The Hiraethean Prophecy

by LilyKotsu

[Multifandom Crossover Fic (more than HP & DA), Combined Multiverse] Remus, Anders, and Naoya are three strangers who find themselves lost in an unfamiliar forest, leaving plants growing in their footsteps. Unfortunately the only man willing to give them answers is Lord Reaver, the undisputed leader of a glorious golden city with no name.

19. Buried Bones

Chapter Nineteen: Buried Bones

"Reaver is afraid of you," Alastor craned down, mouth becoming more teeth than not, "Yet he seeks you out." Towering over Naoya, Alastor seized the front of his jacket and shirt, jerking Naoya upwards. "He would not run towards danger unless there were a significantly bigger reward in it for him. And you claim that you have no idea why he is interested in you?"

Naoya kicked his feet helplessly in the air, looking to Remus and Anders for some kind of help. Anders had taken a step forward, but was held back by a hand on his shoulder. Remus' wand was half raised.

"You were let in here because we vouched that you wouldn't turn on anyone in here," Naoya pleaded, his eyes shooting back to Alastor.

The words hit the bullseye of their target, and Alastor's face soured. Slowly, Alastor set Naoya down with heavy restraint. Naoya didn't wait.

"I had never met Reaver before I came here," he said. "The first time I even saw the guy was when you introduced us at the mansion that day - honest !"

Alastor growled. "That does not answer the question."

"I don't know why he's afraid, or what he wants," Naoya insisted. "He's a crazy, old man who was stuck in that Oasis for centuries! The only one who seems to know anything about it is you!"

There was another trite knock on the door. From so close, the noise was far more imposing.

Anders scoffed. "Does he really think we're going to answer that? We know he would shoot us as soon as see us."

"And he knows that, too," Remus said. "And Reaver is no fool. But this behavior-it's unusual. What's his game?"

"If we do nothing," Alastor warned, "he will simply seek to end this. I have no desire to find out what he thinks he will gain by talking; he knows as well as we that there is nothing. It is a delay, at best. But one we need until the charges are set."

"Like I said, I can knock him around from this side no problem, but I agree with what Al said-"

"From you I prefer Alastor ," the balverine corrected the EGO.

"I agree with what Al said," Naoya went on. "That it might just make him more angry and he'll skip right to the big finish. And if any of us face him head on we'll get short-distance sniped."

"So then what do you plan to do," Anders scoffed, "sweet talk him out of his guns?"

Naoya pointed to the eye-level slat in the door. "I mean, I was planning on talking to him. Through that."

"He could stick his gun through that."

Naoya shook his head. "Not if it's open just a crack, only enough to let sound through and nothing else. Besides, my powers or maybe your magic could keep a bullet out. We have to try, Andy."

Anders frowned, shaking his pounding head. He knew they had no choice, they all did, but Maker, it was a stupid plan. A silent plea to Andraste for mercy would not help. "Be careful."

Naoya reached out and grabbed the latch of the slat. He closed his eyes, trying to stuff back the way he could sense the other's skin collectively crawl. Biting his lip, he very carefully slid the slat open - barely enough for a fly to squeeze through. "What do you want, Reaver?"

"Well I was hoping we could talk, you and I," Reaver could be heard saying, followed by annoyed muttering under his breath about manners.

"You tried to kill just about everyone in here, including me. Tell me why I should bother."

"I feel as though you and I have some unfinished business."

"You feel wrong."

"Oh, but I don't," Reaver chuckled, a vain and darkly amused sound. "I know that people in your - what do you call them, bloodlines? Pedigrees? I know people in your family have some rather… interesting abilities."

"No more-so than other EGO lineages," Naoya answered. He was well on his way to joining the others in having that sickened, faintly fearful feeling nestled in his chest.

"Don't be so coy! Your kind would be nowhere without the Itsuki's." A silence answered, and to anyone but the socially-trained the silence would have seemed skeptical instead of surprised. "Please, you think you're the first psychic from your world that I've dealt with? The first Itsuki at that? Don't be so selfish."

Naoya swallowed back the lump in his throat. "I've... never heard your name mentioned before."

Naoya sensed the man's anger flare and Reaver muttered something inaudible under his breath before his tone went amicable again. "Well then I'm very surprised at that," he said, trying to maintain his smile but Naoya could hear his voice straining to sound pleasant. "But not too surprised, I suppose. After all, Sarashina never struck me as the gossiping-type-"

With a quick motion Anders slid the opening shut with a burst of magic. "This is dangerous territory," he warned. "He's trying to get to you. We don't know if anything he's saying is true! The Oasis speaks to its Guardian-he's goading you!"

But Naoya shook his head. Of course it was a ploy to get him to do something, any idiot could see that. But even knowing that, Naoya couldn't shake the squelching sensation in his gut. How could Reaver of all people-even with the Oasis? How could he know the one Itsuki-

Naoya opened the slat as before. "How do you know that name?"

The feeling of satisfaction radiated through the Vault door. "Why, my dear boy, I met her. Some-odd hundred years back or so."

A soft clinking sound accompanied his words, his voice sounding as if he were leaning against the blast door - closer to the opening.

"I must say, you do have her eyes," Reaver said mildly, "And some of her more graceful features. You're far more interested in having a good time than she ever was-" clink clink "-so good for you. Only took a bloody century for the Itsuki's to learn to lighten up."

"If you knew my grandmother, why wait to tell me?" Naoya twisted his tongue inside his mouth. Reaver was setting him up, and each time the clinking noise disturbed the conversation waves of anxiety from Remus and Anders and Alastor made his breath catch in his chest.

"Why, I was planning on it. It is a rather lengthy tale. But you were rather antsy to leave, and you were gone before I could figure out the right way to put it. Most tend to get rather uncomfortable when I say I've had dealings and close encounters with their grandparents." They could hear the smile in Reaver's voice. It was only offset by the scraping soft clinks that permeated the air between his words. "I told you before that plenty end up in Astriferous. But so very few ever leave."

"Stop stalling," Naoya demanded, ignoring Anders' eyes boring into the side of his head. "Give me a straight answer or this conversation ends right here. You don't know what we can do. We're not afraid of you."

Reaver laughed. "Oh, but you are. As well you should be."

"I'm not. In fact, you're afraid of me. "

The soft metallic clinking paused, as did Reaver's voice, and Naoya could sense his surprise.

"And you know exactly why that is, don't you?" said Reaver, his tone suddenly less jovial. "The same reason why people from your own world are afraid of those like you. But I'm willing to look past all that, playing with something that takes and takes is nothing new to me. But where there's a take, there's also a give. And I am willing to let you take from me for you to give to me."

The psychic's mouth went dry at the exact moment all the air left his lungs. "I don't know what you're talking about," Naoya answered, the words automatic and hard. "And I'm broke. I have nothing to give you."

"Oh? Nothing? Not even if I were to leave your little band of mismatched misfits alone?" the smugness had returned to the immortal's voice. "All you have to do is come with me and they'll all be safe. You have my word - after all, you'd know if I were to break it, correct? And if it's time that's an issue, I know of a few exotic substances that can make the months and years seem to pass like minutes and days-"

"Naoya, don't do it" Anders warned quickly, shutting the slat just as fast. "He'll kill you. No one pampers what he fears." A flash of blue behind his eyes was enough to explain exactly who he was thinking of.

"We stick together," Remus said, stepping closer to Naoya. "Whatever it is Reaver is promising is not worth it."

Naoya bit his lip. It felt more like Reaver's life was on the line, not all of theirs - though that would be the case if anyone stood in the way. Reaver wasn't terrified of him - it was anxiety that tugged at Naoya's senses, not outright fear. Which meant that whatever Reaver wanted with him was a means to an end and not an outright endgame goal.

Naoya frowned. "You think?" His eyes flicked between the two of them. A tiny smile crept up on his face, still shaken from what Reaver had said to him. "If you think that after being held prisoner, knowing my friends were tortured, and almost dying that I don't know that you can't trust Reaver, you're both more dense than this door."

"One would hope so, but you do seem to be full of surprises," Alastor dryly remarked, earning him an insulted look from Naoya. Nadine snorted in playful agreement.

Anders smiled. It was half-relief, but also pride. "Don't be a hero," he said. "It doesn't suit you."

The slat was opened one last time, and Naoya delivered his answer: "Stop picking the lock and you have a deal. The door opens at sun-down." His final word in, the slat closed for good. The horrified, disbelief of the three older men and Nadine swept across him, but he turned to them with a knowing smirk. "That's our deadline. Now we just need a plan."

---

A flock of ravens scattered when the door ground against the hinges, steel screaming against steel as it opened. Their irate caws were the only sound that broke save the soft wind and the constant hiss of waves from somewhere below the mesa. In the fading light, the forest appeared dark and still. The door to the Vault opened painfully slow, rolling back into the groove of the wall and opening into a dark antechamber. Reaver stood at its foot, watching with anticipation as it admitted him. In the shadow of the red mountain, he appeared very small.

But he was not alone: behind him, the trees contained galaxies of hungry, yellow eyes. Thirty-six pairs in total, and one lonely yellow orb belonging to a balverine whose eye had been clawed out. He had thirty-seven balverines total at his disposal. The feral lower breeds in the catacombs had been more numerous than Reaver had remembered - Alastor seemed to have been keeping a collection before he turned traitor and, honestly, when was the last time Reaver had stopped to count the bloody things? Balverines multiplied terribly quickly for things that didn't rely on sexual reproduction. A good pruning of the ranks had been long overdue - and Reaver had eliminated most balverines unable to shapeshift. He didn't need a massive army. Just a strong one.

Looking up at the Vault door, the teeth of the gear-shaped opening gave the antechamber the appearance of an overly large mouth. Reaver repressed a soft grin. He knew this game.

He turned to the closest, hulking, dingy form. "You there." With a wave of his gloved hand he pointed to the open vault door. "Report."

The balverine stared absently at the door with his one good eye. "Uh," his warped, inhuman voice began, "It's open, sir."

Reaver took in a deep breath, arching his finely-manicured brows. With one fluid motion he had withdrawn his dragonstomper .48 and blown the balverine's head half off.

A balverine was terrible at doing a Hero's job.

Right. Thirty- six balverines now.

With an indignant huff he turned to the rest of the pack. "Well don't just stand there like hobbes!" he shouted. "I want that hole cleared before I set foot near it!"

A flood of shadows broke from the still forest as the balverines swarmed the opening with singular purpose. Several sets of claws scored the steel paneling above and around the central door as they swung in from the top and bottom in a mass of fangs and talons. Several wild shrieks and howls passed in a moment of otherwise silence for Reaver as he waited, tapping impatient fingers against his elbow as he held his arms across his chest.

Another balverine approached him. Her fur was white, and her form especially stocky, but she moved with the same grace as the other alphas.

"Lilith," he said, his voice calm and light. The gun in his off-hand was ready to fire.

"My Lord," the balverine replied, her voice like razors and her pronunciation worse. Fur gave way to skin, gave way to a plump-looking woman in common clothes with her pale hair held up in a beehive fashion. Lilith was reliable but Reaver always thought she could be a little less gaudy in the makeup department. "There are no traps," she said. "It smells of humans and blood. But the boy is there, as he promised."

Blood? That meant there had been a scuffle, and it was likely that the people Reaver had been planning on using for target practice would be even more evasive now. Reaver had hoped something exciting would come of this after all. He had wanted to shoot something, anything.

Oh, he so enjoyed shooting his frustrations away.

"Guard the entrance, Lilith."

He replaced his dragonstomper .48, brushing off a stray patch of dust ruining the crimson of his cubbing coat. He stepped into the Vault. Immediately, the air grew colder. But Reaver almost didn't notice. His gaze was drawn to the center of the room, to a sight that sent a wolf's grin to his face.

Naoya was waiting for him. Amber eyes hardened as if they were orbs of the stone they matched in hue.

"Itsuki, my boy," Reaver smiled, clapping his hands together in front of him. "How nice it is to finally see you again, in person, after you locked me in my own dungeon."

Reaver walked around Naoya in a predatory circle. He looked much worse than when the Lord has seen him last, though traipsing through these paranatural wilderlands would do that to anyone. Dark shadows under Naoya's eyes spoke of long bouts of sleeplessness, and there was a shake in his breath-exhaustion, paired with a sweat-dotted brow. It had been decades since Reaver had last dealt with his kind, it was either exhaustion of mental power, or a hangover, or withdrawal symptoms - probably all three, Reaver decided. The boy did like to self-medicate, after all; something Reaver understood well.

When Reaver's gaze sank to the floor, his smile only widened.

So this had been the source of the blood. Behind Naoya, Remus lay facedown in the dirt, his wand hand outstretched towards Naoya-who, to Reaver's immense delight, refused to look at him.

"And, Mr. Lupin! What a pleasant surprise," Reaver spoke, turning Remus' chin up at an angle with his boot. A large streak of dried blood from his forehead coated part of his face and he was badly bruised. Reaver smiled again. "I'm pleased to see he hasn't gone completely moon-eyed and eaten any of you. Ah, Itsuki, my boy, I expected they would try to stop you. But this is positively foolish of them, going up against something like you," he added with a flourish of hands.

But Reaver's demeanor faded into something cold again. The balverines had collected around them in a circle, and Reaver pointed to one of the doors.

"Search the Vault. Leave nothing unturned. I know there are more of you than this," he said to Naoya, waving his hand over the unconscious werewolf as the balverines darted into the darkness beyond. "Where are they? Nurse Anders, my traitorous butler, the Firebugs…?"

Naoya shrugged, a casual move that only made him look stiff. "They're in the Vault. Unconscious, like him. I made them hallucinate until their claustrums were overloaded." Naoya pointed to Remus. "They didn't exactly like the idea of me going with you."

"Smart," Reaver replied. But he still eyed Remus' limp form with suspicion.

Naoya frowned. "They're really unconscious." His shoe collided hard with the side of Remus' chest, and when nothing happened, Reaver grinned.

"I admit to being surprised at your willingness. After all, our last meeting went rather poorly."

"You wouldn't have come in here if you thought I was going to do anything to you."

"Astute little thing, aren't you," said Reaver, again circling Naoya. But his expression had become near fascination. "Try that with me and you'll be food for the balverines."

"I guessed as much," Naoya surmised.

"Now," Reaver stopped, the heels of his boots clicking together, "How does this work?" When he received a bleary-eyed look from the teenager, he rolled his eyes. "This ability of yours. The Oasis told me that for you to give, you have to-"

"Not be exhausted?" Naoya huffed. He folded his arms loosely across his chest, shifting his weight as he prodded Remus' limp hand with his tan sneaker. "The process isn't pretty. You really wanna know how this works?"

"It works something like this," Remus said suddenly, hand shooting to grasp Naoya's ankle. " Flipendo !" he shouted, pointing his wand above Reaver where a switch was waiting in shadow. At once, the ground began to tremble and rocks fell loose from the ceiling as a massive explosion rocketed the Vault. Behind them all, couch-sized chunks of iron and rock blew out from above and sealed shut the only way out. In the flashing, red emergency lights of the antechamber, Reaver looked positively demonic.

"You betrayed me," Reaver fumed, his sculpted features shadowing over, "And right when I when I was in the middle of betraying you!" One last, teetering, but strangely proud chuckle escaped him, dark ocean eyes locking in a piercing stare at Naoya.

Whatever Reaver had said, or planned to say, next was lost to the loud rumbling of the earth shaking as the makeshift charges on the lower level went.

---

Anders paced. Back and forth, back and forth, across the floor and back again, as though he were hitting a wall every few feet and abruptly veering course. Not that he had much room to move, what with the living room full of people and everything they had packed. Anders kept his gaze fixed on the couch-to the dozens of score marks from werewolf claws-then to the window, where the colors of the stained glass slowly lost vibrancy as the sun went down. Eventually, like candles, they went out.

That's when the ground trembled slightly below their feet.

It wasn't strong, not from this distance. But Anders opened the front door nonetheless, craning his neck to see if he could spot anything over the wall of trees surrounding the Windmill. In his hand, he played uselessly with an empty glass bottle of Nuka-Cola: the portkey; their escape. Seeing nothing but the accursed forest, he shut it behind him in a whirlwind of anxious frustration.

"They did it." Sokka's voice trickled from the head of the couch. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular. He knew what it meant. They all knew what it meant. Even if Naoya had volunteered, it had been his quick plan to use Naoya as bait with Remus on standby, and to set the scene with thawed blood from the last of the frozen meat stock. But whether it had actually worked remained painfully unseen.

Every pair of eyes focused on the door.

"Come on," Wash muttered to herself. Not a prayer, but perhaps the closest thing to one.

Off towards the kitchen, Mabel sat on the floor by the island, knees to her chest, all tucked inside her sweater. She chewed her lip, firelight reflecting gently off her braces. Beside her, Dipper glanced around the room at the others. He tried to stay out of their way, but he felt their anxiety, too, pounding on the back of his neck and head, pinching a nerve in his shoulders.

And still, they waited.

"It shouldn't have taken this long," Anders hissed, pacing some more. "They should be back."

"I'm sure everything is fine," Sokka said, but his words were measured and Anders stifled a retort.

Alastor was positioned next to the window, yellow eyes trained on the vague outline of smoke out on the dark horizon. He cracked his jaw, avoiding gnashing his own fangs or biting his tongue. Nadine softly growled with every small aftershock that shook under her claws.

The only one who was not pacing or cracking or holding their breath was Renkotsu. The bourei had his back to the rest of them, facing the fireplace as he tended to it. Statistically, there was a chance that the night would end with their grouping losing two - but he kept that to himself, instead trying to formulate how to handle the morning.

"I'm going back," Anders said hastily, grabbing his staff from its perch next to the doorframe.

"You can't go back!" Wash called after him, just as his fingers reached for the door. "The portkey was one-way."

"I know that," Anders snapped, turning back. "But something has gone wrong, I know it!"

"Give it another minute," Sokka pressed, putting his hands up. "I'm worried too but we don't know anything yet, so let's just wait a second before we jump to conclusions."

Anders hesitated, but did not put his staff back down. Instead, he leaned against the wall, muttering something about Andraste under his breath as he fiddled with his hands.

In those short moments, time passed cruelly slow.

Suddenly, Nadine's ears perked. Her nose gave a small twitch, and she sent her tongue gliding over her slit-like nostrils. Following her ears, her head swivelled towards the door. Drawn like insects, everyone watched as her auburn form silently padded over towards Anders-no, towards the door, awkwardly gripping the handle in her gangly inhuman fingers before throwing it wide open.

There they were. A little dusty, and shaken. But alive.

Naoya reached the steps first, stepping awkwardly into the ring of smiles and waving stiffly. "Hi," he said. He rubbed his cheek absentmindedly, smearing some blood from a bullet graze across his right cheek.

"It worked!" Sokka climbed off the couch as fast as he could. "You're okay! What happened?"

"You were right," Remus answered, stepping into the Windmill himself and closing the door behind him. Nadine made way for them both, returning to sit beside a relieved Alastor. "He sent the pack into the Vault to look for the rest of you. They should have been crushed."

"Should have been," said Renkotsu. "I still would have liked to have seen it in person. To be sure."

"He almost didn't come in," Naoya said. "It almost didn't work."

"Good work, Sokka," Wash said, rounding the furniture and patting Sokka on the shoulder in passing. Sokka had never looked more pleased. Wash strode over to Naoya and carefully tipped his chin up as she wiped away the blood and inspected the wound. "Looks like it was a close call."

With a light eye roll, Naoya gently swatted her hand away. "It'll heal. Not like I haven't got shot at before or anything."

"Yes, are you both alright?" Anders asked quietly, not wanting to take away from the air of victory.

Remus nodded, confused. "Oh," he said after a moment. "That's right." Sliding his wand from his pocket, whispered, " Tergeo ," and Anders watched as the false blood was siphoned neatly from Remus' forehead. Then Remus tapped the wand to the blotched, purple bruises. They faded like morning fog. "Oh, but Naoya," he added with a faint grin, "next time try not to kick quite so hard." He pressed his hand gingerly against his ribs.

Naoya grinned back, albeit deeply apologetic.

"You're back! You're back!" Mabel burst from the wall of bodies to tackle Naoya to the floor with a pouncing hug. "You did it!"

"You're gonna kill him!" Dipper laughed, but he held himself back. "Mabel, you're hurting him!"

Hooking his arm around Dipper and pulling him down as well, Naoya laughed. "If I'm going to go out, hugs are, like, the least worst way to go."

"As joyous as this occasion is," an icy voice came from behind them, "we still need to take the Oasis on the morrow. We still need to defeat Barry." The smiles died from each of their faces as Alastor's words struck. He stood in front of the fireplace, making his front appear much darker and his white hair haloed. "We cannot stop now, not even to celebrate. We do not know for certain if this is truly a victory."

"I dunno, I think Reaver's dead," Sokka shot. "We did just drop a mountain on top of him."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "That man has escaped from situations far worse. I agree with the corpse - until we see Reaver's corpse, we assume nothing."

Sokka shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I don't know how you plan to get to it under all that rock."

"No, Alastor is right," said Wash quietly, and the tone of her voice sent several heads turning towards her. "Until proven otherwise, we should be on guard. Barry skulked around for centuries when he was assumed dead, so we should do the same for Reaver. For now we worry about taking the Oasis. We have to leave by sun-up, so we should try to rest in the meantime."

And so they did. The youngest of them, lead by Mabel, collected up the stairs and headed into the private bedroom. Their chattering could be heard, purposefully muffled but still audible in the cramped space. Renkotsu had migrated away from the fire and seated himself next to the bag of supplies he had brought. Nadine returned to Alastor's side, standing on two legs while she brushed her hands through his frizzy ghostly white locks. Wash, her eyes dark and solemn, wrapped her arms around herself and stood by the fire to keep warm. It cast her form in silhouette as Remus approached her.

"You alright?" he asked her quietly. He measured the space between himself and her with his eyes, wondering if it was too much. He didn't want to crowd her.

Wash made a face: what do you think? But it wasn't mean. She shrugged. "It's hard," she said. But of course, they all knew that.

"I'm sorry," Remus offered, though none of this was solely his fault nor would his words bring back a home . He didn't know what to say. Instinctively, he looked down at his feet. A small splotch of red tainted the otherwise smooth coloration of the hardwood floor beside the couch-a splotch of blood. His blood. The carpet had been dragged over the top of it to hide it from view at some point, likely when supplies were being brought in. And on the couch, Anders lay with his feet resting on a tower of books one young psychic had made not more than a few days ago while he waited for Remus to wake. Remus brought a hand to his lips, coughing unexpectedly as a wad of something unsavory lodged in his throat.

"This isn't the best place," he said slowly, thinking even as he glanced with disdain at the rest of the room. "But for now, everything you wanted to protect is safe. And once we've dealt with the Oasis, we will find better things. Do better. You'll make a home somewhere else."

"It's going to be a change," Wash sighed. She stared hard into the flames, as though trying to read into their depths. "But I guess the Oasis is just as good. Assuming it does fit to this 'Guardian' person's needs." She ran a hand through her loose, black hair. "The needs of whoever offs Barry first, I guess. I've been here for a few years and this is honestly still sounding like a load of fantasy shit to me."

"It does sound like that, doesn't it?" Remus agreed. "But it is happening regardless. We've no idea how much the Oasis may have changed now that it's in Barry's care."

"Not like we have anyone on the inside." But Wash paused, a thought lighting her eyes. "Grienwulf."

Alastor's head half turned to them, but his gaze remained locked outside and he did not stir any more than that.

"Do you still have anyone left in the hive?"

"Anyone who would be loyal to me is surely laying low for the time being, as I instructed them to."

"Any names you know for sure that could possibly help us with some intel?"

Alastor turned back fully to the window. Whether he was simply thinking or the thought of how little true support he had left had finally struck him, it was unclear. "Lilith, Connor, and Sykes," he finally said. "Lilith is a…" Alastor seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "She is a robust woman, both in balverine form and not. Very enthusiastic about eyeshadow. Connor is one of the ones I told to remain hidden, he is competent and a good leader; I would rather not risk exposing him."

"And this Sykes?" Remus asked.

"Sykes," Alastor said. "He dislikes the form given to him through the balvorn's blessings, so he's not often out full as a balverine. It has had some effects on his more human form, however. He has quills and fur on his shoulders, back, arms, and legs. Hates footwear." He sighed. "Just- just look for the bouncy, hairy fellow with no shoes."

---

"First things first," Sokka threw himself down on the only bed in the entire Windmill, "I've got the bed."

"That's fine," Dipper said, pointing. "I think we beat you to it."

Sokka looked. Blankets had been brought as part of the supplies from the Vault, pale gray-blue and emblazoned with a large, yellow 17. As quickly as they could, the group had spread them out on the cleaner parts of the floor. As it stood, Dipper and Naoya were on one side of the bed, Mabel on the other - or so Mabel explained, as she had motioned to her side, which was clearly stocked with extra blankets.

"No one was going to fight you for it," Naoya said to Sokka. "There's a spring that pops out on the lower left side. You're going to be sore and cranky and maybe have tetanus in the morning." Besides, after spending an entire full moon night on that old, beat up mattress, Naoya actually thought the floor looked better. But a thought seemed to strike him, because he added: "On second thought, maybe you shouldn't take the bed. I mean you're already going to be wearing all that blue armor tomorrow, I don't think we could be really stealthy if you're also complaining the whole time."

Sokka's face scrunched into a frown. "I don't complain that badly!" He turned his head to Dipper, who was busy getting his own sleeping arrangement on the floor set up. "Do I, Dip?"

Hands caught mid pillow-fluff, Dipper froze like a deer caught in headlights. "U-uh, no?" He gave a stiff shrug that was entirely unconvincing. "You complain the right amount, sometimes."

Naoya covered a smirk with a coy hand. Sokka's expression sunk further. "Thank you, Dipper," he said sarcastically, "That was incredible backup."

"You're welcome?"

"That," Sokka breathed in disbelief, "That was sarcasm."

"Oh." He looked away dismissively, continuing to prepare his space. His singular pillow was firmly tucked beside him.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Dipper frowned, just a bit. He turned to face Naoya. Right. Empathic senses. "Yeah."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Things just kind of… were. The idea that they were going to invade some kind of semi-sentient, magical bubble in space-time, or dimensions, or whatever it was… the idea of invading the Oasis period, fighting Reaver, the balverines? It was all still a big, partial fantasy to Dipper that he just wanted to wake up from. Sure, they'd faced big threats at home. But instead of defeating the mind demon Bill, they both wound up here. What happened to Gravity Falls? What happened to Grunkle Stan, Uncle Ford, their friends... What happened to the world?

And what would happen to them ? What happened if they died here? The concept rattled Dipper's bones. Ford had once told him to be brave, even if things seemed impossible, because it was the right thing to do. The right thing to do , he repeated to himself. No extra lives. But still. Some part of Dipper, some part was whispering over the fear. The part of him that was glad that things were moving, that something was happening, after all this time. The part of him that sounded more like his Uncle. The part he wasn't sure he liked. Be brave even if things seem impossible.

"Yeah," Dipper said again, after a moment. "I'm fine. Just thinking about tomorrow."

"You worried?" Naoya tilted his head.

"No," Dipper replied, scooting onto his butt as he fixed the last of his blankets. "I mean, Mabel and I have faced some pretty crazy things. Have you ever been dragged through a mountain by a thousand year old UFO? No, I'm not worried. I am, but… we've got Wash, and Ren, and now Anders and Remus. I guess Alastor and Nadine, too? Mostly I'm just… I dunno. This is it. This is really happening. You know?"

"One step at a time, Dip," Naoya sat down in the blanket space.

"You don't sound like you have your hopes up."

Naoya shrugged. "In my experience, nothing's ever simple." He cracked a smile, highlighting the bags under his eyes. "The Oasis could be an answer… Or the answer could be in the Oasis itself, sealed off in some random room or tucked away in Reaver's personal library."

Dipper wrung the hem of his shirt. "But answers can lead to more questions."

"Mhm!" Naoya hummed in agreement.

"Well, in my experience," Sokka placed a hand to his own chest, "Libraries guarded by angry, immortal things usually contain instructions for an endgame of some kind."

"Or curses," Dipper mentioned. "Demonic entities."

Sokka waved him off as if he'd personally done more, but Mabel jumped up: "Or government conspiracies about false historical leaders!"

Naoya blinked as if he could piece together what they were all talking about by briefly staring at a blank spot on the wall. "Naoya doesn't want to go to libraries where you guys are from."

"You don't seem like the type to go to libraries anyways. Maybe fall asleep in one."

Naoya turned his head to throw a surprised half-leer up at Sokka, who beamed smugly down at him.

"You don't… you don't think we'll have to actually kill anyone, do you?" Dipper's question made the room feel uncomfortably cramped. "I mean, I know we're gonna get rid of this Barry guy, and I know we already killed a bunch of balverines and probably Reaver. But tomorrow, I mean. Up close. I don't think I could."

"Not even if they were going to get you first?" Sokka asked. "Self defense?"

"Well, yeah," Dipper agreed, but his eyes sank to the floor and he pulled at a loose thread on his blankets. "But that doesn't mean I want to."

"Well… I mean, sometimes you just... have to," said Sokka. "This is a battle. It's what happens, isn't it?"

"I know that ," Dipper snapped. "But that's the sort if thing that stays with you, your whole life! And Wash, Remus-none of them act like that's a big deal!"

Naoya had been listening in silence, disturbingly straight-faced. "That's because they already know what it's like," he said slowly. "It's not because they don't care. I know this isn't what you want to hear, Dipper, but there's no way to be ready for that kind of thing."

"How do you know?"

"You know, you don't have to go all the way to the Oasis, either," Naoya added quickly. "I bet if you wanted to, you and Mabel could stay here, stay safe. Watch our stuff."

"No way," Dipper replied, his fists bunching. "Not after everything. I want to help!"

"Yeah, me too!" Mabel chimed in

"Then focus on resting right now," said Naoya seriously, only a loose shrug betraying his tone. "The other stuff is just details."

"Speaking of details," Sokka said, half whispering, "I didn't get the chance to ask before because we were in a hurry and Reaver was right outside the door, but…Why was he after you?"

Naoya's mouth pressed out into a wide, flat frown. Sokka's volume meant he was at least trying to be discreet, but in the small space it was as impossible not to hear. He stiffened. "He said my grandmother came here before me. He said he knew her."

Naoya flopped back into the blankets. He hoped it was enough of an answer to sate Sokka, and he would drop it.

"It doesn't bother you that Reaver seemed to know your grandmother," Sokka half-demanded, not at all interested in taking the hint, half-hanging off the side of the bed.

Naoya eyed him distantly, the put-out glimmer in his eye clearly asking Sokka not push the subject further. But he didn't reply.

Sokka groaned. "You said no more secrets," Sokka pointed to the floor, to the room below them. "Right here. You said it!"

Their eye contact broke next when Naoya lightly rolled his eyes, boney shoulders rising as he drew in a breath. "My grandmother was not a nice, sweet old lady, okay?" he frowned. "My grandmother did a lot of sketchy, shady stuff. I'm surprised she was here - in Astriferous - but I'm not surprised that she kept it a secret or that she associated with someone like Reaver." He sighed, deep and weary. "Not at all."

"Hey!" Mabel jumped up onto the bed, scrambling over to peek down at her brother and Naoya. "If he knew your grandma, do you think the reason he's trying so hard to find you is because he's secretly your grandpa?"

Naoya's spine went completely rigid and he looked as if he had tasted the world's sourest lemon. "W-well," he cleared his throat, "Considering that I have no human ancestry in my immediate family, I'm glad that isn't the case." Rolling over, he buried his face in his pillow. "I'd hope she had better taste in men."

" Hah! You can hope!" Sokka broke out in a mile-wide grin.

"That's... not going to go away anytime soon, is it," Naoya sighed.

"No," Sokka chuckled, shaking his head, "No, it's not."

---

The entrance to the tunnel was nigh impossible to spot. Anders reckoned it was supposed to be that way, though if Reaver was responsible for the Oasis' structures he didn't want to take too much credit from nature. But there were a few telltale signs along their approach that helped Anders find his way.

And since he escaped at night, in a chaotic sprint for their lives, he needed that help.

"I remember this," he said, patting a tree trunk fondly where an animal had rubbed most of the bark off. "I thought it was a Templar of some kind; it looked like a shield in the moonlight. Certainly gave me quite a fright."

"I… don't see it," Sokka frowned, trying to squint past the rim of his wolf-shaped helmet.

"I thought it was farther," said Naoya, trailing along beside Mabel. The contents of his canvas shoulder bag softly clinked as it bounced against his hip with each step.

"That's because you missed half of it," Anders replied. "You know, being unconscious and ruining my coat with your blood."

"The feathers were already starting to fall off, Andy. You can't blame me for that." It was part of a verbal jab, yet the punch behind it was missing from Naoya's tone.

"We are close," Alastor issued, negating the need for comment. Nadine had disappeared from his side long before now to scout the trees. Leaves fell in odd patterns as she followed them westwards along a less than trodden path. "And we will not be going back that way. The other tunnel is more secluded, and will leave us in a much securer way upon entry."

"Into the pens?" asked Anders, looking quickly at Remus. "Where did it come out? And how far does it lead?"

Remus shook his head. "I don't know. I don't remember."

"There," Alastor pointed, and just around the bend, a small cliff of broken shale protruded like skeletal ribs from an underbelly of brush. At the crest a small trickle of water dripped down the face, each drop shining momentarily in a beam of sunlight streaming from the canopy before disappearing into the sea of green.

Sokka squinted. "I don't-"

Branches cracked up above and a cascade of flowers followed Nadine down as she landed atop the cliff with a hard thud. In her jaws, a small bioraptor, probably adolescent, struggled against its fate. Nadine snorted hard, and there was a quick crunch. The bioraptor went limp.

Mabel covered her mouth.

In less than a few bites, the bulk of the bioraptor slid down Nadine's throat. And in the next instant she swung her body over the edge of the cliff with the skill of a gymnast and promptly disappeared. She offered a roar, which sounded both amplified and muffled, echoing out into the woods.

Sokka frowned. "Oh."

But what emerged from the mouth of the cave with her, nudged hastily along by her muzzle, left several mouths agape. It was a man-or half of one-with frizzy, auburn hair and freckled skin. As he was exposed to the sunlight, what initially appeared to be a coating of fur along his back was revealed as a grotesque collection of quills that lifted his skin like a tent in several places, making quick work of the shirt he wore. On his front, he wore a beaten, leather chestpiece, and beneath that a patched pair of simple trousers. But the most noticeable feature was the man's gait: he wore no shoes, and his calloused, only partially human feet did not entirely connect with the ground. He walked on the balls of his feet, and he held his arms out at a fair distance from his sides to maintain balance.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," the man eventually managed to walk faster than Nadine's snout, moving with a speed that seemed unnatural for his bizarre half-shifted form. "Coulda saved some for me, yeah?"

Nadine snorted at the man, nudging him again.

"None reason to give me that kinda language, Lady."

"Sykes," Alastor greeted expectantly.

"I stood guard in the tunnel like you asked 'fore you left," Sykes said. As he came closer, he was no taller than Sokka, though it was hard to tell from the way he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. "A good thing too, I think I mighta been on Reaver's lista things to clean up. You know he don't like seein' me none much."

"What do you mean 'clean up'?"

Sykes' demeanor immediately became less spirited. "En't good news, is what."

Dipper hung back with Sokka, who was still trying to make sense of how a barkless tree could look like a shield of any kind, before taking note of the way Naoya seemed to stare in more ways than one at the mouth of the cave. "Hey," he swallowed. "You went through there once, right? It's just going to be like going backwards and fighting balverines along the way. Probably."

Naoya shook his head. "No, it's not that." His mouth pulled to one side, trying to look less caring, but his posture was stiff and he held his bag close to him. "I'll never understand how you humans can survive with only five senses."

"Why, what do you sense?" Dipper perked up, more interested than he probably should have been. "How many senses do EGO have, anyways?"

Naoya rolled his eyes, wordlessly waving off the latter question. "It's more like… I don't sense anything."

Alastor froze mid-step, turning back. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the last time we came through here, the part I can remember anyway, the baby balverines all gave off these… primal feelings. It's like… they were this big mass." Naoya made a gesture with his hands as if he were patting a ball of snow. "But now? There's nothing. There's actually less than nothing. I sense, like, negative nothing . There's a hole where that mass used to be."

"Which means we're walking into what, exactly?" Wash asked.

"If I'm feeling it from all the way out here," Naoya swallowed, "There's a lot of bodies ."

Mabel gasped, hiding the lower half of her face behind fistfuls of sweater sleeves. "H-he killed all the baby balverines?"

Several pairs of eyes pinned instinctively to Alastor, but the alpha's back was to them all. His shoulders were stiff, and for a moment Alastor's many years were ghostly apparent against his form. But he kept walking.

"I already seen the old Lessers' chambers," Sykes admitted, playing with the quills poking out of his forearm. ""M gonna keep guard here, 'less the big fella says otherwise."

The mouth of the tunnel was narrow enough for two people to stand facing one another, but it didn't allow for any stretching. Or any comfort, for that matter, when jagged blades of shale were the only handholds to get to it.

Dipper stepped wrong and cut open his shin, hissing quietly. Anders was well ahead of him, so he opted to just deal with it. It stung like crazy, though.

Sokka nearly fell into a face-first into an outcropping of rock, quick thinking brought his boomerang to bear, pressing and hooking into the stone as a climber's tool.

Alastor was the last of them to reach the cave, having climbed up and waited, and he eyed it with deep disdain. He had to bend over nearly double just to fit inside.

Together, they began the trek. It was single file, and slow going: Nadine let her nose work furiously in the dark, searching out potential traps. They didn't dare speak or light the way, lest something dangerous get wind of their coming. The fact remained that they had no idea what forces awaited them now, even with the success of the Vault explosion. Stealth was their only protection now.

Remus was behind Nadine, one hand tracing the cold stone and the other already clutching his wand. He listened to Nadine's nose work. The deeper they went, the faster it went. But then, it stopped. She growled-or whined, Remus wasn't sure-but the pain in the undertone was more than enough to know what she'd picked up. The sound of her claws clicking on the damp stonework rushed ahead of them, as if she had crossed a room as quickly as possible.

"Eugh," came Sokka's voice. "I stepped in something!"

" Silence ," Renkotsu hissed, somewhere towards the rear. "Do you want to be discovered?"

Then, it was Mabel who sounded: "The wall over here is wet!"

"Alright, I've been in a situation like this before," Sokka explained. " Nobody lick the stuff on the walls."

Anders felt someone grab sharply onto the skirt of his coat. "Andy, this is the hole, we need to move or I'm gonna hurl," Naoya whispered urgently.

"We should keep going," Alastor's voice could be heard, his usually even tone edged as if his words were fragile and would break upon his speaking.

"Hang on," Wash sharply commanded. Sokka immediately bumped into her. "Who just said they were going to puke? Can we get a light?"

"I'd prefer we didn't." The words were so small, so weakly whispered they didn't sound like they had come from Naoya at all.

"You would be wise to listen to him about the light," Alastor said, sounding as far away as Nadine's whining. "There is... nothing here for you to see. And from experience, you would also be wise to take a step back from him if he is going to vomit."

"No," Anders insisted. "Naoya, let go of me-you're hurting me." The sounds of shuffling feet and inaudible words as Anders struggled to get Naoya to even take a step back. "Are you alright? Naoya, I need you to-" Anders sighed sharply. Naoya wouldn't budge. "Remus, please, something's not right-"

" Lumos."

Several cries of shock and indignation followed as everyone covered their eyes from the sudden assault of light.

The walls of the tunnel were broken and mangled, some fresh stone laying angry and exposed in a bed of claw marks as others were smeared with deep red blood. It wasn't fresh, that much was clear-but Mabel stared down at her fingers, glossy in the light from Remus' wand as they stuck together with a thin layer of it made wet again in the moisture dripping in from somewhere in the ground up above. Her eyes widened at the sight of it and she stood, rigid, unable to speak.

Anders had his staff in one hand, too tall to carry properly in the tunnel. He tapped his fingers against it, and his face was pale. He thought the tight spaces were bad enough. It should have been enough. He set his free hand on Naoya's shoulder. When he spoke, his voice sounded tight in his chest:

"Naoya, just breathe," he said slowly.

Beside him, he heard Remus whispering something to Mabel as he washed the red from her fingers. Wash made her way up to the twins, but Dipper was silent as he hid his eyes beneath his hat. Anders could feel Naoya's pulse beating raw against his chest under his thumb. He was absolutely rigid.

"Let's get out of here," Wash said, though even to Anders her voice sounded far. The blood made his ears ring, and voices from a lifetime ago drifted back into his peripheral. He swallowed something tacky.

"Come on, Naoya," Anders said again, now completely aware of the pain and bruising blossoming under Naoya's grip. A half-formed thought about Naoya not normally being this strong chased across his awareness.

Up against one another's heels, the tunnel had never felt so long. But in only another minute they had broken free into the balverine pens. Assaulted by the scent of mildew, hay, and overwhelming iron, Naoya swallowed back his sickness. Anders guided him slowly, across the stone floors which were stricken with dried river beds of red. The mage's hands were shaking as he did.

"Blood indicates a massacre. Yet there are little remains," Renkotsu observed, actually stopping in a cell to scrape the floor with his boot.

Sokka stopped alongside him, he tried to be just as as stoic about their surroundings, but faltered as his own normally iron stomach lurched; he'd been hunting before, gutted kills, but this was something very, very, horribly different than hunting. How could Ren stay so nonplussed about it?

"Now is not the time, Ren," shot Wash, whose face had paled as she held Mabel and Dipper within arms length and urged them on as quickly as possible.

Soon the sights became uncomfortably familiar. The window in the cell where Remus was kept, where he had attacked Naoya. The stairs leading upwards, one which creaked every time a guard came to check on him. The blood became less apparent as they progressed towards the exit.

"They just painted the room, they just painted the room," Mabel repeated, clenching her eyes shut as Wash tugged her along. "They just redecorated the nursery!" she chirped positively.

"We're almost there," Wash assured the twins with tight, controlled words.

They passed the cell where Anders was tortured. The door was still missing. The supply closet nearby where Freedom's Call had been stored was empty but for cobwebs. A few more corners were rounded until they stopped.

At a dead end.

At first, Alastor stared at the wall in disbelief. As if he were insulted purely by its existence; that it defied his memory. "This should not be here!" Alastor suddenly roared, claw-tips breaking forth from skin as he raked at the wall. Deep gouges left flakes of stone caught under the tips of his claws and he flung his hands to try and free the debris, fangs reddening his lips with fresh blood as they were forced out of his gums by the force of his fury.

"All this way," Renkotsu glared, a vein pulsing in his neck, "and you don't even remember where we're supposed to go? "

Alastor rounded on him, death in his acid-gold eyes. " This does not belong here ," he spat, his words audibly changing shape as the fangs distorted his pronunciation.

Naoya, who had managed to open his eyes, held his temples. "The Oasis changes for the Guardian," he winced. "Barry remodeled."

Even with less-red surroundings and the attempt at a quip, Anders could feel the stress pouring off Naoya still. They were all stressed. "It couldn't have changed that quickly, could it have? The door's got to be there," he said quickly. "Behind the stone. Remus, can you smash it? Smash the wall-"

With a deep, rolling growl, Alastor's human form was completely burned away. He howled in rage, arching his shoulders and smashing the stone with all the force he could muster, shattering stone and skin alike. A few blows was all it took to break through to the hollow inside, where a ladder had been sealed in an attempt to make a makeshift wine cellar. The kitchens were just above.

Alastor gave a shudder as the dust fell, before collapsing quietly onto his knees. Nadine was at his side immediately, but backed away when he began to hack and choke. The fur around his mouth was red. Nadine looked helplessly, angrily, to Anders.

"Don't look at me !" he snapped, but he bolted to Alastor's side as he did so, leaving Naoya to lean against the wall. "He's lucky to still be breathing! His healing was far from perfect-I don't know balverine anatomy, and the body isn't this thing that just knows how to grow back. You're lucky his lungs even work after what happened to him."

Nadine appeared just shy of slashing his throat. Anders ignored her. Blue light from his hands softly creased the tension lines on his face as he talked.

"You're tearing the tissue," he said finally. "Reopening the internal wounds. Slow down , or you'll end end up with dysfunction or dysplasia. I can only heal the same wound a number of times, and I don't know your race well enough to prevent complications with any guarantee. I can't control how tissue will grow. You need to understand."

Wash paused, mouth pressed into a flat line as she finally let go of Mabel and Dipper. "Your magic is going to be faster than my stitches, you get him patched up," she said in passing, grabbing one of the rungs on the ladder. "Sokka, Ren, you're with me. We're going to secure the room above before pressing any further."

"Hold on," Remus pressed, and Wash stopped mid-step to look. "You don't know where you're going!"

"Upstairs?" Sokka responded.

"But none of you have been here before," Remus went on, resisting a groan. "You go off on your own, who knows where you'll end up."

"And if things are not exactly as you remember them?" Ren asked, motioning to the broken wall.

"Perhaps you don't think it a poor choice to go in completely blind," Anders said smoothly, "but I prefer an old map to no map at all."

"Enough deliberation!" Alastor rose from the floor, once more in his human form. Without the fury of his fur and claws, he appeared winded, almost. Tired. "Every second you waste is a chance for everything to go wrong. I'm going alone-you will only slow me down," he added with a growl, breaking from Anders' grasp and leaping with balverine grace up the ladder's opening..

Nadine whined, her ears pressed flat to her head, and her fangs barred. Without a moment's hesitation, she followed.

"I guess that'll secure the room enough," Wash mumbled. "Let's split up, find Barry, and get this done. Remus, you got the supplies?"

"Right here," he replied, swinging the bag from his shoulders. He undid the tie, summoning the only three walkie talkies they had from the depths and handing them out.

"Right," Wash went on. "We split up into three teams, locate Barry, and maintain radio contact. If any team makes him we head right to their location."

" If we have him," Renkotsu added. "Alastor may slay him before any of us has a chance."

"And if he gets that far," Anders grimly remarked.

Sokka rubbed his chin in thought. "Alright, since you three have been here before, then each team will need one of you." He pointed to Anders. "You can go with Ren." Then he pointed to Remus. "You can go with Wash. And I'll go with Naoya."

Renkotsu and Anders both glared at one another, but neither argued. At least, aloud.

"Who do me and Dipper go with?" Mabel asked.

"You and Dipper can come with the Lieutenant and I," Remus assured her, exchanging a knowing glance with Wash. It would be safer for them this way.

After a sparse moment in which a few words of caution were exchanged and walkie-talkies secured, it was time.

"Alright, everyone," Wash said, at last. "Be safe."

---

The silence in the mansion was uncomfortable. The air was cold, stiff, as though that of a long-uninhabited space. But though the cobwebbed candles had been untouched, signs of activity still remained. Overturned chairs and cracked sculptures missing arms and faces lined the previously immaculate halls. The layers of dust had been disturbed by enormous, clawed paws. Small signs of disorder and disarray permeated the mansion, detailing the story of what happened after the escape. It was not a pleasant one.

"Another wall," Anders muttered, still holding the door knob as he stared at the slabs of solid brick where a room used to be. "There's no sense to these structural changes. No logic. They just… are."

"Perhaps this was the layout when Hatch was last here," offered Ren with a frown. He turned, continuing down the hall.

The daylight streaming in from mostly-closed curtains was just barely enough to see with. Anders resisted blasting the curtains apart, but knew the less they disturbed the better. There was nothing to be done about their footprints in the dust, but he hoped anything that came through wouldn't notice.

Besides , a little, nagging voice told him, the balverines will probably just smell us first.

Anders just sighed.

"From what I was told before about this Barry Hatch, he was Reaver's lap dog even before he was a balverine." Ren gripped the strap holding his portable cannon on his back. "So the most logical places to look for him will be places Reaver frequented."

Behind Ren, Anders almost rolled his eyes. "Which part of his private home do you suppose he most frequented? And do not ask me to take you to his bedroom. He'd turn the stomach of even the Blooming Rose's most experienced."

"I assume that you're speaking of a brothel." Ren cast a sideways, up-and-down glance at Anders. "About right," he said dismissively. "But an odd place for a doctor. Were you visiting, or visiting? "

"Actually, neither," Anders replied. "They tried to buy me once, but the coin just wasn't worth it." He waited to see if Renkotsu would take the bait. He didn't. "Some of the girls, and plenty of husbands, came down to my clinic to see me, though. For a salve, to stave off the itch. I don't suppose you have to worry about that much these days."

"I would never be that careless," he responded smugly, not even giving the Anders the satisfaction. "However you are the first doctor I've met that would be so open about such things." There was an odd pause, as if he were deliberating with himself about what he said next: "And only the second I've met with two faces."

Anders raised a cautious, unhappy brow. "Two faces?"

"The glowing one with no concept of volume control."

"Justice is not a face . Justice is a spirit. And we're one."

"Two souls, one body," Renkotsu reasoned. "At least you both seem to be willing to get the job done, rather than be complete polar opposites."

Anders frowned. "What's your point?"

"Nothing," said Ren. "You are simply fortunate in that regard."

Another door. This one opened, at least, but the room appeared to be… sinking. In several spots the polished hardwood floor had simply ceased to exist. The guest bed had collapsed in on itself, and half of it had sunk into the earth. Mounds of dirt were readily consuming one of the two windows, and as Anders closed the door another ton of soil came up from below to discolor the white, cotton pillowcases.

"You say that as though what we are is easy," Anders said, continuing down the hall. "You have no idea. You can't possibly know."

Renkotsu grunted. "More like explainable. "

Anders remained firmly behind Renkotsu in order to glare fixedly at the back of his head. Anders could make a man spontaneously combust, if he tried. The thought was amusing in a way Justice would scold him for if they weren't both on guard. The line of questioning was making Anders viscerally uncomfortable.

"I feel sorry for the other mage you describe," he said.

"He was not a mage, only a doctor." Renkotsu passed by a painting of Reaver and scowled in distaste.

Anders opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. "Look," he said, pointing.

At the next door, a small smear of red garnished the knob. And the door following that bore deep claw marks. But at the base of the door, wedged between the gap with the floor, was a small patch of snow-white fur.

"Alastor," said Anders, his tone grim.

"Or another white breed." Renkotsu's tone was cut and dry, and he immediately kept on walking.

"Wait a minute," Anders hissed, resisting an indignant yell in favor of a whisper as angry as he could make it. "What if it is Alastor? He'll die!"

But Renkotsu only glared. "He accepted that risk the moment he chose to come here," he said. "And he has assured it by ignoring your warnings. He does not value his life, and I will not risk mine for it."

Anders felt his insides begin to burn. "Of all the selfish, bullshit excuses-!" he seethed, making headlong for the clawed door and yanking it open.

There was no wall on the other side of this one. The room was untouched by the changes to the Oasis-at least for now. It was an office; grandiose and trimmed in red and gold, as Reaver was wont, though the floor rug actually squished under Anders' black boots as he stepped inside, so soaked with blood as they were. Anders grimaced, doing his best to wipe away what he could. But he still left a few angry, red footprints when he reached the hardwood. The further inside he went, the stronger the scent of metal became until he could taste it. His heart hammered uncomfortably against his Adam's apple, and Justice hovered below the surface like a wisp below the ice.

Around the massive, centrally placed desk, Anders saw it: a white hand, or paw, or both-the forearm of the balverine whose blood would surely ruin the polish on the floor. But just the arm. Anders searched the rest of the floor for the rest, but there was nothing, no one. This could have been anyone.

A light flickered at the corner of Anders' eye and he turned. A single brick had gone missing from the wall behind the desk. A little slit of gold, half hidden behind an obnoxious painting of Reaver, the unmistakable sunlight was a curious beacon.

Anders paused long enough to check his mental maps. Definitely not supposed to be here. There were rooms on the other side. Half of him wondered as he reached for the painting whether Renkotsu had left him behind. He didn't care. He seized the frame of the painting, stopping briefly to ignite it and toss it, quite satisfied, into the marble fireplace. Anders knelt to peer through the tiny, brick-shaped window.

He paused. "Is that -?"

He pushed tentatively against the bricks. None budged. Then, a sharp, hard kick, which yielded the same.

"Alright," he muttered, brushing his hands together. He cast his palm slowly and deliberately over the wall, a geometric circle filled with glowing shapes and letters blooming in white-blue swirls in the wake of his skin. Anders quickly backed away, counting.

A sound like breaking glass tore through the room after a brilliant white flash, and a blast of frozen air that sent Anders' coat billowing. Snowflakes scattered across the desk as the wall behind it creaked and groaned, spikes of ice blasting chunks of brick apart and squeezing the wall apart at the seams. It gave a great, final heave before collapsing. Anders blinked back the sudden blinding light, stepping cautiously over the new threshold.

It was a room, Anders noted, pleased to see his mental map still somewhat reliable. But it would not be one much longer by the looks of it: the ceiling bore great holes in the mortar, and the failing wallpaper and vines pouring in from above gave the space the appearance of ancient ruins. Was it becoming a garden? The furniture was still new and freshly varnished, and Anders noted the moss returned under his boots as he stepped further in. It joined with intermittent clumps of wildflowers scattered across the stone floor.

Anders walked across the room to a shelf along the far wall. Peeling back a layer of vines, he almost laughed. Hidden in the curtain of overgrowth, perhaps a dozen scrolls and twice as many books lay tucked neatly away. Anders only had to look a moment before he saw something unexpectedly familiar.

"Well, well, well," Anders murmured fondly, pulling out a scroll and unrolling it halfway. Like an old friend, it was a welcome sight: a seemingly newer copy of the map of the Oasis and the detailed X marks in the forests that lead them to the Firestarters. And more importantly, it also detailed some of the land beyond - an important feature missing from the last copy Anders had tried to abscond with.

As Anders unfurled it further, a small scrap of paper slipped out onto the floor. It was a very detailed picture with a white border, like a window into the real world pressed onto a glossy paper. A photograph, Anders recalled: Naoya, Wash, the twins, and even Remus had mentioned the word at one point or another, and Anders had listened with mild interest at the futuristic descriptions, never completely understanding. But now with one in his hands, Anders had to remind himself not to marvel.

The old, worn photograph depicted Reaver and two others. For his part, Reaver hardly looked any different, perhaps except in hairstyle and clothing. Eternal, Anders thought. But though the picture was dateless, it was clearly from long ago-and even then, something caught Anders' eye: the sword-cane Reaver had used to beat the balverines into submission. He was leaning on it, pressing himself firmly into the focal point of the photo. Anders frowned.

Where Reaver dressed like a rich, well-to-do outdoorsman, the next man was different. He was slightly shorter in stature, and he wore a pair of thick, black glasses and a long, tan coat. He had a large forehead, which Anders noted gave him a scholarly look that seemed to fit in with his attire, even if his build was somewhat robust. He had a well-defined jawline, curly chestnut hair, and even noticable ink stains on his-Anders had to do a double-take, thinking surely it was a trick of the light-but this second man had six fingers on each hand. And there was something about his nose, too; all of his features, blended together, almost reminded him of Dipper.

The last of the three in the photograph was a petite woman, smaller in stature than both the men. A heart-shaped face and sleek features - the eyes were the truest giveaway to who she was, Anders would bet money this woman was Naoya's grandmother. So Reaver was indeed telling the truth. The piercing, big amber eyes seemed to run in the family; and while Naoya was more apt to look "happy" from time to time, this woman held no light in her eyes at all and it felt as if she was somehow staring out from the confines of the picture. Bangs cut straight and framed her face at the top and sides, and the rest of her long hazel hair was held back in a tight braid. She looked like the purposefully silent, graceful, poised, no-nonsense type and Anders briefly wondered how the bloodline had turned into someone obstreperous like Naoya.

"A map?" Renkotsu's voice came from behind. Anders didn't turn. "How detailed is it, what's its scale?"

"I don't know," Anders frowned. "But if I had any coin, I would wager the map was made by these people, though." He held up the photograph and Ren squinted at it briefly.

"Oh, good," he said, tone taking on something Anders could almost swear was sarcasm, "And here I was worried that it was made by the man who wants to kill us all and whose estate we're presently infiltrating."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How much do you trust Reaver not to leave a map detailing booby-traps disguised as potential safe havens?"

Anders glanced at the other man. "We have to do something about that rampant paranoia of yours."

"The paranoid survive, Doctor."

"I think you overestimate our enemy," Anders replied, a phrase which would mark him as an ignorant combatant under normal circumstances. But Anders held up the photograph: "I don't think Reaver would just leave these idly. This room was his private archive. He showed it to me at first to brag about it, to tease us with answers before we knew who he really was. But Reaver likes to play games with his prey, and this is a dangerous weapon for us to wield against a man who so far has avoided nearly any solid responses to our queries. And," he said next, pointing a finger haphazardly around the room, "why is this room changing as it is? Why would these documents be allowed to decay?"

"You are over-reaching," said Ren. "Hatch is in control of the Oasis. There need not be a reason for this change at all beside that. We do not even know if he is directing the changes or if they are simply happening due to the change in ownership."

"Barry's not going to touch anything important to Reaver if he knows what's good for him," Anders replied quickly. "No, I wonder now if this isn't something Barry's not aware of. Maybe-maybe there are things in here Reaver wanted to forget. Something he knows, something he knew all along, and never told us. This is Naoya's grandmother-and he waited until we were trapped to play that hand. This woman made it home! Don't you see? Keep looking around-there might be more information. We might finally pull answers out of him yet…"

But both of them stopped to listen suddenly, their hearts skipping a beat. Renkotsu hurriedly patted down his side, moving a swath of loose cloth that had moved to cover the mouthpiece of the walkie-talkie he carried. They stared at it as the red audio indicator flashed on and off with garbled, broken speech:

"Found… Barry's…. the library! Could use... right about now!"

---

Hallway. Turn. Another hallway. Bigger hallway. Stairs. Different turn.

Sokka, his blade ready, followed behind Naoya, who he was doubting his choice in taking as his "tourguide" of the estate. At each corner or potential door leading somewhere else, Naoya would pause and do this thing - he'd stare vacantly at the air or at the door before either pointing the way to go or mumbling that the door had changed. He was probably sensing which way to go, but where was the question.

"This one's fake," Naoya pouted, staring up at the large, gilded double-door that bore some sort of colorful bird on it. "We'll have to try the other side."

"How can a door be fake?!" Sokka hoarsely whispered. "And keep your voice down, do you want us to get caught? We have to be stealthy! Remember - that thing you were nagging me about last night? Stealthy!"

Naoya's brows arched and he stepped aside, motioning to the door with both hands. Sokka's eyes flicked from Naoya to the door before stubbornly frowning; he sheathed his sword and reached for the doorknob. It stuck fast, and he pitifully grunted as he tried to jimmy the door - except, even with two hands and one foot propped against the frame, the door wouldn't budge. It was like someone had just glued a doorknob to the wall. Because of course someone did.

Naoya's fingers teasingly played with the loose bits of Sokka's hair that stuck out under the brim of his helmet, and he restated in a soft, sing-song tone: "Fake door~"

Sokka whirled in an attempt to swat the other teenager's hand away, only to find that Naoya had already wandered back the way they had came. He begrudgingly followed. And ignored the heat he felt on his own face - clearly he'd just tried to open the not-door too hard.

He had no idea where Naoya was going, but Sokka knew enough about Naoya's usual behavior to know that he was leading with a place in mind. Was he trying to find Barry directly? Was he avoiding the more ruined parts of the mansion to avoid a repeat of whatever happened to him in the catacombs? Was he just leading Sokka around in circles? Every option was entirely possible with Naoya and Sokka didn't like how anxious he was becoming trying to guess.

"Where are we going?" Sokka threw his arms out to the side. "You're obviously looking for something ."

But Naoya only shrugged, throwing his arms out in a smoothly similar motion, and rounded another corner.

"Don't ignore m-" Sokka managed to half-rant before bumping into the source of his many various frustrations.

Naoya had stopped. In front of yet another golden birdy door. "Oh, I was right, the door moved to the other side," he said almost absently.

"Door to what, exactly?"

Naoya turned back and a light smile spread across his face. Again he motioned to the door with both hands. "What you were nagging me about last night."

Sokka glanced at the door, unsure of what Naoya meant by that. Then again, when was he ever? "Oh no, I'm not falling for that one again. After you." He copied Naoya's gesture.

The doors parted to a room that was a vast chamber, bordered on all walls with towering bookshelves set into the walls. Some of the shelves were bare, the books thrown to the claw-marked ornate carpets, while others still had plenty of volumes on the shelves. There were spiral staircases on either side of the room, railings broken and chewed on. Books tossed over scoured crimson sofas and overturned tables and chairs; the monolithic fireplace at the center long gone cold. The gilded ceiling seemed to be the only thing untouched - but based on the heavy clawmarks at the crown moldings - it wasn't for lack of trying on the balverines' part. The two-level library was open in the center, allowing moonlight to cascade through a broken glass dome set in black iron.

Sokka stepped inside, removing his helmet partially in awe, his head dipping back as he tried to take in every detail. "Reaver's library..."

"Sorry about the lack of angry, ancient things." Naoya flashed a weak smile as he shuffled past.

Sokka watched Naoya approach a long, red settee - or at least half of what was once a long, red settee - along one of the walls, across from what had once been a grand desk off to the side of the fireplace. Halfway there, green started following in his wake. He brushed off shards of glass before slinging his bag onto the cushions and shakily setting himself down.

Right. Naoya was sick in the caves they had just left. Not that anyone had stomached the experience well…. Except for Ren, maybe.

"How are you feeling? You weren't doing so good back there." Sokka looked and pointed down at the plant trail that had resurfaced. "And last I checked, that isn't supposed to happen inside ."

"I'll feel better when this is all done," Naoya breathed, patting his bag. He lifted up one of his feet and frowned at the clover spread out beneath him. "Let's focus on the books for now."

"And here I thought we were looking for Barry," Sokka said flatly. He removed his helmet and set it next to Naoya's bag.

"Say getting rid of Reaver or Barry isn't our ticket home, then what - do you really want to be stuck here? Forever? " Naoya huffed with a childish pout, slumping back against the ruined cushions. "We don't know what will stay and what will go, for all we know all these books could disappear."

"That is- ... a very valid point, actually." Sokka tapped his chin, turning to look at the shelves once again.

Naoya picked up the nearest far-flung-from-its-shelf books, briefly flipping through the damp pages. "And I can't read any of this. Most of it's in English, and the only words I know in English are 'hello', 'sorry', and how to read washroom signs!" He paused, adding confidently: "And the swear words, but even then I only know, like, four."

Sokka plucked the book from Naoya's hands, looking it over. "Wash taught me some of her writing-language- stuff ; English, I think? Ren tried to show me some of his, too, but not as much." He had only enough patience at the moment span to translate the title: Jade Books and Other Jewel Tablets. With a sigh, he stuffed it in his bag before rubbing his temples.

"Really?" Naoya blinked, looking up at him.

"I mean they both know this other talking-language that they sometimes chat in, but Wash says Ren sounds like an old man when he does it. Spaniel- Span- … Spanglish? " He looked to Naoya for confirmation but Naoya only stared blankly at him and shrugged.

"That already puts you way ahead of me." Naoya smiled. "So then, where should we start gathering books?"

Spinning slowly, Sokka inspected their surroundings again. "I'm not sure. I don't know what kind of organizing system was in place before the balverines redecorated." He stepped over a soggy-looking book on the floor. "Or how much of this is still legible."

They started with the books closest to them, and Sokka devised a three-pile sorting system: immediately useful, maybe important, and garbage. It didn't take long to see that the garbage pile was slowly becoming the winning category, and a sub-category of "Anything About Reaver" had to be made. A few atlases were in the maybe important pile, the only thing stopping them from being deemed immediately useful was the fact that it was impossible to tell if they were of Astriferous or some other far-off world. The only things populating the immediately useful pile were a couple star-charts and three handwritten manuscripts, if only because Sokka couldn't read the handwriting - by his logic and past experiences, handwritten usually meant there was good info.

In the end Sokka decided to pack both the maybe important and immediately useful piles. But as Sokka slid the books into his satchel, a thought struck him: "Nobody's radioed in yet."

Naoya was thumbing through one of the handwritten manuscripts, an odd journal embossed with a six-fingered, golden hand on its cover. "That's good, isn't it?" He turned a page, lips pulling up into a small, thoughtful pout. "Is it me, or does this look like Dip's notebook?"

Sokka turned to him, holding out an expectant hand and packing the journal away when Naoya gave it to him. "I thought you couldn't read," he smugly teased.

"Naoya can still look at the pictures," Naoya smoothly replied. "But seriously, that's, like, totally Dipper's layout."

"You're probably just seeing it as something you're familiar with because you can't read it," Sokka tried to explain, looking to Naoya only to find the other boy with an expression Sokka had seen only once before.

Staring straight at nothing, eyes more amber than not... Finding their way to Reaver's library had been more a light, kinda casual-type of staring at nothing; but that rigid, tiny-frowny look was the subtle expression Naoya had when he sensed the bioraptors

Naoya blinked, eyes flickering to meet Sokka's own, and his frown spread, but Sokka understood. They quietly crouched down behind the large desk with only a few moments going by before the sound of footsteps came - faint at first from the corridor, then definitely in the library with them.

"Oh, right, right," came a mocking, male voice, clearly talking to himself and clearly having trouble with his R-sounds. "'Stay here and mind the place, Barry. Don't go on the furniture.'"

Yep, Sokka decided, Naoya's tiny-frowny staring was for bad things.

Hand reaching back and fingers slowly wrapping around the hilt of his sword, Sokka peeked around the edge of the garbage pile of books… and had to stop himself from verbally venting his disappointment.

The ginger hair that hung down over one side of his face, greasy skin, uneven teeth, and tailored clothing that still somehow didn't look like it fit right - maybe it was the weird bright blue and red hues that didn't agree? - it all matched with the description of their mark.

Except Sokka had been expecting more than this .

He had definitely expected someone taller ... Barry barely looked like he was Naoya's height.

"And what do I get for coming back and freeing Master Reaver? No food, no booze,no serving girls, and of course golden boy Al-ass-tor got rid of all the fizzy pop," Barry continued griping. "Bloody married bastard cockblocking the rest of us from good times."

Their target was wandering over to where the collections of nude artworks were strewn on the floor. But before Barry went any further, he paused, noting the trails of clover that now crisscrossed all over the floor. Instead of going away, Barry came closer. He was scenting the air so hard they could hear his nostrils working.

He had spotted the bag and helmet that had been left out, in the open , on the settee cushions.

Sokka bit his lower lip, wide eyes shooting back and forth between Naoya, their stuff, and Barry.

"Alright, who's there?" Barry called out. "I'm going to give you 'til the count of three! One. Two."

Barry leapt high - at least the part about him being a balverine Sokka had expected - and shifted mid-jump.

The tricky thing about fighting a balverine was their speed and their jumpiness - and the fact that when they jumped they liked to land behind their prey.

Which was exactly what Barry did.

His balverine form was unique yet unimpressive, even if he was larger. His fur was the same orange-ginger that his hair had been, one of his eyes the usual balverine yellow while the other a demonic blue. Hairless scars mangled his neck and body, old wounds clearly caused by his own kind. Barry had more of a snout than the Lessers but it was more smooshed than Alastor's was; his ears were long, almost floppy, and heavily pierced by jeweled, gold earrings. Hardly any quills, plenty of fluff - most of which seemed to be situated on his head and upper back.

Barry landed behind them, and while Sokka knew to immediately roll away - Naoya was not prepared to. Barry's hands seized him from behind before he jumped, perching on one of the few non-broken railings of the second floor.

Sokka wasted no time grabbing the walkie from his belt: "We found Barry. He's in the library and we could use some backup right about now!"

"Aw, now lookit this," Barry's grin was full of fangs, his long orange fingers wrapped tightly around Naoya, pinning his arms to his sides, as he lifted him up to eye level - mismatched eyes inspecting his catch. "You're the one who smells like a good time, even went and snuck some fun stuffs in your bag." Even though his voice was warped and deep, his words were still thick-sounding from his rhotacism.

"Put me down!" Naoya shouted as he tried to thrash free of the balverine's grip.

"Always liked you exotic, East Samarki-type ladies. Let's say I set you aside and you and I can have our own party with plenty of favors later?" His snout pressed behind Naoya's ear, eagerly sniffing as he ignored the way his quarry sneered in disgust. Barry reeled back, blinking in surprise, moving to sniff the psychic between the shoulders. "Aw, now," he started to admit, returning to sniff at Naoya's stringy locks. "Now wait a tick. I apologize, I've gone and misgendered you. Offer still stands, though."

"Ew."

"... Is that a yes or a no? I'm not so good with telling." He leaned closer, slobbering maw spread out into a grin so sleazy it could be felt. "'S how I got to be a balverine in the first place-" WHACK!

Barry yelped, dropping his catch to cover his nose, as he was stuck in the the face by an expertly-thrown boomerang. The moment of freedom was all Naoya needed to send a nearby table crashing into Barry, both of them toppling back onto the ground floor.

Barry scrambled upright first. He glanced back and forth between the fallen psychic and the guy with the sword, who was stepping between them. With a defiant snort he leapt high, grappling onto a bookshelf to whip books down at them.

Sokka easily knocked away the books until Barry jumped to a new shelf. "Naoya, are you okay?!"

"I need, like, thirty baths and to burn my clothes," Naoya sorely moaned. "But I've had worse. Thanks for the save."

When Barry starting throwing shelving at the them again, Naoya grabbed the debris mid-air and sent it back at him - sending him quickly clamoring to escape the psychic's telekinetic tossing range.

Their eyes could barely track the orange blur that raced around the library; Barry only paused in one spot long enough to decide it wasn't a good position to strike from before dashing to the next. He feinted in between stops, taunting their reflexes, and laughed when they tried to defend themselves against his fake attacks. Eventually the warrior and the psychic stood back-to-back in order to have all their angles covered.

"Think you can grab him so I can slice him, like we did with the bioraptor?"

Naoya glanced over his shoulder. "You'd end up being astrologically linked to a magic, small town!"

"Really don't think 'astrologically' is the right word to describe that process," Sokka shot back. "And if we've got no other choice - I mean I can just give it to someone else like that jerk Reaver did, can't I?"

They both jerked right as Barry tried to jump at them, only for him to run back into the shadows at the last second. They could hear him growling now, the sound rotating around them as it followed the small puffs of steam from Barry's breath.

"You made him mad," Naoya commented.

With a final lunge at the two, Barry came close enough to bounce off of Naoya's barrier; but instead of running back to the corners, he howled - a muddled, lippy sound. A call for help, for any other balverines nearby to come to his aid.

And in reply: a deep, crisp howl that outlasted Barry's own and sent familiar fear into the two boys.

They knew that sound by now.

So did Barry, if the way his ears fell slack against his skull had anything to say about the source.

Icy air wafted down from above, and there, pushing through one of the sky-dome's broken window panes, was Alastor. He pulled himself through, landing precisely on his clawed feet - a massive, frosty form dwarfing the ginger balverine. His chest heaved with wet breaths. He had shifted fully since they had seen him last - his side was stained red as a result.

Any fear Barry had seemed to go out the window as he, too, noticed the wound.

Barry grinned, sickly slow. "I know the missus is lurking around. Four on one's not a fair fight. Let's just keep this between us, you old wannabe balvorn." He licked his chops, lowering himself as he stalked in an attempt to circle his opponent - head turning ever-so-slightly to glance at the two non-balverines in the room, as they ducked back behind the desk.

The air was tense as they circled, as if one wrong move would shatter the feeling in the room and turn it to chaos. What was worse was the fact that the bickering balverines were between them and the door.

"We need to get out before this gets messy," Naoya warned lowly.

"I'm not leaving without my helmet," Sokka said. He pointed to where it still lay on the settee next to Naoya's bag.

"We can get it later-"

Sokka turned and stared Naoya down, pleadingly. "If the oasis changes, I might not get it back. It's one of the few things I have left from home."

Sighing, Naoya conceded with a nod. "Be ready to grab it."

Naoya scooted on his knees, exposing himself to where he could have the most visual on Sokka's helmet while still remaining bunkered behind their meager cover. He elegantly waved a hand out in front of him, rolling it over in the air - and Sokka's helmet silently rose and began to float towards where them.

"Have I ever mentioned how cool your mindbending stuff is?"

" Shh - I'm trying to focus." Naoya sharply added: "And don't call it that ."

A shadow stalked out of the corner of Sokka's eye, Nadine not too far away as if she knew what they were up to - though it was obvious her attention was more on the two death-circling balverines. He still didn't know if he completely trusted Mr. and Mrs. Fluffy Monster, but Sokka would take his chances with the one he was certain hadn't tried to eat him in one bite.

He kept half an eye on Alastor and Barry as he crept out behind Nadine, Barry was now between the two "ally" monsters. His helmet was almost halfway to him. He reached out a hand, fingertips brushing the nose of the wolf design. A little more… a little more...

Barry suddenly charged right at Nadine, slamming her with all his might... right into Sokka.

The blue, wolf-shaped helmet flew from Sokka's hand as he was knocked off his feet and pinned underneath this writhing, sharp pile of fleshy fur; he was falling one moment, then Naoya was gently, urgently, patting his cheek the next. Pain blossomed at the back of his skull, taking root as the room felt like it was spinning, the floor hard beneath him and sounds sounding so very far away. The ground crackled with frost beneath him.

Lots of growling and commotion. Someone- something? Something screeched in pain. Was there a fight going on?

Naoya said something in a jumbled whisper that sounded far away yet also right in Sokka's ear. They had to move? He was pretty sure he also mumbled something about a concussion.

Hands carefully slid under Sokka's shoulders as Naoya helped him sit, then get slowly to his feet. The room felt like it was shifting out from underneath him. His head hurt. Somehow they were almost to a really big door.

An orange blur rushed by, but Alastor's large form charged past with such a force that the two teenagers had to grapple onto one another to avoid toppling over. Nadine stopped and gave a half-apologetic grunt before following after him, claws scraping on the now-frozen marbled floor as she went. And then, they were gone. Everything grew quiet.

Sokka blinked. He clung rigid and tight to Naoya. He wasn't sure what had just happened. His head hurt. His sleeve was pelted with small quills that clung to the cloth like tiny burs.

Naoya's hands shot up and yanked him down and before Sokka knew it their lips were touching. Not a delicate peck, nor face-sucking; Naoya's lips were soft, really soft. Naoya's fingers soothingly rubbed and worked at the throbbing back of Sokka's skull. It felt like Naoya… pressed something into his mouth - warm and tingly - except nothing actually slid over Sokka's tongue, and for a moment Sokka felt his head go pleasantly fuzzy as the pain faded and his balance came back to him.

The events leading up to it replayed rapid-fire in Sokka's mind: books; fighting that ginger creep; big white fluffy ice monster; and now he had Naoya looking up at him with this... this little expression that made Sokka's insides flutter more than that kiss. He opened his mouth, hoping something not completely stupid would come out, only for nothing to come out instead. His mouth betrayed him and Sokka found that he couldn't say anything.

Screw it. He knew what else he could do with his useless mouth.

Naoya giggled through half their second kiss. "That was because you hit your head," Naoya explained and Sokka turned red as he remembered that Naoya had healing powers . Naoya had been healing him. Not kissing him. "Half-way, anyways," Naoya coyly added, amber eyes half-lidded as he smirked. "Naoya has a habit of picking out bad times to do that."

"Nope, not bad," Sokka managed to finally say, although his voice cracked horribly. He cleared his throat. " Questionable , but not bad. A-and not that it was... not good, it was good- great, even, but… Maybe later, we can maybe, I don't know, talk about this?"

"Well after that display one would hope so," said Anders, causing both teens to turn so swiftly they nearly fell. "After this is all over, I think you'll both have a lot to talk about."

Both Anders and Renkotsu stood in the door of the library. They had come with their weapons in hand, clearly ready to defend them from the attack-not from this .

Renkotsu rolled his eyes. The gesture was stiff. "This is not the time for any of that," he said, but Anders grinned-something which only deepened Ren's displeasure. "What happened? Where is Hatch?"

"And why do you look like you were stuck by a porcupine?"

"He got hit by Nadine and Barry at the same time," Naoya recapped, plucking loose one of the quills with care. "But he hit his head pretty hard, Anders, and-"

Anders didn't need to be told any more. "You're lucky," he told Sokka. "Your armor deflected most of the damage, and the quills. But I doubt your sleeve will make it. Are you dizzy? Can you stand?"

"Well, I was but, um," Sokka swallowed, "Naoya… kind of took care of it..."

While Anders worked, Renkotsu glanced towards the ceiling, noting a lack of said beasts. "Did they leave by way of the windows?"

"They went down the hall, since you guys didn't get bowled over by them, they went opposite of the way you guys came."

Renkotsu looked to Anders. "What's in that direction?"

"The dining room," Anders replied, with some hesitation.

"No," Naoya said, "that's the other way."

Anders frowned. "Then it's got to be the ballroom. I trust you all know how to dance?"