his ears. He shrunk back as she forcibly snatched the crystal from his hand.

“If this won’t revive him now, you are the reason Mioko is dead!!” She screamed through her tears; every ounce of her thin frame bristling with anger and disappointment.

Ed’s lips were skewed with his teeth clenched behind them. His expression was pained and pale–but he did not speak. He only watched as the woman turned on her heels and ran back to Mioko’s cell with his crystal in hand.

Athena dropped to her knees, shuddering as she slid to Mioko’s side.

“Please–wake up!” She pressed the crystal to his unmoving chest.

The dull crystal at once flared with golden light. It pulsed once before swirling around her hand and filling the cell in brilliant light.

The light reflected in her eyes.

Athena gasped as the air was sucked from her lungs, faltered as her strength was seeped, and shut her eyes as her vision clouded over.

Ed took a step forward, his face painted in concern.

The golden light faded, and Athena collapsed.

Mioko gasped for air.

Golden light flashed in his eyes as they opened wide, only to fall closed as he continued breathing in air as quickly as he could. When he could finally find the renewed strength to move, he tried to roll to his side to sit up.

His necklace slipped from his chest and landed on the ground, but his knees bumped against something.

He blinked as he focused on the figure lying in the dimly lit cell.

His breathing caught in his throat.

“Athena?!” He scrambled to his hands and knees and dove toward her. “Athena!!”

Ed shut his eyes and turned away as a new set of cries rose into the air.

“No–Athena, you–why did you–” Mioko gnashed his teeth and grabbed the golden gem in his fingers. “Put it back!!” He shouted at the crystal before pressing it against Athena’s unmoving form. “This life isn’t mine–put it back!!”

But his crystal retained its subtle glow without even a spark to offer.

His lips quivered as tears fell from his eyes. “Don’t make her die for me!!” He cried pitifully as his fingers clenched the crystal so tightly his hand shook.

Duke Edwards slipped away, pained sorrow twisting his expression before he disappeared in shadow.

–

In the waning light of a cloudy afternoon, Ace and Elliot stopped their horses at the foot of the hill on which the great castle of Daethos stood. Hundreds of men and women were pouring from the door of the castle, forming a steady stream of figures running down the hill and practically leaping toward the gate at which they stood. Their cacophonous cries filled the air and grew louder as they approached.

“Well,” Elliot eyed the first few sorcerers as they rushed past them, “it looks like we got here at just the right time.”

Ace chewed his lip as his eyes scanned the billowing crowd. “Do you see her?”

“In that? No.”

The tan-haired man frowned. “Wait here.”

“Are you sure about that?” Elliot took Lady’s reins as Ace dismounted quickly, pushing his way through the gate and into the fray. 

“Athena!” He shouted as he shoved his way upstream.

“Oof!” Someone quipped.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Out of my way!” A bulky man shoved him as he tried to push past.

“Out of my way, you jerk!” Ace shouted after him, his arms balled at his chest. He turned his head back to the door everyone was filing from. “Athena!!” He called again, scanning the field for her face. With so many running and blocking his vision as they passed, he was worried he would miss her. As the crowd quickly thinned, he chewed his lip and glanced behind him. “Surely she’d see Elliot if she passed me,” he muttered, only to be struck in the other by a freckled woman in a thick cloak. “Hey!” He staggered back, setting a hand on his shoulder as if in protest.

The woman didn’t even look twice as she hurried away.

Ace huffed a breath and turned his attention back to the castle door.

His scrunched expression immediately unclenched.

A man with red hair had stepped into the field.

Ace straightened his posture as he locked eyes with Mioko. His chest filled with anxious panic when he saw someone draped within his arms. His heart dropped when the figure in his arms became recognizable.

The other sorcerers rushing from the castle had run away. The cries and shouts and cheers had dulled. Time itself seemed to slow as Mioko trudged toward him at a painfully slow pace.

Ace had grown deathly still; hoping–praying–that she had only been injured. But with every step that closed the gap between them, trembling dread further overtook him. 

Mioko bowed as he came to a stop a few feet away, his face pale and tear-stained.

Ace’s knees buckled and he sank into the grass. He sucked in a breath through open lips as Mioko gently knelt down and presented Athena’s body.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered almost imperceptibly, his eyes downcast. “I’m so sorry.”

Ace’s brows arched on his forehead, tears stinging his eyes as they remained wholly focused on his wife. Her eyes were closed; her dull lips slightly parted. Her chest did not swell with breath; her fingers remained stiff and unmoving.

Wildly trying to process the scene, he gave the smallest shake of his head. “Wh…” he tried to speak, though he could not muster his voice. He could not attempt to speak about the reality lying before him.

“They… they took my crystal… I was dying. She gave it back to me, and it… It took her life to give to me,” Mioko gnashed his teeth in anguish. 

Ace’s brows furrowed further, his hand hesitating before it could reach for her.

“If I could–just–give it back,” Mioko hissed, “she wouldn’t–wouldn’t have died!”

The word sent a jolt through Ace’s entire body. He had not wanted to hear the word. He had not wanted to accept the word.

But the word was true.

Athena had died.

In utter defeat, the tan-haired man dropped his hand, squashed his eyes shut, and lurched forward until his forehead fell upon hers.

Mioko’s gem sparked and Ace at once felt faint.

“Wait,” Mioko grasped Ace by the shoulder and swiftly pushed him back. “Let me let go of her. The crystal is still trying to heal me–it’s taking anything it can.”

Ace’s teeth remained clenched as he watched the sorcerer lay his wife upon the ground. His hand touched the spot on his forehead at his hairline, still tingling like a freshly formed scar.

Weakly, Mioko crawled away, remaining hunched over his knees. “I’m sorry,” he muttered again.

Ace drew his gloved hands to her unmoving face. Her skin was cold against his fingertips. 

He bleated a short sob as the reality further sunk in.

The last time he had seen her, he had argued with her. They had left their disagreement unresolved as he hurried away to the theater with scarcely a kiss on her cheek. He had left her alone, like had done many other days before that.

But he had expected to come home and find her waiting for him. He had expected to make things right.

Instead, their disagreement–and their life together–would be left unresolved.

“Teena,” Ace moaned her name, as if to summon a different ending.

The stillness of the air around him was the only reply.

Tears poured from his eyes as he doubled over and clutched her body with all his might, crying desperately into the fading light.

--

Oof this is a sad one.

I usually try my best to avoid drawing or writing about a dead body; I'll try to hide the face or simply pass over to a scene after the death has been dealt with, but this one, unfortuantley for Ace, has to be front and center.

It's very much a turning point in Ace's life, and not just because he must process the death of his own wife. Basically, he was so focused on supporting Athena by doing ALL things, he ends up barely being present for her. Losing her really makes him sit back and really think about what he's trying to do with his life, and while his healing process is long and painful (and most of it will happen 'off-screen'), it brings him to a better place of growth and resilience on the other side.

And of course this affects Mioko greatly too; that crystal is both a source of life and the bane of his existence... He grieves almost as much as Ace simply because he had a very firm friendship with Athena, and he's devastated that his power was the cause of her death (even though he had no control over it). And also unfortunately, this inadvertently makes things awkward between him and Ace - just briefly though. After they heal and process, they are able to lean on each other due to their mutual care for Athena - and how they've both had to struggle through losing their spouses.

It gets better I promise!!

(Also, the tingling "magic scar" is how Ace gets his white streak in this 'universe.')

They were whisked away to the Knight Barracks down near a right angle of road called Devil’s Corner. All of them had injuries from the run in with the monster. Brody got off with a ripped shirt and some shallow scratches from the wing. Calix dislocated his shoulder breaking Ira’s door down to get his sword. Itzel had several deep scratches from when the cryptid landed on her, but only one needed stitches. Nellie’s torn shoulder needed stitches too.

Ira did not go with them to the Knight Barracks. He went north to the Conservatory with Cecily. She was limping when Nellie last saw her.

“Bear it a tad longer,” Knight Wilde said patiently. His thick fingers were somehow holding the stitching needle deftly, and Nellie hadn’t felt more than small tugs thanks to his skill–and some numbing cream.

Itzel stood a few feet away, anxiously tiptoeing and wringing her hands as she watched. That made Nellie want to see how bad her arm looked, but she fought the urge.

“And… done.” Knight Wilde creaked back in his rocking chair. “Whew, you kids sure saw one heck of a night, didn’t you?”

“We really appreciate the help,” Brody said, approaching with a steaming cup. He handed it to Nellie. “Is there… any word on his highness?”

“Or the gryphon,” Calix added from across the room. He was holding a large Ziploc of ice to his wrapped, relocated shoulder.

“No, but he said to bring you to Nahma once you were all patched up,” Knight Wilde said. “I have great optimism that the prince is well.”

Nellie sipped at her tea, finding it was a strong, black variety that was familiarly unpleasant. She held it in her mouth, forcing it down with a gulp that nearly choked her.

“Don’t share your father’s tea preference, I take it,” Knight Wilde said with amusement. “Here, I’ll take it. No need to be polite.”

It almost surprised her that Knight Wilde knew of Rhys, but he was about fifty. Nellie wasn’t sure how long training in Rome was but he and Rhys were near enough that they probably had some overlap. 

It also seemed that a lot of people knew who Rhys was without meeting him. Fin knew who he was despite his father not ever meeting Rhys.

“We crossed paths while he was in America,” Knight Wilde explained.

Nellie was glad she did not still have bitter tea in her mouth. She would’ve spat it. “Rhys was in America? When?”

“Years ago,” Knight Wilde said. His deeply lined brow furrowed. “Yikes, it would’ve been more than a decade since he’s left.”

That made sense after the shock of hearing it wore off. Silas was American, and he said Penny's mother was a friend of his and Rhys's.

“You wouldn't know where he went… would you,” Nellie asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Knight Wilde smiled sympathetically, shaking his head.

With them all patched up, Knight Wilde and Knight Doyle—a tall man with pepped hair and a large gash scar on his arm—escorted them up to Namha. It was a short drive made shorter with the hour being so late that the roads were empty and speeding was possible.

Nahma came and went in a blink. They turned north. The properties thinned out until the only one visible was a tiny white building with a steepled roof. They went through the parking lot, and took an unpaved road out into the trees and mountains, soon coming upon a stone wall that strongly reminded Nellie of pictures she’d seen of the Great Wall.

Nellie didn’t see how they made it through the wall, but they were parking in a large clearing with the wall behind them before she knew it.

Keeper Orwell took it upon himself to lead them through the twists and turns of the Conservatory. He was spouting facts like the building being crescent shaped and the wall having smaller, thinner walls to make large enclosures for the different cryptids in residence.

Nellie was having trouble listening. It must have been near midnight, and now that she was safe and warm, she was beginning to nod off on her feet. Calix’s head was also lolling as they walked; Brody was yawning so wide his eyes watered.

She and Itzel were shown to a small, stone room cramped with two twin beds. There was barely room to move between the beds, but somehow Nellie was able to get into one. She was out before the door shut.

---

Itzel was gone when Nellie finally woke sometime midday judging by the strong sunlight streaming from the little window. She sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes, not sure what to do and feeling slightly grungy in her ripped and bloodstained pajamas. She gave into a combination of boredom and curiosity, and wandered out.

The thin, curved halls looked different with them sunfilled. She walked with her head turned to stare out the massive walls of windows, feeling her heart swoop as a huge, dark bird with lightning crackling on its wings soared by.

“Thunderbird.”

Nellie jumped at the voice, turning to see a stern woman standing there. She was a tall woman, easily six feet, with gray streaked hair that was twisted up in a knot. Her mouth was thin, dark eyes narrow, and her cheekbones sharp. Her brassy skin was worn and deeply lined on her brow and around her mouth, as if she scowled often.

“My apologies, Miss Herle,” she said with a slight nod. “I’m Keeper Yardley, the resident stalker for this Conservatory. If we stalkers can even claim residency.”

Stalkers were specialized Keepers, from what Ira once told her. They sought out dangerous cryptids versus the regular Keepers that kept more to one location and watched over all the creatures. His parents had been stalkers prior to Clayborne York ascending to Protector of the Realm.

“Prince Ira sent me to see if you had woken,” Keeper Yardley said.

“Ira’s okay,” Nellie said, relieved. “What about Cecily?”

“I was just sent to fetch you,” Keeper Yardley said. “Follow, if you please.”

She followed Keeper Yardley with her head turned to stare out the windowed wall. They came to a spacious room where Keeper Orwell and Ira were calmly sipping hot drinks. Keeper Orwell immediately set his cup down and stood.

“We’ll leave you to it, your highness,” Keeper Orwell said.

Ira was wearing his pajamas, complete with the worn AC/DC shirt Nellie remembered from his Tennessee visit. His pajamas were clean, opposite of hers, and she assumed his clothes from last night had been ruined much like her shirt and Itzel’s nightgown.

“The Keepers call that cryptid a Piasa Bird,” Ira said. He smiled wryly. “Not much of a bird, really. More of one of those dragon adjacent creatures your cousin was musing on.”

“Is Cecily okay,” Nellie asked, looking Ira up and down for signs of injuries.

“Cecily will be all right,” Ira said. “She’ll recover here and fly home. Shouldn’t be more than a week or two.” He knit his fingers, staring at them unseeingly. “She protected me. Took the brunt of the attacks. I’m perfectly fine.”

Nellie went and sat next to him on the small, plush couch. She, too, stared at her hands as the silence between them lengthened. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just quiet.

“That cryptid… it having a human face… that makes it more real that our moms got turned into dragons,” Nellie murmured. She swallowed. Her throat was dry. “Do you think… it was someone’s mom?”

“With that face? Hardly.” Ira drained his tea. “Penny and I theorized all dragons were female, but this challenges that. Or, perhaps, because this is not a true dragon it doesn’t follow that pattern.” His clear eyes darted to his phone resting on the coffee table before them. “I messaged her after I arrived last night, but still nothing.”

It was dark when Nellie saw the Piasa Bird, but there was nothing about its features that pointed to it being a male, minus the beard, but since that was stringy and green, she suspected that was part of the transformation. It was also hanging from the chin and jaws, more like a tiger’s beard than a human beard.

A knock sounded, distracted them both from their separate thoughts. Nellie felt compelled to stand as Knight Doyle, Keeper Orwell, Keeper Yardley, and a square-jawed man in a suit filed in. Ira stayed seated at her side, but she noticed his back straighten.

“Knight Captain Thrasher, I thank you for coming,” Ira said, his tone cool and detached like when he arrived at Silas’s compound.

“Highness,” Thrasher said, giving Ira a curt nod. His eyes narrowed at Nellie. “And…?”

“This is Perenelle Herle,” Ira said. “We were just catching up.” He gave Nellie a small smile. “I’m sure you’re starved. There should still be breakfast.”

Nellie kept Thrasher in the corners of her eye as she inched around to exit the room. His stare had hardened after Ira introduced her, making her insides writhe in discomfort. She shut the door after her and teetered on leaving.

“Herle,” came Thrasher’s rough voice. “As in Rhys Herle?”

“Her father.” Ira said. “Shall we–?”

“You consort with a traitor’s child,” Thrasher growled.

“You forget yourself, sir,” Ira said coldly. There was an inaudible muttering. “Now, to business, shall we? His majesty asks your thoughts on—”

She backed away from the door, not caring about Ira’s politicking. Her insides felt hollow at the charge Thrasher had spat about Rhys. It was the first she had ever heard someone speak negatively of him, and it was with a very serious crime.

She wondered what it meant to be a traitor in this sense. It made little sense the longer she tried to sort it out. Rhys had left the Order of Ferblanc to become Commander of the Auctorita. That was the same as leaving one company for a better promotion as far as she could tell.

Thrasher must be a drama queen despite his appearance.

Itzel had tracked down their clothes, and was dressed for the day when Nellie returned to the room. She looked chipper, as if she was visiting home after a long time.

“Ira’s having his meeting right now,” Nellie said, sitting on the edge of her bed. “I don’t know how long it’ll be, but we’ll probably head out to the airport right after.” She looked from the shirt in her hand to Itzel. “Um… can you turn around, please?”

Itzel eyed her as if not sure Nellie was trying to hide something, but did turn to allow her to change in somewhat private. They headed out after, eventually running into Brody and Calix as they stared through the windowed wall, pointing creatures out to one another.

“Hey, girls,” Brody greeted. “How’s the stitches?”

“Honestly, I thought they’d hurt more,” Nellie said. “How’re you guys? Calix?”

“Sore,” Calix said, gingerly touching his shoulder. His arm was still in a sling. “It moves now; that’s what I want.”

They wandered the curved building, trying to see how many different creatures they could spot, while they waited for Ira. Keeper Yardley found them first, informed them that Ira was too busy to escort them, and took them to the airport herself.

Nellie was disappointed she didn’t have time to talk to Ira. She wanted to theorize more about that Piasa Bird. It wouldn’t have hurt to prod him about Thrasher too, just to confirm her suspicions about his temperament.

They were each given a phone and told to call their guardians about their trials as soon as they arrived back at the compound. Nellie double checked the time when Nathalie failed to answer, frowning. It was a Tuesday. She would’ve left for Murfreesboro to be sure she was in the area for the evening class she taught.

She sent a quick message rather than leave a voice one:

Hoped to talk to Ash. Forgot you taught today. I’ll write you.

Nathalie didn’t need to know about the Piasa Bird right that second. Nathalie would learn about the stitches after her time at the compound ended.

Her bedroom door was flung open with a bang. “Nellie!” Morgan strode in, oblivious that she was half-off the edge of her bed due to his startle. “You’ve got to–.”

“You’ve got to knock, Morgan, I’ve told you,” Nellie interrupted.

“Nevermind all that,” Morgan dismissed. “This creature–this Piasa Bird–the face was human?” He began pacing. “Of course, this goes to my theory of dragon adjacent being connected. That much is certain.”

“Is it,” Nellie asked.

“His highness was rather short sighted to not look at these adjacent creatures,” Morgan said with superiority. “Ah, well, I suppose he’ll be more willing to listen to my ideas in the future.”

“He… did listen,” Nellie said, unsurely.

“You must tell me everything,” Morgan said, jumping up on the edge of her bed.

She rushed through the encounter with the Piasa Bird, only lingering to describe it. Morgan nodded slightly as she talked, his eyes staring as his mind turned things over.

“It isn’t your mother…,” Morgan mused. “I wonder if we could use facial recognition to determine who it was prior to this curse.”

“If it is a curse,” Nellie said. “There are cryptids that are humanoid. Like mermaids. …Mermaids are real, right?”

“They are,” Morgan said through clenched teeth. “That still doesn’t mean my theory is wrong.”

“I didn’t say it was! I was just saying we don’t have enough info,” Nellie said.

There was a long lapse of silence between them. Nellie had no idea why Morgan was quiet. He hadn’t just spent half a night fighting for his life and being wounded in the process. He hadn’t just overheard his father called a traitor. He wasn’t desperately trying to ignore the nagging that invaded when things got too quiet.

“How,” Nellie started quietly, clearing her throat, “am I supposed to know my mother?” She picked her nails, keeping her eyes down. “I don’t remember Brue. How am I supposed to know it’s her?”

“How could you not remember her,” Morgan asked incredulously. “Weren’t you two? You should have firm, core memories of her.”

Shame and guilt seared her insides. She must have had memories of Brue and Rhys, and living with them as a family when she went to live with Nathalie. She forgot about them both though.

“Well… perhaps asking you to have any detailed memories at that age is a big ask,” Morgan said uncomfortably, pointedly not looking at her. “And, you had so much happen once you started your new life, that it makes sense you held onto all those memories.”

“I liked that life too,” Nellie murmured.

Morgan shifted uncomfortably. “Better than now?”

Nellie laughed, nudging him. “No. I like having a little cousin.” She laughed again at his scowl, but could see a smile threatening to escape. She sighed. “I still have no idea how to know if the dragon we eventually find is really my mother though. Maybe I should ask Rhys? Your dad said he knew where he was. I bet we could really solve all this if we teamed up.”

“Or are you looking for an excuse to meet your father,” Morgan asked suspiciously.

Nellie’s freckled cheeks tinted red. She tossed her auburn waves off her shoulder, wincing as she hand brushed her stitches and ruining the airs she was trying to put on.

“I dread suggesting it, but you could ask his highness or that Penny woman if they have any strategy for recognizing their mothers other than multiple years with her.” He gave a lamenting type of sigh. “And, I suppose I could ask my father about yours on your behalf. Speed it up a bit.”

“I don’t know… Going to the Regere seems like a slippery slope somehow… But….”

“Excellent,” Morgan said, slipping off the bed onto his feet. “I’ll drop it casually. Maybe to my mother. I’ll leave you to dress for dinner.”

“Dress,” Nellie asked. “Is it formal?”

“No, of course not,” Morgan said with a laugh. “You just look a mess. I thought you’d want to remedy that.”

She looked for something to throw at him as he left, failing. She was sure to lock the door after him. She fought the grin trying to disrupt her annoyance.

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

This just took forever. I need that kid to sleep more. I was trying to name people and then realised Orwell was also a literary name, so changed those Knights to Doyle and Wilde to also be literary. But, I liked Yardley so kept it and was too tired to think of another writer to replase Thrasher, lol. I've been looking for a spot to put a thunderbird since I started typing this thing. I spent many hours of my childhood staring into the sky wondering if the bird I was looking at was big enough to be a thunderbird.

I'm thinking chapters will be more sporadic with the fatigue/insomnia thing going on.

It was a frog. It was a three and a half foot, standing on two long legs, frog.

Nellie realized her mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it. She cleared her throat and twisted around.

“Uh… Brody,” she called, unsure. She tensed, clutching her wooden sword up to her chest as more frogmen appeared from the weeds. “Brody!”

“Oh, good, you’ve found them,” Brody said, taking his hand off his steel sword. “Calix, get a vantage to get the numbers. Itzel…” He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. “Fayzer barry-cada de fogo… Sem ree-coo-are…?”

Itzel’s dark eyes looked worried. She twisted the hem of her shirt anxiously with one hand, clutching a long, beaten wooden stick with the other.

“Um… fire,” Brody said, pointing to a clump of dry, tall grass. He looked back at his paper. “Which was fire… Fogo?” He gestured to the grass. “Fogo.” He pointed at the frogmen. “No fogo.”

Itzel nodded slowly.

“Nellie, you’ll be with me ushering them into the trailer” Brody said. “Cal, how many?”

“I see twelve,” Calix called from somewhere about Nellie’s head.

“Itzel, fogo,” Brody said pointing to the grass. “Ready, Nellie?”

She nodded meekly despite not feeling at all ready. She was still grasping with being stared at by huge frogs. She cringed as one licked its orb-like eye.

The fire was lit, and the frogmen scattered. Calix yelled out positions and numbers from his perch. Brody must have been moving them into the waiting trailer successfully because the numbers were dwindling, and Nellie was confident she was doing nothing but run in circles.

“Two,” Calix called out. “Nellie, left shoulder! Brody, right knee! Ah, one! Nellie, behind!”

“Got it,” Brody said triumphantly. “Nellie, tell Itzel to stop the fire, and head for the truck.”

It was easier said than done to get Itzel to stop. The first hurdle was physically getting near enough to the young mage with her gleefully setting fire to whatever was dried near her. The next was the language barrier, which initially had Itzel set even more fires until the whole marsh was burning. She caught on once Calix and Brody were frantically kicking mucky water at the flames.

Nellie dragged herself back to the two trucks, one a muddy pickup hitched with a trailer and the other with a large cabin. Ira was speaking softly to the pickup’s driver–a middle-aged man in hunter fatigues. She was too singed, muddy, and damp to eavesdrop and headed for the larger truck.

“Are you the mage,” the man asked, breaking off his conversation with Ira.

“No,” Nellie said. “That’s Itzel.”

“This is Perenelle Herle,” Ira introduced. “Nellie, this is Keeper Orwell.”

“Herle,” Orwell mused, shaking Nellie’s hand as if she were an adult. “I briefly knew a Herle once. Englishman.”

“Her father,” Ira said.

“Really,” Orwell said in polite surprise. He bent to look her in the face. “Yes… I can see some resemblance.”

“Thanks,” Nellie said as she awkwardly leaned away.

Orwell straightened and turned his full attention back to Ira. “Herle was dreadfully serious from what I remember. Not at all like your father. When he turned out to be the Protector of the Realm… Well, I thought we were lost.”

Ira gave a tense smile. He gestured towards Calix and Brody. “Please, allow me to introduce you.”

Nellie slipped into the truck, startling when she found it wasn’t empty. Itzel waved meekly, curling against the door.

“Some night, huh,” Nellie said, slumping against the door. She watched Orwell shaking hands with Calix and Brody, their expressions flitting between pride and unease. “I think we did pretty well. Silas said frog-like water guardians, but I still wasn’t prepared for that.” She glanced at Itzel who was watching her in the dark cab with her large, dark eyes. Nellie had to remind herself that Itzel was two years older than her, and much more powerful in quiet moments like this.

She scooted into the middle as Brody climbed in. Calix took the front with Ira.

“We should arrive at our lodgings within fifteen,” Ira said, starting the truck. “We’ll stop at the Conservatory in Nahma tomorrow to check in on the frogmen before I drop you at the airport in Escanaba.”

There was a heavy silence in the truck. There was not a great amount of adrenaline to come down from, but they had run around a lot. They were starting to feel the hour time difference–for Nellie it was her timezone when she wasn’t at the compound–and it felt much later than shortly after sunset.

“Highness,” Brody squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Highness, I looked up frogmen to prepare for this mission… Aren’t we too far north?”

“Likely,” Ira said with a final sort of tone.

“Mr. Javernick says frogmen relocated often,” Calix said, twisting to address Brody better. “Too many developments in Ohio, so to Michigan. But, same situation.”

“And this group escaped en route to the Conservatory,” Nellie added. “Silas just asked if we could help for experience.” She leaned over into the front seat, looking at Ira. “Why you’re our chaperon is the bigger question.”

“The Order of Ferblanc and the Keepers both have presence here,” Ira said plainly. “I’m to speak with them.”

Brody was staring at his lap, frowning. “It… just seems too cold for amphibians….”

“The Keepers will monitor this population,” Ira said. “Their children will be better suited and able to be released.” He smiled into the rearview. “It’s admirable you show them concern.”

Calix turned towards them, flashing Brody a sturdy thumbs up.

They pulled into a parking lot for a large, yellow-bricked building. There was a small, rounded awning held by four white columns over the turquoise front door. Perched high above the door on the roofline was a cross made of the same yellow brick as the building.

Ira had his own room with a private bathroom. Calix and Brody shared a room with two full-sized beds while Nellie and Itzel were in a room with two single beds. The four of them didn’t have private bathrooms and had to take turns getting ready for bed in the communal one.

Nellie left the bathroom dressed in floral pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. She stopped short to avoid colliding with Ira.

“Where’re you going,” Nellie asked, taking in that he hadn’t changed yet.

“To visit Cecily,” Ira said. “She should be here by now.”

“Let me put my toothbrush away,” Nellie said excitedly.

They were crossing the dark, back lawn five minutes later. Nellie crossed her arms tightly against the night air. It was a warm enough night, but she had never been so far north.

Cecily was in a grove of trees. Her wings glowed in the moonlight as she rustled them, chirping a happy greeting to them. She nuzzled Ira and scratched the ground with her front talons as if dancing in place.

Nellie felt a pang in her chest as she watched Ira smile softly, murmuring into the gryphon’s black, feathered head. She hadn’t seen Ash in nearly five weeks. The Regere’s offer to bring him to Silas’s compound drifted through her mind.

“Are you meeting up with Penny after you’re done doing… whatever it is here?”

“It’s unclear,” Ira said, giving Cecily a hearty pat. “I’d like to, but, unfortunately, my primary function is political and things are becoming very political.”

“Because… we just had an election,” Nellie asked unsurely.

Ira smirked, shaking his head. “A change in a country’s leadership is, of course, something I need to know and keep in mind, but no.” He gave Cecily one more pat before backing away. “Morgan has said nothing to you?”

She felt a twinge of frustration at Ira’s skirting around information. He was unhelpful when shown the dragon research. He was evasive on what he was doing next.

“Morgan doesn’t know most of what his dad gets up to,” Nellie said coolly. “He can’t even tell me where the Auctorita headquarters are.”

“To offer a defense, when you’re a child being ushered back and forth it does get confusing on where things are located,” Ira said.

They broke from the trees, walking slowly back up towards the brick building. She waited for Ira to expand on his defense with either the location or what it was Morgan could potentially have told her that was related to what he was doing, but nothing came. She stopped abruptly to force him to do the same.

“What’s going on,” Nellie asked. “You’re meeting with the Order, and the Keepers, and this all has to do with something you thought Morgan would know. It’s something I should know then, right?”

Ira stared at her, weighing what to say. She could practically see the scales balancing over his head.

“The Regere has been working for the last decade to turn the Auctorita home base into a legal, sovereign, internationally recognized state.”

“Like… its own country?” She frowned at Ira’s nod. “But…? Wait, what’s that mean for you and your dad? Or for the Realm in general?”

“Those are the big questions that my father needs answers to,” Ira said. “As this is a most important matter, I’m his ambassador to ask these questions.” He sighed heavily, staring into the starry sky. “It’s taking away from my search for my mother.”

“I can help look for your mom,” Nellie offered.

“You already are,” Ira said, smiling. “You, Penny, and I are in this together whether we’re physically together or not.”

The bubbles of pride and affection burst as a roar ripped the air. Nellie shrunk next to Ira, scanning the sky for the source of the heavy wing beats. She stole a look at the backdoor they’d been aiming for, her stomach sinking as it seemed to stretch away.

“Down,” Ira ordered, throwing her into the ground.

She felt his arm leave her back, heard his footsteps thudding away. She peeked up while keeping as flat as she could; her heart dropping as she watched him throw himself aside to avoid the talons of a calf-sized creature with a large rack of antlers.

“Nellie,” Ira called. “Get inside!”

He scrambled up and bolted for the trees. The animal made a wide turn with its red, leathery wings and swooped down at Ira again.

Nellie ran for the door, throwing herself through. She gulped at the air, flinched at the roar outside, and raced upstairs. She pounded on Calix’s and Brody’s door.

“Cryptid!” She pounded on her own door. “Creature! Ira needs help!” She tried Ira’s door but found it locked. “No, no!”

“Nellie, what–?” Brody looked half asleep, trying with difficulty to slip his feet in his shoes.

“I need your sword,” Nellie said. “Quick!” She shoved Brody aside—Calix pulling his sheets up to his chin—and took the sword from beside the door. She heaved it up, staggered, and headed back downstairs.

Cecily had joined the battle. She was slamming the creature aside when it swooped at Ira, screech-roaring and snapping at it with her sharp, curved beak. Ira looked more distressed, more frantic as he waved his arms and shouted to get the creature’s attention to stop it from fighting Cecily fully.

“Ira!” Nellie waved at him, pointing to Brody’s sword. “Ira! I got you a sword!”

The creature snapped its head towards her, and her breath died in her throat.

It had a human face. Unmistakably human even in the dark and at the twenty or so yards of distance. Its green, scaly body glittered as it bounded towards her on its four, massive bird feet. Its long tail whipped around as it got closer and closer.

Nellie couldn’t move. She was still staring in horror at the bearded face. The yellow eyes were locked on her.

Flames erupted in front of her, causing her to fall backwards. Itzel–in a princess nightgown–stepped next to her with her staff in her hands.

The creature roared, rearing up to swipe the air above. Calix was leaning from a window, shooting.

“Did it get you,” Brody asked, pulling Nellie up. He took the sword, eyeing the cryptid. “Wu–what is that thing?”

“I don’t–.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brody interrupted. He tested the weight of his sword, sizing up the creature. He peered through Itzel’s flames at Cecily–now charging the creature again–and Ira. “His highness would fare better… I need to get this sword to him.”

“I’ll distract the… thing,” Nellie said, trying to sound resolute through the quiver in her voice. She looked at Itzel. “Come with me?”

“Calix,” Brody called, “cover the girls!”

Nellie ran out around the fire. She shouted, jumping and waving her arms. She could hear the wing beats, feel them. Her heart jumped as they grew loud enough to shake her body. She stumbled as a blast of fire warmed her back, landing hard on the ground and biting her lip. She spit out the blood as she clawed up to her feet, limping the first few steps until she was trotting again.

An earsplitting scream forced her to stop. She spun and felt her blood turn cold.

The creature had landed on Itzel. She was pressing her staff up against its neck to stop it from biting her with its needle-like teeth.

Nellie looked around for something to throw, finding nothing in the dark. She ran off, being sure to keep enough distance that it couldn’t claw her.

“Hey,” Nellie snapped, waving at it. “Hey, you! Come get me!” She shrunk as it stared at her, but she rooted her feet. “I see you, you creep! Come get–!”

She cried out, knocked over by the creature’s long, whipping tail. Her arm was gushing blood and she spotted a shining, hooked claw on the end of the tail as the cryptid snaked it through the air. Her blue eyes widened as the clawed tail swung towards her face.

Brody jumped in front of her, swinging a sword clean through the end of the creature’s tail. He stood ready to counterattack, dodging as the creature swiped, but getting caught and tossed by the spurs on the animal’s wing joints.

Fire sprung across the grounds. Itzel had rolled onto her stomach, half propped up by her staff, clutching it with both hands.

Ira ran up to them with Calix on his heels. Calix was holding his arm like his shoulder was injured, but Nellie didn’t see blood.

“Dimopoulos, cover them,” Ira ordered. “Jones, can you stand?”

“Yes, highness,” Brody said, hastily jumping up. “Just ripped my pajamas.” He held out the sword he held. “Your sword, highness.”

“Broke your door,” Calix explained, grimacing as he held his arm. “Sorry.”

“For later,” Ira said. “At the moment, just get the girls back indoors.” He switched swords with Brody. “Jones, keep to the building. It can’t swoop you there. Ready? Go!”

Nellie grabbed Itzel’s arm and pulled her up, half trying to explain and half trying to breathe as they sprinted for the door. Itzel being distracted caused her fires to wane into smoulders, giving the creature renewed vigor now that it could see and smell them clearer. Nellie could hear the wing beats getting closer, closer, until she could feel them in her chest.

Calix spun, hurled a grenade with a pained cry as his arm flopped about. It exploded in a puff of putrid smoke that sent them coughing and caused Nellie’s stomach to churn.

The smoke cut as soon as they shut the doors behind them.

“What’s going on out there,” an elderly man asked.

He was not alone. The hallway was packed with what looked like all the guests and staff. Some were muttering to go out the front to see what all the noise was, others to call the police.

“Nellie,” Calix murmured, crouching to her level, “keep them in.”

He darted back outside before she could ask him how.

“Arm,” Itzel said, twisting from Nellie’s grip. Nellie blushed at the fading mark of her hand.

“Where are your parents,” a short woman asked them, eyeing them suspiciously. 

Calix reappeared before Nellie had to lie. His disheveled hair, rotten smoke stink, and uncomfortably dangling arm spiked the tension building in the crowded hall.

“There is gas leak,” Calix announced to the hall. Cecily’s screeching roar sounded outside. “Very dangerous leak.”

“There are no gas lines out there,” a tall man dressed in slacks and a collared shirt said.

“There’s some boy with a sword at the front door,” a shrill voice said from the back of the mob. “He won’t let us leave!”

“Ira’s fighting that thing alone,” Nellie whispered to Calix.

“The gryphon is there,” Calix murmured back.

There had to be something she could do. Calix, Brody, and even Itzel had a better chance at assisting Ira in combat, but Calix couldn't hold a bow and Itzel’s nightgown was blossoming with blood. Calix and Brody were also now stuck trying to contain the increasingly agitated mob from going outside and getting ripped apart.

“My phone…,” Nellie muttered.

“Is that girl bleeding?”

“Yes,” Nellie piped up, taking Itzel’s arm again. “Let us through, please.” She looked back at Calix as a path cleared for them. “I have the Order on my phone. Hold out just a little longer.”

They hurried back to their room, Nellie being sure to release Itzel to not bruise her further along the way. Nellie grabbed her phone from the night table and went to a contact labeled: **EMERGENCY!!!!

‘Order of Ferblanc.’

“H-hi, this is Perenelle Herle,” Nellie said. “I’m with Ira York in Garden, Michigan. He’s being attacked by some… uh, thing? There’s a lot of normal people here, and we’re having a hard time keeping them inside.”

Itzel tapped her shoulder. She gestured to the blood on her nightgown with a scowl.

“Oh, and we have injuries,” Nellie added.

‘The Knights will be there in three, Miss Herle. Anything else, Miss Herle?’

“This cryptid has a human face,” Nellie said. “I-I don’t know if that’s relevant, but… it’s better they know before seeing it.”

‘Understood, Miss Herle; we thank you. They’ll be there now.’

“Thanks,” Nellie said, exhaling. She hung up and took a few deep breaths. She smiled weakly at Itzel. “I think we should stay up here and wait for medics. Or whatever.” She winced as she touched the tacky blood on her arm.

“It hurt,” Itzel asked quietly.

“A little,” Nellie said. “How about you?”

Itzel studied the blood on her nightgown. She sighed heavily. “Ruined.”

They met each other’s eyes, smirked, and started giggling madly.

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

The frogmen at the Loveland Frogman. There were several reports from cops and random people over the years, but the reports did start to die off. Either the frogmen died out or the population moved. I wanted the teased fieldtrip to be something reletively harmless since Silas doesn't want any of them to get hurt.

What Brody was saying to Itzel sounds nothing like that in Portugese. I forgot what it was I typed it, but then I just wrote out what the works looked like as an English speaker and then played the sound to see how different it was. Very different.

The upper pennicula area of Michigan looks wild and crazy, so I thought it'd be a good spot for a Conservatory and a with all the old religious stuff in the area, it was good for the Order of Ferblanc too. There's a small hamlet called Devils Corner that I wanted to take advantage of, but didn't fit it in. The whole thing with the creating a new state/country is more for Ira's eventual story. Nellie gets obsticals like being a noob and young.

With the fight, Brody first shows up with his sword and gives his sword to Ira. Things are still bad, so Calix, being inside still, breaks down Ira's door to retrieve Ira's sword. He crushes his shoulder in the process but gets Ira's sword to Brody. And since I didn't get to say what the cryptid is here (hopefully next chapter) it's called a Piasa Bird. It lives in cliffs in the Illinois area of the Mississipi River, but with development migration I put it up here. I have a picture from my dragon book that I'll put in the chat.