Chapter 2:

Callum's head was buzzing, he had a thousand questions about Rayla, the Silvergrove and Quinn. So, being sensible, he started with the most pressing.

"Did you use moon magic to see through my disguise?" he asked.

"... are you serious?" Quinn asked, "you tied some branches to your head, that wasn't going to work."

The young prince had been trying so hard to seem imposing, drawing himself up to the full height his meager frame would allow, walking with feigned confidence like a pantomime of a soldier, and trying his best to scowl.

So when the boy's face fell, his shoulders sagged and his stride broke, Quinn couldn't help but feel bad.

"Oh…" Callum said, his voice dying in his throat.

Quinn turned to try to cheer the boy up, but Rayla interrupted him.

"These people you want us to meet," she said, still wary, "they can help us?"

"Only the best of the best!" Quinn boasted, "We'll get you to the storm spire safe, that is where you are headed right?"

Rayla froze. Her eyes narrowed. "How did you know?"

"Oh come now, give me some credit." Quinn said, "You called Callum by his name, and how many storm dragons are there running around these days? Plus the family resemblance is uncanny."

He paused for a beat, "Look at you kid, all grown up and kidnapping royalty, I never knew I could be so proud of someone."

Callum leaned over to Rayla and whispered, "you're sure we can trust this guy? He seems too… friendly."

"He's always been like that," Rayla said, "besides, he was ghosted for not killing humans."

As they pushed further and further into the back alleys of the Silvergrove, the space between the buildings gew narrower. They had begun walking three abreast, then Callum and Rayla side by side with Quinn leading, and finally in single file. The tall elf in the lead had to turn slightly to stop his shoulders from scraping the walls.

One last turn and the winding path opened to a small plaza overgrown with weeds. In the center was what Callum assumed used to be a wooden sculpture. The twisting greenery had climbed its way almost to the figure's hips, worming their way in and out of the ill-maintained figure's legs. The rotting elf's head was tilted slightly skyward. Had he his left arm, it would have reached out to some unseen thing in front of him. Callum's artistic eye could see by the remaining arm's position that the hand would likely have been palm up.

The right horn had been snapped off of his head, leaving only the massive antler on the left. Colorful birds with beaks larger than their heads had built a nest of brambles in the crooks of the remaining horn. Callum was so transfixed by the dilapidated effigy that he didn't see the figure to his left.

"Ah!" Quinn said, pulling the prince back to reality, "Sloan! There you are! Ray's come home!"

Callum turned and came face-to-bicep with the biggest elf he had ever seen. Despite his size, Sloan's muscles were ropey, toned like a practiced warriors. The elf was gripping the edging of a window, the top of which was easily as tall as Rayla, and stooping slightly, his face almost pressed against the glass.

Like Quinn his clothing was ratty and torn, he wore uniformly gray, with seemingly no thought given to form.

Sloan drew himself to his full height, dwarfing even Quinn and looked down at the group. He tried to summon a smile to his story face, bringing his expression closer to indigestion than anything welcoming.

"...nice to see you," he said in a voice too small for his ample frame, "and nice to meet you, I've never met a human before."

Callum debated internally before extending his hand to the elf. Rather than simply clasping, Sloan's mit engulfed Callum's hand before gently shaking it.

"Nice to meet you?" Callum said, his discomfort manifesting in his tone as a question. Sloan released his hand and walked, silently, Callum noted, over to Rayla.

"Good to see you Rayla, how are you holding up?" Sloan said to her, "I know this can be hard, being ghosted I mean."

Rayla's head barely came up to his chest, and he was easily twice as wide as her.

"...I'll be ok," Rayla said, "I just need to talk to Callum for a second." Sloan nodded and turned back to the window. Callum glanced inside and saw the forms of two elves. Their faceless bodies seated opposite each other at a table. Their demeanor was familiar, intimate. One's hand slightly draped over the other's.

Rayla pulled Callum aside while Quinn moved over to Sloan, placing his hand on his shoulder.

"He saw through my disguise too," Callum said, "how do they keep doing that?"

Rayla took a deep breath and steadied herself, Just get through this, she thought, one step at a time.

""We need to be careful," she whispered to Callum, grasping his arm. "Quinn's an idiot, he's trouble," she said nodding towards Sloan.

Callum had a hard time believing that. Quinn was patting the large elf's shoulder, and while the prince couldn't make out their conversation, he could tell that Quinn was trying to console his friend.

"I don't know Rayla," he said, "he doesn't seem dangerous, if anything he seems sad."

"You don't know him like I do," Rayla said, "he hurt people."

Callum took a closer look at the elf. His horns were massive, they started straight, and then curved like crescent moons. The size of the horns exaggerated his already massive stature. The lines on his face were well-worn and the bags under his eyes looked to be a permanent part of his visage; they were not the result of a recent lack of sleep, rather years of worry. He looked to be seconds away from tears as Quinn addressed him gently.

For the first time in the brief minutes Callum had known Quinn, the posturing and the bravado melted away as he addressed the large elf honestly, vulnerably. He could only make out brief snippets of the conversation, but the young prince knew that these elves weren't a danger to him or Rayla.

"Strength… gotta look good… help." he heard.

"I don't think they want to hurt us," he said to an exasperated Rayla, "They said they can help us."

Rayla started to protest, but Quinn had whirled around to face them again, his boisterous confidence returned to him.

"Well now that introductions are in order, you crazy kids need somewhere to sleep tonight, right?"

Rayla started to object, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"I have been wondering, how do you two live here if you're ghosted?"

Quinn laughed deeply, even Sloan cracked a genuine smile,

"It turns out it's easy," Sloan said in his soft voice, "If you're invisible, they have a hard time noticing you're still here."

"And," Quinn said, a prideful look on his face, "It turns out no one wants to move into a traitor's old house, bad for resale value."

"No!" Rayla said, pulled from her malaise for the first time since realizing her banishment, "You two live in your old place? And no one has noticed?"

Quinn beamed, "Quick study as always, Little Ray," he said, "but it's 'you three' there's still someone you have to meet."

Rayla racked her brain. In her life the Silvergrove had ghosted almost a dozen elves. Troa had been caught stealing medical supplies from the healers; Soma had embezzled funds meant for the community; Alagash had beaten someone half to death at his favorite bar.

"Another ghost?" she asked.

"Of course!" Quinn said, "the most elegant of our number on her good days, otherwise a bit of a mess. Alas, not everyone can be as charming as yours truly."

Rayla moved to leave, grabbing Callum's arm.

"As fun as that sounds, we need to get going. Don't follow us." Rayla said, "come on Callum," but the boy resisted her tugging.

"We need help," he said to her exasperated face, "we have no food, no shelter, and to way to get to the spire."

"Smart kid," Quinn chimed in, "good diplomacy, prince."

Sloan stiffened and dropped into a stiff curtsy, "A prince, should I have bowed or…"

Callum interrupted him, "Please don't do that"

Sloan recoiled as if stung, "my apologies your majesty."

Callum had only ever heard talk like that when Soren had sought to mock him with false fealty. Seeing someone really deferring to him in this way made him wildly uncomfortable.

"Please, its ok," he said, " just call me Callum, it's ok."

When Rayla left the Silvergrove, this was not the scene she expected, a human prince in a comically shoddy elf costume and two exiles she never thought she would see again awkwardly comforting each other.

She would have laughed if she wasnt so close to crying.

"Food, shelter, transportation," Quinn said, counting off on his fingers, "we can handle all three of those for you, no problem."

Callum turned back to her, his eyes big like Ezran's when he wanted something. This is the Banther Lodge all over again, Rayla thought, Why do I keep letting him do the things I do.

The answer to that soliloquized question was perhaps a little too emotionally raw for her to handle at the moment.

Despite Callum's reckless adoption of these two criminals, Rayla still had her doubts.

"Why would you help us?" Rayla said, "What do you get out of this?"

"Well," Quinn said, "I think of us ghosted as family, I think we should look out for each other."

Sloan laid his hand on Quinn's shoulder and nodded.

"Fine." Rayla said curtly but not unkindly. "I'll be watching you, but we do need your help."

"Perfect!" Quinn said, his eyes lighting up, "Let's get you kids settled in for the night, we have a long day ahead of us."

—-

"You live in this?" Rayla said, disgusted as they approached the seemingly abandoned house.

The squat shack showed obvious signs of rot on the exterior, something was nesting in the eves and the door hung on a single hinge.

"Looks can be deceiving Ray," Quinn said approaching the door.

"That's part of the moon arcanum, right?" Callum asked.

"Smart kid!," Quinn said. "I like you already."

As the door opened the front room was fully revealed. The simple windows were too caked in dust and filth to get a good look at the inside, but now that the door was open, Callum and Rayla could see the wasted living room.

What used to be a table lay cracked and dilapidated on the floor. Three of the four simple chairs still stood where the table had been, with the fourth turned over on its side. A thick layer of dust lay over the scattered objects of the room like new fallen snow.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here for years," Callum said.

"That's the idea prince," Quinn said, "Cant have people knowing we still live here."

As they pushed further into the house, a smell like saccharine rot hit Callum's nose. Backing this sweet decay was something sour, something fresh. He tried his hardest to place it, something about it seemed familiar. Recent.

Then it hit him, "This kinda smells like you on the boat…"

"Shut it!" Rayla said, blushing slightly.

Before Callum could respond he kicked an empty bottle that clattered along the floor.

"Oh, is she bad today?" QUinn asked Sloan.

"Same as usual," Sloan responded.

The quartet picked their way through the scattered bottles in the hallway until it opened up into what used to be a bedroom. The spare room lay largely empty except for three simple bedrolls. Two lay unoccupied, while a gangly splayed lump lay half on and half off the third.

What Callum assumed was an elf was sleeping with their face pressed into the ground, their hips slightly raised. They looked like they had slumped down from a kneeling position, one arm was pinned under their body, the other was stretched out ahead of them. Dried vomit caked their long, unkempt hair.

"Oh no," Rayla said, "not her."

At Rayla's voice the figure stirred, turning towards them and collapsing further down, disturbing the scattered bottles around her.

"Wuh… Whozit?" she croaked out of her dry throat, her half-lidded eyes bloodshot.

"Hey…" Quinn said gently, ""Rayla came home."

"Uhn. hey Ray," she grunted, "yEarfblood friend?" she said, nodding towards Callum.

"See!" he said loud enough to make the drunken elf recoil like a salted snail, "The disguise does work!"