Author's Note: The concept of Hybrid individuals within the Spiral is, as far as I know, never canonically mentioned in game, so I am mostly creating my own rules for how it works. This 'fanlore' will be explained to a fair degree in the coming chapters, because this is not just a neat side-item; it is relevant to the plot. I look forward to sharing my ideas with you all.

Chapter 19: Healed Body, Broken Soul

(One month and one day Post-Incident)

The room may have been small, but somehow they all managed to fit within its wooden confines. It was the largest group of beings Alia Sunsword had ever had in her bedroom, which was usually occupied by two people at most. Today there was herself and a plump, short Theurgist on either side of her twin bed, inhabited still by an injured Pyromancer; additionally there was a satyr, doing his best to perform the most confined river-dancing possible, and an orange sprite no bigger than Alia's head buzzing around and sprinkling her magical energies wherever they would be helpful. It was also the loudest her room had ever been –no mean feat- because the satyr was simultaneously playing his pan pipes during his dance, Lenora Willowsong was singing a lively tune that sounded like a drinking song, and Alia was likewise singing, though her voice was nowhere near as strong and skilled as Lenora's.

Project yer voice more, 'Lia, she heard Lenora's words from a previous session repeat in her mind. Yer song gotta come from yer chest, not yer throat. That makes it stronger, which makes yer spell stronger. Alia breathed deeper and tried to lower the source of her song, almost matching Lenora's.

The advice in her mind came from a tutoring session Lenora had agreed to give during her second visit to heal Talon, after she had finished repairing Talon's jaw entirely and strengthened the growth of his ribs. She had been pleased with Alia's progress containing and mitigating Talon's bone infection, but felt Alia could improve her technique. Though it hurt to admit it, Alia did need a lot more work.

"The singin' is where the power lie. If ya can't carry ah tune, ya can't do Life magic. A better song makes ya less likely ta fizzle, an' ya heal more or hurt more." Lenora had said that day while they were on Alia's sandy beach. She showcased her point by purposefully singing poorly, causing ragged weeds to sprout from the sand. Then she improved her rhythm, and the weeds grew more robust. Lenora then sang a few lines from a Marleybonian Opera, strong and almost perfectly on key, and an area of sand three feet around her was completely carpeted in calf-high grass.

"They teach ya that in sec'ndary Theurgy, 'course, but wha they don' teach ya is that ya can strengthin yer spells simply by changin' yer tone while ya sing. If ya castin' damage spells, ya can improve 'em by singin' with ah more war-like, violent tone. Gentle an' smooth tones make calmin' spells more effective, an' lively, vibrant songs put more life inta yer healin' spells."

Alia continued to sing alongside Lenora while she worked on mending Talon's broken leg, mostly as a background singer since she was not as familiar with the words. She frequented bars throughout the Spiral but this was a tune she hadn't come across, leading her to believe it was a Back-of-the-Tree song from a pub in that area. Alia had inquired about Lenora's roots during her third visit this week, curious as to how someone living in the poor, predominately agricultural lands behind Bartleby ended up in Ravenwood. She had heard about Back-of-the-Tree folk on the campus, most frequently with derogatory tones and mockeries of their intelligence, so it left her surprised when Lenora confirmed her heritage with pride.

"Ah yes, definite Back-Tree gal," the Healer proudly boasted over some freshly steeped tea. Her smile was wider than Alia had thought possible. "But I got me magic from Mama; she was ah Healer like me. Papa was so proud ah the work she did, he had no problem wit' me wantin' ta go ta Ravenwood too."

"So your dad has no magic?" Alia inquired, figuring that –at least for Lenora- that wasn't too intrusive a question.

"Nope!" Despite this declaration, there was a glimmer of pride still dancing in her eyes. Alia could tell whatever came next would match that pride. "But me Papa can calm Baby Carrots an' liven up Couch Potaters better than any Wizard I know! He's head farmer in ah co-op that collectively grows 'bout half ah all the food in Wizard City."

"That sounds…" Alia was honestly rather stunned by this revelation. She had no idea you could even grow magical plants without magic. She took a moment to take a sip of Lenora's home-brewed sweat tea and collect herself. "Incredible, actually. Must be a genius to manage to grow magical plants without spells."

"Genius, nah, but Papa is smarter than stereotypes woulda let ya believe," Lenora smirked, "but he's otherwise as stereotype Back-Tree as they come. Specie-ist as could be." Lenora frowned at this and held her cup in both hands, leaning her elbows on the crab-shell table. "When he found out 'bout Monty he roared 'bout how he won't be raisin' no mutts fer that flea-bag. I hollered right back that I ain't plannin' on raisin' strays, an' sadly that's the last time we talked." A realization made Alia's eyes widen and her mouth fall open.

"Monty's a Dog?" It made a little more sense now why Lenora had kept making canine-related jokes; Alia had thought it was just because males in general were often described as dogs. At least, whenever one was outside of Marleybonian company anyways.

"That gonna cause ah problem fer ya?" Lenora glared at Alia over her mug, a look rivalling the one she had given before stomping off at the end of her first visit.

"No, no, not at all," Alia quickly retreated from the potential tension. "I've tried a Dog or two myself, in the past. I don't mind in the slightest. Just don't see it a lot, so I'm a little surprised to find-"

"Ah Back-Tree datin' ah Dog," Lenora quipped, "ya ain't the first nor the last ta be surprised by that one, includin' meself. But Monty's ah really fine feller, Dog or not, an' he cares deeply 'bout others, jus' like me. We actually workin' together, too, tryin' ta bring magic ta mundane Marleybonian medicine ta make it work better fer both wizard an' non-wizard folk. Could find ways ta circumvent that Law o' Natural State that limits Healers so much. Me an' Monty could change medicine fer the whole Spiral!"

"A'right, we done!"

The exclamation broke Alia from her concentration, ending the stream of glittering green magic that had been pouring from her fingers into Talon's leg. Her summoned Sprite flittered onto her shoulder and gave the Diviner an approving nod and salute before dissolving. Alia brushed her hands and stood up, putting them on her hips and glancing at Lenora.

"So, how'd I do," Alia asked as she watched Lenora give Talon one final inspection with her wand, surveying his condition.

"Well, everythin' be healed, 'Lia. Ya got rid of that infection jus' like I told ya," Lenora smiled broadly at her assistant, who grinned back. Then Lenora looked down to their patient and leaned over him. "Now Talon, ya may be all healed but ya still got atrophy in yer left leg; it ain't extensive but worrisome wit' a fresh-healed leg bone. I'd say one week wit' ah cane an' plenty o' exercise will get them muscles back in shape."

"Wait, you said he was all healed," Alia protested, sitting beside the Pyromancer now. "How can his leg be atrophied if he is all healed?"

"Law of Natural State," Talon muttered, his left hand migrating to the weak leg. "Theurgists can only heal unnatural, externally sourced damage to a body. They cannot repair something beyond its natural state-"

"I'm not a dumbass Talon," Alia snapped, glaring at him before looking to Lenora again. "But shouldn't atrophy be healable in this case since it was due to injury?"

"It wasn't due ta the injury, though, 'Lia," Lenora elaborated, "while Talon was bed-ridden due ta injury, injury itself don' cause atrophy. So, we can't heal it. Like how we can't go 'round healing wrinkles, grayed hair, an' agin' bones. He'll just have ta make due wit' physical therapy." Lenora reached down to her bag, rummaged for a half-minute, then pulled out a dice-sized, ivory colored seed. "What's yer height these days, love?"

"Five feet eleven inches," Talon replied, and Lenora responded with a nod while holding the seed out before her at full extension. She brought her wand handle back to her ear and pointed the jeweled branch at the seed, humming a brief yet excited tune. Emerald light shot out of the wand in a pulse of magic that was greedily absorbed by the seed. Lenora dropped the seed to the ground shortly after.

Woody stalks began to grow, slowly at first and then rapidly, out of the seed. They were defying gravity, shooting straight upward and simultaneously braiding into a tight twist. Once it reached a designated height the multiple stalks veered ninety degrees and curled around each other again, finally stopping together as one plant at the end of the handle of a newly grown cane. Lenora snatched up the cane and handed it to Talon, letting him rise from the bed to give it a try. Talon smiled faintly as he rose to his feet for the first time in a month, weight reliably upheld by Lenora's vine-cane.

"Now that's outta the way, go get yerself a shower in 'Lia's cavern waterfall. Ya smell like sweat an' musty bedsheets," Lenora jeered, gingerly patting the man's shoulder.

"I'll try to find you something to wear that isn't burnt up or torn," Alia added, eyes gleaming with pride and delight at seeing Talon standing again. Maybe now real progress could be made, not only in getting him out of her shack but in figuring out what he is really like now. How much of those mood swings were caused by cabin fever? Finally, they were about to find out.

"Good morning, Emma."

She was nearing wakefulness already, and the source of the voice must have noticed her stirrings. The soft, inviting voice sounded familiar and yet exceedingly foreign, arousing her mind further out of its slumber. She opened her eyes and saw a dark emerald pair looking back at her amicably. Emmaline tried to sit up but found her muscles were stiff and uncooperative. Rowan gently guided her to a sitting position.

"Go easy now, don't want to hurt yourself."

"As if I'd notice," the words slipped out before Emmaline could stop herself. She decided to divert the subject before Rowan could comment. "I'm dead, aren't I?" Her baby blue eyes weren't sad when she asked, or even concerned, just curious. Rowan raised a brow, sensing no fear from the girl about the prospective answer.

"Most definitely not dead, Emma," Rowan smirked. A violet scarab clicked his mandibles in delighted confirmation beside Rowan, who was now sitting on the bed. Emmaline's eyes went wide and she quickly entrapped the scarab in her embrace. She looked like a panicked child caught smuggling a puppy. Rowan felt a wave of anxiety wash over her from the girl, who seemed on the verge of tears.

"Iknowwedidn'tdiscussitbutIneededhimwithmetohelpmesleepandIamsorryIdidn'ttellyoupleasedon'tmakemetakehimback!" The words were rushed, difficult to make out, and matched the panic on Emmaline's face, who only just took a breath after finishing the apology.

"Emma, you nearly died from hypothermia," Rowan reminded her with a smirk, "I'm not going to make you return Scout. I'm a bitch but I'm not heartless." Emmaline's tension eased and her panic lessened; her grip on the scarab corresponded, much to Scout's relief. Emmaline leaned down to rub her head against Scout's, who took exceptional care to keep his large mandibles away from her face as they nuzzled. "Besides, I think he's cute," Rowan added, adoring the scene the two were making. Nothing got to her quite like owners loving their pets.

"Thank you…" Emmaline whispered, briefly glancing at her as she cuddled with her pet.

"In a few minutes Henry will be coming down with your breakfast and some hot tea. I expect you to drink it." Rowan gave her the glare of a mother instructing a sick child. "I want to make sure you are well and truly warm again. Now, open up." She pulled out Emmaline's thermometer from her own pants pocket, having kept it on hand all night. Emmaline complied while still holding Scout. Rowan examined the instrument after a minute and a half, smiling. "Much better."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Emmaline asked the question with deep, worried suspicion, her brow furrowed. This all felt more like a dream than reality. She must be dead; nothing else explained why her wish for Rowan to actually like her was being fulfilled.

"Because I actually do feel bad about last night," Rowan answered, and was initially surprised when she saw Emmaline's confused expression. Then she remembered that mental clarity was one of the first things lost when hypothermic; Emmaline likely remembered very little of last night at all. "How much do you remember from last night?" Emmaline's brow furrowed deeper, digging into her mind to try and find the answer. After a solid minute of thought she shook her head.

"It's all hazy after we were reading in the library last night," she explained. "You say I got hypothermia, and I believe you, but I don't remember it clearly." Emmaline widened her eyes again and then looked down at Scout, unable to meet Rowan's face. "Did I say anything… embarrassing…"

"Well…" Rowan began slowly, "I do know why you have so many Polar Bear pictures now. You definitely got his eyes. But if there are any secrets besides your heritage, you never told."

"Dammit." Emmaline huffed and turned her face back to Rowan. "Please don't tell anyone. It's hard enough to get accepted in society without them knowing."

"Emma, I have a Reaper in my brain, trying to murder people," Rowan pointed out, gesturing at the amulet. "I'm no foreigner to keeping the public in the dark."

"Fair point," Emmaline agreed. Moments later Henry arrived with her breakfast, and Emmaline groaned. "I hate toast…" she mumbled before catching Rowan staring her down from the foot of the bed. Feigning gratitude to the rat, Emmaline took the food tray and gazed forlornly at the buttered toast. She glanced again at the dominating gaze of the elder Necromancer, and took a reluctant bite that she washed down with the hot tea. She spoke again only after finishing the first slice of toast and seeing Rowan's satisfied face. "How do you know how to treat hypothermia if you can't get it?"

"I'm the eldest sister to twins that grew up in Grizzleheim," Rowan explained. "Once Mother thought I was responsible enough, I was trained to both recognize it and provide first aid for my sisters when we played outside in the winter. Saved Alia at least twice," Rowan smirked. Emmaline smirked back. "Luckily you had collapsed soon enough that you didn't get so cold I couldn't warm you using the ambient air method. The furnace worked extra hard to make sure the room was very hot. Think it enjoyed itself, actually."

"Thanks, Calcifer," Emmaline stated to the possessed furnace. The metal grates screeched and wretched into a smile and it belched fire in response.

"Calcifer?" Rowan blinked repeatedly. Did that thing always have a name, and she just somehow missed it when she purchased the house? Maybe it did; she regularly avoided it and had plugged up the main heating vent leading to the house because she really didn't need any indoor heating anyways. It could have been shouting its name the whole time and she'd never have known.

"I named him after a fire demon in a story I read. Calcifer was bound to a moving castle and used as a power source. Kinda like him." Emmaline shrugged. "I didn't know his name, figured he should have one, and he seems to like it."

"Is there anything in my house you haven't befriended," a befuddled Rowan questioned. Emmaline looked her square in the eye with a deadpan response.

"You." The reply was followed by a sudden horror and covering her mouth with her hands. "I'm sorry, that just slipped out." Rowan chuckled.

"Stop apologizing for every bit of sass you display," Rowan chided her, "you need more backbone anyways."

Lenora and Alia had spent most of the half hour Talon took getting bathed and dressed swapping stories of their childhood over tea. Alia took particular joy in being regaled with tales of the antics of Lenora, Talon, and several of their other childhood friends. One that had her in fits of giggles was the story of when they had somehow managed to remove the horn from the unicorn statue in Unicorn Park and sneak it all the way to Firecat Alley, where they pasted it on the head of a Firecat statue; it took a day for people to realize it was missing, another day to find and remove it, and three days before they had been found out.

The girls were still laughing when Talon walked out of Alia's kitchen –the closest indoor room connected to the cavern- with a bright blue towel wrapped around his head. He also sported a navy blue short-sleeve undershirt emblazoned with a golden Myth symbol which was at least two sizes too large for him, and a pair of beige breeches that only came halfway down his calves, leaving the rest of his leg bare.

"Well, well, jus' look at them han'-me-downs," Lenora commented with a playful sneer. Talon smirked back and puffed out his chest, though the baggy shirt didn't do much to show off his effort.

"I think I manage to pull it off," he attested, leaning on his cane as he relaxed. He removed the towel from his hair, allowing the red-orange curtain to fall down his back. The thick mane did not dry easily and was still mostly damp, its curls forced straight by the weight and extending the hair past his shoulders –where it usually stopped- all the way to the small of his back.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Alia grimaced, sympathetic to the Pyromancer as he stood there in the clothes of her ex-boyfriend. It felt awkward and saddening to see those clothes being worn again. "But the only male clothing I had was whatever Kane had left over from before we broke off. At least we have a similar belt size, so the pants could stay up."

"Yeah, thanks for that." Talon thumbed the brown leather strap around his waist. "Never really noticed just how thick Kane was." Lenora giggled and Alia flushed, followed shortly after by Talon when he realized where the girls' minds had traveled. He cleared his throat. "Eh-hem, anyways… I can just get some more clothes from my cottage. Should have some decent robes left over there."

"Can't see how, since 'Lia said ya leveled it," Lenora commented, still snickering. Talon's face did not join that mirth, however, sobering swiftly. Alia watched his eyes widen, his mouth open ever so slightly, and horror creep upon his expression as he paled. His lips quivered in a manner suggesting an utterance of 'no' before he was overtaken by a coruscating column of fire. Before either woman could react the twister of fire died out, leaving nothing but a towel on the floor where Talon had stood. Lenora and Alia quickly exchanged worried glances. "He didun know? Ya didun tell 'im?"

"I thought he remembered!"

"Shit!"

Talon gazed upon the devastation he had wrought upon his first home, his little cottage island floating just off of Unicorn Way. He had worked so hard to raise the money for this little hut of a house once he was allowed to move out of the dorms; had been so delighted when he was beset upon by a Unicorn that appeared from a circle of trees overlooking the small dell. The cottage had been a stone exterior, wooden interior structure of two stories, with a tower jutting out of one corner. A brook had run from a waterfall to the north of the cottage and cut across the dell to fall once again down to a pool on a cliff face below the dell, accessible via a slope to the south of the cottage. Across the brook had been a stone bridge modeled after the bridges in the Commons Area. It had been so beautiful.

Now it was all gone. The bridge had collapsed into a muddy, ash laden brook that trickled from one end of the blackened dell to the other. Of the cottage only the corner tower remained standing taller than a story, with the grey stone darkened by fire and its stability questionable. Various sections of the stone walls still stood but they were short and unstable. The trees around the dell were toppled over and turned to charcoal logs. The only greenery to be found was in the small grove on a hill overlooking the property, ringed by burnt trees but littered with hardy and plain wildflowers.

I did this. I destroyed this beautiful sanctuary with my pyromancy.

Tears trickled down Talon's face as he wandered through his desiccated home, picking out charred books and pieces of broken vases from the rubble as he went. Those tears ran down his cheeks prolifically and his sorrow erupted in sobs when he found a treasured memento within the wreckage. He picked up a melted, misshapen staff from a pile of burnt wood and crumbled furniture. It had been a long iron staff, two thirds of which were wrapped in oiled leather. That leather had long since burned off. The head of the staff had once been a crystalline orb cut smooth and colored dark red, nestled within four iron dragon claws. Those claws had since been bent out of shape, and the orb was shattered on the ground, tiny shards glittering amongst the ash. It was not the first time that orb had broken; Lord Nightshade had destroyed the original orb in their fight over five years ago.

The memory of that fight is what had Talon's shoulders shaking in deep, overwhelming sobs as he held the twisted metal. When he graduated grade school and got accepted into Ravenwood, he had received this staff from his mother's employer, Prince Alicane Swiftarrow. He called it Alicane's Flame Staff in the Prince's honor, and had carried it into battle whenever he worked a mission for Headmaster Ambrose in Wizard City. The first time it had broken was also the first time he and his friends had fought side-by-side as a team. Kane, Miguel, and Talon together defeated Lord Nightshade, ending the threat of the undead to Wizard City and beginning their multi-world quest to stop Malistaire. This staff had held so many memories within its metal, and in his blinded rage he'd turned it to scrap.

Talon heard magic occurring behind him, but did not register what it was until he heard voices.

"Talon…" It was Alia's voice, soft and caring, yet rightfully cautious regarding his current state. She should always be cautious around me. I'm a bomb waiting to explode. Talon did not turn to her, or Lenora, but continued to kneel in the ash and debris, trying to reign in his sobs as he held the crooked staff in his hands.

"I talked to Buxley two days ago," Alia continued, speaking over Talon's now quieter crying, "and he said he could rebuild and replant the whole property in two weeks' time. He just needs a week to get the materials and a week for the repairs, and he'll only charge ten thousand gold for the whole renovation." Alia's black leather boots crunched on soot and soft charcoal as she approached Talon slowly from behind, cautiously reaching for him. "In two weeks you could have your cottage back. Isn't that great?"

"No."

"Why not?" Alia was confused by this response. Did he not like the price? It wasn't like he didn't have plenty of gold to spare. They all did. Was he picky about this one structure, and a new one would not suffice? Talon rose from his former floor, lowering the twisted metal to his side before violently tossing it into the rubble. Ash, soot, and dirt burst into the air when the decrepit item made contact and Alia could make out what it was the whole time. A memento she vividly remembered him wielding in Wizard City when they all started out. Talon turned roughly towards her, his face tear-streaked but stony.

"Because my pyromancy destroyed this place, and so many memories with it," snapped the Pyromancer, his eyes devoid of anything but self-loathing. "So many irreplaceable things. Rebuilding won't undo what I've done. It won't bring my life back."

"But it can help ya heal, Talon," Lenora interrupted, coming beside Alia to look at Talon not with reserved caution like her, but painful empathy. "Ya can help replant, an' help redecorate, an' help rebuild, an' all that can give ya closure 'bout what ya done while helpin' transition ya ta yer new life."

"But it will all be for nothing, unless I change," Talon shouted at her. "Can't you see that I am a threat even to my own home?! A rebuilt cottage for me to live in is just another cottage for me to blow up in a few years! So long as I am a Pyromancer, I am a threat to everyone and everything, even my own house! I cannot practice Pryomancy any longer!"

"Talon… Talon," Lenora moved towards the man, arms extended, and he made no move to stop her. She took him into a gentle hug. "We will help ya, 'Lia an' I, ta get yerself back under control so that don't happen again, m'kay? Ya don't have ta worry. We ain't gonna leave ya, an' we ain't gonna let ya blow up yer new house." Lenora let go of Talon to turn around and look over at Alia imploringly. Alia locked eyes with her and realized that this was the moment Lenora had referenced at the end of their first day together. This was the moment she had to decide if she was going to be the friend he needed her to be, or if they were better off without each other.

Could she be a woman that could contain, console, and support Talon through life's challenges? Could she be the kind of guide that Talon could rely on to navigate the difficult road ahead of him? Refuting his Pyromancer heritage will be a massive challenge. Changing to become someone he isn't will be very difficult for him and any who support him. So will getting him back into Pyromancy, where he belongs. Can I really be trusted to support him? Do I even want to?

Alia looked at Talon, taking in the sullen, almost lifeless visage he currently bore. Not since the aftermath of the Incident -lying in her bed broken and beaten- had Talon looked so depressed and destroyed. Lenora had her arm wrapped around a shell of a man; a man not yet healed, not yet whole. A man who had so much more recovery left ahead of him. Her friend, her brother-in-arms, her fellow veteran of the Wizarding War was still a broken soldier in need of healing. Alia didn't know if she had everything he needed to recover, but she knew she'd never be able to live with herself if she walked away from her friend when he needed her most.

"Yeah, Talon," Alia finally said, ending the excessively pregnant pause that housed her thoughts, "Lenora is right." She approached the two of them under the watchful eye of Lenora, who seemed to be critically analyzing her every move. Talon never once made to even glance at her, though, even when she finally reached the taller Wizard and wrapped her arms around his thin waist. She nestled her head against his collar bone and smiled up at him. "We'll both help you get back on your feet and confident in your abilities again. We're Saviors of the Spiral, remember? Together there ain't a thing in all the Spiral that can stop us."

Talon didn't smile. But Alia did feel him place his arms around both her and Lenora, bringing the ladies in close. And she did feel the silent tears of a man in desperate need of their help run down her face. I guess I'll just have to figure out how to be the kind of woman he needs, Alia thought as she caught Lenora giving her a knowing smile.