Sooka's memory of her short time as a mouse was vague and indistinct. All she remembered was darkness within the sewers, a surprising amount of terror as a predator carried her along, and a soaring view of the city. But deep within the recesses of her mind, she – not the mouse – saw the buildings fall away, blurry beyond recognition, and felt her heart beating incredibly fast.

Despite the hazy experience, her kenku soul soared. Though the mouse's fear was nearly insurmountable, she fought past it until she could take in the ground so far and distant from her. The speed with which they cut through the air was exhilarating, and she wished that she could see everything as clearly as she knew Aribis did.

The next thing she remembered, they were no longer moving. She willed the feeling go away, and she transformed back into her body. Though she struggled to retain the fleeting memories, she fought hard for them, wishing for them to be real always.

After a moment of recovery, she turned back to Aribis and wrote out for him, So that's what it's like to fly.

As he read the words, his countenance fell, though compassion was mingled with his sadness.

"Ay," he nodded, though his voice didn't carry the same level of kindness that his face displayed. "That's what it's like to fly, and I'll be happy to take you on more trips. However…" He peered closely at her, his expression turning stern. "What were you doing?"

"She probably just doesn't want to feel useless anymore," she repeated, her eyes trained away from Aribis and onto the familiar buildings of the Dandelions district.

"At what point did anyone make you feel useless?" he asked, surprised.

She remained silent.

"We've known you for three days, and you've risked your life for all of us," continued Aribis. "You and your little pet mouse. That hardly seems useless."

Sooka frowned and wrote once more, I literally can't tell you my story. Do you even know how that feels?

"Why can't you? You just told me that." He gestured to the written words.

Too big.

Aribis's voice grew softer. "If it's important, it's never too big." He waited for a response, and when none came, he added, "If it's important, you make the time, afraid or not."

She paused… Maybe it would be worth a shot. Her writing was slow and deliberate.

Because I can't have a voice… because I can't be free, I have failed loved ones before. And it happened again with the doppelganger. I couldn't tell you all what I saw, as hard as I tried. Because of my lack of speech… my last family died. So, I was looking for any way I could get a voice.

Tears pricked Sooka's eyes, and she looked down at her oversized boots, tugging at the feathers on her arms and sliding her feet around.

"A voice?' prodded Aribis.

She nodded. Because nobody understood me last time. And it just happened again.

"It takes people paying attention, and we weren't," said Aribis kindly. "And I'm sorry for that. On occasion, everyone feels useless. And that's just something we all have to deal with. Like you said, we're a family. We'll also get on each other's nerves, and lean on each other a lot harder than we ought to. That's just part of the fun! And we will help you find a voice, whether it be writing, or singing a song, or making music! A voice is more than just the sounds out of your mouth. Well… beak."

Then Aribis got closer and turned Sooka's eyes toward him. Earnestness dripped from his face as he said quietly, "Don't you ever… ever… do that again. If you're feeling some kind of way and you need to be alone, that's fine. But at least let us know." He let her go and crossed his arms. "'Hey, I need a minute,'" he offered.

She fought to regain her composure. This familial love had been absent from her life for so long, and she didn't know how to process all this. She saw the kindness in Aribis and recalled the loving protection of William and Enna. It was all too overwhelming at times, but she knew that Aribis spoke truth. Though in truth, his understanding would always be limited.

"Okay, I promise," she said. But you can't know how this feels, you of all people.

"You're right, I don't," conceded Aribis. "But I promise I can help you try to get there."

She recalled so many times that he'd taken his flight and speech for granted. Aribis was a persistent symbol of everything she desired, and everything she could never have.

She shrugged and turned to watch as the werelights began popping up over the darkening city. This person, so similar to her in appearance and yet restricted by nothing, loving though he seemed, wouldn't be able to see what she saw or feel what she felt. He'd never know what it felt like to be so desperate to say something and be utterly unable to say it.

Aribis sighed, stood, and tucked his arms under hers.

"Point me in the right direction," he instructed. "Let's go."

And he took off, labored somewhat by her weight, but flying nonetheless.

"William, you'll be safe here," said Enna before she whisked out after Bash.

The irritated William mixed together some ground herbs and smoothed them on several cuts on Urgok'nir's right arm, even as the man drifted off into a somewhat peaceful slumber.

As he realized that he was truly alone, a slew of emotions began to attack his somber visage. How could he have been so cruel to Bash? Bash, who was only hurting. The man may have been narcissistic and flippant, but William knew that he was in pain. With no outlet of emotions allowed himself, Bash had nearly exploded from the struggle he felt within.

The doppelganger was no saint, William knew, but he still wasn't sure he approved of Bash's cold and final judgment of Aunn.

He'd even been short with Enna, as kind as she always was. Was this who he'd become? Someone who merely judged his friends for their actions? What right did he have to judge them?

Unpacking several bandages, William began to wrap Urgok'nir's hand and several other wounds. He worried slightly that the half-orc would look like a mummy by the time he was finished bandaging him, but it couldn't be helped. It was a miracle the man hadn't already died from his multiple infections.

Once he was satisfied that Urgok'nir would be stabilized enough to sleep soundly through the night, he packed up his equipment and sat on the hard, stone floor for a moment.

Bash's face, blistered with tears, flashed across his memory. And now the distraught elf was somewhere in the city, possibly in danger, although knowing of Enna's presence sent some form of comfort to William. But more worrisome to him was the uncanny disappearance of Sooka and Aribis.

Glancing around him, he saw once more that he was alone. What was he to do? Nobody was there. He didn't even know the half-orc. The doppelganger lay dead and bleeding in the corner.

What use was William now?

Overwhelmed, he allowed tears to fall. For several minutes, he wept, unsure of any course of action that would be the right one. The group felt splintered and broken, and as desperately as he wanted to bring it back together, he knew that he alone couldn't accomplish that feat.

He only hoped the others would be alright.

After the tears ebbed, he wiped his face and nose and stood for a moment before walking over to the doppelganger. Though it exhausted his supply of bandages, he wrapped the corpse completely so that it would be unrecognizable to the untrained eye. Whatever they did with it, he wanted it to be hidden. Besides, this creature was sentient. It had a family, too.

Then he returned to Urgok'nir, who slept soundly, breathing smoothly and even snoring a bit. Kneeling, he retrieved the necklace of the Raven Queen and held his hands out in prayer.

"O Raven Queen," he said. "Great is our hour of need. Many things I could ask, but forefront on my mind is this innocent man. He didn't deserve what befell him. Please protect him from further harm, especially as we delve deeper into the danger that lies within Agneward. And… help me help them. My friends need something, and I believe that I can help them. Keep them safe and bring us back together."

Once more, he sat on the floor, leaned up against the wall, but this time, there was no hint of sadness in his face. He sat stoic and firm, awaiting the return of his companions.

For several minutes, Bash huffed along, vaguely aware of his surroundings. Although he paid little attention to his destination, he still made sure to watch for unwanted movement nearby. Behind him trailed Enna, now a familiar black cat, and he appreciated her passive efforts in comforting him. For some time, he pondered what to do and mourned the loss of his city, though he repeatedly reminded himself that it wasn't lost just yet.

This Ghost, this creature that stole his name, was responsible for all this. Although he knew now that the rakshasa was indeed the original Ghost of Agneward legend, Bash liked to think that he'd been a better, more aptly named Ghost. The string of sightings of the rakshasa in the past month had tarnished his own flawless reputation, and that in and of itself felt like a personal attack. Then Aribis, and now Urgok'nir, and possibly Enna's mother and multiple other sources in the city… This had to come to an end. His hand fidgeted over the hilt of the dagger blessed by Erathis, and he pondered how this could be accomplished.

Part of him believed that he could take the Ghost on himself, but he knew he'd be kidding himself. Something about that rapier set him on edge, and he understood that it was a deadly weapon. He wondered if they'd ever stand a chance against the rakshasa, even with this dagger. There was only one way to find out, but he felt hopelessly useless in finding their target. What guarantee did he have that he wouldn't lose another friend in that eventual encounter?

What guarantee did he have that he would come out alive?

He knew in his soul that he shouldn't care so much for his own life, and yet four centuries of self-preservation instinct had permeated his entire being. If it came down to it, would he be willing to lay down his life for those close to him?

He'd always been on his own, and that had only changed a century ago when Enna had come along. The rest he'd known for a few months. A few months! What a fleeting amount of time in his vast lifespan. Such "acquaintances" were not worth his life, surely.

He closed his eyes, knowing full well that he was lying to himself. The past few months had given his life a meaning that hadn't ever existed before. Before the Mireguard, all he had was contracts and a few innocent flirtations with Enna. Before Enna, all he'd had was his reputation.

Now, he had friends. True friends. Friends that he knew cared deeply for him, for some reason that he couldn't identify. Who was he besides an assassin? A glorified sellsword, selfish beyond belief, secretive, always pushing them away. And yet, they'd managed to weasel their way into his soul. Even the young Sooka, annoying though her mimicry was, he still cared for.

The soft pitter-patter of cat paws approached from behind, and Bash's thoughts settled on Enna. Of all of them, Enna was the one dearest to him. She was the only one who had seen him at his worst, and yet she still followed him even now.

As his emotions slowly leveled out, he turned toward a side alley, prepared to sit and talk to her. But the quiet pitter-patter suddenly became deeper thumps, and then something sharp pressed against his back.

"So you're the Ghost?" came that voice he'd learned to hate so much. A sharp intake of breath told him that this sharp thing would pierce his heart if he did not move.

Within an instant, Bash whirled, drew his dagger, and smacked the deadly blade up with his own before taking a quick step back to take in the glowing red eyes of the rakshasa.

"A quick one," chuckled the creature.

Before the rakshasa had finished his sentence, Bash had lunged forward and plunged his dagger into the beast's side. The rakshasa recoiled in pain and surprise that Bash had never seen before. He almost seemed afraid of the dagger and called out, "What are you?"

Then slashing with his rapier, he drew close again, and their steps erupted into a dance of fury and fear. Bash struggled to stay ahead of that haunting rapier, and more than once, a slice ran across his arm. Claws dragged across his chest, and he cried out in pain before retaliating instinctively.

"You are no Ghost!" jeered the rakshasa as he drew blood.

The vengeful power within him rose to a point that he could no longer control it, and he held his hand up as a fiery explosion shot toward the rakshasa, but he merely brushed it aside.

"Nothing you do will stop this," he growled.

Such wrath filled Bash that he grew somewhat desperate as his claw wounds burned within him. The Ghosts shifted back and forth, each making contact time and again, each focused more on killing than staying alive.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bash saw a flash of tiny black approach and hiss at the rakshasa, and his heart sank.

"Run!" he called out, but Enna had already transformed into herself again.

"That's fine," said the rakshasa. "Two will be more than enough."

Despite her magic nearly running dry, Enna entered the fray desperate to save Bash. Seeing the rakshasa had made her frantic, and now she charged forward with little stopping her. She was his only chance to get out alive.

Springing into her elven state, ignoring Bash's pleas for her to flee, she began to cast a spell on herself as the rakshasa pieced together what was going on. She could feel in her innermost being that she could not manage another transformation. At least, not a normal one. Not one where she could remain Enna.

As she completed the spell, she felt her mind slip away from her as her vision became piercingly detailed and her arms sprouted feathers. The change felt foreign, unwanted almost, sourced from something other than herself. Instinctively, she almost fought it, but she remembered why and allowed the beast to take over. As Enna disappeared into the mind of a giant eagle, she screamed out one final, urgent, desperate wish.

GET BASH AND LEAVE.

The eagle was taken aback by the dangerous creature of bloodlust before it, but those words rang true.

GET BASH AND LEAVE.

Following the distant command, the eagle wrapped its claws around the elf's arm and flapped its wings as hard as possible, pushing them into the air.

But then something pierced her back, and the ground rushed to meet her.

And then it was black. Silent. Peaceful.

"NO!" screamed Bash as Enna's eagle toppled to the ground, transforming midair. For just a moment, he hoped beyond hope that she would stir, but then one of the eyes on that deathly rapier glowed red, and he knew.

Screaming wildly, tears escaping his eyes, Bash swung at the rakshasa, throwing all his might into his attack. Though he made contact with flesh, it wasn't enough.

The rakshasa stepped back and grinned at him, that sickening, twisted grin, and said, "I can tell I stabbed you in the heart. That's enough for now. I warned you, Bash. I warned you."

And then he disappeared.

Bash collapsed to the ground, all will to go on vanishing with the Ghost. He crawled to Enna's body, still unmoving and lifeless. Sobs escaped him as he gathered her to him and watched her still face. Her blood seeped from her back and onto his leather pants. He placed his forehead on her closed eyes, and as his tears fell on her cheek, he rocked back and forth, inconsolable, completely unaware of the world around him or the pain afforded by his numerous wounds.

The finality was crushing.

The only thing he could feel was the despair in his heart. It was like nothing he had ever experienced, as if someone had ripped him apart and left him in pieces there on the street. As if some immense force had pushed him beneath the earth and held him there where he couldn't breathe. He wasn't sure that he could ever be put together again. The wrath he felt toward the rakshasa was nothing compared to his overwhelming grief that sapped his very will to live.

He'd just thought of laying down his life for Enna, and now she had sacrificed herself for him. The irony mocked him oppressively, and it was all he could do to continue breathing.

What would he tell her brother? Her mother?

What would he tell his friends?

The thought of their grief shattered him once again, and his sobs renewed.

Either poetic or perhaps another form of mockery, the clouds that had been gathering above began to release their tears as well, but he paid it no mind. No longer did he care for weather or the stinging pain of water in his wounds. Nothing mattered anymore.

It was his fault anyway. If he hadn't been so hotheaded, if he hadn't rushed out of that safe house without everyone, if he had just gone to find Aribis and Sooka first, this wouldn't have happened.

He almost laughed at himself. Hadn't he warned Aribis of his volatile emotions just yesterday?

Placing a hand on Enna's face, he watched her, sniffling and fighting through uneven and ragged breaths. He'd seen her trance before, and even sleep, but this moment yielded a peace that he'd never seen in her. He ran his hand along her wet hair, admiring the braided strands and almost smiling as he pulled out a small twig.

He would never speak to her again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

As his sobs continued, wracking his entire body with pain as they rattled his wounds, he heard a distant splashing of running feet. They approached, but he did not move.

He couldn't. There was no point anymore.

A familiar voice rose over the gentle rain, panting between sentences.

"Wha—What happened?" cried Finwe. "No… No, not again."

He approached and knelt by Bash, and Bash felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Did it just happen?" Finwe asked frantically. "Please, did it just happen?"

It took everything in Bash to muster a weak nod.

Finwe ruffled something in his bag, and a moment later, he began muttering. Weakly, Bash lifted his head and saw Finwe reading from a scroll. Placing a hand on Enna's shoulder, he continued his mutterings, and Bash saw the scroll begin to glow. This magic was unlike the others he'd seen from his companions. This magic was warm and inviting, healing, yet distant. The bright yellow glow outshone that of Aribis's magic, and Bash's eyes grew wide as he watched it flow into Enna, enveloping her in its light. He waited an agonizing moment, and she her chest moved.

Not daring to breathe, he waited as her eyes flitted open and met his. That deep forest green that he'd resigned to never seeing again peered into his soul, and he could hardly believe it. She smiled.

"You're okay," she smiled warmly.

Overwhelmed in every way, Bash pressed his lips onto hers. It was just like Enna to worry about him having just died herself. He held her there for a moment, and then buried his face in her neck as he embraced her, determined to never let go.

For the first time in his very long life, he cast a prayer up to the gods as even more tears came.

Thank you, he prayed. Erathis, thank you for bringing her back to me.

Finwe slumped to the ground. "Thank the Wild Mother," he breathed out, running a weary hand over his weeping face. "I finally did something to help. Where are the others?"

Ignoring Finwe for the time being, Bash realized Enna's weakened state, suddenly conscious of his blood-soaked trousers, and reached into his bag. Mentally making a note to thank William later, he pulled out a potion and administered it to Enna, who received it gratefully. Her wounds began to sew themselves together, and the profuse bleeding stopped. Smiling, he placed a hand on her face and put his forehead to hers, drinking in the heart beating next to his.

Then pulling away, her face still in his hands, he smiled and said, "How about we go find William?"

She grinned back, and she sat up while Bash stood. Then turning to Finwe, she showed deep sincerity as she said quietly, "Thank you," and held out a hand.

Finwe reached forward, then paused and glanced at Bash. Then he reluctantly took Enna's hand and shook it. "I've let down people before," he muttered abashedly.

"You didn't this time," she said warmly.

As Enna struggled to stand, Bash helped her up, made sure she was steady, and turned to Finwe. Tears pricked his eyes yet again as he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Finwe. The half-elf recoiled in surprise, and Bash felt an awkward tap on his back.

"Thank you," whispered Bash.

"I mean… you'd have done the same." When Bash did not let go, Finwe added, "We should probably keep a lookout, right? I mean, the Ghost could be anywhere."

At last releasing the awkward Finwe, Bash nodded and said, "We need to find our friends before we do anything else."

He cast a glance to Enna, who held her side in pain. Blood soaked her clothing and clung to the ends of her hair. Her face was pale as she nodded.

Bash wrapped an arm around Enna's waist, and they leaned on each other as they made their way – slowly – back to the safehouse. The setting sun gave way to werelights that began popping into existence high above them as they made the journey back.

As they arrived, they found William sitting on the floor before standing abruptly and rushing to the door at the sight of them. Urgok'nir slumbered peacefully on the cot, all his wounds bandaged, and the doppelganger lay wrapped like a mummy on the floor.

As William took them in, eyes taking in Bash's new scars and the blood all over Enna, his face contorted in worry.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "What happened?"

"The Ghost," replied Bash simply. "He came out of nowhere. Enna—" His voice caught, and he turned to look at her as he fought to maintain his composure. She watched him, concern and love in her eyes. Then turning back to William, he said, "We were lucky Finwe was there. He brought her back."

William stepped up and wrapped them both in his arms. Gratefully, Bash accepted it. William's heart was something he'd taken for granted for so long. In this moment, he hoped he would never let that happen again. Involuntarily, he cried anew and sniffled once.

"Bash," said William seriously, pulling back and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry for the way I treated you." Bash swallowed as William's voice wavered.

He paused until he thought it was safe to speak, and then finally managed to get out, "It's okay."

Turning to Finwe, William nodded and said, "Thank you."

Finwe nodded awkwardly.

"Your healing potions came in handy," smiled Enna weakly.

"Oh, did they now?" The slightest trace of humor leaked through William's voice.

"William, I'm sorry I got so mad at you." The words seemed to spill out of Enna. "I just…" She shook her head slightly. "When Aribis died, I felt powerless, and your comment just kind of… got to me."

"I understand. When I fell in battle against the sentinel of Erathis, I felt worthless, too. Those potions were an act of desperation. I felt like we needed a safety net. It may have happened that you needed them, and I'm glad that I could help in that way, but I'm also sorry for what I said to you."

After another sniffle and a stabilizing sigh, Bash proposed, "How about we talk more on the way? We have to go find Sooka and Aribis."

The others agreed, and William hoisted up the doppelganger's body as they climbed back out into the streets. Thankfully, few people paid them any attention, thanks to the depraved state of the Dandelions, and eventually Bash pointed out a place to stow the body. He led them down a few side alleys until he found a building whose siding was loose in a spot. He quickly removed it, and William placed the body inside. After the siding had been replaced, they continued on their way, Enna and Bash still holding each other, both still lightly bleeding and in pain as they made their way back to the Sour Apple.

The place was still utterly deserted, and as they approached, they heard the distant flapping of wings. A moment later, Aribis and Sooka fluttered into view, a somewhat comical scene as Aribis carried a person larger than he was. He set Sooka down carefully, and he alighted next to her.

Relief washed over Bash to see his companions alive and well, and comfort seeped into his bones to know that they were all together again, battered as they seemed to be.

"Sooka!" cried out William, and he rushed forward and embraced her.

Enna sniffed, and Bash grinned to see William as relieved as he was. Sooka, however, stiffened at William's touch. Then she pushed him off, a slight squawk escaping her as she peered at him curiously.

"Fire!" she called.

Clearly hurt, William held out a hand apologetically.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I wanted to go after you, but we got… caught up. Was there fire wherever you went?"

"No," muttered Aribis thoughtfully. "This is something else." He glanced between William and Sooka carefully.

"Fire!" she repeated as William seemed on the verge of tears.

"Are you saying that William is hot like fire?" asked Aribis, and then he stepped forward and touched William's shoulder. He jerked his hand back quickly, waving it as if he'd just touched a hot stove.

Suddenly William shook his head, short, jerky motions, side to side. He closed his eyes, and his hands flew to his head. Stepping back, he appeared about to topple.

"No," he whispered. Then again, louder. Then a guttural scream pierced the evening air as William erupted into black flames.