"You did what?"

Yugo winced as the final word reached his ears. That was Adamaï's "patient" tone, not a good sign. He should have known better than to schedule the picnic without asking Adamaï first... "I'm sorry, Grougal was feeling so down it was the first thing I could come up with to cheer him up."

"Obviously," Adamaï's voice was bone dry, as it always was when he was disappointed with something Yugo had done. "So he was upset about you scolding him for attacking Qilby and you send him off on a picnic to apologize for being stern? You do realize that we had important training scheduled for him today, don't you?" he added.

"I'm sorry, I forgot and I should've asked you first," Yugo replied. "And it's not because of that," he snapped. "There's more to this than just him going after Qilby." He paused as he thought on how to relate to Adamaï what Grougal told him without messing it up somehow. "He said that he hears these..." Yugo waved a hand near his ear as he recalled what Grougal had called them. "Echoes whenever he sees Qilby, he's worried that he's going mad."

Adamaï's frown deepened at this news. "So why hasn't he told me before?" he asked.

"He's worried and probably embarrassed over it," Yugo replied. "This is the first time I've ever heard about it too, I think he just couldn't keep it bottled up anymore," he turned to the fire as he spoke and put a cauldron of water on to boil for the morning porridge, with a large kettle beside it for tea.

"Is that it? Just echoes?" Adamaï pushed off the table and moved a bit closer. "Did he tell you anything else about it?"

"He said he heard people screaming," Yugo turned to Adamaï as he spoke. "And that he knew they were real, and that it was Qilby's fault they were suffering," it sounded ridiculous when he said it aloud like this. Ridiculous? he asked himself. After what I've been through? I've run into things weirder than this.

"So what do you suggest we do about it?"

"Well, we could ask Qilby if—" Yugo began, but Adamaï cut him off.

"And how do we know he's telling the truth?"

Yugo turned to the cauldron again and restrained the urge to let out an annoyed sigh. "So even though we went through the trouble to put the collar on him you still think he can lie?"

"How are we supposed to tell?" Adamaï asked, a little too patiently.

"So are we just going to go on ignoring the opportunity we have right in front of us?" Yugo glared into the pot as he poured in the oats. There was merit in taking what Qilby said with a grain of salt, collar or no, but he couldn't help but feel that part of this resistance was Adamaï nursing a grudge. "How long are we gonna have to flounder before we accept the help?"

Adamaï let out a loud grumbling sigh. "You know how Grougal will get if I tell him no," he said, going back to the initial topic. "Now I'm just going to have to push the training back to tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, Ad," Yugo said again. "I should've asked you first and I should've told you about the echoes yesterday." He fetched a spoon from where it hung on the wall nearby and gave the oats a stir, glaring down at the swirling mixture as he made sure they wouldn't get the chance to stick to the bottom of the pot.

"Guess there's nothing else to do but help around the inn today," Adamaï grumbled.

The dragon stalked off, to where Yugo didn't know until he checked the chore board. The boxes for woodcutting and tidying the guest rooms each had an 'A' written neatly inside them, meaning Adamaï had volunteered for those tasks for the day and would take care of them. Yugo was grateful for that, and hoped that Adamaï would be cooled down by the time they met up again later to ask Qilby about the echoes.

Yugo checked the porridge again; it would still be a while yet before it was done, plenty of time to see to the guests who were even now beginning to fill the common room. He found the family from the previous evening already seated around one of the round tables, and Fennius relaxing at one of the smaller tables near a corner of the room. The Eniripsa woman—Yugo guessed she was the mother of the little family—gave him a list of the supplies they would need for their journey when he asked. He scanned it as he walked up to Fennius's table.

"Anything you'd like before breakfast is ready, Fennius?" Yugo looked up from the slip of paper as he reached the table.

"Just some tea, if you don't mind," Fennius replied. His gaze settled on the family's table for a moment before he looked back to Yugo. "So what's the story with them? They seem very distressed over something."

Yugo glanced over his shoulder at the little group. It couldn't hurt to tell him... "They think the Red Plague is going to hit their hometown soon, so they left," he said as he turned back to face Fennius.

"Someone infected reached their town?"

"No, something about ivory ravens," Yugo replied. In truth he had been wanting to ask the family about it, but had restrained himself to avoid bringing up painful memories for them. There was simply no delicate way to broach the subject that Yugo could think of.

"Oooh," Fennius's eyes widened as he looked at the family again. "So they saw some of the cultists?"

"Cultists?" Yugo's full attention snapped back to Fennius at the word.

Fennius leaned in close to avoid being overheard. "I've seen them," he hissed in a conspiratorial whisper. "Mad worshippers of a god no one's ever heard of before." The Feca paused to see if Yugo had anything to add, and continued when he saw that he had the Eliatrope's undivided attention, "They're hunched figures covered in robes of red and white, wearing these masks with the beak of a raven and colored pale as bone."

A chill ran down Yugo's spine as his mind conjured its best attempt at imagining what these cultists would look like. "So, what do they do? What's this god they worship?"

"I only saw them for a few moments before they vanished, but people say they're responsible for making the plague spread to new regions. The fact that they turned up in their town," he nodded to the family. "Has me very worried. I hear they worship a god of sickness and malady, and that they believe they're giving the gift of enlightenment when they spread the plague," Fennius shook his head, a troubled frown on his face. "Can't tell you why anyone would believe that, though. Desperate or crazy, maybe. I don't know any normal person who would."

Yugo exhaled, having just realized that he was holding his breath throughout Fennius's entire explanation. To think there could actually be people consciously spreading the plague... It was almost too terrible to believe. "I'd uh, better get your tea," Yugo gave a nervous laugh and turned back toward the kitchen.

It was only once he was out of the common room that he noticed how tightly his hands were clutching the list. He relaxed his fingers and tried to smooth the creases out of the paper before checking the porridge; almost done, just enough time to serve the tea.

The chill that had settled on the skin of his spine while listening to Fennius followed him around the kitchen as he prepared tea for the guests. To think there could actually be people vile enough to spread that kind of suffering on purpose, and all for the sake of some god no one had ever heard of before. It twisted his stomach into a worried knot even as it roused the hollow flame of anger deep in his chest.

A few more guests had entered the common room by the time Yugo emerged with the tea tray in his arms, and he tended the family and Fennius first before seeing the others as well. Fennius accepted his tea with a smile and a "thank you" but said nothing else; it seemed he was done talking of the plague cult for now, but Yugo planned on asking him about it in more detail later. The porridge was ready by the time Yugo returned to the kitchen. He filled a large bowl for each table and set each on a tray with a set of bowls and a platter of fresh fruit to accompany them.

Adamaï had still not shown himself again by the time Yugo was finished helping the customers, and there was no evidence to suggest that he'd come by to have breakfast during Yugo's absence. Yugo sighed and checked the chore board again; even with the tasks Adamaï had volunteered for, there was still a lot that needed to be done. He would need to be sure Qilby and the doctors got breakfast, and he needed to talk to Qilby anyway.

Yugo found the three of them already at work when he entered Qilby's room. "Qilby?" Yugo asked as he set the breakfast-laden tray on a clear space at the desk. "We have a few questions about Grougal, if you have the time."

"I'll see when we can reach a stopping point," Qilby replied.

Qilby finally arrived at said stopping point around noon and met Yugo and Adamaï in the living room.

"You called?" he asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs and settling his hand in his lap.

"We needed to ask you about Grougal, from the past," Yugo said quickly as he took a seat across from the older Eliatrope.

Adamaï took a seat as well, though he remained silent as he watched Qilby. Yugo could see by his brother's body language-the squareness of his shoulders, his grip on the chair arm, even the slight downward dip to the corners of his mouth in a small intense frown-that Adamaï was not pleased to be here.

"Very well," Qilby nodded and waited expectantly for what Yugo had to ask.

"Grougal told me yesterday that he was hearing echoes, in his head," Yugo said. "We were wondering if you knew anything about that."

"Well it sounds like the two must be on track for their development, if that's what you mean," Qilby replied. At seeing Yugo's mystified expression he continued, "The echoes are normal with Grougaloragran. Didn't you ever wonder about his title, the Eternal? A bit egotistical but it speaks of his defining ability." He paused, apparently to let the news sink in, and became somewhat agitated when it was apparent that Yugo and Adamaï didn't know what he was talking about. "You don't—didn't Grougaloragran teach you about this?" he asked, turning to Adamaï.

"No, that wasn't one of the things he taught me," Adamaï said. Yugo could tell that his brother was already starting to become angry, and it wasn't just because he was talking to Qilby; Adamaï never took criticism of Grougal lightly. It was no surprise given that Grougal raised Adamaï, but even so it was an issue that his brother needed to make his peace with.

"He didn't..." Qilby lowered his gaze to the chair legs and pinched the bridge of his nose in genuine frustration, eyes shut tight as he came to terms with the news. "What was Grougaloragran doing all the years he had you? How could he be so incompetent?"

"How dare you," Adamaï snarled, his eyes widening with anger as he bared his teeth and leaned forward.

"How dare I?" Qilby sat back in his chair and gestured to the collar on his neck with a wave of his hand, as if this should have been obvious. "I cannot sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much you want me to," he snapped, matching Adamaï's glare with one of his own as he leaned forward as well.

"That's not the only thing you coat it with," Adamaï shot back.

"Enough," Yugo leaned between the two, breaking their eye contact. "Can we please get back on topic?"

"Very well," Qilby slouched slightly and continued. "Each member of the council has something that defines them. Yugo," he gestured to Yugo. "Has the Hero's Heart. You, Adamaï," he turned to Adamaï this time. "Have the Tactician's Mind." Qilby leaned back in the chair. "Chibi and Grougaloragran have their own traits: Chibi sees Glimpses of the Future through visions and dreams; Grougaloragran hears Echoes of the Past which warn him of dire threats he has encountered before."

"So the fact that he hears them when he sees you—" Yugo started.

"It means that I've been written in as a major threat that he encountered in the past," Qilby finished, a disappointed expression on his face, as if he'd been hoping such would not be the case. "Such threat memory is a bit redundant with someone such as myself around but it does have its uses," he grumbled.

"Yes, especially when you've made yourself such a massive threat to your own kind," Adamaï said.

"So it's normal and we shouldn't worry?" Yugo asked, trying to move the conversation along before Qilby and Adamaï could get into an argument.

"Yes, it's normal with Grougaloragran."

"So what should we do about the echoes he hears when he sees you?"

Qilby contemplated this for a few moments. "There's no way to erase or rewrite Grougaloragran's threat memory as far as I know," he replied. "All that can be done is to keep him away as much as possible." He blinked as a thought struck him. "Oh, do you know if Chibi has started getting visions yet? They tend to start around the same time that Grougaloragran's echoes do."

"Not that I know of," Yugo replied.

"So, all things are normal with Grougal, keep him away from Qilby, end of discussion," Adamaï said, starting to get to his feet.

"We're not done yet," Qilby said, raising his hand as if to stop Adamaï. "There's still the matter of training."

"You just said Grougal needed to be kept away from—"

"I'm not talking about Grougaloragran's training," Qilby cut in. "You two need to be properly trained. And please, tell me exactly what happened to Phaeris. What killed him?"

"Jiva," Yugo replied. "She was after our Dofus. Phaeris died while fighting her."

The growing outrage at some outsider even considering touching their Dofus was clearly visible on Qilby's face as he asked, "And she's from this planet?"

Yugo nodded.

"This is why," Qilby said. "You two need to be properly trained so you can't be pushed around by the residents of this planet anymore."

"And whose fault is it that things got this bad, that we lost our place on this planet?" Adamaï snapped, leaning so far forward that he was almost standing up. "The Eliatrope race lost the right to live here because of you," he jabbed an accusatory finger at Qilby as he spoke. "And then our relations with the people of this planet went south because you stole the Eliacube, brought a shushu invasion to their doorstep, and tried to destroy the World of Twelve."

"Adamaï," Yugo put a hand between them, pushing Adamaï back down on his chair.

Qilby's face had gone red by the time the young Eliatrope turned back to look at him, though whether from anger or shame Yugo couldn't tell. "I have not forgotten, Adamaï," he said finally, voice low and rough. "I cannot forget."

"Come on," Yugo got to his feet and grabbed Adamaï's arm. He then wordlessly dragged his brother out of the room, where Qilby would not be able to hear. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he hissed once they came to a stop.

"Reminding him of his place," Adamaï replied cooly, his back straight and rigid as he looked down at Yugo.

"And who does that help?" Yugo pushed himself up as high as he could, but he was still nowhere near his brother's impressive height. "Besides you," he added as Adamaï opened his mouth. "It looks like Grougal isn't the only one having a problem with grudges here."

"Why are you defending him?" Adamaï asked in disbelief. "Have you forgotten what he did to us? What he did to our people?"

"I'll never forget that, Adamaï," Yugo replied, his voice quiet. "But rubbing his face in it every chance you get doesn't help anyone, it's just going to push him away and make it more likely for him to betray us first chance he gets."

"So you want us to baby him?" Adamaï scoffed.

"I want us to be understanding," Yugo replied patiently, closing his eyes for a moment to calm his growing anger at Adamaï's dismissiveness. "He isn't proud of what he did."

"Oh thank goodness for that," Adamaï said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"I'm serious, Adamaï," Yugo kept his composure despite Adamaï's mockery. "We have to be careful with this. We can't afford to chase him away again."

"Again?" Adamaï uncrossed his arms and braced his hands on his hips. "You honestly believe that sob story he fed you in Emrub?"

"He was..." Yugo paused as he thought back on the sad, pathetic figure he faced at the end of it all in Emrub. "Stripped of everything by then, he couldn't hide anymore. I think he was telling the truth." He hoped that Adamaï would see reason soon, this entire exchange was beginning to exhaust him. "And why are you suddenly so against this when you suggested letting him out in the first place?"

"I'm having second thoughts," Adamaï cast a glance toward their right, at the door that led to the living room, but found no evidence of Qilby having moved from his spot.

"Why?" Yugo crossed his arms over his chest as he asked the question.

"The footprints outside his window, we can't tell if the collar is actually working..." Adamaï began. "And how do we even know he's making progress on finding a cure?"

"So you want to send him back?"

Adamaï remained silent as he really thought on the question. "No," he said finally, and his shoulders drooped slightly in defeat. Another silence followed as Adamaï collected his thoughts. "I'm not like you, Yugo," he said, staring sidelong at the floor rather than looking his brother in the eye. "I can't trust him. And sometimes he just makes me angry so easily," his fist clenched as he spoke, then relaxed again. "I still can't forgive him for what he did."

"I'm not asking for you to forgive him," Yugo relaxed his arms, allowing his hands to drop to his sides. "He's not the only issue here, I'm worried about you," he added. "I'm saddened, and concerned about the fact that my brother is willing to torment someone he has at his mercy."

Adamaï's head snapped back to Yugo at the final statement, an expression of horror on his face at the realization of what he'd been doing. "I'm sorry, Yugo," his gaze drifted to the floor again, as he felt too ashamed to look his brother in the eye. "Just look at me. I'm no better than Grougal, right? And I don't even have the echoes to blame," his shoulder hit the wall with a soft bump as he slumped over. "It's pathetic."

"It's okay, Ad," Yugo put a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I understand why you don't trust him, and why you're still angry," his gaze settled temporarily on the dark scar that still marked Adamaï's left eye, and the horrible memory of seeing his brother taken by a shushu came swimming back into clarity. "Qilby did unforgivable things to you and to our people, but you shouldn't bring yourself lower just to get back at him."

A nod was all that Yugo got in reply, but it was enough. He knew Adamaï agreed with him now.

"Let's get back in there and finish up the conversation," Yugo removed his hand from Adamaï's shoulder and smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt. "We've let Qilby stew in there long enough."

Qilby himself looked haggard and tired by the time Yugo and Adamaï returned to the room, as if reflecting the way Adamaï felt. His chin was resting in his hand in a way that kept his mouth from view, though whether this was intentional or not Yugo couldn't say. He slowly brought his eyes up to Yugo's face as the two sat across from him again, and waited for what they had to say.

"We'll take the training," Yugo said once he had Qilby's attention.

"Alright," Qilby lowered his hand and nodded. "We'll start tomorrow, during one of my breaks."

The hall felt uncomfortably small as Qilby walked back to his room. Doctors Pirwit and Korden were elsewhere now, since Qilby had given them leave while he had his discussion with Yugo and Adamaï. They likely wouldn't be there when he got to his room, and he felt regret for having sent them away; he needed something to fill the silence and drown out thoughts of anything besides his work.

Qilby stumbled as the toe of his boot caught against the well-worn floorboards. He continued on, consciously picking up his feet more as he walked. These shoes were so heavy compared to his usual pair, it made dragging his feet so much easier. The new clothes were as baggy as his old but somehow felt heavier, too. Everything felt heavier now, completely earthbound...

He lifted a hand to his head for what felt like the hundredth time—in reality it was only number twentysix, he remembered—and touched the place where his wings should have been. Their absence and walking around with his head exposed felt so uncomfortably strange. Even without his perfect memory there was no way to escape that constant reminder of what he'd done, and what he was being punished for. And yet Adamaï still felt the need to remind him of that, to dig the thorn in even deeper.

It didn't seem fair, but then the fact that he was currently free of the Blank Dimension wasn't fair either now was it? Life was unfair. His entire existence was unfair. If he'd just been born like his brethren, able to be reborn with a clean slate each time, he wouldn't have had to suffer for thousands of years as he was forgotten again and again. The planet wouldn't have felt so small, he wouldn't have taken the extreme measures he did to escape...

Qilby shoved the thoughts aside as he reached the doorway to his room. Regrets like that were utterly worthless. There was no use dwelling on what could never be changed. And oh, how he'd tried to change it over the long millennia of his existence. Even in the instances where he'd managed to erase the memories without killing himself in the process, they somehow always managed to come back within a few days of their erasure. Every single time. He learned long ago that his condition was inescapable, but that was still no excuse for what he'd done.

Something to fill the time... Qilby walked over to his desk and retrieved a pen and paper. Lesson plans for Yugo and Adamaï, that would be enough to hold him over until Doctors Pirwit and Korden came back. Reading and writing always helped him think. He could probably expect a question about that from Yugo or Adamaï sometime in the near future; people always found it so strange that someone with a perfect memory would still have need of such things until he explained why.

A thick lock of golden-brown hair slid off his shoulder and landed on the paper as he leaned forward. Qilby glared at down at the lock for a moment, then flicked it aside and continued. The long hair was becoming a problem with only one arm. It would have to be cut, it would only become more of a problem once he actually had proper equipment to work with. The beard was getting in the way as well, in a more persistent way than his hair managed to. There was no point to keeping it this long anyway...

There would be no scissors or knives in his room, Qilby knew. Yugo and Adamaï wouldn't be so careless as to leave such things within his reach, even though Qilby had already noticed exactly nine ways in which he could purposely injure himself or someone else just in this room alone, and that was without even seriously looking. Besides, even if there were scissors he would only make a complete hack job of the trim in the end; the hair was in the way but that was no reason to leave it looking uneven and ugly.

Qilby paused in his writing and leaned back in the chair. Doctors Pirwit and Korden would likely find his asking them to cut his hair suspicious and go to Yugo and Adamaï about it, so the quickest course of action would be to go straight to the twins. He hoped Yugo would be easy to find, he lacked strength to deal with Adamaï any more today. Grougaloragran's physical attacks were bad but still tolerable, while Adamaï's words always managed to hit him where it hurt most.

Might as well get it over with. Qilby pushed himself away from the desk, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor. There was no sign of anyone out in the hall, fortunately no Grougaloragran but unfortunately no Yugo either. He paused and considered where Yugo might be at this hour. The kitchen seemed to be his safest bet since he'd noticed Yugo spending a lot of time helping his adoptive father there.

To Qilby's relief he spotted Yugo by the grill as he walked in the door, only to have that relief dampened when Adamaï walked into view carrying a basket of fresh vegetables.

Adamaï was the first to notice the newcomer, and he gave Qilby a hard stare before turning to his brother, "Yugo, Qilby's here."

Yugo looked over his shoulder at them, then turned when he spotted Qilby. "Something wrong?" he asked, giving Qilby a look of honest concern.

"Oh," Qilby felt his face began to heat up as he realized how silly and superficial his request would seem. Just get it over with. "My hair has been getting in the way," he held up a long strand as he spoke. "I wanted to ask if you could cut it."

"Well," Yugo glanced at Adamaï, an unspoken request for permission in his eyes.

"I can take over for now," the dragon replied with a shrug. Indifferent as Adamaï seemed now, Qilby was certain that Adamaï would be keeping an ear on them from the kitchen, especially with how heated things were earlier.

"Thanks Ad," Yugo gave his brother a smile and left the grill. He paused at the kitchen table to pick up a chair—a bit of a hassle given that every chair in the set was as tall as he was—and led Qilby out into the early afternoon sunlight. "I'll be right back," Yugo set the chair down and disappeared indoors again, off to find a pair of scissors.

Qilby took in the view of the inn's back yard, which was empty for the moment, then took a seat in the chair. Ah, sunlight... The same star which had shed its daytime light on the fall of the Eliatrope people still shared its warmth with the World of Twelve today. Sunlight was another thing he'd dearly missed while trapped in that empty hell. He relaxed, slowly leaning back in the chair as he closed his eyes. Take a moment, enjoy the sunlight...

The door opened and closed behind him, and then there came the scuff of Yugo's shoes against the stones. Yugo's footsteps stopped abruptly at the side of the chair, and after a small pause there was a hollow, wooden sound as something was placed on the ground just behind the chair. It took Qilby a few moments to work out what it was.

A box! Qilby resisted the urge to grin though the ghost of a laugh escaped him in the form of a small gust of breath. And Yugo had managed to remember it the first time, too—in previous incarnations it usually it took two trips for him to think of that, especially around this age.

"Qilby?" Yugo whispered. It seemed he thought Qilby was asleep since he was sitting so quietly.

"Yes, I'm awake," Qilby opened his eyes and looked to his left, where Yugo now stood.

"How short?" the young Eliatrope held up the scissors and a comb with a slightly worried look on his face, and Qilby wondered how often he'd been asked to cut someone's hair in this lifetime. Looking at Yugo's own rough haircut again made him wonder if it was the best idea to let him do it.

"Shoulder length, just try to keep it even," Qilby looked to the front and closed his eyes again. Nothing to do now but hope Yugo would be able to keep the scissors under control while he worked.

The teeth of the comb pressed against Qilby's scalp, and were wrenched down with enough force to jerk his head back. Qilby's eyes snapped open in a glare and he sat forward to get his hair out of Yugo's reach.

"Sorry!" Yugo said, holding his hands away from the chair as Qilby glared back at him.

"You don't know how to deal with long hair, do you?"

"Not really," Yugo pointed to his own short hair and gave Qilby an innocent shrug.

Qilby sighed through his nose and rolled his eyes. "Short strokes as you work your way down," he turned back to the front and leaned back in the chair again, bracing himself for the hair yanking that was sure to follow.

Yugo took Qilby's advice and was able to continue with a minimum of actual hair-pulling, though there were moments painful enough for Qilby to wince when the young Eliatrope hit a tangle. Finally Yugo moved on to using the scissors, which was gentle enough for Qilby to close his eyes again. A soft rustle followed each rasp of the scissors as a swath of hair hit the ground. It seemed Yugo was opting to go for big clumps as he cut it short, it was sloppy but as long as the hair was relatively even in the end Qilby didn't care what method Yugo used.

The rasp of the scissors had reached the area just in front of Qilby's ear when he heard a sharp intake of breath from Yugo.

"Oops."

That wasn't the sort of thing one wanted to hear when someone was cutting their hair. Qilby opened his eyes and looked at Yugo.

"I made it too short," Yugo said apologetically as held up a lock of Qilby's hair, the one that normally hung just in front of his ear. The long length of its severed part now rested on the ground beside the chair.

"Just make the other one match," Qilby said with a disinterested shrug. He turned back to the yard before him, indicating that Yugo was free to carry on.

Yugo hesitated, probably afraid of making another mistake, then double checked the length of Qilby's hair and moved on to finish the job. Qilby had to admit that he was... Impressed with the current Yugo now that he was able to see the boy living the normal day to day. Previous incarnations wouldn't have mentioned the mistake and would have ploughed ahead regardless. Very strange. There was a certain degree of arrogance that tended to characterize all the previous Yugos, and it was odd to find that it no longer held so much sway over the boy. That suggested upbringing had something to do with it, which was honestly quite embarrassing on the part of Qilby and those who had raised Yugo in the past; somehow they had managed to consistently raise him with that bloated sense of pride intact, to the point that Qilby assumed it was just a natural part of the boy's character.

The sharp rasp of the scissors sounded one last time by Qilby's left ear. "Done," Yugo said as he stepped off the box.

Qilby lifted his hand to the back of his head and ran his fingers through his hair. As he had asked, it stopped abruptly around shoulder length and was even fairly straight from what he could feel. He planned on finding a way to tie it back anyway, no need for it to be perfect. Just one last thing... "The beard too, please," Qilby added.

"Oh," Yugo stepped around to the front. "How short?"

"Just don't cut my chin off in the process," Qilby leaned forward, the collar shifting slightly as he did. He kept an eye on Yugo as the young Eliatrope took the beard in one hand and raised the scissors in the other.

Three strokes with the scissors and most of the beard Qilby had worn through the millenia was gone. Qilby ran his fingers over the scruffy goatee as he sat back. A strange sense of loss hovered over him as he considered what he must look like now. "Thank you, Yugo," he said, his mind already drifting elsewhere. "This will be much more convenient."

Qilby stood, and a few stray locks of hair fell from his shoulders and onto the stones below. The chair itself and the box that still stood behind it were surrounded by a partial circle of the same golden brown strands. There was that feeling of disconnection again, like he was adrift. He looked down at Yugo, who stood silently as he watched Qilby. There was an unspoken question in the boy's eyes: Are you alright?

"It's..." Qilby struggled against the collar's influence, trying to put the feeling to words in a way that would be less personal. The concern was appreciated, but that was still far from enough to make Qilby want to open up completely. So much was still up in the air, undecided. They could still send him right back to the Blank Dimension in the end once he'd served his current purpose... "Different," he said finally.

Adamaï threw himself down on the shady patch of grass with a sigh of relief and a loud thwump. He honestly hadn't been expecting Qilby's lessons to be so tiring, but the old Eliatrope had not been joking when he told them they had a lot to catch up on. For Adamaï it had been breath exercises: as Qilby explained soon after the lesson began, dragons could dictate the accuracy and spread of their breath attacks merely through the way they shaped their lips, an extremely useful ability in a wide variety of battle situations. Simple, Adamaï had thought when he heard it, and had found that it was much harder than he anticipated when directed to try it himself.

Yugo flopped down beside his brother, grateful for the shade and the cool grass beneath. Between breath shots—which had been clumsy and too wide judging by the accuracy Qilby described—Adamaï had seen Yugo practicing acrobatics and smooth gliding movements that at first appeared similar to dancing. These had been so strenuous that Yugo was still a bit out of breath, but by the tired smile on his face Adamaï could tell that his brother was satisfied with what he'd learned that day.

"So what'd he have you doing?" Adamaï shifted so that he could lay on his side as he asked the question, genuinely curious about what his brother learned.

"Flow exercises," Yugo said, his face still aglow with enthusiasm. "We can change the flow of the Wakfu around us," he made another of the flowing gestures to illustrate how this was done. "What about you?"

"Breath attacks," Adamaï replied, hoping that Yugo wouldn't ask how it went. He felt embarrassed for not being able to master something that seemed so easy.

"Nice! How was it?"

Just the question he was hoping wouldn't be asked... "Harder than I thought," Adamaï replied.

"Same with mine," Yugo added, tucking his knees up against his chest as he watched Alibert and his guests bustle around the inn's outdoor patio. "But I feel like I still learned a lot."

The two had just dozed off when the sound of footsteps in the grass roused them. They looked up to find Qilby standing over them, a small bundle of paper in his hand.

"Alright you two, that's a long enough break," Qilby said.

"What do you mean?" Yugo rocked into a seated position. "Are we gonna do more training?"

"Your physical abilities aren't all that needs work," Qilby replied, waving the bundle of paper at them. "You still need to learn Draconic, Yugo, and I'm sure that Adamaï needs to brush up on his tactics. Intuition will only get you so far."

[Subtle interference ineffective. Subject rapidly nearing cure for plague, will likely find one once equipment arrives. Requesting permission for elimination.]

{Denied. Shipment has already been compromised. Archaeologists still debating on Revered Inventor issue, more evidence required to reach conclusion. Other agents will begin pushing them toward Bonta. Be ready to move.}

It was the dead of night in the forests surrounding Emelka. Moonlight shafted down through the canopy, dappling the leafy floor in pale silver as the beasts of nighttime went about their usual business. The sigh of the breeze through the trees and the occasional rustle above or yelp from below were all that could be heard in the peace of night.

Something large pushed through the undergrowth, and every nearby creature froze and shrank away into the nearest hiding place as it passed them by. Twigs caught at deep crimson robes and slid past, and dappled moonlight reflected off of the carved beak of a bone-white mask as the figure swept through clearing and thicket alike, bound for some destination with a single minded determination. Two more appeared from the mottled shadows, following in the wake of the first. They walked with a slight slouch to their shoulders, as if lacking the strength to stand fully upright, and with their arms held close to their chest and nearly lost in the mass of folded fabric that covered their bodies so completely.

The figures vanished as swiftly as they appeared, and the beasts of the forest soon resumed their nighttime routine. Had any possessed the curiosity to see where these intruders might be headed they would have found that they were bound in the direction of the only town for miles around: Emelka, sleeping dark and peaceful beneath the stars.