The following day, Ingressus could barely believe what he'd said that night. He had barely spoken to anyone about his life in the mountains, had said little more than the rare sentence even to Galleous, Kittrian, or the twins. He couldn't say what had possessed him to spill so much at the campfire, to a bunch of people he barely knew.

He had almost thought it was a dream, or some half-asleep figment of his imagination brought on by his homesickness. But the softer looks the children were giving him now– pity rather than uncertainty, sadness rather than nervousness, dispelled the idea that the conversation had been produced by his mind. He had shared stories of his clan with them, had shed tears in front of them.

Ingressus wondered about that as he walked the twins home, as he carried a half-asleep Alcyone back to his parents' cave and threatened Selarin's well-being. It wasn't like the things he'd said were a secret, nor was it anything that would endanger the rest of his clan; he'd been careful of that. It simply… wasn't something he had ever shared, even to those who would've cared.

Maybe it was the firelight that had done it. They said that the glow of flames in a dark night brought out a different side of a person, a more open side than came forth in the daylight. The world shrank in around you at night, the outside world shut out by the shadows of dusk until all you were aware of was your little circle of firelight and those who shared it with you. It wasn't like the bright light of day he walked through now, that lit the earth from horizon to horizon. Night could be dangerous but it could also be sheltering, offering the comfort of a sleeping world.

Ingressus knew the tales the other clans had about his. He knew the rumors of necromancy that had sprung from the discovery of a root that could darken an Ardoni's markings. He knew they believed his clan had found a way to control someone else's Song. He knew they were afraid of what his clan would do if they ever got their hands on the Primes again– though he had to admit, that last one wasn't unprompted. The bilateral slaughter after the Voltaris had managed to kill a Champion and make off with the Supporium and Protisium Primes was well-documented on both sides. Revenge– and the fear of revenge– were powerful forces, ones that had ruled his species for centuries.

Sukey had said it would end. What's more, the Felina had seemed to genuinely believe his own words. Ingressus wasn't sure he had that much faith in the goodness of the universe. And yet, in the following days, he couldn't help but notice a change. Madaris and his friend spotted him sparring against a practice dummy, and applauded rather than shuffling nervously away when he noticed them. Alcyone gave him a hidden wave in the marketplace when his parents' backs were turned. Even Terik willingly spoke to him, though he still looked nervous when Ingressus met his gaze.

"My sister says your clan might not be so bad," Saylor told him when Ingressus dropped off a delivery of kitchenware from Galleous. "Buuuut my parents told her not to fall for it, so I don't know what she thinks now."

"Did they tell you the same?"

"I neglected to mention the mineshaft adventure to them."

"Saylor, who is it?" a voice called from inside the cave

"It's Galleous!" Saylor called back, tossing Ingressus some coins and gesturing at him to leave.

Ingressus continued his rounds, dropping off the day's deliveries. A set of fishhooks for Remus, a shovel for Kalais, a stack of buckets for Delark, horseshoes for Everin's stables on the mainland, then back to Gateway Island with a few shovels for Lenneus.

The Mendoris snatched the shovels from Ingressus's hand when he arrived. "You've got some nerve, Voltaris."

Ingressus nodded to the shovels, annoyed but not surprised. "That's twenty irons."

Lenneus ignored that, pointed the shovel head at him. "Did you feed my son a sob story about your clan?"

Ingressus batted the shovel aside. "I told him nothing but the truth."

"Don't give me that," Lenneus snapped. "You leave my son alone, you hear me?"

"Many would consider it a good thing that their child can think for themselves."

"So you're telling me that you weren't trying to get him to sympathize with your clan?"

In truth, that was exactly what Ingressus had hoped for. But he was in no mood to debate motives with someone he knew wouldn't care to listen. "Are you going to pay for the shovels, or not?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"If you're not, then I have no need to continue the conversation," Ingressus said, turning to leave. "I'll let Galleous know you refused to pay him. Enjoy your talk with the council."

"Wh– get back here, you—"

Ingressus walked away without looking back. Despite Lenneus's anger he heard no sounds of footsteps, no attempt to chase him.

All talk, Ingressus thought. No threat.

"Hey, speaking of money."

Ingressus looked over to see a pair of tired-looking Humans looking at him from next to a large wooden cart. "We will pay you to help us move this."

Ingressus glanced over the cart they were slumped against. "Isn't that cart meant for a horse?"

"Yes," one of them said. "And we would have one, except someone nearly got one of Everin's horses attacked by wolves last time he went to the stables."

She shot a glare at her friend, who let out a loud groan. "Come on, Mira, it wasn't like I got chased on purpose."

Mira looked back at Ingressus. "Anyway, we could really use the help getting this back to Hunter's place. I'm not sure if Gregor was joking about paying you, but I am not; if that will get you to help, I will."

Ingressus studied the cart. "Ten irons."

"Done."

Hunter's hay farm was only a few islands away, but Ingressus could see why the two had called for extra help. Even empty the cart was heavy, and the bridges' uphill slope did them no favors. Ingressus and Mira had to stand behind the cart, shoving it up bit by bit while Gregor steered from the front and did his best to haul it along.

"Nearly there!" Gregor called.

With a final shove, the cart rolled over the end of the bridge and onto the island. Mira slumped against the cart and Ingressus rubbed at his arm where it had pressed into the wood.

"Regretting everything yet?" Mira asked him.

Ingressus studied the wood-grain pattern imprinted in his skin. "Doesn't Hunter have a horse?"

"He does," Gregor offered. "But it hurt its leg somehow. He's contacted a potioner to see what could be done about it."

"Potions work on animals?" Mira asked, with some surprise.

"Yeah," Gregor said. "Remember when we were little, and someone turned a bunch of dogs and cats invisible all over the islands?"

"That was an interesting day," Ingressus recalled.

Someone cleared their throat from behind the trio. Ingressus looked back to see Meirus standing at the bridge, patiently waiting his turn to move on.

"Is there a problem?" he asked them.

Gregor sighed and stood up again. "Guess we need to get moving."

Mira groaned but stood as well, and the journey resumed. Two bridges down, one to go. And on the relatively level island surfaces, pushing the cart was much less of a struggle.

They were nearly at the last bridge when Gregor paused, looking around for something. Ingressus's ears pricked, and he heard a faint, choked noise– muffled crying.

Mira pointed wordlessly at a nearby garden. A handful of people were standing awkwardly around, their expressions somber. Ingressus saw Leah crouched by the base of a tree, speaking quietly to someone with her hand outstretched. Ingressus couldn't tell who it was, curled up and crying behind the tree, but he thought he saw a trace of yellow markings.

Gregor stepped forward, paused, then made his way to a pair of the onlookers. "What's going on?" he asked quietly.

The two glanced back at the tree. "Ailera… she lost her uncle."

"Oh, no!" Mira whispered, covering her mouth with her hands.

Ingressus's heart sank, and he looked back at the tree. He wanted to believe they were wrong, that they'd heard some garbled version of the truth. But… but no. The hand Leah was clasping in comfort and sadness bore Ailera's shade of amber-yellow, the markings zigzagging up her arm in her familiar pattern. Void, why did fate have to be so cruel?

"What happened?" Gregor asked in a whisper.

The Felina opened his mouth, but the Sendaris nudged his foot to quiet him. The Felina stared at her in confusion and she whispered something Ingressus couldn't make out. The Felina's eyes widened and Mira glanced at Ingressus, who shrugged. He had no more answers than she did.

"It was a fight with some marauders," the Sendaris eventually answered Gregor. "Her uncle– he didn't make it."

The words alone shouldn't have meant anything. They should've been vague and impersonal, words spoken by one who knew no more themselves or who wanted to protect the privacy of another. But the nervous glance the Sendaris cast at Ingressus, the way the Felina glanced between him and Ailera's tree spoke volumes more than what had been said aloud, and Ingressus felt the pieces fall together in his mind in a way he wished he had never thought of but now couldn't unsee.

"Where did this happen?" he heard himself ask.

"I– I don't know," the Sendaris stammered. "I didn't ask—"

Liar. Liar.

"It was the Barrier Mountains." Ingressus's grip tightened on the cart. "Wasn't it?"

"Y– yes," the Felina said. "Ingressus, I'm sorry—"

"Against my people." He knew it was the answer, it had to be. Why else would the Felina have apologized?

The responding silence spoke louder than a shout, louder than a thunderclap that shook the sky. He saw the Sendaris edging away as if he were about to explode, heard Mira and Gregor saying his name. But the storm in his mind drowned it all out, buried it under the image of an Ardoni with Ailera's markings wielding a blood-soaked sword, the snow stained red in his wake.

Ingressus had to leave. If he didn't… he didn't know what he would do. But he couldn't stay, couldn't stand there and pretend he hadn't pitied one who would grieve a murderer.

The memory of four nights ago replayed itself in his head, taunting him with his own naivete. He had told them about his clan, had brought out the memories he had held close and guarded for years in the hopes that his audience would come to care about their plight. And the entire time Ailera had just been sitting there in silence as if her uncle weren't doing his best at that very moment to snuff out what remained of the same people Ingressus was memorializing.

Galleous was hammering a piece of armor into shape when Ingressus returned. He glanced up when Ingressus entered, then did a double-take when Ingressus brushed past him without so much as a hello, finally coming to a stop on the balcony.

Ingressus gripped the railing, staring out over the valley. Ataraxia. His refuge, his town, his home– and he'd been sharing it with a raider's family all along.

Galleous appeared on the balcony behind him. "Ingressus? What's going on? Are you all right?"

Oh, the gods were certainly laughing at him now. He imagined the entities looking up or down or over from wherever their seats of power were, laughing at the irony this moment had become.

"I found out that Ailera's uncle is a raider," he said.

He hadn't looked away from the valley, but he could still see Galleous stiffen at the news. "Is he here?"

"No. He died in the mountains."

He heard Galleous sigh in relief, and felt an unexpected pulse of envy. Songs, why couldn't he just be relieved about it?

After a few minutes of watching Ingressus stare at nothing, Galleous came up and leaned on the fence beside him. "All right. Want to talk about it?"

Ingressus sighed, rubbing at his temples as he tried to piece together his feelings.

"I know that– I never forgot about the raids," he said finally. "I just didn't think– after all this time, I forgot to be suspicious of the Ardoni here being involved."

"You've always known about my connection to them," Galleous pointed out.

"I know," Ingressus conceded. "But everyone else…" he shook his head. "Maybe I just wanted to believe you were the only one."

Galleous nodded somberly. "If it helps, he wouldn't have been a Champion," he offered. "We'd have heard about it before now if he was."

"Kittrian knew about your brother," Ingressus recalled. "She warned me about you."

Galleous chuckled quietly. "She threatened me about it."

Ingressus's laugh was halfhearted at best. Galleous rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"I should be glad," Ingressus said, gesturing at the air. "A raider got what he deserved. He'll never harm my clanmates again, and my people managed to fight back at least that much. That he's Ailera's uncle shouldn't change anything."

"And yet, it does," Galleous said quietly.

Ingressus groaned, slumping against the fence and holding his head in his hands. "I don't know why."

Galleous was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. "I told you about my fight with my brother. About how I couldn't watch him fall further into his obsession."

Ingressus nodded wordlessly.

"Well, I'm ashamed now to say that it wasn't a straightforward choice. I wanted to stop Thalleous, pull him back before he came even more unrecognizable. But at the same time… I'd cared about Lairen, too. I'd felt guilty at the time, as if I was betraying his memory by not hating the Voltaris as much anymore."

Ingressus looked up at Galleous, wondering where this was going.

"You're friends with Ailera, aren't you?" Galleous asked him. "I remember you mentioning her before."

Ingressus shrugged. "I don't know if I'd call us friends, but she seemed nice enough. She was kinder than most."

"I imagine that's what makes it so confusing," Galleous interpreted. "You like Ailera, but hate the raiders, and now there's a connection between the two. I liked Lairen, but hated what was happening to my brother."

He shook his head, staring off into the distance. "Emotions are complicated, but I think it's possible to feel two things that seem contradictory."

"How did you get it all straightened out?"

"Time, mostly," Galleous said. "And accepting that I wasn't actually betraying Lairen by wanting to stop my brother's downward spiral."

Ingressus stared out at the neighboring islands, processing Galleous's words.

"We never did figure out whether the Primes could corrupt even those who weren't using them," he said, half to himself.

"What?" Galleous asked.

Ingressus shook his head. "I know, that's a cheap excuse. Her uncle still would've chosen to go on the raids in the first place."

"No, what do you mean by corruption?"

Ingressus looked up to see Galleous staring at him. Ingressus stared back. "You don't know? You're a Songmaster. Your brother is a Champion. How can you not know?"

"I've seen the Primes once, Ingressus," Galleous said. "They're compelling, sure, but you're saying they can actually corrupt someone? Mess with their head, turn them evil kind of corruption?"

Ingressus spread his hands in disbelief. "My clan had the Primes for a few decades. Your clans have had them for centuries. How have you not figured this out, too?"

Galleous threw up his hands. "I don't know. Maybe there are some who do, but I'm not one of them."

Ingressus couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had never imagined that the four clans might not know about the corruptive influence of the Primes. How could they not? Even ordinary Songs could influence you if you used too many or for too long, their tunes echoing into your being and drowning out parts of an Ardoni's inner song. Wasn't it an obvious assumption that the Primes would be even worse? And wouldn't that theory be easy to prove, once you saw the monsters that the Primes created?

Ingressus had always assumed that the four clans knew but never cared. as long as it was the Voltaris who were getting hurt from it. But then again, maybe that was why the four clans had never realized what the Primes did. Maybe they figured the Champions were simply giving the Voltaris what they deserved.

Ingressus's consternation lasted through the evening. Galleous didn't press him about it– Ingressus was pretty sure his mind was occupied as well by the revelation about the Prime Songs.

(Nether, how could they not have known?)

After an unusually silent dinner Ingressus left the forge, tired of staring at the same cave walls. He wandered Ataraxia, his mind hardly less troubled than before but at least with better scenery.

Word had clearly spread. More people than usual were giving Ingressus strange looks as he passed, even non-Ardoni. He saw Sukey step forward, falter, then fall behind again as Ingressus left the island. Heralas gave him a dark glare as he passed and he gave one right back. She knew full well he had an airtight alibi for her clanmate's death.

Ingressus's wanderings took him in the direction of the orchard island. There was a nice little pond off at the edge of the island, sheltered by a stand of trees and with a large bush shading a sandy patch of earth beneath it. The pond– and a handful of other places on the islands– were unofficially reserved for people who needed some alone time. Ingressus liked the pond; the trickle of the waterfall was relaxing.

Ingressus rounded the stand of trees and stopped. Sitting hunched over in the sandy area was a yellow-striped figure, staring off the island with her arms wrapped around her knees. Ailera.

Ingressus silently cursed the universe for toying with him like this. He stepped back, intending to find another thinking spot. There was a private place behind the library, that wasn't too far…

But Ailera had noticed him. She stared at him with pale, bloodshot eyes, her face a mess of emotions Ingressus didn't know how to read. He should just leave, go on his way and let them both pretend this hadn't happened, that he was never there…

"I'm sorry," Ailera burst out. "My uncle, he was fighting against your people, he was– he—"

She broke off, looking away. "You probably hate me now. That's okay. I would too, if I were you."

Ingressus sighed. "I'm sorry, too."

Ailera glanced at him but he didn't meet her gaze. "You lost someone. I know how that feels."

"Yeah, because of my clan," Ailera muttered.

He should be angry, he should be glad the raider had gotten what he deserved. His mission of death had failed, he had fallen victim to the very thing he had wanted to visit on Ingressus's people.

"Do you agree with what he was doing?" he asked instead.

Ailera looked away. "I used to. But if the rest of the Voltaris are really like you, then– then I can't. It wouldn't be right."

Ingressus had expected her to hate him. It would've been so obvious: a raider's kin faced with a member of the clan who'd shed his lifeblood. She would've had every reason to react as he had to Galleous: with violence and shouts and anger. And yet somehow, in some way, she didn't. Her grief hadn't turned to rage.

Ingressus watched Ailera, sitting there in the sand. Her markings shone into the gathering dusk and reflected off the water, glowing with the light of life that so many had already lost. He glanced down at his own markings, bright like flame, the color matched by so few left in the world.

"I used to be angry at the four clans, too," he said. "I thought they were monsters, who only wanted to see my people gone. But after living here so long– I can't, not anymore. Maybe I should, but I don't. And I don't hate you."

Ailera rested her chin on her knees. "Why does this have to happen? What's the point?"

Abruptly, she uncoiled and beat her fist into the sand. "Why? Why do they think the attacks will make the Voltaris do anything? After so long of it not working, why do they still think it will? What is any of this solving besides getting people killed?"

"My clan can't restore the resonances," Ingressus said. "And we won't stop defending ourselves, either. As long as the other clans think we did something to break them, I don't think it will ever stop."

Ailera glanced at him. "You really can't?"

"No." Ingressus shook his head. "I would've heard about it if we could. My father– he was our Master. He would've been willing to try anything if he thought it would help us."

"So it really is all for nothing." Ailera pulled her knees to her chest again. "You're not evil, and you can't fix the resonances. So people are dying and getting maimed and losing homes and loved ones for nothing."

"Yeah," Ingressus sighed.

Ailera buried her head in her arms.

The silence that followed was smothering. It was the kind of quiet that weighed on you like a mountain range balanced on your heart and soul, that pinned you down and held you there in your sorrow. Ailera's shoulders were shaking, her hands clenched around her arms as if it were her lifeline. Ingressus's own sorrow hung heavy over his heart, an old wound to Ailera's fresh one.

"Maybe there will be peace one day," he said dully. "Then maybe none of this will happen anymore."

Ailera sniffled. "Peace sounds pretty good to me."

She lifted her head, staring up at the sky. "Ardoni from all five clans living and trading together, learning Songs from each other, fighting the undead… that sounds a lot better than killing each other."

"My clan could have our own farms," Ingressus said, watching as the picture painted itself in his mind. "We'll be able to travel Ardonia freely again. We'd have our own shrines, and we wouldn't have to be looking over our shoulder all the time."

Ailera laughed hollowly. "That sounds great. What do they all think is so bad about that?"

Night had fallen by the time Ingressus made his way back to the forge, striding along the paths with a new determination in his heart. The war, the raids, the hate had taken enough. Ingressus wouldn't let them continue. Sukey had said that it wouldn't last forever. Well, it wouldn't, not if Ingressus had anything to say about it.

Galleous was cleaning out a furnace when Ingressus returned, reaching his arm into the opening and scraping out old soot. At the sight of his Voltaris ward he looked up, the look on Ingressus's face banishing the task from his mind.

"You're the Songmaster for Ataraxia," Ingressus said. "Tell me everything you know about the dead resonances."

(3899 words)

To any shippers reading this: no. I know what you're thinking. Stop it.