This chapter was betaed by the wonderful brissygirl to provide a smoother reading experience. All remaining mistakes are my own. See first chapter for disclaimers/additional warnings/summaries.

!Possible TRIGGERS FOR: mentions of death/implied torture! (basically, Death and Mariana are still on-screen)!

RECAP: Maia Kadel makes an appearance when things take a turn for the worse after Maury's Sacrifice to save Harry. Nikolandria stops Lord Cunningham and Hadrian from attacking each other. After caspering Maury with the help of The Cunninghams, Riven and Tavit must bargain with Death one final time to keep Harry safe. Fred is rescued by Mariana and co, while the Dursleys are spared on Lord Cunningham's orders. Wikhn visits the Kuroe Clans, to ask for their assistance, while also acting as a Fae ambassador.

AIDEN'S COURT (HARRY, MAIA, TAVIT, RIVEN, ETC)

The air seemed to still. Darkness remained hanging within Aiden's court. Then slowly, painstakingly, the great doors of hell opened.

From the shadowed, screaming depths, Death rose. She moved with slow, deliberate steps. Every movement the sound of bones rattling in cages and forever destined to that. The gate slammed shut behind her, a loud, hollow clanging that echoed in the magically charged room.

Lord Cunningham and Hadrian both stumbled forward in near-perfect synchronization. Automatically pulled to greet and serve the one who gifted them the awful powers they wielded. Lord Cunningham hissed, banishing his reaper persona at once. He was pulled a handful of steps closer, before he regained full movement of his own body. One half-clawed hand dug into his chest, directly over his heart.

Over Mariana's mark.

"Hadrian-!" he started to say, freezing in place when Death continued forward. He could no more defy Death than Hadrian could. They had sworn oaths, after all.

Her great hooded head allowing only the barest glimpse of paper-thin, dry lips. Gliding along the magically charged floor, she paused long enough to offer one skeletal hand to Aiden's kneeling form.

He took her hand in both of his and held it to his forehead. "I am honoured that my lady would visit my courts," he said, hoarsely. "And I only ask that you tell me what it is that you desire, so that I may create it for your pleasure."

"Would you?" Death asked.

Aiden's eyes remained fixed at the foot of her robes. "So as long as it is within my ability."

Death regarded him silently for a moment, before the hood fell back to show the once-beautiful face of a young woman. Her eyes were the same blood red hue as several of them now within Aiden's court.

"This is twice I am denied his soul," she whispered. Her voice the sound of a thousand ancients, her pout that of a scolded child. "Twice, my pet. Am I a merchant to be cheated at the market stalls?"

Aiden shook his head-once. "You are a being most feared, my lady," he said, softly. "I know not what the others have in store for him, but his soul will return to you-"

Her hand snaked out, catching him by the throat. Black veins grew visible, spreading from where her touch seared into him. "But you have granted them full use of your court for their nefarious-"

"You need not torture him," Tavit rumbled. "I know very well it is my skin you wish to burn." He shuffled away from the rest, his mouth set in a grim line. "We only do as we are told, after all. No matter the price."

"Puppets?" Death mocked. "Always shifting the blame to a more mortal soul than your own?" Her piercing gaze swept over Lord Cunningham and Hadrian, before settling on Maia and Harry. "You would have me believe that all of you would work together to save him?"

Riven bristled. "He is too young to die."

"And so are many others," Death hummed. "But they come to me anyway and I welcome them with open arms. As I always ever have. He was mine first. I dislike cheaters."

"Dear lady," Lord Cunningham murmured. He bowed deeply in respect, eyes lowered. "I thank you for accepting our meagre tribute, though it is not-to your liking."

"You live," Death said, dispassionately. "You all live. How can that be to my liking?" She released Aiden, frowning down at him. "You irritate me, my pet. I have taught you better."

Aiden's shoulders quivered ever so faintly as he weathered Death's fearsome gaze. "What would you have me do?"

There was a flare of ugliness that danced across Death's shadowed face, before it vanished. "Didn't I give you something to keep from straying into such lapses of boredom? A girl? A human witch? Where is she?"

Aiden rose, rubbing his throat, eyes averted. "She is free to roam."

"Oh?" Death's grin was fanged and terrifying. "And if I asked to see her?"

Aiden lifted his chin. "Then I would produce her as requested."

Death's wheezing laughter echoed through the room. "You will destroy yourself if you continue as you are. You cannot blame me for your own shortcomings." She sighed. "I have one request. Hadrian, you might find it more to your-liking."

Beside Lord Cunningham, Hadrian stiffened. The hood of his Reaper robe slipped from his head to reveal angry red eyes and an exceptionally pale face. He was staying exactly where he was by sheer force of will. It was obvious from the slight, strained tremors that Death's presence had a significant impact on him.

He had yet to banish his own Reaper persona.

"Not everyone appreciates your games," Tavit said, evenly. Another layer of darkness curled around him, almost as if it were a shield. "Though it is not my place to say anything."

"You are correct," Death rasped. "It is not your place."

Niko scowled from her safe vantage point behind Tavit's slender shoulders. She had yet to release him since Death's arrival. There was a strange, dark expression on her face.

Lord Cunningham gave a slight jerk of his head-deliberate permission for Hadrian. It wouldn't do to anger Death, but if Hadrian needed an anchor point, then he would give it to him. That was all he could give in their current circumstances.

Hadrian glided forward. His Reaper robes seemed to repair themselves as he approached Death, transforming from a ragged, desperate wraith to a tower of darkness, blood-red scythe gleaming in his grasp.

"My lady," he said, gravely.

"You did not reap him," she said, darkly. "And you were within reach."

Hadrian's grip tightened on his shimmering scythe. "His soul ransom was paid in full," he said.

"By his acquaintances-not by the boy himself."

Tavit bristled. Shadows flared and stretched around him. "I brokered that deal!" he growled. "And I won't have you undo it for your own pettiness. His soul is free and clear. You cannot have him and he does not owe you!"

Niko made a soft sound in her throat, her arms locking around Tavit's waist as if she were afraid he would move without her.

Death scowled fiercely. "Perhaps you have bargained," she said, icily. "But that does not erase his debt. I acknowledge that you have shielded him, but he owes me and I would-"

Tavit bristled. "Those were freshly harvested souls. There was nothing wrong with them. They didn't even have time to age!"

"They were gathered by one that has no relation to him!" Death's robes flared out, filling the entire space of the room behind them. The shadowed edges crept up the walls as if to swallow the room, somehow.

"What do you care?" Tavit snarled. "It's the same to you-the fresher, the better."

"It only counts as half," Hadrian said, darkly. "Souls that have no connection to the one they are trying to save-it doesn't have the same weight. Unless-"

Tavit glared at him. "Do not ask me for a pound of flesh, Reaper. I owe you even less than I do him." He gave a jerk of his head in Riven's direction. "And I can hardly stand him."

Riven shifted uncertainly in the background. The great yellowed eye of his staff, blinked twice in slow-motion. His hair, flowing, and white, seemed as if it were growing somehow, pooling on the floor behind him in a great snowy trail.

Niko growled faintly as her eyes grew darker. She eyed Death's shadows creeping further through the room, along the edges of the ceiling. They shied away from her angry eyes, not daring to venture down the walls to reach them.

"Maurice," Riven said, tiredly. He leaned against his staff for support. "He had a connection to Harry. He was his mentor and guardian, given Harry's status in our customs. His soul ought to have cancelled any open debts."

Death's hiss made the walls in the room seem to melt and weep. "I did not ask for your opinion!" she roared.

Hadrian flinched. His scythe wavered and vanished, the robes blowing away to show his normal Gheyo self as he took advantage of the moment. "Then what would you accept?" he asked, steadily.

Tavit and Riven protested at once.

"You can't-!"

"You aren't qual-"

Death's delighted smile spelled doom. "Clever. Always clever. I have the perfect assignment for you," she cooed. "I seem to have misplaced three things. Find them and I will-" she canted her head to the side, glowing red eyes fixed on Harry's unconscious form. "I will leave him be until he comes to me."

Hadrian's shoulder's slumped. "And what are these things?" he said, reluctantly. "And how long do I have to retrieve them?"

Riven paled. He started forward, only to be caught by Tavit's outstretched hand. "He's can't do this-"

"It's his choice," Tavit said, wearily. "You can't interfere."

"Tavit-!"

"He accepted on his own. Do not interfere, lest you wish to promise things you are not capable of delivering."

Riven's staff dissolved in his hands, disappearing into nothing. He quivered, faintly. His hair began to slowly untangle and rebraid itself into neat, warrior braids. "He doesn't know what he's-"

"Are you protesting because you'd rather pay the price?" Tavit eyed him. "You're not his conscience or his mother."

"I don't have to be," Riven said, through gritted teeth. "Nor do I have to be an Empath to know that the repercussions of-"

"They are called by many names, but they are the same. The eye that revives a pale shade, the conduit for the ultimate power and a shield to hide your soul."

Hadrian swallowed. "An eye, a focus object, and a shield?" His confusion was quickly masked by a blank expression.

"You will know them when you see them, Reaper. For you are of my own making. Fail and you will suffer the consequences."

"Of course-and your deadline?" Hadrian asked, calmly.

Death wheezed, a whisper, rattling sound. "You will have three weeks."

Hadrian flinched back from the growing shadows that rose up from Death, to tower over him. "Three weeks? We're mid-season in the Hunt and-"

"Three weeks. No longer." Death held up three bony fingers. "If you do not manage it-your existence is forfeit."

Lord Cunningham glanced between Hadrian and Harry. Maia's piercing silver eyes kept him frozen in place, his protests on the tip of his tongue. Reapers were made or birthed from Death's side. Only Death could grant or recall that prestigious title-and it was not recalled lightly.

Hadrian bowed his head, "Accepted. Three weeks as of tomorrow," he bargained.

Death smirked. "Three weeks starting today." She swept by her shadows swallowing the entire room. For one, awful moment. Everything was black.

Empty. Hollow. Glittering red eyes gleamed, before everything folded in on itself.

THEO, CHARLIE, ETHAN, AND OTHERS – AIDEN'S COURT.

The door to the casting chamber blew open to show one very ticked off Theodore Nott, followed by a fully-flaming Charlie. Bringing up the rear-and no less annoyed-was Ethan and Prince Raspen.

Riven grimaced. He rolled his neck to the side, hearing it crack in the odd silence of Death's departure. He gathered his robes around himself. His re-braided hair had shrunk significantly, returning to the length that dictated how much stored magic was hidden within.

"Greet them," Maia murmured, fluttering her fan over Harry's sleeping face. "It's a good thing he's asleep for this. I don't think he'd want to feel that."

Soft purple energy swirled around him as Riven strode forward. This was his mess; he'd have to deal with it before it got any further out of hand. A deep pain stabbed through his chest, circling around his heart, before settling into an aching throb.

He pressed his lips together, rubbing insistently at the troublesome spot. He'd have to leave soon. He was supposed to have more time in Nevarah. He'd only just arrived. It was too soon to be taking off so quickly. It would also require the kind of explanations he didn't want to give.

There were secrets that were not meant to be shared with others, after all.

But the persistent ache was just that—persistent. From the growing pains starting at his ankles and slowly spiralling up his body, Riven knew his time was fairly limited. With a bit of luck, he could stall long enough for explanations. It was the best he could do, even if the one he'd just helped, deserved far better than a quick spell, a smile and silence.

A reluctant smile was quickly smothered. No one would understand the reason for it, so Riven schooled his features into something serious and acceptable. There was a small twinge of regret as he watched Prince Raspen, in the midst of the group, somehow commanding the room, even though he'd barely set foot in it.

It would be a while before he'd see him again, mentored student or not. Death's timing was rarely ever beneficial to those who sought to make use of it.

"Oret!" Prince Raspen moved easily through the small group to approach Riven first. His hands were outstretched, but they were quickly dropped to his sides as he remembered himself—and their audience. "What just happened? We came as quickly as we could, but there were a few complications. The entire realm just-"

The room trembled and shuddered. The floor wobbled beneath them.

Charlie barely kept his balance, as Theo and Ethan supported each other. A faint green tinge touched Theo's features.

Riven couldn't answer. He had overstayed his welcome after all and with the sheer amount of magic he'd thrown around, it was no wonder that Nevarah was not happy with him. Or his meddling, no matter how well-intentioned.

Niko leaned out from behind Tavit, wrinkling her pert nose at the newcomers. She glanced up at Tavit, reaching up to rub at the furrow in his brow with small, pale fingers. "It's alright, it's alright, everything is alright," she chanted, softly.

"It's a bloody mess!" Lord Cunningham growled. "Hadrian!" He could move now and strode forward with purpose, his darkened gaze fixed solely on one wayward ACE.

Hadrian winced. He hastily schooled his features into something vaguely repentant, before ducking his head low enough for the expected headslap.

It didn't come.

Instead, Lord Cunningham caught him by the ear and gave a sharp twist, enough to draw a grimace.

"Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself? Mariana is going to burn you and that will be entirely on your own shoulders! I know you know better! There's recklessness and then there's that. You're always so busy being so self-sacrificing that you can't even see the traps you're walking right into? Three weeks is not enough time to find or retrieve Death's Hallows!" Lord Cunningham scowled.

Hadrian perked up, in spite of himself. "You know them?" He tried and failed to pull his ear free of his sponsor's grasp.

"I know of them," Lord Cunningham said, pained. "And they aren't things that you should be chasing around. There's no rumour that proves their existence either! It could easily be a folktale or-"

"Death's Hallows are not a mythical rumour," Tavit muttered. He leaned away from Niko's fluttering fingers, pulling her flush against him with an arm around her waist. He ignored her struggles to get free and instead, turned his irritation on Lord Cunningham. "They are as real as every other legendary weapon within this realm. Have you never considered that Nevarah's existence makes other non-existent things, real?"

"What's wrong with them?" Hadrian wanted to know. He stilled-reluctantly-when Lord Cunningham gave his ear another twist.

Tavit snorted. "Maybe you'd better worry about yourself instead of your impossible challenge, hm? There's nothing wrong with them, except for they were hard-won from Death and should have returned to Death upon the original holder's expirations, unfortunately, that never happened."

Hadrian made a soft growling sound in his throat, but knelt in deference. He did actually understand his current position and he liked his ear attached to his head. Lord Cunningham wasn't particularly cruel, but he wasn't above making a point, regardless of an audience or the methods required.

Lord Cunningham held him there for another moment, as if to make a point, before he released him, his dark eyes gleaming. He barked out a series of orders to the rest of his Circle, beckoning for Hadrian to follow. He wasn't about to stay within Aiden's court for another minute.

"Why can't they be retrieved?" Hadrian looked to Tavit. "Do you know?"

"What makes you think they can't be retrieved?" Tavit smirked. He patted Niko's hands, absently, the red in his eyes flaring ever so slightly.

"Because Death would've recalled them by now, if it were that easy," Niko sang. "Can we go, Tavit? Please? I don't want to be here. I don't want you to be here. Can't I please have what I want, this time?"

"Are you going to beg for it?"

"I can!"

"Can you?"

"Yes!" Niko smiled, prettily.

Tavit smirked. "Aren't you clever?" He drew Niko in front of him, still keeping her close by way of an arm around the waist. "We can go."

"Tavit-!" Riven protested.

But Tavit was tired of listening. He mere gave him a look. "This isn't my mess, so enjoy the clean up for once. I'll be somewhere you can't find me and with some scrap of luck, I won't have to see your ugly face again until you're dead."

"You don't always have to be so rude, Tavit," Riven said, wearily. "It's not their fault that they don't know what you do-"

"You're excused," Tavit said, darkly.

"Tavit-behave." Riven gathered himself together, taking stock of the room and the current players. "Anyone who does not need to be here-I suggest you leave. This is Death's court and you are not as welcome as I am." There was a note of sternness that was not to be ignored.

"Behave?" Tavit sputtered. "You're the one trampling all over-I'd prefer if you didn't call me for another couple of decades. Save your own neck for a change!"

Aiden growled. "You should listen to your own common sense. You've all overstayed your welcome here."

The room trembled.

Maia frowned, one hand keeping Harry in place, his head pillowed on her lap. Her eyes flashed white-bright-silver, before her wispy magic swirled into the room, brightening it just a touch. She floated Harry up and into mid-air, guiding him towards the rush of newcomers.

Prince Raspen hesitated in the doorway, clearly torn between wanting to go to Riven and doing his duty, as required, when Maia approached with a floating Harry in tow.

"Out into the hallway," Maia said, briskly. "You do not want to go in there right now. It is not—safe."

"Harry!" Theo, Charlie and Ethan all spoke as one, reaching out long before Harry was within arm's reach.

"Do let me set him down," Maia said, mildly. "I don't think he'd appreciate the drop from mid-air. He's had quite a rough ending to everything."

"Harry-!" Charlie pulled Harry out of mid-air and straight into his arms, easily adjusting to hold him securely. "What happened?"

Theo gave a short, jerky bow. "Thank you for taking care of him." he said, cautiously. His golden gaze flicked deeper into the room, but he held Ethan and Charlie back, crowding them into the hallway.

"What is it?" Ethan said, worming his way between Theo and Charlie to get a better look at Harry. He cast three diagnostic spells in rapid-succession and felt his heart drop at the readouts. "Oh, Harry."

"He's fine," Maia said, serenely. Her pipe floated in mid-air beside her. She plucked it out of mid-float with elegant, long fingers. "If you are not averse to my assistance, I would offer it. I am a certified Healer; I simply choose to make my living apart from that distinction. I have worked with Riven Cairothe and his father, for decades upon decades. Our elements are complementary to each other and our magics are-"

Ethan gave a formal bow. "Please accept my apology. I was the one who brought the Kalziks instead of you, honoured one. To my knowledge, Our Circle has no quarrel with yours. I was unaware that favours were exchanged between us. Please excuse the oversight. It was not meant as a deliberate slight to you and yours or your talents-"

Maia studied him for a long moment. "Why?"

"...Harry's been treated by the Kalziks before," Ethan said, flushing. "H-he responded well. I thought that perhaps-"

"It was a mistake," Theo said, smoothly. "Perhaps we could take this conversation elsewhere? I wouldn't want to trouble-anyone."

Charlie and Ethan flinched in tandem at Aiden's blood-red gaze fixed on them. "Definitely take it elsewhere," Charlie muttered. His brow furrowed, faintly. "Theo-wasn't the mark on-shouldn't we ask about Hermione?"

Theo hesitated. "We can't just ask him, Charlie."

"Ask what?" Ethan looked between them. "Who's Hermione?"

Theo bit back a hiss when Aiden blurred from the centre of the room, to the doorway.

A dark, dangerous aura emanated from from Aiden, filling the room with even more shadowed energy than before.

"Where did you hear that name?" Aiden demanded. His crimson eyes fluxed to the same, bottomless black as Death's. "And how do you know my consort? Answer quickly, if you wish to remain among the living!"

Ethan twitched, looking more worried by the second. "We know his consort?"

There were a handful of times in Theo's life where he'd wished for a brain-swapping spell. If only to give him enough cleverness to wrangle his way out of a difficult transition and then to return to his own brain, so that he could record the process and learn better for the next time.

Charlie's deliberate mention of Hermione was one such instance. He wished he'd been faster with the silencing spell, but the Hound had heard them anyway. Ethan's surprised exclamation hadn't helped either.

And neither had that silencing spell. Maybe he was losing his touch. No. There were simply too many other things to keep track of. Policing his Bonded was not a habit he wanted to cultivate. They needed to make their own mistakes and learn from them.

And he needed to let them.

Arielle. What a mess this was!

"I will not ask you again," Aiden said, darkly. There were soulless shades rising up behind him as he spoke, ready to do as they were bid.

Theo sighed. Loudly. As if put upon. "We know a Miss Hermione Granger," he said, calmly. "Because she is the schoolmate and best friend of my Submissive, one Harry Potter. We brought her with us to Nevarah after she was found unconscious and abandoned in the Forbidden Forest-"

"You brought her to Nevarah?" Aiden hissed. "I sent hounds for her! She bears my House Crest and belongs under my protection! She is not to be handled by the likes of-"

"Apparently not quick enough," Theo snapped, his temper getting the better of him. "We did nothing more than common courtesy. Seeing her through to Nevarah was harmless. She's our friend and-"

Aiden's growl rattled the walls. "You did nothing?" he snarled. "I found her in your Forbidden Forest and she was so close to Death's Door that-"

Theo bristled. He didn't like the implication from Aiden, Hellhound or not. Hermione Granger was a clever witch and one, that he was sure, would not have ever considered taking her own life.

Ethan bared his fangs, eyes fluxing from gold to a dark, rich brown. "We've come peaceably," he said, shoulders twitching as if his wings would like to make an appearance. "And I would have our conversation remain-"

A low rumble started in Aiden's chest. "Peaceably doesn't have you-"

"Aiden," Riven said, faintly. He slumped sideways, listing into Aiden's shoulder. "I-I can't stay much longer, the price-the magic-thank you-"

Aiden jerked to the side, belatedly reaching out to steady him, only for Ethan to step forward and catch Riven instead. "Cairothe-!"

Riven trembled. His eyes burned the same, bright violet, but grew steadily darker. His hands seemed to fade in and out of existence, as he gradually began to fade at the edges. "Too-unstable here," he said, through gritted teeth. "Sorry-about-everything. Needed clear-casting grounds. They're not-the enemy. They only-have-" Riven's eyes rolled up in his head.

"Oret!" Prince Raspen exclaimed. He reached for Riven, only to find his hands passing straight through the fading remnants in Ethan's arms. "Oret-wait-!"

Ethan shuddered. Holding Riven had been like trying to grasp an incomplete vortex. The sheer magic contained in a single being was mind-boggling. He could feel his own scales straining to tear free of his current form, to unleash the dragon within.

The wild magic that coursed through Riven's body was nothing more than lifeblood to him-and pure chaos to anyone else. Ethan swallowed hard, his hands slowly dropping back to his sides. The absence of so much magic left an unbelievable vacuum in the empty space in front of him.

"Riven!" Prince Raspen cried. "No-!"

Aiden was now exceptionally pale, his eyes even darker and bloodier than before. His lip curled, revealing gleaming, whitened fangs. "My court does not open to you, little prince," he snarled.

Prince Raspen bowed his head, eyes lowered as he backed away from the door. His expressions were schooled into something grim and bland. "I apologize for the intrusion, Lord Aiden. We came on behalf of Cairothe as the one he sought to help is the Submissive of these three-" he gestured to Theo, Charlie and Ethan.

Aiden's fiery gaze swept over all of them, before flicking into the distance where Maia and Charlie stood out of range in the hall. It lingered, briefly, on Harry's form, cradled in Charlie's arms.

"You have not seen her?" he asked, tightly.

Theo's brow furrowed. "The last we saw of her was right before you took her," he said, slowly. "That was at least-when?" He looked to Ethan, frowning. Ethan wouldn't know, because it was before his time. Where was Charlie when he needed him?

"Before me," Ethan said, helpfully. "Is she-I mean, is there-" he corrected. "Something wrong, Lord Aiden?"

Theo stiffened as an awful thought took root. "She is here with you, right?"

Charlie clutched Harry tighter to him, wishing he was out of the strange gloomy room and somewhere that they would be safe. Nothing about Lord Aiden's domain felt remotely safe. Theo was making excuses and Ethan looked shell-shocked, as if he hadn't seen that twist coming.

If he was honest, Charlie hadn't seen it either. He had a fairly decent idea that the Hound was short-tempered, given the minor interactions he'd seen only minutes before, but it seemed as if Theo was about to pass up a good opportunity and he couldn't let that happen.

Not when it was so easy to just speak up and try. There was never any harm in trying, at least, that's what his mother had always taught him. He didn't appreciate Theo's quick silencing spell-but he had to admit that he hadn't expected it.

Theo was quick, when he wanted to be and the spell was virtually undetectable. He squirmed for a minute, fighting the effect, until he could convince his flames to burn through the subtle scrap of magic.

They'd have to talk about that sometime. Maybe. He'd caught the wicked gleam of gold in Theo's eyes, right before his expression had shifted to that impeccable Slytherin-esque calm. It seemed there were some habits that wouldn't fade.

Maia eyes glowed a softer, silvery hue as she edged out of the room, beckoning to Charlie to join her. "Leave them be, they'll figure out what they must. This one needs to be in a warm bed, with warm bodies clustered around him." She feathered a hand through Harry's soft hair.

Charlie allowed himself to be guided away from the starting conversation. Even though he wanted to be there, he didn't want Harry there in the midst of it. Not unconscious and unable to listen proper or respond. There was no telling what kind of empathy feedback that might result in such close quarters as well.

He followed Maia out into the wide, open hall that stretched out in both directions. There were a few shadowed guards standing watch, but they paid no mind to Charlie or Maia. It didn't seem to matter that their swift arrival was already dissolving into a possible shouting match.

The rush to get to Aiden's section of Nevarah, then admitted to his courts, had taken a ridiculous amount of time. Charlie could've sworn that Tavit had insisted on it, because he knew how much time it would take, the bastard.

Theo's barely muted panic hadn't helped much at all. Or maybe it was Ethan's. It was hard to tell, given how close they'd been clustered together, talking over each other whenever needed. Prince Raspen's presence had helped, but not nearly as much as Charlie had hoped for.

He almost wished that Princess Ebony had come with them. There was simply something about her that made things happen and he'd be lying if he said the support wasn't welcome. Just to have another powerful dragel on their side-Harry's side-would've made him feel a lot better now. He joined Maia near the wall, within sight of the door.

A wispy healing spell twined around her free hand and leapt to Harry's unconscious form. "His vitals are fine," she reported. "He'll just be out for a while. That was an extremely exhausting ritual. He stayed awake for nearly all of it and did very well."

"Thank you," Charlie said, simply. He tightened his grip on his armful of Harry, worried blue eyes flickering to where Theo and Ethan stood shoulder-to-shoulder, answering Aiden's clipped, angry questions.

"They'll be fine," Maia said, mildly. "Don't worry from all the way over here. You'd only be in the way if you were there and you don't need this one to become a bargaining chip again." She patted Harry's head, absently.

"You don't know that-do you know that?" Charlie stared at her. He remembered Henry's introduction and the powerful magic he hadn't been able to ignore in the Kadel viewing box.

Maia gave a low, raspy chuckle. "What do you think?"

"I think Theo wanted to take you up on your offer-favour-about Harry."

"What about him?"

"In our-realm-he's part of a prophecy. It's not a very good one."

"Prophecies are seldom good," Maia agreed. Her rheumy gaze never left the arguing trio at the doorway. It was an amusing sight to her, considering who was now left in Aiden's domain.

Prince Raspen had retreated to side of the room, watching with worried eyes as Lord Cunningham dragged Hadrian off by the ear-ignoring the Gheyo's erstwhile protests.

Charlie's ragged ponytail burst into flames, the tie snapping open to let his fiery hair dance at his shoulders. "It names him as the chosen one and ends with-"

Maia tapped her empty pipe out into mid-air. "Do not tell me," she warned. "And do not give me information that I do not need to know. Just because something has more than one outcome does not mean that they must be favourable in one way or another. Sometimes the best path is the first path, no matter how dark and twisted it may be."

"It gave him an ultimatum!" Charlie's blue eyes flared with passion. "He's not that kind of wizard-dragel-person. He's suffered enough and he deserves the freedom to make his own choices-!"

"And yet," Maia said, darkly. "He will suffer some more. I do not control that, young one. I only observe and repeat my observations to those who ask to hear what I have seen. I can only tell you what is already set or what could be available, if all hearts and minds are open. It is not a guarantee and-"

"Anything but what they've conditioned him to bear would be acceptable," Charlie said, grimly. "Anything that doesn't demand that he be the sacrifice for a greater good."

There was an edge to her silver-gaze now, but Maia regarded him silently, before she began to puff on her pipe again. "Where are you staying?" she asked, abruptly. "You do not have your own place yet, correct? You were with Henry."

"We're staying with him until the Peverells Seal is removed," Charlie said, uncomfortably. "Though with Harry-"

"He's in no condition to have another Seal removed just yet," Maia said, tartly. "He'll have to sleep these off, then pull himself together before he can handle another one. Seal removals are serious rituals. They require a great deal of-"

"We don't have anywhere else to stay," Charlie interrupted. "We can't stay with the Deveraines because-" he hesitated.

Maia coughed, delicately. "The Deveraines are about as peaceable as the Cunninghams. Do not trip over your own words. I would say that his Earth affinity is rather strong, given that he has chosen an Earth Alpha and an Earth Pareya. Perhaps there is someone who might host you for the foreseeable future?"

Charlie hesitated. Their options were limited and he was now wishing he'd spent a little more time with Ebony, visiting the courts and trying to make new friends that might care enough to host them for a few days. Even if it might be too soon to use any of those connections. "Maybe Ethan's family," he said, uncertainly. "The Peverells were fine with-"

"They will not refuse you," Maia said, serenely. "You are bonded to their son. They will at least give you a roof over your head. Think in those terms and settle someplace that will give him stability. Wherever you are, I will come and visit you in three days when he is ready to wake." She tapped Harry's head. "Until then, try and keep yourselves out of trouble, hm?"

Her body wavered, growing more transparent by the second, until she was nothing more than a pale reflection of what she'd once been. There was a mischievous smirk on her face as she tipped her pipe to Charlie in farewell.

"Wait-!" Charlie cried.

But she winked out of existence without another word.

FRED - THE SAFEHOUSE (MARIANA AND CO.)

"We can stay here," Mariana said, inspecting the front room with a sharp eye. "If Wolfram doesn't mind, pair up however you like and be good guests." She frowned at the clock on the wall. "We're not moving until I have confirmation of what I want, so keep yourselves busy and out of my scales, hm?"

Her favourite Joker snorted. "Out of your scales? Not happening, darling." He hugged her from behind, his grip loose and cautious.

Mariana twitched, faintly. "I'll thank you to keep your hands to-"

"Mariana?" Wolfram appeared in the doorway, a stocky blond with spiky hair and spiked armour. "I didn't think that they were serious when they said you were passing through. What brings you to my corner of darkness?"

"The shadows talk as they ever do," Mariana grumbled. She swatted at her Joker's hands, but didn't bother trying to pry them off of her. "Do you have room? And would you mind a few Torvaks?"

"Torvaks?" Wolfram echoed. His curious eyes swept over the bedraggled group of captives standing uncertainly in the centre of the room, surrounded by Mariana's Bonded. "Ah. So that's what the magical spike was. Having fun again?"

"I'm always having fun-can't you tell?" The sarcasm in her voice did not match the unrepentant grin of her Gheyo Joker, still hanging on behind her.

"She had a lot of fun," he stage-whispered. "So much that we set an entire unplottable on fire. Pretty sure it was still burning when we left."

"We didn't set it on fire," Robere said. He nudged Fred along, until he was closer to the front of the group with the rest of them. "Their own kind set it on fire and then sat back to watch the show. If we didn't get them out of there, I don't think there would've been much left. They are lucky to be alive and I would appreciate it if you would have someone look them over?"

"We don't owe you anything!" Lady Amanda snarled. "We-!" She stilled when Lord Heron placed a hand on her arm, shaking his head. "It is the truth; Heron-we are never to be indebted to the likes of-"

"Amanda, please. We are alive for the moment." He laced his hand through hers, squeezing gently. "Please," he repeated.

Her face grew red and she looked away with a huff. She didn't pull her hand free, though her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You can all stay as long as you need to," Wolfram said, easily. There was laughter in his soft grey eyes as he gave a jerk of his head to the entryway leading into the home. "We won't hold it against you-much. Meals are included with the rooms. Same rate as usual."

"Same rate my foot," Mariana grumbled. "You've raised your bloody prices twice in the past year. You're bleeding me dry."

"Says the charming little she-devil that can afford it," Wolfram teased. "I'm sure your Alpha is still bending rules and reality to suit your whims. He won't mind the price increase."

"He minds that I forget to ask him for it," Mariana said, flatly. "Don't raise it until the next visit. Charge the same rate."

Wolfram laughed. "Alright, alright. Old rates for this visit only. It's doubled the next time you're passing through. I always have to clean the entire place from top to bottom when your lot leaves. There's always too much blood left."

"It's not my fault you don't ward the place properly."

"Who said anything about wards?" He shook his head. "The same rate applies to you as well." He nodded to the Torvaks. "It's clean enough that you will find your accommodations to be suitable for a night or two."

Lord Heron froze. "What's the catch?"

Wolfram shrugged. "I think you'll find that we only dislike your kind about half as much as you supposedly think we hate you. So as long as you aren't trying to actively cause harm, the manor will house you. It will create rooms, provide basic necessities and protect you from outside threats. If you were not worthy of such a privilege, you would not have been able enter at all."

"...why?" Lord Heron whispered. "Why would you even-?"

"Because we're not monsters," Wolfram said, simply. "We're dragons. We have limits. We have hearts. Now, if you don't mind, I was in the middle of dinner-"

"Actual dinner or your perfect little piece of fluff that you can't bear to be away from, for longer than five seconds?" Mariana deadpanned. "Don't even answer that. I don't want to know. Do you have a casting room open?"

"He's a delightful piece of fluff," Wolfram said, smirking. "And I enjoy him very much. There's the three rooms in the West Wing, if it's other-realm-y, I wouldn't use them. Try the North side."

"North's fine. West could work. Just settling a new Casper."

"A new Casper?" Wolfram brightened. "Congratulations-that is an excellent upgrade."

Mariana hesitated. "He was a very dear friend. I wish it were any other soul than his."

"Ah. We all have those," Wolfram said, knowingly. "Come in, come in-this way, all of you. I see you have some children?"

"Not mine, obviously!" Mariana snapped. "They're all-Torvak." Her gaze flickered to Robere and Pyro. "And if they aren't, we'll find out soon enough."

Food? Scout sidled up beside Mariana, a beseeching look on her face. Something tasty? Snacks too, please?

"...and dinner," Mariana said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Would you please find something suitable for them to eat tonight?"

Wolfram snickered. "Don't we always take good care of you?" He led them through the hallways, pausing to beckon to a few of his Pareya. He rattled off a series of orders in rapid fire, then waited to give them a head start.

Fred shuffled forward, trying not to shy away from Robere's hand. There was something about the older man that made him uneasy, as if he'd been judged and found woefully lacking in his right to exist.

Robere's magic was rich and tempting in a way that Fred had never experienced before. It was completely different from Dumbledore's stifling aura and even Cedrella's overpowering energy when he'd finally felt it.

It was powerful in the way it lurked beneath the surface, tempered grace and gravity simmering as if it could erupt at any moment.

Like a fire, burning endlessly, but with a purpose behind the flames.

"Stop thinking so loud," Robere muttered. "You'll give yourself a headache." His big hand came to rest atop Fred's head. "Your family will be fine. Nevarah will take care of them and they'll be entering under our admittance. They'll be fine."

Fred made a noise of disagreement in his throat. He was reasonably sure that his family would be alright-somehow-they were Weasleys, after all and there was something about a Weasley that simply worked.

He was more worried about George, the most noticeable half of him and the fact that they'd never been apart this long.

Never.

Even when they'd had a few brief splits, thanks to things out of their own control, he'd always been able to feel him. A strange sort of twin-sensing bond. This was different.

It was a dark emptiness that refused to be quenched and seemed to have grown in leaps and bounds, since the dragels had shown up and dragged them all away from Weasley Manor. He missed George more than the normality that he'd left behind.

George was the one to temper his wilder, crazier ideas. The slightly more rational version of himself that helped to keep them together.

Robere ruffled Fred's hair, tugging gently on the red locks. "Still thinking too loud," he murmured. "Stop doing that to yourself, hm?"

Fred bit back an irrational growl. To stop thinking was to stop breathing in this point. He didn't have a chance to argue though, because the narrow hall opened up into another set of large, sitting rooms with plenty of comfortable furniture and ambient lighting.

There were overstuffed chairs and lounges, plush rugs on the floors, corner fireplaces and low, wooden tables, anchored to the floor. Bowls of fruit were on each table and a golden tray with glass pitchers and matching glasses.

"Make yourselves at home," Wolfram said, grandly. "The Pareya will take you to your rooms when you're ready. You're expected to show your face at mealtimes, regardless of whether you eat or not-"

"To make sure we're still alive?" Lady Amanda said, bitterly. "So we're just privileged prisoners?"

"To make sure the rooms haven't eaten you," Robere said, wickedly. "The house is alive, you know. It's a crossroads inn. It exists because it's both alive and dead."

"Don't scare them," Pyro said, flatly. "And don't interrupt, it's rude." He tugged Robere out of Mariana's line of sight.

"If you understand your situation, then you won't ask pointless questions. You'll be held until some sort of verdict is handed down from the Inter-realm courts," Mariana said, coolly. "If you'd actually used your empty-headed brain to pay attention for a minute, you'd know that I submitted your particular offense to the Inter-Realm Courts and requested a Rite of Consequence."

Lord Heron paled. "You went through the Inter-Realm Court?" he asked, faintly. "They aren't-they wouldn't-"

"They listened. We play nicely enough by their rules. There isn't a problem-for us." Mariana's scowl grew. "You might find it useful to think about whether you have any useful information worth bargaining for. It might be the difference between exile to Arcalea or something less-horrifying."

"You can't just treat us like criminals and-!" Lady Amanda burst out.

Mariana snorted. "You are criminals. Placing a hunting beacon on an underage dragel's primary residence without any formal warning or notice of intent to any extended next of kin is no ordinary crime. It's not a harmless prank. It's a death sentence, plain and simple."

"We didn't-!" Lady Amanda sputtered. "There's no way you can prove that!"

"I don't know. I could try, though I don't know why I'd be bothered. Destroying his family and home in trying to erase him-also a crime. That's close enough to a similar consequence. I just need one offense to register. There's also the death of Maurice Elswood, unless you're saying that was just an unfortunate side effect? You have multiple deaths on your hands. If you don't like the blood on them, perhaps you should try keeping your nose out of dragel business."

"You can't do this!" Lady Amanda tried again. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, her hands fisted at her sides. She quivered, faintly. "We didn't-we weren't-"

"Standing by complacently still makes you guilty," Pyro said, lazily. "And quite frankly, I don't care if you threw the spell that killed him or held your tongue when your kind went to hunt a child. You didn't speak up. You didn't protest then. What's different now?" He shook his head.

"Alright then," Mariana said, pleasantly. "So if you'd sent, say-a scout or something-and they reported back to you that there were no dragels, just a family with two children. Then what?"

"The beacon wouldn't have taken if they weren't-if there weren't any dragels inside," Lord Heron said, faintly. "It's the magic, it's not-"

"So you'd blame the magic and not the intent behind? Hypocrite. Someone had to cast that spell, to see if it would take. Someone had to decide that it was alright to cast it anyway. Someone had to authorize that the lives of two children were no longer important. Because that's how they would've appeared to you."

"A child that's over ten and not into their inheritance?" Lady Amanda scoffed. "That is no child!"

"A youngling that has not come into any inheritance is a child," Mariana shot back. "They are helpless and incapable of protecting themselves against the kinds of threats that an adult could handle with ease. They are helpless because they do not know how to help themselves. They are incapable of protecting themselves because they cannot access the magic to do so!"

Lady Amanda grew red in the face. "That's not-there's no way that you could-you can't-"

"Tell me something, do your own children immediately grow into their inheritance? Like clockwork, they're perfectly as they're supposed to be with no variances whatsoever-ah, wait. That's right. Your kind don't come into that. They're born exhibiting their powers and continue to grow and learn about them, until they are of age to take an oath of loyalty."

"How do you know that?" Lord Heron cried. His face paled. "Cedrella-that traitorous woman!"

"She did a thankless job with admirable dedication to the role that was given to her," Mariana said, icily. "Though I would wonder if you spent less time training your children, if you'd perhaps feel a little more heart for them. We treasure ours because they are treasures. Not weapons. Not tools. Not predisposed to be anything other than what they are."

"Then you're just as hypocritical as-"

"I didn't say we were perfect," Mariana said, mildly. "I just said that we didn't force them to grow up or chose their life path without allowing them the time and space to grow into their own selves." She cracked her knuckles. "Which brings me to the next problem. If you say that it wasn't you, then should I assume that you know who did?"

"You can assume all you like!" Lady Amanda spat. "It won't do you any better than-!"

"It was ordered by one of our Elders," Lord Heron said, quietly. He reached out to put a hand on his wife's arm, a sharp Look prompting her to swallow her next words. "That is all we know."

"One of your Elders?" Mariana repeated. "Of course. Convenient. Should I bother to ask which one?"

"You could bother," Lord Heron said, carefully. "But I have never met him and I have no way of properly tracing his identity or-"

"Is the magic traceable?" Mariana said, over her shoulder.

Pyro snorted. He had Robere in a headlock and was currently enjoying the payback. "Anything's traceable. We have Scout."

A wicked smirk crept onto her face. "I know," Mariana said, lightly. "I know. Just checking. We always have Scout and she is very good at what she does. You know, Pyro, I think some morning exercise might put me in better humours for the rest of this wretched trip."

Pyro grinned, fangs gleaming. "I assure you, we are as eager as can be." He released Robere, dodging closer to Mariana.

Lord Heron paled. "W-what are you saying?"

"You showed us how well you hunt," she said, carelessly. "Now we'll return the favour."

Lady Amanda made a distressed sound in her throat. A conflicted expression was on her face. "We weren't hunting—children." She spat. "We weren't!"

Lord Heron gathered her into his arms, rubbing her back in soothing motions. He didn't dare say anything else to that, because even if it hadn't been their intent, something terrible had happened.

Pyro's hair burst into flame, eyes gleaming orange. "Milady, can we-?" he gestured to Ignean.

"Take it outside," Mariana said. "You know how to work it out of your system. The rest of you disperse. Wolfram?"

Wolfram whistled.

Four Pareya appeared in the doorway, distinguished by the round, teal badges pinned to their shoulders.

"Would you please host?" Wolfram gestured to the room at large. "I am sure you know to play nicely with each other. Please see to our guests every comfort. Mariana?"

"With you," she said, wearily. "There's more to it than just a beacon."

"This way." He waved her forward as the Pareya stepped in to take over.

"So, question-" Robere said, pocketing the room key. "How long has your magic been leaking out like that?"

Fred stared. "...what?"

"I pulled you away from the others for a reason." Robere crossed the room to inspect the bath. "Your magic's been fighting itself for some time now. It keeps trying to bleed out of you. I'd take a wild guess, but it'd be easier if you just felt like sharing the important bits, so we can get it taken care of right away."

"It's-not," Fred tried. The words lodged in his throat. His hands fluttered at his sides. He was overcome by the sudden, desperate feeling that there was something much larger changing inside of him, than there had been before. "There isn't-!"

"That would be an, 'I don't know' then." He turned on the taps, charming them with childproofing spellwork and checking for pranks. Wolfram's Circle was fairly straight forward, but his Gheyos could be-unusual.

He also didn't need Fred to freak out any more than necessary, considering that it would take some interesting spellwork to remedy his current situation.

"I've been helped by enough of you to know that I don't need anymore help," Fred said, evenly.

"Oh?" Robere said, interested. "That sounds like there's a story in there somewhere. Save it for later though. Bath or shower? I'm guessing the smoke won't bother you, but the water would. There's towels in the cupboard and spare clothes under the sink. Find something that fits."

Fred scowled.

"Now," he added, when Fred didn't move. "I'm not your babysitter, so try and keep up, hm?"

"Just my warden?" Fred couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Robere frowned. "We could play captive and prisoner," he said, lightly. "But you're still a kid and I'd hate to break you. If you're looking for gentleness, that would be Ignean. I am not, nor have I ever been, inclined to temper myself in that way. He does it out of sheer necessity. Now, move-before I help you with that."

There was an underlying edge to the way that he spoke and in spite of himself, Fred obeyed. He slipped inside the bath, locking the door behind him. It took all of a minute to realize what Robere had done to the bathroom.

He couldn't escape-or inadvertently hurt himself. Childproofing spells? He thought, disgusted with himself. He knew a couple of the spells, his Mum had used them for Ginny and Ron, after all. Things to keep from accidentally ending up in bad situations.

Ten minutes later, he still couldn't break any of the spells-or the ward across the door that kept him in the bathroom and therefore, unable to sneak out through the bedroom.

Robere's words were troubling, because it explained something and nothing. He had no idea what Juniper had done, just that things had hurt and George left with her. His magic was fine, there was nothing wrong with it-Fred nearly choked when his hair burst into flame.

Oh Merlin!

That was not a side-effect that was supposed to happen.

A hasty swipe of his hands proved two things-one, it was real fire and two, it really hurt. He spun the taps open, sticking his throbbing hands under the icy water.

What was that-argh-it's still flaming!? Fred pressed his lips together to keep his growing panic contained. This was nothing like the explanations he'd seen from his Father or Grandfather on what to expect for his Torvak Fire and Ice.

His jumbled thoughts skittered to a halt. His hair was on fire-but it wasn't burning him. At least, it wasn't burning his head, neck or shoulders. Except for his aching hands, the fire was-harmless.

Fred hesitated.

Panic returned when he saw the flames rise and grow, stretching up another foot taller than his own height. The flames spread across his shoulders and down his body.

He didn't need any further encouragement to all but dive to the tub. The sound of sizzling flames built to a roar in his ears, as he submerged himself. His body felt as if it were still on fire.

When he had to breathe again, he sat up sputtering and trembling to the horrifying truth that the flames were still there.

Still. There.

Every part of him that was above the water, was on fire. Flames that went from a normal, expected red, to a darker, disturbing red. Blood red. Burgundy red.

And Fred didn't wait to see what other colours would come. He ducked under the water again, even as an unexpected shudder raced through him. The irrational fear was muted, almost as if it had come from George.

George's fear, George's panic. Not his.

Fred gripped the edge of the tub, trying to stay underwater long enough to get the flames out. His hands were tentatively flickering, but not quite flaming like the rest of him had been a few moments before.

The tub groaned and he dared to look where his hands were melting through the sides.

No-no-nononono-!

MARIANA AND MAURY, WOLFRAM'S CROSSROAD INN

Mariana watched Wolfram disappear through the door of his private study, leaving her alone for a few blessed minutes. He was hovering-one of the reasons she'd never considered him as a potential Alpha when she'd been Hunting-but that was neither here nor there.

She could feel eyes on her—a familiar glance and presence. An old friend that made her heart ache in soft, stuttering beats.

"Maury, you old bastard-I swear, if you're just creeping around this room and-"

And then there he was, materializing in front of her in the glorious blue-white wisps of a new Casper. His expression was mildly regretful, but mostly concerned.

For her.

"Mariana," he murmured, stretching out a hand to her. He couldn't be semi-corporeal, unless she wanted him to be.

"Idiot," she muttered, leaning into the ghostly hand that cupped her cheek. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

He laughed, softly, in the way he always did when she seemed to be asking the obvious questions and he was trying not to offend by giving the obvious answer. "Thank you for the Souls," he said, instead.

"You could tell?" Her eyes narrowed. "You'd better be grateful."

"I am. Always am, where your generosity is concerned," he said, lips twitching. "Only you could garner fresh souls on such short notice-perfectly intact, mind you."

Mariana huffed. "No thanks to you. I wouldn't have had to find them, if you hadn't gone and-" she stopped, taking a deep breath.

"...I'm sorry."

"We were supposed to go together," she said, pained. "All of us. Both of our Circles. No one left behind. Wasn't that what we agreed on?"

Maury wavered, his Caspered self paling to nearly translucent. He floated out of striking range, a habit he'd never quite outgrown when it came to Gheyos that could skewer him with a single blow.

"We did," he said, softly. "Until Ryu had to be stupid and die first."

Mariana's dark eyes shimmered. "He was always stubborn like that. Trying to keep you from stubbing your toe."

Maury laughed. "No worse than yours. He just tries to worry about you from a distance. He manages because you're not there to hear his complaints when you stay away too long. What are you doing here? What's happened?"

"A great many things," she said, quietly. She hiked herself up to sit on the edge of Wolfram's over-sized desk. "I'm happy to catch you up, but I doubt you can stay like that for long. Don't you need to conserve your energy?"

He grimaced. "I came to ask a favour."

She shrugged.

"You know my mentored student?"

"I won't be mentoring him. I don't care what you say or-"

"I wouldn't ask that of you," Maury said, fighting a smile. "I wouldn't do that to either of you. He needs something-kinder."

Mariana snorted. "What, then?"

"Would you keep this for me?" Maury glowed a faint yellow-green instead of a blue-white. "Harry doesn't know how to fight yet. He might need it. Just not now. Keep it for me. Pass it onto him, if you can't."

"He doesn't look like the sword-wielding type."

"Everyone learns," Maury said, grimly. "Whether they want to or not. Life has a way of doing that to you. Carving sharp edges out of smooth corners and sanding sharpness into harmless curves. He'll learn, if he has to. He might not have to."

"So you just want me to babysit it?"

"No," Maury said, slowly. "There's a chance he's better off with his magic instead of a blade in hand, and banking on that, I want you to keep it. It was always going to go to you first, if I made a stupid mistake."

She started, faintly. "Maurice, you don't owe me for-"

"We've never had debts between us, because that's simply who we were to each other, but Mariana, you've been more than a friend and it would honour me, if you would accept."

"...it's not a repayment."

"Of course."

"I won't give it to him."

"That's fine."

"Maurice!"

"Thank you for being my friend."

"...you're going to ask for something unreasonable, aren't you?"

He smiled, sadly. "Would you release me when the time comes?"

Mariana twitched. "As you wish."

QUINN : KALZIK HOME : (Bedroom)

His Medi-Kit sat on the bed, innocent and untouched.

Quinn paced the length of the room once more, before trying to settle down. He had no peace of mind to stay within the house. Something in the back of his mind kept bothering him, reminding him that there were loose ends he hadn't taken care of. It was hard to decide what and where, but he had to give it some thought.

His parents had left the house in a hurry, tagged to an official portal. He had briefly heard the name Hartwood and immediately dismissed it, as it wasn't the one he was looking for.

And what are you looking for? He thought, darkly. The obvious answer was Harry, but the reason behind it was more complicated. He'd asked Harry to consider visiting their home for an official consultation and transference of medical responsibilities in light of no longer working under Matron Olivia's Clinic.

As to whether they'd take him up on that, he didn't know. Harry might, but he was also new to everything else. Theo seemed to be handling the brunt of everything. Even Charlie was only a little bit of help. They were trying, the best that they knew how, but it didn't seem like enough. They needed someone else in their ranks. Someone that would be able to help and mediate at the same time.

Someone who was content to stand between ranks, without getting too caught up in the gaps and a potentially slow hunt.

Could I do that? He wondered. The thought was promising, but also troubling. Even though he'd shared his story with Harry, he wasn't sure if the actual weight of it had registered.

He'd yet to meet anyone that wanted a stripped-rank within their Circle. Especially not an Alpha-turned-Healer. The Kalzik name only carried so much power now and it was diminished, thanks to his flash fire temper. He couldn't help the occasional Alpha-ingrained responses or reactions, even if he no longer meant them the way he once had.

Theo was calm and collected, but he didn't strike Quinn as the kind of Alpha that would take kindly to having his authority overstepped. Or even marginally threatened. There was a hidden undercurrent of power and dark strength that had lurked beneath the surface when he'd first met them at the clinic.

Of course, he'd been so worried about Harry and then the seals, that he'd only halfway focused on their dynamic, until he'd realized the necessity of a Soul Cast. He'd looked into Theo's soul and only seen the good things there. Very good things.

And that had hurt.

He'd thought—briefly—that maybe, it would've been a lovely thing to have Harry for his own. But his own shortcomings had resurfaced to remind him that even considering such a thing was no longer an option. Bharin's frustrations on his lack of self-care had certainly started a new thread of contention as well.

It wasn't that he thought his life was forfeit or worthless. It was just that the thought of losing a patient—however old or young—was unbearable. To be the final line of defence for them and to fail so miserably. He hated it.

Still not strong enough. Still not calm enough.

Quinn eased down to sit on the floor, leaning against the bed, his head tipped up to the ceiling. He'd tried not to mope all day, but meditating wasn't helping. He didn't want to disturb his parents, after all, it wasn't often that the entire Kalzik triad was together in the past year or so.

It was important for them to spend time together. He could already feel the rising harmony in their home, simply because they were all back together—and with each other. They'd make time for him, if he asked, but he wasn't desperate. Besides, they'd raised him well enough to figure out his own problems.

They'd been split apart, taking care of important patients and serving their time within the Kalzik Clan's ranks. Every Healer had their responsibilities, after all, as per their sworn Oaths. He was only excused, because he had yet to be properly certified. It had once seemed like his reason for being.

Now, it was—different.

The thought of being a Healer was definitely still appealing, but the arrogance that he'd come to it with, had now vanished. As if someone had reached inside of him and removed the core of his true purpose and left it empty. He was going through the motions. Helping patients and bonding with them in a way that only a truly vested Healer could.

A sort of penance.

Before everything had gone so wrong, he'd once shunned them. The kinds who lived in the darkness and dabbled with less-than-acceptable dragel practices. He'd wanted to keep his claws clean.

He hadn't seen how he was hurting them.

How he'd hurt others.

Dyshoka…

Her face flashed before his eyes, the memory of that day stained at the corners. He could still see her stricken expression, hearing her frantic screams echoing in his ears, before he realized that his voice was no longer there. That he couldn't answer her, no matter how hard he tried.

Quinn took a shuddering breath. He'd tried to avoid thinking of that memory all day, but now, alone, in his room, it came back to haunt him. He buried his face in his arms, drawing his knees up to his chest. The knowledge that he'd hurt her so deeply was the thing that bothered him the most.

He'd eventually tried to apologize, but Dyshoka was just like him, sometimes. She had her own pride and dignity. She'd never allowed him to speak anything remotely like an apology. Even all these years later.

His heart throbbed, the ache growing deeper and more worrisome. It'd become rather persistent this year, as if the Hunt itself had triggered it. Quinn pressed one hand flat against it, resisting the urge to dig his claws into his own scales. He'd felt this phantom ache before and it hadn't done him any good to acknowledge it.

There was nothing attached to it. Everything was simply, empty. Hollow. As if his heart had been carved out, emptied and then replaced with a shrivelled up husk of something. A low, pained whine filled the room, as he gritted his fangs against the incoming wave of pain.

It hadn't hurt this bad before. He dug his half-clawed hands into skin-turned-scale, willing it to dull the pain just a little. The hopelessness that coursed through his veins reminded him that not every wrong was righted. And not every hurtful incident was forgiven.

"Quinn?"

He started, violently.

And there she was, standing in the doorway, looking as if she'd just run all the way there. In a flurry of soft, flowing scarves and robes, Dyshoka swirled to a stop just inside of his room. There was something indescribable in her shimmering golden gaze as she stared at him for a long, silent moment.

He opened his mouth, the apology on the tip of his tongue, before the rest of his memories caught up to him. His breath hitched, hot, angry tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't even try to explain—properly—to the one person who truly deserved his honesty, belated as it was.

And somehow, she knew.

"Oh Quinn," she breathed. Dyshoka took three steps forward, before she folded down to the floor, her arms extended.

He didn't even try to fight the hug. Just listed forward until her arms wrapped tightly around him, her chin digging into the top of his head. He cried, hiding his face in the bright dupatta that half-trailed over him. He'd thought of finding her or maybe Bharin, but everything had hurt too much to move.

"It's alright," she whispered. "It's alright. You're fine. Whatever it is, you're fine."

He shook his head, a hiccup escaping. Even if that was what she said, he couldn't accept that. He'd ruined more than just her future—Kyle's too. Perhaps she'd never allowed an apology, because forgiveness was too hard to force. He took a shaky breath, willing the darker thoughts to leave him alone.

Thinking himself in circles wouldn't help anyone. He'd tried hard enough to reason his way through this mess before. The end result was just emotional exhaustion and tired eyes. Now was no different. He tugged on her sleeve, carefully, a prompt to ask what she'd come for.

"Stubborn," she scolded, softly. "So stubborn. You forget that I can see you." She hugged him tightly, her magic washing over him.

He couldn't refuse the mental connection, because it slipped so easily and gently underneath his aching defences. No matter what had happened, he still held her in the same, treasured space as he always had. Not as stubborn as you…

"I—saw something," she said, carefully. "So I came."

Can you talk about it?

"A little." She patted his head, stroking her hands through his soft hair.

Mama and everyone were called away. A Hartwood came to request help. Sounded like an emergency.

"A Hartwood?" Dyshoka allowed him to sit up, a slight crease on her forehead. "Which one of them?"

Quinn shrugged. Didn't see them. Just heard that they'd come. I was meditating.

Dyshoka perked a brow.

Trying to mediate. He corrected. It sounded kind of important, but I don't think it was too serious.

"Probably isn't," she said, slowly. "Probably."

Did you need them? He tried to focus, to concentrate, for her sake. Is it something I can help with?

She smiled then, the expression vaguely soothing as she patted his head. "Not really. I was actually coming to see where you were. I didn't think you were home."

…where would I be?

Dyshoka shrugged. "I don't know. With Harry?"

Quinn froze. What's wrong with Harry?

"If you don't know, I really wouldn't know," Dyshoka said, chewing on her lower lip. "I can't really say, because it wasn't clear and I don't know if saying anything about it would change—a better outcome. The others—well, I'm sure you can guess why I'm here. I thought I'd better come and see you—Quinn? Quinn!"

He hunched forward over himself, straining towards the floor. An emptiness that hadn't been so pronounced, now made itself known. It was immediately followed by a barrage of emotions that he couldn't even begin to sort through.

Fear. Delight. Relief. Hope. Sadness. Anger. More Fear.

And then it all cycled through him all over again. Emotions. Quinn gritted his fangs, digging his half-clawed hands into his arms. Coherent thought was still there, but quickly fading. He was falling straight into the emotional storm that had somehow blossomed in his chest and now, decided to self-destruct right there. Everything he'd kept so tightly buried for the past ten years.

It was too painful. Too obvious. Too—! Quinn jerked around to stare at Dyshoka with horrified eyes.

Her own expression mirrored nothing but sorrow and a thin sliver of helplessness. "I'm sorry," she whispered, twisting the bonding bracelet on her wrist with anxious fingers. She was edging away now, poised to run, before he could try and call her out for it.

Even though he knew of her visions and the way her futuresight could work, it still cut deep to read between the lines. She'd come to nudge him forward into some sort of action, to prevent a horrible future path from fully materializing. He'd never know what it was, because voicing it aloud would invalidate the entire possibilities. Her interference was limited—in the extreme sense of limitations, proof having been in the way she'd prodded him to urge Dahlia forward, unable to do so herself.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, inching further away. "I just want you to be happy, Quinn, alright?"

What did you do?

"Just be happy, alright? Give it a chance. Give it all the time in the world. You deserve to have a little bit of happiness. Even if you don't think you do, I know better. So for once, just listen to me and go." She wavered, in the doorway.

Go where? Do what? Dyshoka! He tried to stand, but her aura was thick and stifling in a way he'd never known it to be. There was something desperate in her magic, a sensation he'd never experienced before. As if turning every single bit of awareness into a magnifying glass that made it too hard to ignore. She was trying to get him to do something.

And she couldn't tell him anything more than she'd already said.

I need a hint!

"Follow your heart."

I don't have one anymore!

"Of course you do. Just because you've hidden it, doesn't mean it shrivelled up and died. This is all I can do for you now. Please, don't waste it." Her eyes flared from gold to a bright, brilliant green. "Don't ask me about this. Please. Just—go."

Quinn flinched from the brilliant spell, but it was too late to stop her. By the time he could see again, spots danced in front of his eyes and the bedroom was empty. Dyshoka had left, taking her answers with her. He rubbed at his chest, biting clear through his lip, uncaring of the healing sting. She'd casually reached inside of him and undone the very thing he'd tried so carefully to keep locked away.

The doors to the hardened lump of nothing that had once been his heart. Oh, it had slowly repaired itself through the years. Gradually building up to something soft, tender and needy.

Something he could do better without. Dyshoka's words were true and so they did hurt—a little. But she had made the point he hadn't dared to think too deeply about. He did have a heart. And if he was to actually follow it, then he'd know where the source of that strange heartache was coming from. He could trace it back to that soft, barely-there whisper of magic.

To the green-eyed Submissive with his heart in his eyes and his battered soul tightly clutched in his hands. The expressive face and reluctant acceptance that had morphed into genuine trust. To the Empath with more power in his emotions than he knew. Harry.

Just Harry.

Quinn choked. Whatever was happening, he couldn't begin to piece it together properly in his head. He had to start moving now. Had to find him, wherever he was. Had to make sure everything was alright. Because right now, nothing was right.

There was something wrong—specifically, something wrong with Harry.

DYSHOKA : KALZIK ESTATE, MAIN GATE

Dyshoka materialized at the gate of the Kalzik Estate. She hugged her arms to herself, her emotions and magic twisted up together in a large knot. Pacing would've helped, but she didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than she already had.

Visiting Quinn had been inevitable. She hadn't meant to say as much as she had, but maybe it was best for him to be aware that there were forces moving behind the scenes. Things that he should've paid attention to from the start.

She'd never thought he was particularly dense, though after he'd given up his rank, she'd had to reevaluate that notion. There were times when he'd do things that made absolutely no sense at all.

Times like now.

He'd spent the majority of the day in meditation, trying to calm the yearnings of his own heart. The very same sort of situation she'd seen play out in front of Dahlia and Shayla. Two hearts and souls that wanted each other, desperately and yet, refused to allow themselves such luxury.

She'd actually wanted to speak to her mother about it. Surajini had more influence in Quinn's habits and a nudge in the right direction certainly would go a long way in smoothing things over.

Except for the house was empty and even the Pareya were gone. She'd decided against tracing their whereabouts and instead, had settled in to wait, before she'd felt Quinn's presence.

Against her better judgment, she'd gone to him. His wounded heart had tugged on her sisterly instincts and she'd been unable to help stepping in to be there for him. It was only her unsettled magic that had warned her to leave.

Her parents were returning home. She could see it, clearly, in her mind's eye and that was enough motivation to leave. She needed to see them before they got to Quinn. Before they did anything else.

A portal unraveled in the distance, energy sparking along the ground and traveling up to the Estate's main gate. She could see them stepping out from the portal along with their Bonded.

Dyshoka shivered the moment they were within view. She could sense their agitated magic, even from this distance. A disturbed Earth elemental was not the least bit subtle, after all.

She waited until they were close enough to see her, before she stepped out from the shadows of the Main Gate.

Surajini spotted her at once. "Dyshoka?" Her delicate brows furrowed together. "What's happened—oh."

"Surajini?" Hiram looked from her to the gate and stilled, upon spotting Dyshoka. "Jini?"

"Give her a minute," Patrick said, catching his arm. "Let them talk." He nudged Surajini forward, and gave a slight shake of his head to the waiting Pareya behind him. "Give them a minute."

"Something's wrong," Lachman said, slowly. "It feels like Quinn."

"Quinn?" Patrick frowned. He shifted, uncertainly. "He feels fine."

"He blocks most of his feedback to you, because he doesn't want you to worry," Hiram said, calmly. "He's unsettled, but he should be fine."

Patrick scowled. "We talked about that."

"And you're hardly home to enforce it. I told you that you were staying away for too long."

"I didn't have a choice, Hiram!"

"Shh. I know," Hiram soothed. He pulled Patrick closer to him with an arm around the waist. "It's fine. Just give them a minute. You know they have something special between them."

Patrick's expression grew pained. "I know it," he said, softly. "And I acknowledge it, but that doesn't mean that I have to understand that-"

"Did you feel that?" Lachman stumbled. "It feels like—" his words trailed off in a hiss.

"The Hound," said Hiram, darkly. "It would seem that they've reached the Hound's Court."

The evening sky grew even darker. The protective shield over Nevarah seemed to morph and twist in agony. Shadowed faces fluxed in and out of the strange, magical shield. A horrible vision to those below.

Dyshoka gave a cry and huddled in her mother's arms.

Surajini held her tightly, her worried eyes cast to the sky. "Come inside, quickly," she called out. "It isn't safe to linger like this."

"Quinn," Dyshoka murmured, her voice barely audible. "You have to listen to him, Mama. Don't let him pass this up. It's important."

"Sweetheart, I can't control what your brother-"

"No!" Dyshoka said, firmly. "You have to make him go. Don't let him stay here. If he stays here and the time passes, something awful will-"

"Inside!" Hiram said, sternly. He pulled sharply on his bonds, guiding the two women inside the Estate and holding the gate open for the rest to enter. They'd opted to return outside of the Estate's confines, just in case any stray Shadow or Death magic had clung to them.

The stinging kiss of the protective magic over their own estate, was uncomfortable, but welcome. It meant that nothing unnecessary could follow them inside.

"Ward it," Patrick said, tightly. "Lachman?"

"I'll cast, you anchor," Lachman said, easily. He waved to his fellow Pareya to circle up around them.

Surajini watched them raise a new layer of protection within her ancestral home. She hugged Dyshoka, rubbing gently along her arms. "You're freezing," she murmured.

"I have to go," Dyshoka said, pulling away.

"But-"

"You know I can't stay, Mama. Please don't ask me to."

"I would never," Surajini said, sadly. "I know your own fate is no better than mine."

"Quinn," Dyshoka reminded. "Talk to him." She glanced back at the house, dark and gloomy. "And turn on some lights."

"Lachman usually does that," Surajini said. "Go, if you must. Please come and visit when you've settled. We've got to see about your Bonding Ceremony. Something pretty and colorful."

Dyshoka grimaced. "Mama, don't. I think Shayla would want to-"

"It'll give me something to do and besides, it's been ages since we've had anything to celebrate."

"Mama-!"

Quinn clattered down the stairs and into the main family room, surprised to find that his parents had actually returned. He'd felt a spike of energy within the house and had come to investigate.

Things were too quiet and that hadn't felt right.

Surajini, Patrick and Hiram were clustered together around the indoor fire pit in the center of the room. They were leaning on each other, speaking in low, worried tones. Patrick was the first one to spot him and he brightened at once.

"Quinn! Is everything alright? You look-"

Quinn frowned, pressing his mental reach to touch each of them in turn. Papa—has something happened? Dyshoka was just here and she was upset about-

"Ethan Hartwood is Bonded to Harry as his first Pareya," Surajini said, bluntly. Her eyes were green-gold now, as she regarded her youngest son.

"Surajini!" Patrick's eyes narrowed. He would've phrased it differently, but to his surprise, Quinn's teal eyes only burned brighter. "Quinn?"

That's—good. He needed a Pareya or two. The Hartwoods are good people. A little boring, but good at heart. Is Harry alright?

"Harry's—in the middle of a difficult situation," Patrick said, carefully. "He's in good hands and Prince Raspen is overseeing the-"

How difficult?

Surajini sighed, beckoning for Quinn to join them in the room. She held out a hand, waiting for him to take it. "Harry's seals are coming off," she said, moving to sit on the long, overstuffed lounge. "He's fine."

You wouldn't be telling me he's fine, unless there was something to worry about. Mama, what's going on?

"Riven Cairothe is involved," Hiram said, heavily. "I don't know how exactly this all started, because there wasn't much time for talking. You know Harry had a Death Seal, right?"

At those words, Quinn grew rather pale. He listed forward, caught by Surajini's motherly embrace. His shoulders quivered faintly. He had more than just Death Seals. I couldn't really touch much of them. I wasn't sure what he could handle and whether I'd make things worse.

"Harry's stronger than you give him credit for," Surajini said, simply. "And he's also going to be struggling for a little while. Recovering from a Death Seal will take a lot out of him and his Bonded."

Quinn's shoulders slumped. I have no right to interfere and yet—

"Yet?" Surajini prompted, gently.

He's so small. So alone. Even with his Alpha and Beta, he's just—he's Harry. Quinn tried to explain. But it was harder when he tried to think of a proper excuse that avoided the real reason behind his words.

"It's alright to be interested," Surajini said. She exchanged a look with Patrick. "There's no harm in being a friend."

Quinn huffed. He didn't want to be a friend, but that was the only option there. He had no other claim to Harry and Harry was not something to be claimed. He was a brilliant, generous soul and something about him, made Quinn desperately afraid for his own heart.

"There's nothing wrong with being more than a friend either," Patrick said, lightly. He sat down on Quinn's other side, resting a hand on his son's shoulder.

I'm not—I'm interested like that. Quinn protested. I'm not!

Hiram pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course you aren't," he said, easily. "There's nothing wrong in worrying for your patients, no matter who they are and what they might be. Lachman?" He turned on his heel and left the room.

Surajini pulled a face. Dyshoka had said to make Quinn go, but she hadn't said why or when. That was always the tricky part about trying to decipher her visions. "Why don't you go and see him while he's recovering?" she suggested. "He's probably going to stay with—well, I don't know where he's going to stay, but I'm sure that you can visit him as soon as he's settled somewhere."

Can you ask?

Patrick hesitated. "We could," he said, slowly. "But it might be wise to wait a few hours. I don't think Riven Cairothe appreciated our presence or our assistance."

Because he's slippery trickster! Quinn scowled, but he couldn't say anything else to that. He'd also requested that Riven return to Nevarah, in hopes of asking for his assistance in removing Harry's Seals. He hadn't intended to mention that detail to his parents at any point in time.

Of course, he'd also expected to still be employed at Matron Olivia's health clinic. That would've been the perfect cover for Riven and a logical excuse to see Harry, instead of merely running into him randomly throughout the Hunt.

His chest ached again, a deep, fierce pain that couldn't be completely ignored. Hearing Surajini mention the Hartwoods had only added another bit of discomfort that he hadn't expected to feel as well.

Sure, the Hartwoods were a good family. A strong Earth Clan. Friendly, sociable and with decent standing among the scholarly ranks of Nevarah, but this was Harry. Quinn closed his eyes, trying and failing to banish the image of Harry's solemn face and piercing green eyes.

Maybe—just maybe—Harry could stay with them. Yes! That was a brilliant idea. Surely, if he had a moment to talk to Theo or Charlie, he could make that happen.

JUNIPER EVANSON CIRCLE : PRINCESS EBONY'S QUARTERS

"I think Raspen's stepped out for something," Ebony said, carefully. She gestured to the room at large. "Please make yourselves at home. I've asked them to send word as soon as he returns. Is there anything at all that I can help with?"

Jun shook her head, already preparing to leave. "Beyond a thorough cleansing for our current property, no. Someone has been—looking into things that was none of their business. Our home is compromised and at present, we need to find someplace to stay. Until then, I would prefer not to-"

"Would you like some vouchers?" Ebony brightened. "We've decided to stay here in the Central City, but we were offered open rooms along some of the resort towers on the outskirts of the Main Square. I've got plenty left, we never used any of them."

"I couldn't ask," Jun began. She stopped when Briar laid a hand on her arm.

"We would be most grateful," he said, bowing formally.

Ebony grew embarrassed. "I-I'll just get them then," she said, acknowledging him with a dip of her head. "Be right back."

Gardenia scowled at the wall, glaring after Princess Ebony's retreating form. "You had to come to her?" she muttered, inching out of Briar's reach. "No offense, but they haven't exactly-"

"George needs to be on good terms with them," Jun said, mildly. "And I doubt that Princess Dawne would see us. That leaves Raspen, who seemed about as clueless as that one when I gave him my report."

"They're young," Rian said, tiredly. "They can't help what they don't know. You could always ask to speak to-"

"If I speak to Edgar, I'll kill him," Jun growled. "And don't mention the others, because I'd hardly care to see them without getting my claws into them as well."

"So, purely for self-preservation you're depending on the youth," Rian sighed. "Chris?"

"Stop winding her up," Chris chattered. His light was dimmer than it'd been all day. He allowed Rian's hug warming charm. "Everything's freezing in here. Don't you feel that?"

"And here I thought it'd be warm," Rian murmured. "What are you reacting to?"

"I don't know," Chris snapped. He shivered, violently.

George stood off to the side, fighting the growing sense of exhaustion. He'd only half-understood most of what was happening with Jun's Circle and her return to Nevarah. None of it sounded good, but he wasn't sure where to start asking questions or whether he'd get any answers at all.

"George?" Regulus nudged him, worriedly. "Alright there?"

"A little tired," George said, cracking a yawn. "Just really tired all of a sudden."

"You can have a seat," Regulus said, guiding him towards the lounge where Ivy and Orchid were practically glued to Leif. "Move over, you two," he said, pushing George forward. "He doesn't feel good."

Orchid frowned. "He looks a little grey," she said, reaching up to guide him to sit beside her. "He's cold."

"That makes two of them," Rian muttered. "Chris—sit." He pushed Chris to sit down on Orchid's other side. "What's wrong with them?"

"Reacting to something," Zephyr suggested. His tall form seemed like a hulking presence within Ebony's sitting room. He glanced up at the ceiling, frowning. "Something's not right here, but I don't know what it is."

Gardenia grunted from her position across the room. She hadn't wanted to come to the Royals at all, much less to the Fire Royals, of all things. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was—" she hissed, eyes fluxing pitch black. "What is that?"

Jun gave a pained whine. Her own eyes fluxed black. She snatched Briar close to her side, her shoulders trembling with the need to keep her wings contained.

Briar growled in answer. He pressed himself closer to her, but his eyes now burned a bright, glowing red. "Death magic," he rasped. "Very dark magic. Something—some kind of ritual is taking place here. Jun-!"

Jun was now growling in a steady, unhappy rumble.

"Something's wrong," Rian said, tersely. "Death magic wouldn't be within range of the Royal's living quarters unless-"

Briar hissed. "Out. Now. We need to-"

"The vouchers," Rian said, uncertainly. "Most of everywhere is booked up for the Hunt."

"Then we'll go somewhere that no one would look to stay," Jun growled. "Circle up!"

It took half a minute for her Bonded to cluster around her, pressing George into the middle of their group. They were all touching or holding each other, staying as close as possible, when Jun's magic rose up against them.

Jun's portal spat them out at the edge of Air territories along the corners where the magic gave way to the Fae portion of Nevarah. "We're welcome enough here," she said, darkly. "Orchid—Gardenia-"

"On it," Orchid said, briskly. "Good thinking." She gave a jerk of her head to Gardenia. "They can grow a room for us, if they're full up."

"Why didn't you think of that?" Gardenia mumbled. "Why'd we have to go to the Royals when we-"

"It's expensive," Orchid reminded. "We have to pay for the room expansion and we're not exactly a small Circle!"

Their bickering died out as they disappeared up the walkway to the large Fairy Lodge in the distance. All the rooms in front were lit with golden lights, suggested that they were completely booked.

Sweet-smelling flowers, glowing blooms and pretty rocks lined the large, landscaped front yard. There were benches, fountains and plenty of gorgeous greenery to enjoy. Everything that would make a Fae feel right at home.

Jun twitched, faintly. "Briar?" she kissed his pale forehead, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down his back. "Sorry I didn't catch that sooner. I felt something coming, but I didn't think it was that. Are you alright?"

Briar gritted his teeth, shaking his head, once. "Can't—help it," he ground out, before shoving her away. He stumbled back two steps and exploded into his Hellound morph. He grew in size until he towered over her, eyes blood red, fur pitch black. The moment he was free, he shook himself all over, then sat back on his haunches, head thrown back to the darkened sky. His eerie howl filled the night.

Jun winced, covering her ears.

Lights in the Fairy Lodge flickered, before shimmering, translucent magic stretched up to protect it. A pastel rainbow bubble of energy.

In the distance, another howl filled the air, followed by another and yet another.

Regulus sighed. "I don't even know where to start," he said, wearily. "George, you alright?"

"He's out cold," Ivy said, kneeling in the grass besides George's prone form. "I think he blacked out somewhere in the middle of Jun's portal."

"It was a long portal," Leif said, uncertainly. "He was looking weird though, like Chris."

"M'not looking weird," Chris mumbled. He flopped onto the grass beside George with a low groan. "It's still too dark here. That's probably it."

"Too dark?" Rian echoed. He glanced up at the sky and shivered. "Nevermind, I take it back."

His Bonded followed his skyward gaze and gave a collective shudder. It looked as if there were faces straining to be free of the protective dome over Nevarah. The calm night sky had turned to a vast expanse of rolling, shadows and featureless faces, writhing and stretching.

"Something's happened to Death or the Hound," Zephyr said, slowly. He joined them, taking up a protective stance around their little group. "I'm guessing she's sleeping outside tonight?"

"Probably," Rian said, frowning. "I doubt Briar can turn back right now. At least he wasn't summoned. I guess something's set off the Hound."

"Only Death can set off the Hound," Zephyr said, quietly. His worried gaze swept over Jun. "Whatever or whoever it is, I certainly wouldn't want to be them."

Rian grunted in agreement. He looked up to see Gardenia and Orchid rushing out from the Lodge with two fairies behind them. He squinted, relaxing when he realized they weren't being chased. "Not our problem. Right now, I think we'd better get you two inside and close to something warm."

Chris huffed a laugh. "I certainly wouldn't complain."

DAHLIA AND DYSHOKA, SHAYLA IMALDIS' INHERITED HOME

Dyshoka started, faintly, when she caught sight of Dahlia's silhouette beside her bedroom window. She'd 'ported back into her own room, to avoid startling anyone else and so as not to disturb her new Bonded.

"Startle you?" Dahlia murmured, her voice crackly with sleep. "Sorry. I just-I woke up and you weren't there."

"Sorry," Dyshoka said, going straight to her, arms outstretched. "Didn't mean to worry you. Just had to take care of something."

"Quinn?"

"Clever girl." Dyshoka allowed. There wasn't much more she could say than that, but Dahlia was different. She would understand with only the barest of hints.

"He's the only one that would get you out of bed at this hour in the middle of what's supposed to be our honeymoon," Dahlia grumbled. "He'd better be grateful."

Dyshoka stifled a laugh. She could read that mood a little too clearly. "What? Too much brooding, not enough sex?"

"…I'm sure we can fix that."

Dyshoka snorted. "Of course you could. That's not my point though. I just had to see Quinn for a moment. He's fine. Mum and the others were called out on some assignment. I thought everyone would be home and I was going to ask for a stay of execution."

"Hmm?"

"You have met my Mama, right?" Dyshoka's lips twitched. "She'll want a fancy bonding ceremony and the whole gilded treasure chest."

"What? Dy, we can't!"

"Try telling that to her."

"I'm serious—we can't. We won't have the time."

"We've only just officially bonded," Dyshoka hummed. "There's time. I mean, we've signed all the papers and such. A ceremony is just for the fun of it. Mama likes to celebrate and it's been ages since she'd had to do any sort of bonding ceremony for any of us kids."

"Right. She'd do it out of the goodness of her heart and not because we didn't invite her to our private ceremony instead of my mother?"

Dyshoka winced. "Why do you have to remember those details?"

"Because I know you've met my mother," Dahlia groaned. "I'm serious though. Maybe a renewal ceremony or a one-year celebration. Whatever. Just nothing now, alright? It doesn't feel right and there's too much going on."

Dyshoka frowned. "We wouldn't have to do anything though. Just show up. It's Mama. She'd handle everything. I'd just contribute favourite colours and food preferences."

"That was a definite no," Dahlia said, more firmly. "Not happening."

"Dahlia—what, are you half-asleep or something?"

"Not—exactly," Dahlia said, sleepily. She stifled a yawn. "Alright, maybe a little."

"That's more than a little. I heard you the first time, but I don't think we'll get out of it. I was only hoping to head them off before the planning got started. We might have to suffer through a small family party or something, but it won't be all that bad."

"It'll be terrible and I'd hate to leave in the middle of it. That'd be rude."

"Why would you leave in the middle of your own bonding ceremony?"

"Because I have a reputation and obligations?"

Dyshoka drew near, reaching out in slow movements to pull her sleepy Alpha into a warm, tight hug. "Do I want to know what you're really worrying about?" She pressed a kiss to the top of Dahlia's bedhead.

"Not worried," Dahlia said, snuggling into the proffered embrace. Tension drained out of her at the mere, comforting touch. "Everything alright?"

"With you? Yes."

"Flatterer."

"Says the one lurking in my bedroom. Did they chase you out?"

"They wouldn't dare."

"Aha! So you are worrying."

"Babe, please," Dahlia protested. "It's not like I want to be worrying. It's just-it's Wikhn. He's an idiot. He'll do something idiotic and he'll do it alone, because he thinks he can't ask anyone to help and it'll end up going very-"

"And you're worried you won't get to him in time to stop it? You can't baby him forever, love."

"Doesn't mean I won't try," Dahlia muttered. "His last ACE tried to kill him. Maybe not obviously, but that's what they did. When I found him-when I took him in—I dragged him away from Death's hands. I can't stand by and watch him run right back to that same edge."

"Then don't."

"It's not that easy." Dahlia's voice cracked. Her body grew taut.

"I know," Dyshoka murmured. "I know. But if he needs you-he'll call, won't he?"

Dahlia gave a slight shake of her head.

"Alright. He won't then, but you'll still answer his call. It's fine."

"Is it?"

Dyshoka sighed, softly. She squeezed her, gently, then pulled back, guiding Dahlia to the bed. "It's fine with me. You might have to make excuses or explanations to the others, but that's on you and them. I know how you think, so I know what you mean. You're too tired to think yourself in knots. Sleep on it. Worry later."

"Doesn't work like that."

"They won't mind," Dyshoka said, knowingly. "That's the whole point of having a Circle. They'll worry, because you're worried, but they won't know how to tell you. Sort it through yourself and sleep on it."

"He had someone else sign his off-realm tracer." Dahlia squeezed her eyes shut. "He had someone else sign off on it because he didn't want me to know where he was going or that he was leaving."

"...I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"Is it? You found out anyway. I can't pretend that I understand how you two work, but if it's a Gheyo thing and he's just being—Wikhn, then I don't know what to tell you."

"If he doesn't want me to know, then I'm supposed to pretend I don't know, until I have to."

"Really? Is that the way it works?"

"With him? Yes. He needs space. He needs affection. When he can't have one, he goes straight to the other. He roams about searching for what he doesn't have, no matter how destructive those ends might be."

"And you're worried he'll roam into the wrong place?" Dyshoka guessed. "Or that he'll purposefully put himself in the wrong place?"

"He's on assignment. That should keep him out of trouble for a bit. I don't have to like the assignment. I don't have to be looking over his shoulder, but-he's running. I know he is."

"And you're not going to chase him?"

"To what end, Dy? To drag him back, kicking and screaming? If he wanted to be here-with us, with me-he'd be here. He'd have come of his own accord, wouldn't he?"

"I can't answer that, love. Only you would know."

"Wish I did."

"Trust him. Trust us."

"I do."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I'd have done anything for him," Dahlia said, softly. "But he won't come to me. I can't show any favour, unless he comes to me first." She allowed Dyshoka to lead her to the bed and settle her under the fluffy covers. She curled into a half ball, relaxing when she felt the bed dip as Dyshoka joined her.

"Liar," Dyshoka scolded, her voice light. "You'd still do anything for him."

Dahlia pressed her lips together, a pained sound welling up in her throat. There was no lie in that.

HERMIONE : NEVARAH CITY SQUARE : CHARACTER SNIPPET

Hermione slipped through the crowd, keeping her head down and her senses as alert as possible. It'd almost been too easy to sneak out of Olivia's house. To all but run down the sidewalk and straight into the first moving body of strangers that she could see. Putting distance between her and the strange house was the only priority on her mind.

She didn't want to know what was wrong with Olivia. Even if her uncle—strange man that he was—had been nice enough to find her a place to stay, there'd been no guarantee that he'd be able to help her with her request.

Finding Harry.

Finding a new home.

Finding a place to belong that didn't involve a frightening man with blood-red eyes.

Hermione curled her hands into fists, hating the slight tremors of fear that had come for her. She was stronger than this! She always had been. So what was the problem now? Yes, she was in a new place, with strangers, strange customs and even stranger magic.

But that didn't necessarily mean that all was lost. It was a matter of figuring things out.

"There's always an answer to every question," Hermione muttered, half to herself. "And when in doubt—go to the—library?" Her steps slowed as she turned the idea over in her mind, a new feeling of determination settling deep inside of her. "Of course. There has to be a library here. One that's much better than Miss—what's-her-name."

Hermione summoned up her best prefect smile and met the gaze of the next family rushing by. Her attention was drawn to a lovely, motherly looking woman, who was closest to her. "Excuse me, please—" she reached out, not quite touching their arm, but skimming her fingers across soft fabrics and gentle magic. A sharp pang of homesickness washed over her, followed by a flood of nostalgic memories.

Glimpses of her parents. Of the first time she'd read a really good book. The moments where her cleverness had balanced out her awkwardness. The moments where she'd been proud of herself—and her own accomplishments.

And then as quickly as it had surprised her, the sensation vanished. Evaporating as if she'd imagined it, except that she hadn't. Hermione started, faintly, surprised to find that she was holding a handful of the woman's voluminous sleeve in her hand. "I'm sorry, so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Yes?" the woman, her eyes a rich red-gold, smiled warmly down at her. "What can I do for you?"

"T-the library," Hermione said, quickly. "I was just wondering if you could point me in the direction of the library. There is a library here, yes?"

"Of course there's a library, love," the woman's smile seemed to warm the air and make the sunlight stream a bit brighter. She stepped closer to Hermione, looking her up and down as if deciding something for herself. "First time visiting Nevarah?"

"Yes—I've sort of lost my friend. We—we were supposed to meet up at the library. I forgot to ask for directions."

The woman only smiled. Her sleek red hair was set in the envious kind of curls that had Hermione wondering if her own hair would do that some day. Now that she was paying attention, it was hard to mistake her magic as anything other than a beautiful, charming warmth that curled around Hermione, almost like a hug.

Fierce, but warm. Almost like fire.

"Those aren't very good friends then, are they?" The woman shook her head, tutting softly. "Would you mind if I asked my sons to escort you? A lovely young witch such as yourself shouldn't be wandering around Nevarah at this point in the week. You'd be asked on a dozen dates before you could get halfway across the city square. Or even courted into a half-dozen Circles at this rate."

Hermione couldn't even begin to stop the blush that crept up her neck. There was absolutely no comeback for that, because it was the very last thing she'd expected the woman to say.

"I'll take that as a yes—but really, if you do prefer men, I assure you, my sons are quite something." The woman turned in a swirl of red-and-gold robes, her voice lilting and light. "Gideon, Fabian! Would you do me a favour, loves?"

A/N: Hey guys! It's been so long since the last chapter. I'm so sorry for the wait! I worked on this chapter for most of August and all of September. It's taken a lot rewrites. I was hoping to post this last night, but I was halfway through Brissy's edits when I got to the Fred scene and realized two things, so I had to cut it short (I've moved that to ch 108), and put something else in there, hence some of Jun and George. So that was a lot of extra wrangling that I wasn't counting on. Oh well. Chapter is done. It's bumped up a few more words to 18k. I hope you guys enjoyed it! There's some clues in here for what's coming next-if you think you know what's going to happen, let me know! I'm curious to see who figured it out. :P

My original novel about Soula Deveraine's story was also released this summer, you can find it as "Sands of Time" by Chera Carmichael. Thanks a BUNCH to everyone who's read, reviewed and shared about it. That means SO much to my writerly self.

Thank you for your continued support! I love you guys! ~Scion