Ah, Animation vs Minecraft. Fun, (mostly) lighthearted, entertaining, way more epic than you'd ever expect stick figures to be… and currently my biggest distraction from writing aside from my actual job. Those stickmen make me happy.

Okay, somehow I uploaded the doc for this chapter but never actually added it to the story? My bad, sorry!

"It was my friends' birthday yesterday."

Ingressus sat in a clearing in a stand of bushes, talking to gravestones. "The ones I told you about, Luciren and Volerik. They just turned sixteen. We had a party for them last night– me, their mom, a few of their friends."

Ingressus shifted in the grass. "I wasn't sure how it would go; whether their friends would want me to be there. I didn't want it to be uncomfortable for the twins– it was their celebration, they shouldn't have to deal with the tension that might've been there. But it seemed to be okay. We all had fun, even the other Ardoni kids."

He laughed quietly. "You should've seen the paint bomb Luciren had, Sorays. It looked a little like a firework, but there was just a little bit of gunpowder and a whole lot of powdered dye inside. It turned their entire yard rainbow colors when it went off. You'd have loved it. There's still a bit of purple on my arm." Ingressus glanced at the purplish smear blooming over his skin. "Kittrian wasn't happy. She didn't even know Luciren had it. Luciren wouldn't give any names, but I think she got it from Leah. It's the kind of thing she'd do."

Ingressus pulled his knees to his chest, gazing up at the sky above the bushes. "Those three– Kittrian, Luciren, Volerik– they're my best friends here. And not just because they tolerate me. I actually like them. Volerik loves to know things– how volcanoes work, the Songs, the history of the world. I got him a book on the stars for his birthday, and he wants to go out and learn the constellations together. Did you know they've been using spyglasses to study the moon? I do now. And Luciren– she'd have loved your stories, Raiden, Gyarus. She's full of energy all the time, always running around and looking for adventures. But the minute you start telling her a story or give her a good book, it's like nothing else exists for her. Kittrian's the kindest person I know, but Songs help you if she finds out you've been mistreating someone. Luciren found a bird with a broken wing outside their cave, and she and Kittrian splinted its wing and took care of it until it could fly again. When Kittrian found out that Selarin had thrown a rock at it, I could hear her telling him off from the next island over. It was very satisfying."

He looked around at the stones ringing the hidden clearing. He'd made each one of them, finding the flat stones one by one, tracing out and then carving the markings of everyone in his camp, and then buying several jars of red paint to fill the stones in with color. Dominus's gravestone lay at the head of the clearing, with Lyrinia's beside it. Ingressus's mother had been killed in an avalanche several years before the raid, but he couldn't bear the thought of his parents being separated in death.

"I wish you could've met them," he said. "But at the same time, I'm so glad they were never in the mountains. They don't have to be afraid here, they can just… live. I don't know if they'd still be… themselves… if they'd had to live our life. If they'd grown up looking over their shoulders all the time. I never want that for them."

Ingressus fell silent, sitting there among the painted stones. The leaves rustled in the breeze around him, and a pair of birds chirped somewhere nearby. Outside the bushes, the Ataraxians were starting their day. Cart wheels squeaked, voices greeted each other indistinctly, and the smell of someone cooking breakfast wafted from somewhere. But Ingressus's mind was far distant.

"I keep thinking I should be doing something," he admitted. "You gave me Voltar, dad. You trusted me to lead the clan after you. But instead I'm just… here. Living among our enemies. Even without Voltar, I want to help our clan, but I don't know what I could do. I want to end this, end the raids, end our people's suffering. But I have no idea how to make that happen."

He pulled his knees to his chest. "I thought that the best thing I could do for our people was to stay away from them. To never give the raiders the chance to follow me back to them. And if that's true, then so be it. I never thought I'd say this, but… I'm happy here. People are used to me by now– even the ones who don't like me will mostly just ignore me. And I have friends. Kittrian, Volerik, Luciren, Matt and Leah… even Saylor seems like he really meant his apology." He touched his mostly-healed spider bite. "Bonding through danger, I guess."

He sighed. "I just can't help but wish I could do more for our clan. I know you said that living on is still defiance of the raiders, but what help is that to anyone else, for me to be living on in Songs-blasted luxury while the rest of our people are slaughtered?"

He beat his fist against the ground, then sighed. He stared at his parents' gravestones, his eyes tracing the crimson markings.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The universe did not answer him. Ingressus closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his knees. "Songs, I wish you could speak to me."

He sat there for a long time, his mind running down the same paths as it had dozens of times before. The feud between the clans was so much bigger than him, so much more than he knew how to solve. He knew how to fight, how to defend himself against threats. He knew how to fight in a war. He didn't know how to end one.

Eventually, he sat up again. He traced the markings over his heart and rested his fingers on his father's gravestone, then his mother's. The red-painted markings stared back at him from the stones, a paler mimicry of the memorial his parents, his entire clan should've had. The graves should've been lit by the magic embodied in Voltar, to ensure that their markings would shine on in defiance of death. But this was the best Ingressus could do.

He left the memorial behind, crawling through the gap in the bushes that led back to the outside world. The shrubs above Galleous's cave were thick and dense, hiding any sign that the clearing existed. There were no islands up above that had a line of sight to the memorial, either; Ingressus had checked. And with the stone he used to weigh down a convenient branch, even his path in and out couldn't be seen. The gravestones wouldn't be found.

Raylis greeted Ingressus as he descended the slope back to the forge. Ingressus returned the greeting, but didn't make further conversation.

Raylis Sendaris was a strange case, one Ingressus hadn't quite figured out. On the surface he seemed like one of the friendlier Ardoni– willingly holding conversations and even making small talk with Ingressus, occasionally stepping in when Selarin was irritating– largely treating Ingressus as though he weren't Voltaris at all. But it always felt like he was watching Ingressus closely whenever they spoke, not so much suspicious as… probing. As if he was testing Ingressus, gauging his reactions. It was weird.

Someone was already in the forge when Ingressus arrived; a Mendoris woman whose name he couldn't place.

"Ah," she said when she saw him. "Hello. Is Galleous here?"

"He's out," Ingressus told her. Galleous had left Ataraxia the day before on a trip to see his family, leaving the forge under Ingressus's watch while he was gone. In Galleous's words, "if I go to see them, there's less of a chance that they'll drop in on us." "Do you need to place an order, or pick one up?"

The Mendoris had the look that Ardoni tended to get, that awkward stance when they would've preferred to ignore Ingressus but had to speak to him instead. Well, that was her problem, not his.

"When will he be returning?" she asked.

"By the end of the week." Ingressus went to a chest and pulled out Galleous's record of pending jobs, scanning the list. "What was your name again?"

Ataraxia was… unbelievable. Achillean couldn't stop staring at the floating islands, hovering in the air as if gravity had simply decided not to apply to them. Long vines draped from the edges, reaching down to earth as though trying to anchor their homes to the valley floor. And was that a waterfall? Where could the water have even come from? There couldn't be a spring in a floating island, could there? Was simple rainfall enough to supply the water?

A hand rested on his shoulder as Aegus steered him back onto the path. Achillean saw the fence he'd been about to trip over and gave a sheepish laugh.

Aegus rubbed Achillean's shoulder good-naturedly. "I was the same way the first time I came here."

Achillean gestured at the air around them. "How is this place possible?"

Aegus chuckled. "There are many unexplained things in our world, and Ataraxia is one of them."

"I'll say," Achillean said, staring at an island that hovered overhead. Anywhere else, such a sight would've sent anyone diving for cover, but here it was just normal. A thousand tons of stone hanging over the valley floor, sometimes hanging over your head, and no one here even batted an eye.

"This town was built as a waystation for traveling enchanters," Aegus said. "Many kinds of magic are at their strongest near the Heart of Ardonia. Enchanters and scholars would travel from across the lands to study their craft in these mountains. Some still do today."

Achillean could believe that. Ataraxia was exactly the kind of place you'd expect to be brimming with magic.

"Master Aegus? Are my eyes going or is that actually you?"

Achillean turned to see an older Nestoris approaching them, a large bundle of sugarcane under his arm. He looked even older than Aegus, though he was missing the tip of one ear. His markings were a pale yellow, branching like tree limbs across his torso.

"Keleus!" Aegus greeted warmly. "It's been a long time. How have you been?"

"Oh, you know," Keleus replied with a grin. "Getting older every day. Watching the youngsters learn the ropes of life just like we did. Shockingly, playing with gunpowder is a hazardous hobby to have…"

Achillean wandered off as the two elders began to reminisce, waving in acknowledgement of Aegus's call to not go far. He wandered the paths of the island, eventually coming to a stop by the bridge. He held on to the end post as he stared out at the floating islands, taking in the view that still challenged his suspense of disbelief. It was amazing… and beautiful.

A sudden laugh made Achillean jump, ears flattening against his head in alarm. He steadied himself, grateful that he had been holding on to the bridge as he looked around for the source of the noise.

"Or what, Red?" the mocking voice said, laughing again. "You gonna glare me to death?"

A second voice answered him, lower and the words indistinct. The conversation was coming from behind a nearby shed, and after a moment's hesitation Achillean crept closer to investigate.

"I know so," the first voice taunted. "Haven't we been over this before? You. Can't. Hurt. Me." The voice took on a patronizing tone, as though explaining something to a child. "So why waste your own time? Be on your way, now."

"I will," the second voice (Red?) said tersely. "Once you return what you stole."

"Selarin," a younger voice said. "Maybe we should, we'll get in trouble—"

"Quiet, squirt. Again, Red: what if I don't? What will you do? Go on, tell me."

"I'll take back what I can, and report you for the rest." There were footsteps, then a short scuffle. The first voice tutted condescendingly.

"I wouldn't do that, Red."

Achillean rounded the corner of the shed. "Not to stick my nose in, but this was… an interesting conversation to overhear…"

The four Ardoni turned to look at him. Well, three of them did. The fourth used the distraction to twist free of his captor's grip on his arm, the motion sending the larger Sendaris stumbling. The Sendaris grabbed for his captive but the Ardoni– the red Ardoni, Achillean realized– dodged nimbly away, glancing between Achillean and the others. The Mendoris fumbled the spear he'd been twirling and made an undignified grab for it, while his little brother jumped.

"And who are you?" the older Mendoris– Selarin, by his voice– asked, planting the spear in the ground with great overcompensation of dignity.

"Just a passerby," Achillean said, glancing between the four. The Sendaris made a move towards the Voltaris, who gave a warning growl that made him back off again. "I, ah, overheard some things and thought I'd see what was going on."

Selarin's annoyed look vanished, replaced by a smile. "Well, thank you, but there's no need. I just caught this Voltaris stealing supplies from the forge, but don't worry. We've already gotten everything back."

The Voltaris made a sound of disgust, glaring at Selarin with folded arms. "I've seen an eight-year-old come up with a better lie than that."

Achillean hadn't been convinced, either. Having heard them both speak, it was clear that Selarin had been the mocking voice, and the Voltaris was Red. Their earlier exchange had painted the opposite picture to Selarin's words.

"It's true," Selarin said, with an expression that yelled of course it's not, what are you gonna do about it? "Verdeus and Keperin here saw the whole thing, isn't that right?"

He tapped his brother with the butt of the spear on the second name, and the younger Mendoris nodded. "Uh, yeah. Totally. Uh-huh." He cast a nervous glance at the Voltaris, who gave him a pitying look.

Verdeus nodded. "Yup. Just what he said."

Selarin shook his head in mock disappointment. "How low. Gaining the blacksmith's trust, playing him for years, only to make off with everything you can carry the moment he leaves town."

"And who do you think will believe that?"

Red (admittedly, probably not his real name) sounded calm. But his cold stare and the way his ears were pinned back betrayed his anger. "This isn't the first time you've stolen from the forge, or from anyone else. You overestimate your credibility."

Selarin smirked. "A better question is, who do you think will take your word over ours? It's four to one, and that one is you. Tell you what, back off now and go home, and as long as you keep your mouth shut, maybe I won't give your name to the council when this is discovered."

"Hold on, am I your number four?" Achillean said, affronted. "Oh, no, I'm not backing your lie. Leave me out of this."

Achillean had been surprised, and a little alarmed at first to encounter a Voltaris, especially one so far from Northwind. But then again, Aegus had told him that Ataraxia was a melting pot between the clans, with Ardoni from all over the provinces. Maybe that included the Voltaris? And Red and Selarin clearly knew each other, so it wasn't like Red had randomly snuck into Ataraxia that day to cause trouble. So Achillean decided to shelve that concern and go with his gut: Selarin was the troublemaker in this situation.

Selarin looked as indignant as Achillean felt, which was almost amusing. "What? You're siding with him?"

"I overheard you admit to it," Achillean pointed out. "So, helping you blame him would make me a liar. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Red said, giving Selarin a faint smirk. "He deserves to be cut down to size."

"Oh, I do?" Selarin retorted. "What about you? Always walking around like you own the place, despite the fact that you're here on Galleous's word alone. Stirring up trouble with the other kids and getting them hurt, then walking away without consequence? It's like you think you're King Rendor himself."

"Refusing to cower before you, you mean?" Red fired back. "Encouraging the kids to stand up to you?" His voice turned deadly serious. "And then you and your sycophants push them around to keep them afraid of you."

He took a menacing step towards Selarin, red eyes burning a hole through the Mendoris. "What do you plan to do when Terik's parents learn you were the one who knocked out his tooth? You know they're looking for the one who did it."

"That was you?" Keperin squeaked, staring at his brother

"Shut up!" Selarin barked, keeping his eyes on Red. "You have no proof. You weren't even there. And as long as the kid knows to keep his mouth shut—"

"You must be praying hard he stays afraid of you," Red observed. "Sounds like a Nether of a way to live, knowing everything could come crashing down at any minute."

Selarin let out a growl like an angry wolf, his grip tight on the spear. Verdeus clenched his fists, glancing between the other two. Keperin retreated furtively, whispering "please don't, please don't, please don't."

Achillean darted between the others, praying that he wasn't about to catch a blow meant for someone else. Well, if things went bad, he could just scream, and some passing adult would surely investigate. "So, with something like that hanging over your head, do you really want to deal with accusations of theft, too?"

"Get out of here, Nestoris," Selarin warned. "This isn't your business."

Achillean held up his hands. "Listen, how about this for a deal? You return whatever it was you took, and he–" Achillean gestured at the Voltaris, deciding not to use "Red" as a name– "forgets it happened. No harm, no foul. Everyone goes their own way like this never happened. Is it really worth someone getting potentially seriously hurt over? Not to mention the consequences you'd face after the fight. I know I wouldn't say it's worth it."

Achillean dearly hoped they would agree with him. Selarin and Red clearly had history with each other– the mutual-loathing kind of history. Maybe they did hate each other enough that they wouldn't care about injury or getting in trouble. If that was the case… well, Achillean would get out of their way and run to get help. Ideally Master Aegus, realistically the first adult he came to. Selarin was vibrating with anger, Red's gaze was steely, Achillean braced to dodge…

A clattering sound interrupted the standoff. Keperin stood over a small pile of iron ingots, tossing a shovel to the ground beside them. "Okay. Take them."

"Wimp," Selarin muttered at him.

"I don't want to get in trouble!" Keperin burst out. "He's right, what are we even going to do with this stuff? Let's just give it back and go."

"Wise words," Red noted, inclining his head to the child. He actually sounded genuine, at least as far as Achillean could tell.

Keperin looked at him apprehensively. "So you won't tell on me?"

"I won't."

"See?" Achillean said hopefully. "We can put all this behind us."

Verdeus drew an axe from his inventory and looked at it, then at Red and Achillean. "We give this stuff back, and you both keep quiet?"

"Verdeus…" Selarin growled.

"Keperin can't lie to save his life," Verdeus pointed out. "And what if they do believe Red and the new guy over us? Red won this time."

Selarin seethed, lifting the spear from the ground. Achillean scrambled away as Selarin threw the spear into the dirt between him and Red. He saw a glint of metal in Red's hand, but Selarin merely threw a pile of gold ingots and a few armor pieces on the ground, giving Red a murderous glare the entire time.

"This time," he warned.

He turned and stormed away, snapping at Keperin as he did. "Come on."

Verdeus laid down another pile of stolen items and left without a word. Achillean slumped, letting out a sigh of relief.

Red pulled the spear from the ground, inspecting the tip. "Thank you."

"Um, you're welcome," Achillean said awkwardly. The stories of the Voltaris and their war with the other clans echoed in his head, and he was suddenly very aware that their little patch of land was concealed from view of any passers-by. "Is he… always like that?"

"Yes. To anyone he can get away with." Red ran a finger along the flat of the spearhead, scowled, and slipped it into his inventory. "I take it you're new to Ataraxia, then."

Achillean blinked. "How'd you know that?"

"You were surprised to see me, and everyone in town knows what Selarin's like." Red gathered up the pile of ingots Verdeus had dropped. "How long have you been here?"

"Half an hour."

Red looked impressed. "Well, a word of advice, then: Selarin will hold a grudge against you for this, but he's too much of a coward to pull anything where adults can see. So you'll want to stay in public places for a while, until he calms down."

"Noted," Achillean said.

He could just walk away, Achillean thought. Go on his way, and either tell Aegus or forget it had happened, just like the deal he'd brokered. But despite the stories of the vengeful, banished clan that everyone knew, curiosity was rising in his mind, too. He'd never known of any Voltaris existing outside the Barrier Mountains, except when they launched attacks on the other clans. And yet, it definitely seemed like Red had been in Ataraxia for a while– and not hiding from the other inhabitants. He knew Selarin, knew what he would and wouldn't do, and was willing to risk getting beaten up chasing down thieves in defense of the blacksmith.

Achillean remembered Aegus returning in a particularly bad mood after one of the tournaments. When Achillean asked what happened, Aegus had told him that he'd overheard a contender bragging about using a sword he'd stolen from a fallen Voltaris to finish off more of his clanmates.

"Is this cruelty what we choose to glorify?" Aegus had said. "This endless slaughter of our own kind? Are these the kinds of Ardoni we hold up as heroes? What does it say about our clans that we celebrate such people? The Voltaris fight because we have forced them to do so, to survive. And we call our Champions heroes for perpetuating this cycle of revenge."

Achillean hadn't understood for several years. The Voltaris attacked them, both in the past and the present. And if history was any guide, they had no intent of stopping anytime soon. The raids, the use of the Prime Songs, they were a necessary evil– taking the fight to their enemies, and being prepared in case the Voltaris had created more of the Primes. But this Volaris here… despite the still-healing wound on his shoulder, the older scars that marred his skin, his confrontation with Selarin, he… didn't appear hostile, nor vengeful. He'd warned Achillean about Selarin's grudge, he'd appeared resonably forgiving of Keperin, at least.

Yeah, curiosity was winning out.

"So, are you apprenticed to the smith here?" Achillean asked.

"Just an assistant." Red picked up a helmet, running his fingers over the surface. "I'm afraid I'll have to break your deal with them, by the way."

"What? Achillean asked. "Why?"

Red showed him a dent in the helmet's crown. "I can't fix this on my own, and Galleous will ask what happened." He put the helmet away and looked over the last of the stolen goods, red eyes narrowing with disappointment. "Not to mention that Selarin kept some diamonds."

"All right, I… guess that's fair…" Achillean glanced at the place Keperin had stood. "Seems a shame for Keperin, though. He didn't sound like he wanted to go along with his brother."

"Oh, he never does," Red said. "Selarin just likes jerking him around, and Keperin doesn't have the nerve to stand up to him yet. But he's not a bad person on his own. I'll leave his name out of it."

Achillean was relieved. "Oh. Okay. That's kind of you."

"Believe it or not, I do try." Red slung a pickaxe over his shoulder. "What's your name, anyway?"

Achillean held out a hand. "Achillean."

"Ingressus." They shook. "Thanks again for your help."

Achillean shrugged. "Anyone would've done it."

"No, they wouldn't have."

Achillean was saved from having to come up with a response to that by a voice calling his name. "Achillean? Are you here?"

"Oh, yeah," Achillean muttered. "Coming, Master Aegus!"

He glanced back to say farewell, only to see that Ingressus had gone stiff. "Master Aegus? As in, the Master of your clan?"

"Yeah," Achillean said. "He came here because of some dispute between some people in our clan. I'd always wanted to see more of the world, so he let me come along."

Despite the height of the surrounding shrubs, Ingressus ducked his head, hunching his shoulders as though he were afraid of being spotted. "You can't tell him about me."

Right. Member of an enemy clan. Master of a clan the Voltaris were enemies with. That was a fair reaction. "Aegus doesn't hate the Voltaris, though," Achillean said. "He's talked about trying for a cease-fire before."

Ingressus grabbed Achillean's shoulders. "You can't. Please."

Achillean relented. "Okay. I won't."

"Achillean?"

Ingressus bolted, disappearing behind a stand of trees. Achillean watched him go, then turned and pushed through the bushes. "I'm over here."

Here. The Nestoris Master. Was here. In Ataraxia. Half a continent away from Nestoria. On the same creeper-blasted island as Ingressus was.

Every curse Ingressus knew shot through his head like lightning as he crouched behind a boulder and tried not to look like he was hiding from something. The last thing he needed was for someone to walk by and think he was trying to make a getaway with the pickaxe still slung across his back. He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself.

But, panic never helped anything, either. He had to keep calm, gauge the situation, determine his next move. According to Achillean, the Nestoris Master had come to resolve some dispute. That could've been a lie, it was true. But if Aegus had been in Ataraxia for him, why the Nether would he have brought along someone of Achillean's age? The Voltaris wouldn't have considered him too young for such a mission, but Ingressus knew the other clans didn't expose their kids to such risks so soon. So Aegus probably hadn't known Ingressus was here. Ingressus had to make sure it would stay that way. Achillean had said he wouldn't tell, but Ingressus wouldn't risk everything on a stranger's word.

Ingressus mentally took stock of what he had in his inventory as he snuck back in the direction the Master's voice had come from. He still had a lot of what he'd hidden away in the early days, when he'd thought he would have to flee at any minute. That fear had faded over the years, but the lessons of preparedness for scarcity and making sure you had supplies to fend for yourself never had. If he did have to make a break for it now, he would be well-supplied, at least.

Ingressus heard Achillean's voice up ahead and quickly clambered up a tree. He pulled a blanket from his inventory and wrapped it around himself, hiding his markings from prying eyes. He pressed himself against the trunk as the voices got closer, and soon the Nestoris Master was within sight. Ingressus glanced around the trunk and held a hand up to his ear, hiding the red glow as he studied the guardian of a Prime Song, the selector of Champions, the enemy of his people, Master Aegus Nestoris.

The Master's markings were a golden-yellow shade, arcing in crescent-moon shapes down his torso. He was old, too– older than Ingressus's father, maybe even older than his grandparents. A diamond staff was slung over his back: Nestor. It looked nothing like Voltar– the curving arcs of diamond ran down the staff like curling vines or wind made solid, perhaps somewhat useful for defense, but largely impractical for combat. Not that the other clans would ever even consider using a Master staff as a weapon, as Ingressus had learned in a heated argument with Velos Kaltaris after hearing of Master Okanus's death at the hands of the Defant Legion. They had the luxury of holding the Master staffs sacred.

"–since we were both very young," Aegus was saying to Achillean. "Although you should know that every story he tells about the trouble we supposedly got into is completely false."

Achillean laughed. "I'm sure they are."

"Oh, you'll be telling the youngsters the same things one day," Aegus retorted good-naturedly. "Where did you get off to, anyway?"

"J-just exploring."

Ingressus mentally ran through his vocabulary of curse words as Aegus noticed the hesitation. "Is something wrong?"

"I… ran into some kids stealing supplies from the forge," Achillean admitted. "I think one of them's mad at me for interfering."

"Oh," Aegus said. "Do you know where they went? We ought to let the blacksmith know."

"He already knows," Achillean said quickly. "He'd already caught them when I walked in on them. He said he'd take care of things."

Aegus, thankfully, seemed to buy the story. Then again, Ingressus figured that it hadn't really been much of a lie. More like selective omission. Ingressus relaxed as the two Nestoris wandered on their way, then counted to twenty before climbing down from the tree.

But the danger wasn't over yet. Maybe Achillean didn't sell him out, but as long as the Nestoris Master was in Ataraxia, Ingressus was in danger. He needed to hide. Achillean knew he worked at the forge, so that was out…

Five minutes later, Ingressus was standing outside of Kittrian's cave. "The Nestoris Master is in Ataraxia. I hate to ask this, but can I lay low here?"

Kittrian didn't hesitate for a second, practically yanking him inside the cave. "Did he see you?"

"No," Ingressus said. "Someone traveling with him did, but he said he'd keep quiet and so far he has."

"Tell me everything."

Ingressus did. He told her about chasing Selarin and his friends down, about Achillean appearing, about hearing Aegus calling Achillean's name and spying on them from a tree. Kittrian looked more alarmed than he'd been on the last part, but she bit her tongue on the lecture about the dangers of spying on your enemies.

"All right," she said when he was done. "You can hide in here as long as you need. I'll keep an eye on things and let you know when he's gone again."

"Thank you."

"Anytime," Kittrian assured him. "Besides, the kids will be thrilled for the excuse to have you here."

The twins were thrilled. Volerik dragged Ingressus down to sit next to him, opening his new book on his lap. "What constellations do you know?"

Ingressus suspected they were actively trying to distract him from the danger. But he had to admit, it worked. Volerik ran through all the constellations shown in his book, asking Ingressus whether he knew them and how easy they were to find. Dusk jumped up onto the bed and wormed his way under the book to sprawl across their legs, purring happily and apparently heedless of the book that was now propped on his back. Luciren, still smeared with so much paint powder that her markings were tinged in rainbow, chattered endlessly about how well the paint bomb had worked and how many people were still extra-colorful.

"You got it from Leah, didn't you?" Ingressus asked her.

"Nope! I don't even know who that is. Who's Leah?"

Day turned to night, then to day again. Kittrian gave Ingressus a pile of spare blankets and let him sleep on the couch in the back room. Ingressus slept fitfully, snapping back to awakeness at the slightest sound. He dreamed of standing before the imposing Nestoris Master, pleading for his right to survival as his father looked on, the dark outline of Voltar in his hand. Ingressus woke with a start, reaching out for a staff that wasn't there. Dusk expressed his displeasure by smacking at Ingressus's arm with a mrowl. Apparently that was cat for go back to sleep and let me do the same.

Aegus didn't leave the next day, so Ingressus stayed hidden, helping Kittrian around the house and keeping the twins and the cat entertained. It felt oddly familiar– hiding in a cave in fear of those outside, planning strategies for worst-case-scenarios, and trying to stave off memories he didn't want to recall and thoughts he'd had a million times before.

"You seem distracted," Kittrian said as they prepared dinner. "Want to tell me what's on your mind?"

Ingressus paused, his knife hovering over the carrots. His thoughts had been circling all day, each chasing the next until they came right back to where they started.

"Am I a coward?" he asked finally.

"What?" Kittrian set her piece of chicken down with a smack and stared at him. "Of course not. Why would you be?"

"My clan is dying," Ingressus said. "One of the Ardoni responsible is here. And I'm hiding in a cave and doing nothing about it."

Kittrian shook her head. "That doesn't make you a coward. You're keeping yourself safe. There's no shame in that."

"But what if I could do something?" Ingressus gestured with the knife as he spoke. "What if I have the chance to help my people while Aegus is here? If I can, then I have to do something."

"All right." Kittrian leaned against the counter, folding her arms thoughtfully. "Something like what? Let's see what we can come up with."

Ingressus pressed a fist to his forehead. "That's the problem. I could talk to him, but he'd have no reason to listen to me. I haven't seen my people in years, and it's not like I'd have any influence over whoever's the Master now."

"Maybe not," Kittrian said. "But you might get him to think twice about whether the war is necessary."

"Only if he even cares to listen."

"True." Dusk jumped onto the counter and Kittrian held out a hand to keep him back as the cat strained to reach the chicken slice. "Master Aegus is well-respected among our clans, but I know that doesn't mean he'd be sympathetic to yours."

Ingressus watched as Dusk tried to jump over Kittrian's hand. Kittrian caught him, picked him up, and set him back down on the floor.

"Which Prime Song does Aegus guard?" Ingressus asked.

Kittrian thought for a minute. "Aggressium, I think." She glanced at him. "Why do you ask?"

Aggressium. The most powerful and dangerous of the four Primes. Mobilium, Protisium, Supporium– those were useful, powerful, versatile. But Aggressium was the one that could kill. It was the most directly dangerous of the four, the single most destructive item an Ardoni could wield. The Prime had wrenched the life from so many Voltaris, their greatest discovery turned against them like some cruel form of payback for hubris.

"Do you think he'd have it with him?"

"Probably not…" Kittrian said slowly. "I wouldn't carry it around, anyway… May I ask where this is going?"

"Getting the Prime out of his hands would be a blessing for my clan," Ingressus said. "Even if I couldn't get it back to the mountains, if I could at least make sure it was out of their reach…"

He trailed off, shaking his head. "But it sounds like that's irrelevant, anyway."

Kittrian relaxed. "Maybe that's for the best," she said. "Stealing a Prime Song would put a dragon-sized target on your back."

"I'd be willing to take that chance," Ingressus said. "If I thought it could actually work."

"Well, then." Kittrian perked up. "Well, there you go. You're certainly not a coward."

Ingressus must've still looked despondent, because Kittrian rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Sometimes there just isn't anything to be done," she said gently. "That doesn't make you weak, or cowardly. It's just the way life is. There's no shame in keeping yourself safe, even if others aren't so lucky."

Ingressus sighed. "I hate that I can't help my clan more."

"I know."

Kittrian spread her arms. Ingressus accepted the invitation, leaning into the hug. Kittrian gently rubbed his shoulder and Ingressus closed his eyes, imagining a world where he and his people never had to hide, where his family was alive and well and safe from harm.

"The weight of the world is not yours to carry," Kittrian said softly. "It's okay if all you can do is live."

Ingressus nodded against her shoulder, wishing he could believe that. Dusk, noticing that his Ardoni were distracted, jumped back onto the counter and made off with his chicken.

(6180 words)

This'll be a shorter chapter, I said. I can probably have it done in a few days, I said. Ha ha, no, the writing gods said.

And yes, I had to give the other members of the pre-Great-War golden trio at least a cameo. Will they come back? You'll have to wait and see.