Ghasts and blazes are significantly less troublesome when you have fire resistance potions. Which means that wither skeletons are the new bane of my existence.

For legal reasons, I ask that you please do not try to make fireworks yourself. Please leave that to the professionals.

Once a year, Ataraxia transformed. When the harvests were at their peak and the days began to cool, when the leaves changed and the nights got longer and the Warrior constellation was the first to rise in the west at sundown, the autumn festival took hold on the town. The usual lanterns that lit the streets and people's doorways would be replaced by ones made from colored glass. Brightly colored cloth streamers were hung from trees and people's homes and, in a uniquely Ataraxian twist on the tradition, from the edges of the islands themselves. For a week straight the marketplace would host the biggest events of the festival– Competitions, games, and at the end of the week, a massive potluck meal for everyone on the islands.

The first time Ingressus had seen all the decorations appearing, he had wondered whether the Ataraxians had collectively lost their marbles. But now, over a decade later, he looked forward to it as much as anyone else.

Ingressus sat on a fence at the edge of the marketplace, looking over the day's festivities as Heralas and a few others played music from a low stage. It was the day for costumes, and as always, the Ataraxians had come out in full force. Percy had painted gray ribs over his chest and held a soot-darkened skeleton head by each shoulder, making airy shrieking noises as he chased the other kids around in the guise of a wither. Saylor had made a crown of twigs and leaves and had glued sticks and fallen leaves to his arms, apparently having lost a bet with Aireus to go as a tree spirit. Luciren had once again taken full advantage of the fact that paint powder could dye her white markings different colors, and was now wandering around with the purple-blue glow of enderknight armor as she wielded a black-painted wooden sword. Ailera had braided yellow ribbons into her hair and wore a light, golden shawl, and she drifted airily along the streets as a sun sprite.

The fence shifted as Leah climbed over the fence and sat down beside Ingressus. "Harvest joy and bounty to you, my friend."

"Joy and bounty to you too," Ingressus replied. "How are the fireworks coming?"

"They are all complete!" Leah said happily. "You'll get to see how they turned out tomorrow."

"How did you get the council to let you do this?"

"Hey!" Leah said in mock offense, shoving at his shoulder. "I may be a proud prankster, but I know how to be safe. I just had to show Tiris that I could make them and set them off without blowing myself up or setting anything on fire, and that I'd do it for cheaper than it would be to go and buy them from the outside world."

"Fair enough."

Out among the costumed festival-goers, Ingressus heard Luciren let out a loud shout. "Halt, you Nether spawn! How dare you invade these lands!"

Percy let out a loud shriek, drawing himself up to his full height as he faced off with Luciren. He thrust one of the skulls forward with an explosion sound and Luciren dodged away from the imaginary projectile, pointing her sword at him.

"This is your only warning, foul beast!" she cried. "Begone, or face the wrath of the enderknights!"

Percy shrieked again and ran forward, firing more imaginary charges at Luciren as onlookers cheered for the spectacle. The music faded to a stop as the performers stood to look, then began again with a faster, more energetic tempo, lending an excited air to the scene.

Leah swung her feet as she watched the mock battle. "You know, Selarin told Luciren earlier that there's never been a female enderknight."

"What did Luciren do?"

"She told him her dragon said Mendoris taste like chorus fruit."

Ingressus nodded approvingly. Leah looked him over.

"What about you? No costume this year?"

"Couldn't think of anything," Ingressus said with a shrug.

His first time witnessing the harvest festival, just a couple months after his arrival in Ataraxia, Ingressus had still been too suspicious to be comfortable mingling with crowds like this. He had watched from the sidelines or from up in a tree, observing the festivities that still seemed extremely strange to him and getting snapped at when he was noticed. The second time around he had borrowed a too-large cloak from Kittrian and wandered through the festival, his markings hidden. Many Ardoni had been far more relaxed and friendly around him than usual, unless they got a look at his eyes from under the hood and realized the kid they were talking to was the Voltaris who'd invaded their town. For the next several years Ingressus had enjoyed the excuse to hide his identity, to run around in blissful anonymity without the looks of suspicion or nervousness or even just awkwardness that his red markings would garner him. As the Ardoni in Ataraxia had gotten more used to him Ingressus had slowly eased up as well, attending the festival without fully disguising himself.

"You should just walk out there with Voltar," Galleous had joked the year before. "They won't know it's the real thing. And then if they ever do learn the truth, their expressions will be all the more hilarious."

As amusing as the thought had been, Ingressus wasn't willing to take the chance that someone would realize Voltar was actually real. The fallout would just be too unpredictable.

"You should've come as a Magnorite," Leah told him. "Scrub some clay into your hair to make it look less like hair, maybe plaster a little over your arms too to make you look more like rock… You could pull it off better than anyone here."

She poked at Ingressus's shoulder, and he rolled his eyes.

"People have made jokes like that before," he said. "When I got here, some kid asked me if I was part Magnorite."

"That's why you gotta own it," Leah pointed out. "If people are calling you that anyway, then have fun with it. Besides, who wouldn't want to be able to cave in the skulls of people who annoy them?"

"I notice you're not in costume either," Ingressus observed. Leah was dressed in a simple outfit of thick brown pants and boots, and a ratty blue shirt stained with dust and spots of mud. A pickaxe was hooked to her belt and traces of soot were scattered across her face and hands, which was cause for some concern about the whole fireworks escapade.

Leah pressed a hand to her chest. "Excuse me? This is Matt's legitimate work attire; I stole this shirt from his room myself. And you think it's not convincing."

"You're dressed up as your own brother?"

"'Course I am," Leah said. "And he's dressed as me. I haven't seen him yet, but I caught him digging around in my stuff earlier. So me stealing his stuff is fair game."

Ingressus had caught sight of Matt earlier. His hair was sticking up all over the place, with streaks of soot smeared across his face as though he'd gotten a faceful of an explosion and technicolor paint powder smeared across his forearms. Undoubtedly he was poking fun at the minor chaos his sister tended to cause.

"What was it you said once?" Ingressus recalled. "Siblings mock each other with love?"

"Exactly." Leah plucked at a patch of mud on her shirt. "Matt's not the best at remembering to wash his stuff, but even he doesn't usually have this much dirt on him. I had to do a lot of this myself."

A loud shriek echoed across the marketplace, and Ingressus looked over to see Percy falling theatrically to his knees. Luciren swung her sword against one of the skulls he held and Percy let it fall from his hand, crumpling to the ground with a dramatic screech. Luciren raised her sword in victory and the onlookers cheered. Ingressus applauded and she met his eyes with a wide grin.

"Speaking of which, she's definitely your little sister," Leah observed.

Ingressus gave her a strange look and Leah held up a finger, clarifying. "Speaking of siblings, not of mockery. But everyone knows that she and her brother are your favorite people here, and they both think you're the coolest person in town. Luciren kicked Sevorin in the shins once when he insulted you; you don't do that for just anyone– hey, Volerik, get over here!"

The younger Ardoni stopped in his stroll at Leah's words, then backtracked to join them by the fence. "Yeah?"

"See? He even came to the festival as you," Leah whispered to Ingressus. "Volerik, Ingressus is your big brother, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Volerik said with a grin. "As good as, anyway. I thought people knew that already."

"You might have noticed that I didn't deny it," Ingressus pointed out, looking Volerik over. Red splotches of paint powder did tint his markings this year, that was true, but Ingressus saw the wooden weapon slung across Volerik's back: a gray-painted battle-axe, not a sword.

Volerik saw that Ingressus had noticed, and shifted his hand back to touch the handle of the axe. Ingressus met his gaze and gave a slight smile. He understood the real meaning behind Volerik's reddened markings.

"I did notice, I'm just messing with you," Leah said, oblivious to the secret shared between the two Ardoni. "Besides, it's cute that the most misjudged person on the islands has such a soft side."

"Messing with someone with words alone?" Ingressus said. "That's rather beneath you, isn't it?"

Leah paused. "Hmm. Good point."

A packet of something sprouted from her hand. Ingressus lunged, grabbing her wrist before she could throw it or otherwise set it off. But he realized too late that it was a distraction, and a cloud of green exploded against his face. He recoiled, spitting the stuff out as Leah gave him a shove and sent him to the ground. He rolled and leaped to his feet again, wiping the powder from his eye.

"Oh, you'll pay for that!" he shouted as Leah darted off with a whoop of laughter.

"You'll have to catch me first!" she yelled back.

Leah was known for two things above all in Ataraxia. First was her skill at pranking and causing creative trouble. Second was her competitive nature. When she played a game, entered a competition, planned a prank war against someone– even when she was having fun, she acted with intent to win.

Ingressus didn't fault her for such a thing. He knew he was much the same way. He was tired and covered in dirt and twigs and powdered dye as he made his way back to the forge, but they were even.

Galleous returned from the festival to find Ingressus crouched by a pond, scrubbing water over his face in an effort to somewhat clean himself off. He studied Ingressus with amusement, watching as Ingressus tried to comb a clump of goo out of his hair.

"I don't remember you looking like that when you left, so either you enjoyed yourself or you got in a fight with a plant monster," Galleous observed.

Ingressus tugged at the goo-matted knot, feeling a few strands of hair break. "I'm thirty-six. I can have fun on occasion."

"I take it your adventure for the day was worth it, then."

"It was." With a few more tugs, the knot broke loose, and Ingressus shook it off onto the grass, glancing up at Galleous. "Nice hat. Did you curse anyone?"

"Why, thank you." Galleous touched the brim of the pointed witch hat he wore. "And yes, I did. If it works, all the crops Lenneus plants next year will sprout as mushrooms."

Ingressus pictured a field of mushrooms sprouting in front of Lenneus's house in place of carrots. Lenneus would certainly be frustrated if the curse had been real.

"You know, you've got a pretty good zombie look going with all that green on you," Galleous pointed out as Ingressus scooped up another handful of water. "Just saying."

Ingressus paused, leaning over to look at his reflection as the surface stilled. Green was certainly the dominant color of the paint that coated him, courtesy of the point-blank burst that had started the whole chase. Even with his attempt to clean up, half his face and chest were still discolored, his markings shining the color of rust beneath it. His hair was tangled and matted from the chase and the slime projectiles Leah had thrown at him. A clumpy red stain on his side could be taken as an unhealed wound. And then there were the smears of brown from tackling Leah into the mud. Aside from his still-glowing markings, he supposed he did look slightly undead.

There was a root the Voltaris had discovered in the Barrier Mountains that could make an Ardoni's markings go black, letting them sneak through the shadows or play dead. It was convincing, too– when Rasalus had sprinted into their camp once, his once-scarlet markings black as coal and bearing warning of a raiding party barely two valleys over, Ingressus had been so convinced that his friend had somehow died on his feet that he didn't register the news Rasalus had brought until Dominus began barking orders to prepare for evacuation. Rasalus's markings had slowly regained their color the next day but the aftereffects of the fauxmortis root had left him miserable, his ears drooping listlessly and his eyes nearly closed against a blinding headache, leaning heavily on Sinaran and Menkar in turn as the group walked along the ridgeline. The root's power was another of his people's closely-kept secrets: the other clans knew of supposedly-undead Ardoni walking the mountains, but they had chalked it up to the reanimation of the dead through dark magic. Such assumptions had prompted the occasional accusation of necromancy directed against Ingressus from the more paranoid citizens of Ataraxia.

Maybe Ingressus could mess with his accusers. It might be fun to watch the look on Sevorin's face as he tried to figure out whether Ingressus was mocking him by donning the guise of the undead Sevorin believed existed in the mountains at the behest of Voltaris sorcerers.

Ingressus stood, running his fingers through his hair as the twig caught there poked at the base of his skull. He tried to work it free but Nether, it was tangled there securely. He might just have to cut it loose.

A loud voice cut through the air as the two reached the forge. "Finally. Do you know how long I've been waiting here?"

A green parrot lifted off from the bush, fluttering around the two Ardoni as though inspecting them. It landed again on a nearby branch, looking somehow skeptical despite its face being mostly beak.

"You… are Galleous Sendaris, correct?" the bird asked, clearly confused by the purple cloak hiding Galleous's markings. "And what has happened to your companion?"

"Yes, I am," Galleous confirmed. "And your concern is appreciated, but it was merely autumn festival fun."

The bird's feathers ruffled. Ingressus was quite sure that its question had been spoken out of judgment rather than concern. Messenger birds were surprisingly snooty for a species that didn't even have opposable thumbs.

Ingressus walked into the forge, digging through a chest for a pair of scissors. He and Master Aegus had sent messages to one another a few times in the past year, keeping in touch about any discoveries they had come across about the resonances and sharing ideas. Even so, a large percentage of the time, any messenger bird that showed up at the forge was for Galleous. There were far more people outside of Ataraxia who knew that Galleous existed, after all.

Galleous draped his cloak over a chair, tossing the witch's hat on top of it. "What message do you bring?"

The bird landed on a shelf, giving a respectable sniff for a creature that didn't have a nose. "Typical. No hello, no 'how are you doing,' just straight to what I can do for you."

"You didn't bother saying hello, either," Galleous pointed out. "You simply went straight to criticism. But you have a point. May I know your name?"

The bird opened its beak, then closed it again, apparently lacking an argument. "Percival."

Galleous nodded. "Glad to meet you, Percival. How was your flight here?"

"Quite fine," Percival said. "The winds are favorable from Hydraphel at this time of year. The easterlies make for easy flying, and when they meet the mountains, the updrafts…"

Ingressus found a pair of scissors and slipped the tips under his hair, snipping at where the twig was caught and tugging every once in a while to see if it had loosened. After a few cuts the stick came loose and Ingressus pulled it free, a few long strands of gray hair snarled around it like cobwebs. He tossed the tangle into the lava cauldron, rubbing at the back of his neck. Oh, that was much better.

Across the forge, Percival had apparently decided he and Galleous had made enough small talk. The bird's voice shifted, speaking in a mimicry of whoever had sent him.

"Hello, Galleous," the bird said. "I know it's been a while– well, most would say it has been. I know a year and a half is hardly the longest it's been for us. At any rate, I hope you're doing well, that life in Ataraxia is treating you well…"

Percival trailed off as the person he was mimicking paused, then let out a sigh. "Ah, Nether, I'll just get to the point. I've been thinking about what you said to me. I admit, I… didn't really want to. I really wanted to just tell myself you were wrong, that the rumor you'd heard was just that. But the voices of the Primes are strong, and at the last tournament… I couldn't avoid questioning how much of my thoughts were mine or theirs."

Ingressus hadn't been paying much attention to the message. But on that last sentence his gaze shot up, fixing on the bird that he now knew spoke with a Champion's voice. Percival continued to speak, oblivious to Galleous's awkward stance or the way Ingressus had gone still.

"I admit, I still don't know," the Champion's voice continued. "I can accept that maybe they do influence their users– or even Ardoni who are simply near them. But to such an extent as you made it sound– how is it possible that no one has realized it before now?"

Would they have cared if they did? Ingressus thought. Do you care? Or is the blood you can shed worth the corruption? Does the price of power make a difference to you, as long as my people's blood is on your sword?

"But apparently this rumor is more widespread than I had guessed. I heard the same thing in Nestoria, though they thought it was simply another argument Master Aegus had come up with against the raids."

You want it to just be some tall tale, don't you? You want to keep up the war, to keep killing any Voltaris you meet. You don't want the Masters to ever have a scrap of a reason to call off the raids.

"I'm not sure if the other Masters have heard this, or whether they believe it if they have. None of them seemed reluctant to hand over the Primes to the victor at the tournament– no, it wasn't me; don't jump down my throat. But Master Aegus seemed even more reluctant than usual."

The Champion sighed again. "I don't know what difference this will make. Nether, I don't even know why I'm sending this message. Corruption or not, the war isn't about to end. I guess I just thought you'd like to know that you were right."

Percival closed his beak, the echo of the Champion falling silent. Ingressus's fist was clenched around the scissors as if it were the hilt of a sword, his muscles tense as though the sound of the murderer's voice had been a physical assault on him. So that was the voice of the one who had wrenched the life from his father and Raiden and so many others, the one who sought to wipe out his entire clan as recompense for a single death. The Prime-wielder, Champion, murderer, monster.

Galleous wasn't looking at him. His gaze was fixed forward, his expression carefully neutral. Percival, on the other hand, saw the look on Ingressus's face and hopped a few steps away, edging along the shelf as though tempted to make a run for it.

"Thank you, Percival," Galleous said, his voice breaking the silence like a rock thrown through ice on a pond. "There's an aviary on the next island over where you can stay. I'll bring you your payment shortly."

"Thank you, Galleous," Percival said, bobbing his head in a nod. He took off in a swirl of green and was gone, disappearing out of the cave.

Silence fell again, broken only by the bubbling of the lava. Galleous took a deep breath but said nothing, watching Ingressus from the corner of his eye as he waited for him to speak.

"So you told him about the corruption," Ingressus said at last, when he felt he could trust his voice again.

"I did," Galleous said. "I had hoped it would get him to think twice about pursuing the Prime Songs. I… didn't assume it was a secret, given how you had told others here about it."

"It isn't." And it wasn't, Galleous hadn't betrayed him by telling his brother. Ingressus had told Aegus in the hopes the knowledge would make a difference in the raids, Galleous had only done the same.

"Did it work?" Ingressus asked.

Galleous glanced at the place Percival had been. "Well, he at least attended a tournament… It may be optimistic to think he only watched, but one can hope…"

Ingressus folded his arms. "Master Aegus told me that he had informed the other Masters of the corruption. By both his and your brother's account, they clearly didn't care. Do you think your brother did?"

Galleous leaned against a shelf, looking off into the distance. "He was surprised when I told him. He had been as ignorant of it as I was."

Ingressus resisted the urge to make a disdainful comment. He was pretty sure the look on his face would have conveyed the thought either way, but Galleous's attention was still elsewhere.

"He didn't believe me at first," Galleous said. "He felt that we would've noticed by now if the Primes could corrupt people like that. He did eventually admit that they might have been influencing him…"

Ingressus knew Galleous's reluctant expression. "But…?"

Galleous's sigh was both despairing and frustrated. "He doesn't think there's any alternative to the war. He thinks it's too late for anything else."

He slashed a hand through the air. "'Either we fight, or we are destroyed.' That's what he said. I don't know how I can convince him otherwise– not without endangering you."

"I can't say I care if he is convinced," Ingressus said. "He's already done enough to my people."

"I am aware," Galleous said. "But the fact is… he is far from the only one to think this way. Even those who will never go on the raids in their lives think that we need to use the Prime Songs, in case your clan has a set of their own."

He raised a hand to cut off anything Ingressus might have said. "Which I know you don't, you have told me before. But my point is, no matter how much you hate him, he is not the true obstacle to ending this war."

"It's the other Masters," Ingressus said. "Atanal, Ferrin, Zael, they're the ones I will need to appeal to. That's why I want to fix the resonances; so I can bargain for my clan's safety."

"Yes," Galleous said. "I agree that the resonances are your best chance at getting your foot in the door. But even if your clan is able to return to Voltaria, that won't be the end of it. The wounds of the past will still be there– the anger, the pain, the loss." He gestured at Ingressus, who pressed his lips together but didn't argue. "I know that you want peace, but even if there is a cease-fire, you will need to hold off those on both sides who believe that true peace is impossible: those who believe the same as my brother."

Ingressus knew Galleous was right. The resonances were only why the war had begun, not why the raids continued. Aegus's first concern had been that fixing the resonances would not end the hatred.

"You're saying that if your brother can change his mind, then anyone can," he said.

"Well, that too," Galleous agreed. "But if he were to speak about the dangers of the Prime Songs, people would listen to him. Champions are respected in the provinces, and he has used them; his word would be taken seriously in a way that yours or even Aegus's may not be. If the clans begin to doubt the Primes, that could at least disrupt the raids for a time."

A murderer, respected. But now was not the time to rant about it. Ingressus took a deep breath and let it out again, willing himself to look beyond the past. His clan's safety was the most important, and he had known for a long time that revenge would not be conducive to peace. He had to at least consider the options the universe presented to him. But Nether, could a Champion ever truly be useful to the Voltaris?

"According to Aegus, the other Masters claimed there wasn't enough solid evidence of the corruption to take his words seriously," he said. "Your brother could be a walking case study for them if they cared to look into the corruption. But do you truly think he would turn his back on the Primes? He said himself that he doesn't believe the existence of the corruption would make any difference and that the war will never end."

"The fact that he admitted the corruption exists at all gives me hope," Galleous said. "Thalleous is stubborn and proud, and he is very willing to argue. When I told him about the corruption, he didn't want to believe that the Prime Songs were influencing him. So I highly doubt he would have sent this message if he weren't seriously questioning them. If he believes that the cost of the Prime Songs is greater than the benefits, then yes, I do think he would give them up– as long as they are not too strong of an addiction for him to overcome."

Ingressus said nothing, staring at a spot on the floor. The very idea of the Champion being of use for his clan, even unwittingly, even for such an interim measure as stalling the raids or taking the Prime Songs out of play, felt like walking up to a creeper and expecting it not to explode. The Champions were as much monsters as the undead were, but they weren't monsters Ingressus could do anything about at present. If one of them might turn away from the others… then perhaps they would weaken themselves on their own.

"I have very little faith in your brother," he said finally. "But if he turns out to be useful… then so be it."

Galleous gave him an odd look. "How did you manage to make that sound so ominous?"

"I have not forgiven him, Galleous," Ingressus said coldly. "Prime corruption or not, it was his choice to hunt my people down, and he sought the Prime Songs for the express purpose of doing so. I am willing to accept that he isn't the problem I need to solve. That's all."

Galleous held up his hands. "Fine. That's fair."

Ingressus leaned against the wall, his thoughts circling. He could accept it if this was what would forestall the raids. He could. The Barrier Mountains were still an unforgiving environment, but if the raids could be stopped then his people would at least be that much better off. What did it matter who did it, as long as it took even a single knife away from his clan's throat?

Galleous had moved to a chest to get Percival's payment, but then he paused, glancing up at Ingressus. "Are you still looking into the Prime Songs as well? Thalleous told me some about the corruption when we spoke; I can see if I can get more information out of him."

Ingressus had tried to look into the origins of the Prime Songs for a while, in the hopes that he could prove his clan hadn't made them. But there was even less knowledge about the nature of the Primes among the four clans than there was for the resonances, and he had come to realize that making his clan look defenseless would probably be a bad call, anyway. But the corruption itself… if he could get that information to Master Aegus, maybe there would be some evidence the Nestoris Master could bring to the other three.

"What did he tell you?" Ingressus asked.

Galleous drummed his fingers on the chest in thought. "He said that the Prime Songs want to be used. That they make you feel like they are the key to fixing the problems you're facing." He hesitated, then spoke again. "He also said that they're angry… at your clan."

"Forgive me if I don't simply take his word for that," Ingressus said flatly.

"I won't hold it against you," Galleous said graciously. "Even he admitted he might be projecting. But the idea behind it, of the Prime Songs being more alive than the others, does seem plausible. You've felt it with your own Song: Mobilium wants to move, Protisium wants to defend, and so on. The Primes are a combination of every Song, it makes sense that they could be strong enough to almost be called alive."

"True…" Ingressus said grudgingly.

Maybe that contributed to the strength of the corruption: not just the louder volume of the Primes in your head, but the fact that their voices were complex enough to pass more easily as your own.

His people had lost a lot of knowledge when they were driven from their lands. They still knew the Prime Songs could corrupt their users, but if they had ever known exactly how such corruption occurred, they no longer did. If Aegus's fear that the Primes had influenced the Masters was true, then that was something they would have to take into consideration when negotiations began with the other three. Knowing how the corruption worked may be useful to overcoming it.

"See what you can get out of him without looking suspicious," Ingressus said. "I'll pass what he has to say on to Master Aegus."

Galleous left soon afterwards to give the bird his payment. Ingressus left the forge as well, wandering Ataraxia as he mulled over the conversation he'd just had. Would the Champion ever actually turn his back on the Prime Songs? He had clearly been to a tournament since Galleous had told him about the corruption, and like Galleous had said, it was optimistic to assume he had only been there to watch. He hadn't won the tournament (assuming he was telling the truth), but if he still pursued the Prime Songs, then that was clearly evidence against Galleous's argument, wasn't it? And even if he didn't, why would he speak against their use by others?

Ingressus figured the deciding factor was how much the Champion hated his people. Enough to knowingly expose himself to the corruption that would make him worse, that would grant him the ability not to care what the Primes were doing to him? Enough to step back from the Primes but continue on the raids, potentially exposing himself by proximity rather than direct use? Only enough to do the introspection to figure out how much of his hatred was his own, as opposed to the corruption?

The hatred is his own, Ingressus thought. No one goes from simply wanting revenge to becoming a Champion overnight. He was hunting my people well before he took the Prime Songs for himself. They didn't make him evil, they just made him worse.

He knew the four clans did not consider the raids an evil. Whether they believed the Voltaris deserved it, or they thought his clan needed to be kept weak to keep them from striking back just as hard, or they were ignorant enough to believe the raids only targeted military outposts– the other clans did not believe they were in the wrong. Ingressus didn't have high hopes of appealing to their collective conscience– he had to convince them that the raids were bad for their people as well as his own. It was how he and Achillean had tried to appeal to Aegus– though apparently Aegus was truly sympathetic to the Voltaris, and not solely interested for his own clan's benefit. Keleus had told Ingressus about the encounter between Aegus and Dominus, a story that had left Ingressus stunned but with a greater understanding of both the Nestoris Master and his own father. Galleous had tried to talk his brother out of the raids before with no success, and so this most recent time he had told him about the corruption in the hopes that the cost of their power would deter Thalleous.

Ingressus gave a moody tug at a low-hanging branch. Galleous was right. The Champion was just one problem to his clan out of so many, one facet to the mire of war and revenge and hatred that had kept the Voltaris on the brink of extinction for so long. And if he was being truly honest about it, if he stepped away and looked at it as an outsider, Thalleous Sendaris was no different than any other Champion. It was merely by chance that his crimes had hit Ingressus personally, that it was his specter that haunted Ingressus's thoughts now and in the past. It could have just as easily been a Mendoris, a Kaltaris, a Nestoris, or even a different Sendaris. His hatred of this particular Champion was only personal. But Nether, that didn't make things any simpler.

Ingressus leaned on the railing of a bridge, gazing out over the islands. Why did all of this have to be so complicated? It was easier when he had just seen the other clans as the enemy, to be avoided or fought against because it would only ever be them or you that would walk away from an encounter. It was easier when the Champion was simply a monster, who was nothing more than someone to be avoided or to revenge his people against. A large part of him didn't want the Champion to come to his senses, didn't want him to be useful. Tolerating his existence for lack of an alternative was one thing, but even admitting the Champion might not be solely the mindless monster he had been in the mountains, that maybe, maybe, there was a chance he would forsake the Prime Songs– it felt like a betrayal. What would his father think of him? Or Raiden, or his grandmother, or Argentum or Cendir or Sorays? He owed his people safety, but didn't he owe the dead justice as well?

Ingressus flexed his hand, thinking of Voltar. The staff was the only connection he had to his clan, and for ten years he hadn't even had that. For over a decade he hadn't seen a single member of his clan, not a single Ardoni who shared his colors or who knew, really knew what he and his people had been through. Kittrian had some idea, having learned it from Milorus, and Galleous knew the truth of the raids better than most. But there was no one who shared the instincts to store away parts of their meals in preparation for lean times, to keep an eye open for places of cover or ambush, to alert to sudden noises or movement and to keep escape routes in their head. He was an outsider to them, and would be even if his markings were any other hue. It had been so hard at times not to feel that he was somehow wrong for the lessons in survival he knew, for the familiarity with which his hand would grasp a sword, the way his mind would make no distinction between a fresh slab of steak and one that was just slightly too old because food was food and you couldn't afford to waste a scrap of it. It was only Voltar's assurance that he was not the last of his clan that kept him from fearing in his darkest moments that he had abandoned his people for nothing. Had it not been for the Champion he would be cold and underfed and looking over his shoulder at every minute in the Barrier Mountains, but would it be worth it, if it meant he wasn't an outsider? If he was among those who knew?

He heard footsteps on the bridge and his ears pricked, pinpointing the approaching Ardoni's location even before he recognized Keleus's branching markings, before his conscious mind even identified the sound that had alerted him. A ratty brown cloak was wrapped around Keleus's shoulders, and he walked with a tall cane that Ingressus knew he didn't actually need to get around. He paused, his gaze running over Ingressus's still-discolored skin, the tangled hair that he had decided to leave in the hopes of still having some fun at the festival.

"Well, good afternoon, young one," Keleus said in an unusually formal voice. "Has the ageless wisdom of the world been serving you well on this fine day?"

Ingressus blinked. "...What?"

"Oh, do not become discouraged," Keleus said. "All saplings strengthen in their own time. Some sprout quickly and others take centuries, but those that grow the slowest grow the strongest as well."

Ingressus shook his head slowly, staring at Keleus. "I have no idea what you mean."

Keleus shrugged, abandoning whatever persona he'd taken on. "I don't mean anything."

He nodded to Ingressus. "Let me guess… you're either a zombie, or an elemental spirit of color?"

Ingressus shrugged. "Zombie. Is there a spirit of color?"

"I have no idea, but it's a big world. I like to keep an open mind."

Ingressus supposed he couldn't argue with that. He nodded at Keleus's attire. "What about you?"

Keleus tapped a finger on his walking stick. "I am the combination of every old, wise, and cryptic mentor figure from everyone's favorite stories. I've been speaking in random metaphors all day. Remus might believe I'm slightly senile now."

Ingressus nodded wordlessly, his gaze returning to the view. Now Keleus's earlier words made sense– in that they weren't supposed to make sense. He expected Keleus to simply walk on, but instead the elder tilted his head, studying Ingressus. "You look like you're thinking a lot of things right now."

"Obvious, is it?"

"Somewhat."

Great.

"Want to talk about it?" Keleus offered. "I am old, I've seen a lot. Maybe there's some non-cryptic advice I could give."

Ingressus hesitated, then sighed. "Have you ever had to deal with the idea that someone you hate might end up helping you, but only if they aren't fully the monster you thought they were?"

Keleus cocked his head. "Is there something going on that would require Selarin to be kind and generous?"

"No," Ingressus said. "A Champion who knows about the Prime corruption."

"Ah." Keleus said. "So, a little bit bigger than what I thought."

"Galleous thinks his brother may turn his back on the Primes, now that he knows what they do," Ingressus said. "He thinks it may even make him speak against their use. I can't say I share his optimism."

"Hmmm." Keleus nodded as he listened. "That is understandable. But I would think that learning your mind has been manipulated by something like the Prime Songs would make anyone at least stop and think."

"He has been to a tournament since he learned about the corruption," Ingressus said, not looking away from the distant mountains. "He claims he didn't win. But he has been hunting my people like animals for decades. Why should I believe he will stop now, even if he doesn't claim the Prime Songs?"

"You have a point."

Ingressus sighed quietly.

"Ingressus," Keleus said after a moment of quiet. "Please forgive me for this; I don't think there's any way it won't sound callous. I promise I don't mean it that way. But, even if this Champion doesn't change his ways, will your clan be any worse off than they have been?"

Ingressus looked at him, and Keleus spread his hands. "To me, it seems that things will either continue the same as they always have– which, I know, is not good– or he will change his ways, and may actually end up making things better for your clan. But it sounds to me like the only way things can go from here is up."

"And then what if he does?" Ingressus said in frustration. "Am I to thank him for it? The same Ardoni who has turned his blade against my clan countless times before? I have seen what he has done, and he has never even been merciful to my people, much less helpful."

"You have—" Keleus's eyes widened, understanding dawning over his face. "Oh."

Thalleous's crimes were common knowledge– even if most didn't consider them crimes. But what he had done to Ingressus personally was not. Galleous, Kittrian, and the twins knew, as did Achillean. The events of the raid were not something he shared lightly, and certainly not with anyone who was entrenched in Ataraxia's gossip circuits. The things he had seen were not the business of the entire town. But he figured Keleus could keep a secret. He hadn't mentioned Ingressus to Master Aegus until learning they had already met, and since then he had kept quiet about the agreement between the two to the rest of the town.

Keleus nodded slowly. "All right. I think I see now. You'd prefer that it wasn't this particular Champion who knows, am I right?"

Ingressus sighed. "It would be less personal if it was anyone else, yes. Though I would still prefer that the news didn't have to go through them at all."

"Well, if it helps, Thalleous would only be the messenger," Keleus pointed out. "I would guess he learned about the corruption from Galleous? And Galleous learned it from you. He may change his ways or he may not, only he can decide that. But if he does spread the word of the corruption, then really, his only role in it was being conveniently placed to talk about it. And maybe the history books would give him credit for that, but really, you would be the one behind getting that information out. Thalleous would just be a go-between. You wouldn't owe him much for the common decency of warning people about danger. I would hope he would do that of his own accord, anyway."

Ingressus considered that. He supposed it did help somewhat.

Keleus rubbed his chin, an odd glint suddenly appearing in his eyes. "Ingressus, I'm guessing this Champion doesn't know you exist, correct?"

Ingressus nodded slowly, wondering at the look of mischief on the elder's face. "If he knew, I wouldn't still be here."

Keleus smirked slightly. "So in that case, he's completely ignorant about the fact that he's acting on a Voltaris's word? He has no idea that he'd be helping a member of an enemy clan to end the war if he did speak out about the Prime corruption? At the risk of setting a bad example for the younger generation, I find that rather amusing. If he ever did catch on… oh, imagine the look on his face…"

Ingressus imagined it. There would be anger, he was sure of that. But he imagined surprise as well, traces of Galleous's indignant look, helpless disbelief as the Champion realized he had been helping those he had called the enemy– and the enemy Master at that.

There would be so much danger if the Champion learned the truth while the war continued– danger to Ingressus, to Galleous, to Keleus, to anyone who had associated with him. But Ingressus allowed himself the moment of optimism to imagine the cease-fire being declared, the return of his people to Voltaria, the Prime Songs being locked away somewhere to never be used again– and the Champion's thunderstruck expression on realizing that he had played a part in it.

Oh, yes. It was a very satisfying image.

When Ingressus returned to the forge that evening, his mood had lightened again. The shadows cast by the Champion remained, but they were stifled and muted, drowned out and hidden away where they belonged. Keleus's words about the Champion's reaction had stayed with him through the day, taking the edge off the sting. Maybe it was slightly juvenile, maybe the Champion and the Prime Songs would still pose a danger, but imagining Thalleous's consternation made Ingressus feel better, so he'd take it.

There had been another mock battle that day, this time him against Rigeleus and Kareinos. At first Ingressus had played the part of a typical mindless undead, making slow and clumsy swipes at his competitors as they toyed with him in jest. But then he had seen Sevorin watching, and remembered the accusations of necromancy the Kaltaris had leveled against his people before. When Kareinos made her next strike at him, Ingressus parried, then swept Rigeleus's leg from under him and sent him to the ground.

It was to his clan's advantage that the raiders thought the black-striped warriors they faced were some kind of zombies. But the Voltaris who played undead didn't forego their skill for the sake of the illusion. Their darkened markings and the raider's ignorance were enough to drive the rumors. It was that rumor, his clan's trick for survival, that Ingressus acted out in the duel.

When Ingressus arrived in the forge, Galleous was preparing for another trip. A few apples and slabs of meat were laid out on the table, and his sword for travel was propped against a chair.

"Where are you heading this time, Stoneford?" Ingressus asked, scrubbing at a stubborn patch of red paint on his arm. Nether, it wasn't coming off, his sheets would be technicolor in the morning."

"Yep," Galleous confirmed. "An old friend I haven't seen in ages invited me to come and see her. I'll probably be gone around ten days."

"Can I come?"

Galleous did a double-take at those words, staring at Ingressus in confusion. "You… want to come?"

"Stoneford is on the border of Voltaria," Ingressus explained. "It's where my clan belongs; I want to see it for myself."

He saw Galleous silently mouth the word oh. But still the smith hesitated, biting his tongue as he considered the explanation.

"You know that we would certainly encounter Ardoni along the way," Galleous said slowly. "Or others who wouldn't know or care to keep quiet. You would have to hide your identity from everyone. All the way out, all the way back. And if you were discovered, I wouldn't be able to stop the word from reaching the Masters."

"I know," Ingressus said. "But I want to see where my people will be returning to. I know it'll be dangerous; I've thought a lot about this. But when the time comes for negotiations with the Masters and bringing my people back, I'd like to at least know the lands we'll be returning to."

Galleous still hesitated. Ingressus spread his hands. "You know I can take care of myself if things get rough, Galleous, not that I even plan to start a fight. Your friend doesn't need to meet me– Nether, you don't even need to say you know me; I can just be a traveler who was heading in the same direction as you. That would be believable, wouldn't it?"

"It would be plausible…" Galleous admitted. "But it wouldn't do you any good if you're caught. You're the best swordsman in Ataraxia, but the bar will be higher out there…"

"I will avoid other Ardoni as much as I can," Ingressus said. "I'll hide my markings, and I'll run if a fight looks imminent. I just want to see my clan's old home– and hopefully our new one, too."

Galleous folded his arms, biting his lip in indecision. Ingressus was sure he was gauging the same risks that Ingressus had; considering the odds and dangers of discovery. Ingressus knew the dangers; he had considered them over and over through the years, every time he had considered trying to return to the Barrier Mountains or prepared for a time he might have to flee Ataraxia. He had made plans and contingency plans, and he still had the caches of supplies he'd hidden around the valley many years ago. He had never needed those plans, but he had made them and revised them many times over the years.

"If it's really this important to you, then all right," Galleous said with a sigh. "If you can find a way of hiding what clan you are. I'm leaving in four days, that's how long you have to find something."

Ingressus nodded. "Thank you."

Ingressus had thought about disguises more than once over the years. A simple cloak and hood would be enough to hide his markings, and maybe that would be enough for the wilds of Ardonia or on less-traveled roads. But as he had learned from past festivals, all it took was a glimpse of red eyes on an Ardoni for his clan to be identified, and short of blindfolding himself, he couldn't hide them. So he would need to conceal that he was Ardoni entirely. He borrowed a pair of gloves from Kittrian, and Matt found him a pair of old and dusty boots from the mine yard that were big enough to fit Ingressus. A cloak with sleeves and a hood hid his ears and markings, and a short scarf concealed the rest of his face. With some strips of cloth wrapped around his shins, the last of his gray skin and red markings disappeared. He presented the ensemble to Leah for her opinion, and she shrugged.

"Well, you're disguised," she said. "But it looks pretty slapdash. Which comes with no judgment, I doubt Ardoni do disguises very much. It'll work, but you can do better."

Leah reappeared a few hours later with her "improvements." She gave him a pair of leather wrist-guards, borrowed ("with permission, don't worry") from her archer friend, and an iron helmet. "If Galleous has a chain-mail shirt you can borrow, grab that and put it on over the cloak."

When the outfitting was done, Leah stepped back and nodded approvingly. "How's it feel?"

Ingressus looked himself over, flexing his wrists. The leather guards were tighter than he would've guessed, the chain mail a little heavy but neither was uncomfortable. The worst part was the helmet's weight pressing his ears against his skull, but he could live with it. "Feels fine."

"Great," Leah said proudly. "Now you look like an actual mysterious traveler, and not some kid who raided his parents' closet for a disguise so he could steal some sweets from a cranky shopkeeper after he stiffed you."

Ingressus pulled off the helmet, arching a brow. "That was strangely specific."

Leah spread her hands innocently. "I don't know what you're implying of me. I would never do such a thing."

Ingressus snorted. Leah often passed off her past escapades as overly specific examples of something she would never do. "Thanks for your help."

"No problem," Leah said with a thumbs-up. "Just bring me back a souvenir and we'll call it even."

Ingressus had one final test of his disguise. When Galleous left for a walk that evening, Ingressus donned the disguise and sat in the forge, waiting for him to return. When Galleous walked into the forge he stopped, staring at Ingressus.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

Ingressus stood, pulling off the helmet and mask. Galleous blinked, then gave a snort of laughter. "Never knew you were so keen on dramatic entrances, kid."

He looked Ingressus up and down. "Not bad. You look like a tall Segari."

"Does this mean I can come with you to Voltaria?"

Galleous nodded wryly. "Yes, you can come."

(8802 words)

I really need to stop telling myself "this'll be a shorter chapter." This is twice now that I've said that to myself and it was not only untrue, but the chapter set the record for the longest one so far.

LULANI059: Ummm, why would you think that? *hides paper titled Altered Destiny secrets*

I'm not gonna confirm or deny anything at this point, but that's a very interesting theory, thank you.