Rose could not help but whistle as she read through the report. A full dossier of data collected on Alisha Diphda, with in-depth details she somehow doubted even their own sources would be able to find. The Bloodwings delivered in full after a single week. And this time, she actually saw it happen: a seraph man with a red scarf simply strolled right up to their carts and put the package down next to Rose. Only when she kept looking his way did he react, offering a nod and a lazy salute before wandering off again.

Now here she sat, with Dezel opposite to her as part of her daily ritual; the stupid block on her resonance loosened more and more, allowing her to keep up longer conversations without an immediate migraine. "You know," Rose muttered after a time spent reading, "I've never met her, but everything I heard fits with what's in here."

"Did you find anything outstanding?"

She held the dossier out to him in response, though Dezel made no motion to take it at first. "Here, read it for yourself." Her words were taken with his usual stoicism, though he then sighed and continued to ignore the offering. Rose's eyes narrowed a little, more curious than annoyed. Then she wondered. "You can read, right?"

The answer he gave was... not what she expected: "I'm blind, Rose."

"Wait, what?" She immediately put the dossier aside and dove forward. "Why didn't you say that sooner?!" Rose was on Dezel in a heartbeat, pulling his bangs aside despite his attempts to get away; milky white eyes lay beneath, unseeing. She did not even know seraphim could be blind!

A harsh slap to her wrist made Rose let go, rubbing the spot while Dezel put his hair back in place. "I can read the winds well enough to know what is where," he explained curtly, "but they don't help me with reading. So what does that say?"

Rose pout-frowned a bit over his behaviour and not answering the question, but she ultimately settled back in her place and picked up the parchment once more. "From what they gathered, Princess Alisha is the real deal. Kind, compassionate, strong, the ideal princess. We knew that much already and I guess I kinda figured there is more to it, but... ugh. Now I feel bad for her."

"How so?"

She sighed heavily and read the offending passages again. "This says her mother was a commoner and long since died, so she is basically on her own. Most of the other nobles and royals walk all over her because of it, but she just works harder for their acknowledgement. It says she got along well with the king when he was still a prince, but he didn't have time to spend with her ever since ascending the throne." Rose made a short pause and turned the page with a frown. "It's mostly like that. We have to wait for our own contacts to check whatever they can dig up, but I don't like the picture this paints."

Dezel had his arms folded as she explained, his expression deceptively calm. "So you think she doesn't deserve judgement?"

"Yep. Honestly, if all that is true, I think she deserves a hug." Or several. Probably several, in her opinion. As it were, the princess lived a completely different life from Rose. Yet now that she saw it in front of her like this, she realised she never considered the downsides a cushy royal life could have. Alisha did not have to fight for survival, or make the best out of what little money she had; she was never cold or missing for anything material. In turn, Rose had never been missing for the warmth of a family; the Windriders, and later the Scattered Bones, were tightly knit and supported each other until the very end. She could hardly imagine a life without them.

"Hey Dezel?"

"Hm?"

"What do you think is more important? Money or love?"

The question had just presented itself and Rose gave in to her curiousity; she was not sure which of the two she would pick herself. Dezel fell still for a moment as he considered, then his head rose a little so as to look her in the eyes. "Neither. You can't sustain those you love without money, and money alone is worth little if you have no one to spend it with or for."

Her eyes widened a bit over the unexpected answer, especially about how thoughtful it was. Then she played over that feeling with a sly grin. "Aww, you little romantic! Is there someone you have your eyes on?"

"No. I'm blind."

His flat denial made Rose laugh heartily, the previous subject forgotten.

That was when Eguile leaned his head into the cart with a curiously raised eyebrow. "We're going to open the shop soon, so please keep it down a little. People might get weirded out by our poster girl talking to herself."

Rose flipped him off in response, but admitted to herself that he had a point. "Yeah, alright. And Eguile?" He stopped and waited for what she had to say. Rose threw him a grim look. "I still have to think it over, but right now it doesn't look like we're taking that job offer we got recently. Might need to talk to the employer about it." There was no outward reaction beyond a simple nod, but she knew the message had been received when he turned around to leave her be. Chancellor Bartlow had ordered the hit on Princess Alisha; the Scattered Bones would look into him as well and, depending on what they found, the blade may go to him instead.

Once they were alone again, Rose slumped back down and sighed. "So much work recently."

"There is always work for an upstart boss," Dezel threw in with a toothy grin. Rose gave him a flat stare that had no effect because he could not see it.

"I'm the boss because we decided as a group, so shut it."

"I know."

This gave Rose pause. She studied her bonded seraph again and considered; then, she simply asked. "You've been around for a long time, right? Do you know what possessed them to pick me over Eguile?" This had bothered her from time to time over the years; she grew into the role, but there were others far more suited to it back then. Dezel leaned back to think, staying quiet for a good long while as he flipped the pendulum he used for a weapon up and down. A tic of his she noticed several times before, though it grated on her a little more than usual, with a potential answer so close.

"For one," he started slowly, "you are the most unassuming of the entire group. You were at twenty-four and you are now at twenty-eight."

Rose just threw him a look and wondered if they seriously picked her because of that. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Partly, but also because you're the prettiest of the women around."

She made to respond, but then stopped herself and decided to not let herself be distracted. "Okay, I'll let you get away with that one because I like the flattery." There was even a little grin.

Dezel merely shook his head. "That has nothing to do with flattery and you know it. Anyway, that aside, after Brad died..." He trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. Rose's grin died as she remembered the man who raised her like his own daughter. After a few seconds, Dezel continued in a different manner: "while Eguile and a few others have more experience and might even be smarter than you, they all agreed that the leader needs not be the smartest of us, but the most charismatic. Which is, again, you."

The seraph then threw her a small grin. "And if I remember right, you swayed a few with that boundless positivity you had, even right after the Windriders disbanded." Rose was so deep in thought now that she failed to notice his clenched fist.

Meanwhile, in the earthpulse below Ladylake, an Empyrean spread her wings. Minkkubi had grown a great deal over the months, now having the size of most quadrupedal dragons; this still left her half the size of a single one of Innominat's necks, but it made her feel more comfortable in her own skin, or rather scales, nonetheless.

From around the world, four slumbering Empyreans watched the youngest of their number. In their dreams, the gods still walked the world; almost as if they were human yet unseen even by their own kind. Today, their attention lay beneath the surface, in the very planet itself. A flicker of hope, of change.

And below the Empyrean's Throne, the grand temple dedicated to the gods, Maotelus stirred. Deep within the dragon of light, his silver flame still fought back against the encroaching darkness. Yet corrupted his body was, steeped in Malevolence and turned an almost pitch black instead of his original pristine white. He had long since lost control of it, curled up in the large pool of mana the earthpulse ended in. But his instincts still worked, telling him of something odd, something familiar within the lifepool. Something that was there for but an instant before vanishing again. An imprint of something he knew but forgot, something he feared, something he hated.

Almost, almost, the grand dragon remembered the light of yore. But then the sensation vanished and left him to fall back into nightmares.

. .

. .

Griflet Bridge was destroyed, the path to Marlind blocked.

On the way back and with the purified seraph Uno in tow, Sorey and Alisha were talking.

"Some time ago I heard from a traveler," the princess told him thoughtfully,

"that sometimes a human is reborn as a seraph."

"It's true," Sorey answered. "They usually don't keep their memories, though."

He paused for a moment and considered, then added to his previous words.

"It's pretty rare, but there have been a few who kept theirs. There are even

records of humans who remembered their past lives."

He smiled at his companion.

"Just imagine how incredible it would be to remember a past life. There

are so many question I'd want to ask someone like that!"

In a fenced-off backyard, a teenaged girl was practicing with her blade.

Her attention remained focussed on nothing but the stances she learned.

Then, suddenly, her motions ceased.

Wide eyes stared at nothing.

"I wonder how one would know it was a past life instead of just their imagination."

"I'm sure there would be signs, Alisha. Like knowing things you couldn't know otherwise."

A clatter rent the sudden silence asunder, metal on stone.

Margaret followed her blade moments later, clutching her head.

"I can see the appeal, yes. I would love to meet someone like this as well...

Someone who lived the distant past, oh how exciting!"

Tears rolled down her cheeks, eyes almost hollow as she stared at the ground.

Once in a while, a hiccup or sniffle forced its way out of her.

"If there's someone out there, I hope we'll meet them one day.

Don't you agree, Alisha?"

"I do!"

Time passed.

At some point, Margaret pushed herself to her feet. An empty gaze came to rest on her sword; she picked it up with stiff motions, then sheathed it camly. "I need to know," she whispered to herself and skittered back inside.

Morning at the Crowe's Nest was always a calm affair. Neither Velvet nor Laphicet required much sleep at all, so they were usually wide awake and working on their respective tasks around the place by the time anyone else rose. Breakfast was had just earlier and the tavern would soon open. Cynthia tended to the inn as she usually did, leaving the siblings on their own to relax for a bit.

Their solace was broken soon, though; a distraught Margaret marched into their room, reddened tear tracks clearly visible on her pale face. She walked hunched forward, scared, and her lip quivered as normally bright eyes took the two in fearfully. Velvet immediately got up and put the tunic she was sewing on aside, then darted across the room to embrace the girl. Only that shaking hands were held out to stop her.

Before she could ask what this was about, Margaret spoke up. "I, I need you to tell me something. It's really important, Velvet." She blinked down at the shaken girl in worry while Laphi watched the events from the side.

"Okay, what is it?"

Margaret took a deep breath and opened her mouth, then faltered and closed it again. Under their gazes, she refused to come near Velvet again when the latter reached out. She tried to speak again and nothing came out.

Only on the third attempt did she manage: "Why do birds fly?"