AN: Finally updating this beast - I didn't realize I hadn't yet. I'm planning to have some more content incoming for most of my stories, school and work permitting.
Ozymandias: The Demon Monk
The town of Adrian was a friendly, bustling place. It was at the crossroads where the Canecreek pass, the northern road leading to the Ice Straits, and the east to west running road that led to Oakfield and Heapenfall all met, and thus on its streets people rubbed shoulders with those from all backgrounds. Inhabitants of Adrian were used to crossing paths with some odd people.
Today was no exception.
Among the many carts, wagons, and crowds of people entering through Adrian's front gate was a rattling wagon covered with a dark blue canvas roof, with a nervous-looking pair of men sitting on the wagon seat. The horse was foaming and panting in obvious distress.
"Finally…" one of the men said in relief. "Adrian."
"Did he… really want to be let off here? What does he want?" the other man said fearfully.
"Don' ask questions you don' want answers to, Tal," the first man snapped. He jumped down from the wagon seat and took the horse's reins, leading the frightened animal over to the side of the road.
The man still sitting on the wagon seat peeked inside the dark interior of the wagon, dreading what he might find.
Inside, nestled among the barrels and bundles of goods the men planned to sell, was a figure shrouded in a dark blue cloak with the hood drawn, so the man couldn't see his face. A staff topped with a hoop and six jangling rings was resting on the crate next to him, within grabbing reach if he needed it, and a leather satchel was propped up next to it. He was lying on his side atop the small pile of grain sacks, hands pillowing his head. His breathing was soft and even.
"He's asleep!" the man said in surprise.
"Wake him up, then, and tell him we're here!" the man on the ground snapped back.
The man on the wagon seat fearfully peeked inside the wagon again. "U-Um… sir? We're here, in Adrian, as promised."
The man felt his throat dry up as the figure stirred and sat up. Glowing gold eyes with pitch-black sclerae blinked from under the abyss of the figure's cloak. A barbed tail twitched behind him, and in the dim light the man could make out the outline of small horns under the hood.
The figure rubbed his eyes. "Adrian already? I must have slept longer than I thought…"
The man scooted back as the figure picked up his bag and his staff. The metal rings rattled with every movement as he climbed out of the back of the wagon.
Two sandaled feet landed lightly on the cobblestones. The man on the ground shivered as the demon stepped around the side of the wagon.
"Thank you, for giving a humble monk safe passage to this town," he said with a bow. His voice was flavored with a lilt neither man could recognize as being from Kosuta.
The man, shaking, nodded anxiously. His companion was also trembling like a leaf from his safe vantage point on the wagon seat.
While demons were counted among the humanlike races of Kosuta and were less feared than monsters, he had yet to hear of a truly good-hearted one. Most demons were servants of dark sorcerers, bandits, or conquering warlords. This one had expressed model behavior thus far, but he couldn't help but fear for the moment when the other shoe would drop.
"So, what's your business in Adrian?" the man asked.
The demon smiled sweetly, which was somehow even more unnerving than if he had smirked or sneered. "I'm looking for people nice enough to offer me alms and a place to spend the night. And an adventuring job, if I can find it. I'm told Adrian is a good place to find these things?"
"Most towns are, but, yeah, Adrian's full of nice folk," the first man said fearfully.
The demon nodded politely. "That's good to hear. Thank you again for the wagon ride. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."
"Um… no, no, of course not. We were on our way to Adrian anyhow," the second man said.
"That's good." The demon monk bowed again. "I'm afraid I should go. Safe travels to both of you!" he said. The wish of safe travels sounded strange coming from a demon's lips, like someone saying "Good luck" in a theater.
The men both weakly raised their hands in reciprocation to the demon's goodbye wave.
The demon monk politely moved through the crowd of people, who parted upon noticing his barbed tail. He knew he should have hidden it under his clothes today.
Ozymandias - adventurer name Goldeneye - wasn't stupid, as new as he was to Kosuta. He knew demons weren't a common race seen out adventuring, much less taking up the lifestyle of a wandering monk. He even realized that quite a few people he met were scared of him. But he'd never given anyone anything to be afraid of, and he was sure one of these times that if he just kept at being friendly that eventually he'd be met with more acceptance in return.
But it appeared that today wouldn't be that day.
Oz walked further down the street, receiving the usual reaction he tended to get from people - confusion at the sound of the jangling rings on the end of his staff, then fear when they saw his tail.
Then something happened that was decidedly not the norm for him - he bumped into someone.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" Oz apologized, quickly finding his footing. The person he'd bumped into, a human about his age with wavy black hair dressed in aristocratic clothes, shouldering a bag, sniffed.
"Pardon me," he said haughtily.
"I - I'm so sorry, sir, I… wasn't looking where I was going, and-" Oz began.
"Save it," the stranger said. "Just pay attention better next time." His eyes flickered from Oz's staff, to his face, hidden under his hood, to his tail.
"Mr. Rose Emperor!"
The haughty man turned around to see a young boy run up to him and stop, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. The strawberry-blonde furred ears pricking up from his tousled pink curls and the auburn-striped tail waving behind him identified him as a tiger therian, and the carved wooden staff strapped to his back identified him as an adventurer.
"Pristine-Eyes," the aristocrat said sternly. "I've been looking everyvhere for you. Vhere vere you? Vhere is Siren?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rose Emperor, I just wanted to find us an inn for tonight," the therian replied nervously. "We managed to find a good one!" he said, brightening. "Siren said that she would stay and make sure we got a room."
"Of course she did," the aristocrat said with a sigh. "And I assume ze cat is wiz her?"
"Um… Yes? He said something about keeping her out of trouble."
"Zat cat is hardly a responsible caretaker," the man - who Oz now recognized from his use of a nickname and the whip strapped to his back that he was an adventurer - said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The tiger therian then noticed Oz and ducked shyly behind the aristocrat's leg.
"Mr. Rose Emperor? Who is that?" he asked.
"Just a wandering monk," Oz said.
The aristocrat narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"A monk, hm? I assume you vant money?"
"I would appreciate it, thank you-" Oz began, only for the man to reach into his leather bag and pull out a fistful of gold.
"Zhere. Zat should be enough for an inn, I suppose. Now, I must go and find my missing party member."
The man walked off, looking irritated, the boy trailing after him.
"What a strange party," Oz murmured as they disappeared. He looked at the gold coins that had just been pushed into his hands. "Generous, I guess. But strange." He laughed as he realized how hypocritical that sounded coming from a demon monk. "Guess I should put this money to use."
Oz entered the market to find it crowded as usual. He saw the two men who had helped him get to Adrian and waved to them, but they didn't seem to see it. Oz's ears drooped.
Never mind that, I should just buy the food I need and then go find an inn.
"Excuse me," he said cheerfully as he walked up to a bread cart.
The baker looked up at the sound of his voice. "Ah, hell…o?" he trailed off, looking nervous. His eyes darted to his tail before he looked at his face.
"It's okay, I just want to buy something," Oz said.
"Buy…?" the baker asked. Then he forced a friendly smile. "What would you like?"
"A loaf of bread, is all," Oz replied.
The man nodded. "What… brings you to Adrian?"
"Just passing through, sir," Oz said.
"Right," the man muttered. "Here you are." He passed a cloth-wrapped loaf of bread across the tabletop.
"Thank you, sir," Oz replied with a smile, taking the loaf and placing one of the gold coins on the counter.
Oz adjusted his hood as he left the baker's cart, walking over to a fruit seller across the market.
The middle-aged man behind the counter squeaked when Oz stopped in front of him.
"H-Hello, s-sir," he stammered. "Wh-what b-brings a demon l-like yourself this way?"
"I'm just passing through Adrian," Oz replied. "Someone was very generous with the alms they gave me, and I thought I'd buy food for the road."
"Er….yes!" the fruit seller squeaked. "Wh-what would y-you like, sir?"
"How much for these apples?" Oz asked.
"A-A…"
"A gold coin buys you a sack of apples, a box of strawberries, or a sack of pears," a new voice cut in, sounding annoyed. A harpy woman with fuschia hair pinned up in a braided bun swept in from the back area where Oz could see the fruit seller's horse and extra barrels of fruit being kept. To the fruit seller, she snapped, "Now, what's gotten into you! You're supposed to tell the customers what they want to know! Even I know that!"
The man unfroze. "That's no way to talk to your employer, harpy girl! Can't you see what this traveler is!?"
The harpy looked Oz up and down. "An adventurer, but that's not why you're freaking out, is it?" To Oz, she said with a wink, "So, come to Adrien often? I don't think I've seen you around before."
Oz smiled awkwardly. "It's like I told your employer, I'm not staying long." Purely from an objective standpoint, the harpy was rather pretty, and she seemed to know it, too. But Oz didn't know what to do with her flirting. Even without the stigma of being a demon he didn't do well with girls.
"Hey, don't get worked up about it," the harpy said with a laugh. "I'm just teasing you."
The fruit seller looked ready to explode. "A demon! You're standing there teasing a demon!"
"Demon?" the woman asked. "I haven't met a demon yet…" She bent down slightly to reach his height (she was a head taller than him). "Bit scrawnier than I expected. How old are you?"
"I'm sixteen, miss," Oz said.
"A teenager, then. You're standing there with steam coming out of your ears over a teenage boy, boss," the woman said to the fruit seller. To Oz, she said, "Mind if I have a look under there? Just to show Mr. Crank over there he's got nothing to worry about." She pointed at the fruit seller as she said this, causing the man to turn purple with anger.
Oz froze. Even though his tail made it obvious he was a demon, he liked the relative anonymity his hood provided, and he wasn't sure what giving that up would mean in a crowded marketplace like this.
"Don't be shy," the woman said.
Oz slowly lowered his hood, blinking at the bright sunlight. Feeling the wind tease his short orange-tipped ponytail and short black horns felt strange after so long with them covered. A strand came loose and blew in his face, and he nervously tucked it behind his notched ear.
"Well," the woman said with a smile. "Aren't you a cutie!"
Oz scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Um… thank you?" he said.
The woman's smile changed to a smirk. "Hey, don't freak out, I'm teasing you again," she said. To the fruit vendor, she asked sharply, "Now can you calm down?"
The fruit vendor scowled. "As harmless as my naive worker thinks you look," he spat at Oz, who flinched. "You'll get out of this market and out of Adrian if you know what's good for you!"
"I'm literally trying to de-escalate this situation, boss. You're the one overreacting. Just let him get his things," the harpy snapped.
"Come on! You can't be this stupid!" the fruit vendor snarled, a wild look in his eyes. He fumbled for something under the counter, and yanked out a vegetable cleaver.
Oz raised his staff to defend himself as the knife arced down toward the spot between his eyes.
The harpy was faster, though, grabbing the fruit vendor and wrestling with him over the knife. Oz stood rooted to the spot in shock. He knew he should be helping, especially as the fruit vendor madly began to try to force the knife down to stab his employee, but he couldn't move. He wasn't a good fighter and what little of his memory he retained told him he'd never been.
In that moment, he had never felt more useless.
"Whoa! Hey!"
Oz found himself shoved out of the way by a blur of dark red. He tripped and fell over, his staff toppling over after him and striking him square on the head in a way that might have been funny had he not been terrified. He fumbled to pick it up, eyes widening in shock at what he saw.
A young man his age - revealed by the subtle point to his ears and his pale gray, bloodless skin to be a vampire - had forcefully interrupted the fight between the harpy and the fruit vendor, clashing blades with the vegetable cleaver armed with a gleaming knife of his own. A knife-sized sheath proved that the teenager was an adventurer and that the knife was his signature weapon.
The fruit vendor's gaze darted around, at the ground, at the sky, at the harpy now snatching up a pair of gauntlets and shoving them on - anywhere but at his opponent's face.
Mesmerizing, a part of Oz that hadn't completely lost its head and remembered the information he had learned about the other races of Kosuta supplied. Vampires have a hypnotic gaze that can brainwash anything that looks into their eyes. The fruit vendor was trying to avoid falling under the vampire's spell.
The harpy dove back into the fight, striking the fruit vendor once, twice in the stomach with her iron-knuckle gauntlets, causing him to double over. Almost foaming with rage, the fruit seller swung the knife wildly at the harpy, who managed to block all but one, the last of which sliced open her cheek. The vampire leapt in to intercept the next blow, sparks flying off his blade as he did so. The vendor shoved forward, pushing the vampire back. Although the vampire was clearly the better knife-wielder, the broad-shouldered, middle-aged fruit vendor was not only bigger, but he wasn't holding back.
The vampire was trying to avoid killing the fruit vendor, while the fruit vendor was clearly out for blood.
"Come on, Morrowseer, where're you and the girls when I need you?" the vampire muttered under his breath.
Oz watched in horror as the fruit vendor lunged and slashed the vampire on the stomach. The vampire gave a choked grunt, his free hand shooting to the wound in an attempt to staunch the blood oozing out.
Suddenly, a teenage girl with a sword on her back ran out of the crowd, driving her shoulder into the fruit vendor's side. The fruit vendor, knocked off balance, flailed, his grip on the knife loosening. The girl didn't waste a second, punching the vendor in the teeth and then grabbing his wrist when he tried to retaliate.
"Black Flame Sword?!" the vampire asked in bewilderment.
"Ya just had to get into a good fight without me, didn't ya, Bat King?" the girl replied with a cocky wink. She spoke with a rough, casual-sounding accent.
"In my defense, I wasn't looking for it this time!" the vampire protested.
"Sword Girl, save the teammate banter and get the knife!" the harpy said sharply, grabbing the fruit vendor from behind and securing his other arm. "Vampire! Be ready to mesmer him once we can hold him still!"
The vampire nodded shortly.
The new girl grinned, looking like she was having the time of her life despite the fact she was visibly straining trying to hold the fruit seller's knife hand back from stabbing her in the face. "You got it!"
In one swift motion, she yanked the man's arm back and twisted it behind him. Oz flinched as he heard the sound of joints cracking, quickly drowned out by the fruit seller shrieking in pain. When she pulled away, she had the vegetable cleaver in her hand. She stabbed the knife into the wood counter before quickly helping the harpy grab the fruit vendor, who was holding his sore arm and whimpering. The vampire grabbed the man's face and glared into his eyes.
Oz could see the pain, anger, and fear leave the man's eyes as they went blissfully blank.
"Tell me why you were attacking that harpy," the vampire ordered.
"She… disobeyed me… started it…" the fruit seller droned.
"How?"
"There was a demon… I was trying to kill it… she stopped me…"
The vampire sniffed. "Was he trying to hurt you? Answer me honestly."
"It said it was here… to buy from me…"
"So ya attacked 'im for no reason," the teenage girl with the sword spat.
"I was needling him and teasing him for being afraid of that kid," the harpy explained.
"For no reason," the girl repeated, giving a knowing look at the harpy. "Where'd he get that knife?"
"He had it stored under the counter," the harpy replied. "I don't get why he suddenly started acting like this. The boss is, above all else, a coward. He'd never have the guts to attack anyone."
"And I might have found a reason," the vampire said, holding up a sack hung from a broken lace that had - most likely - been around the vendor's neck. "Another one of those black shards."
The teen girl swore. "Yeah, Morrowseer'll want to see that. How's your face?" she asked the harpy, who was using a piece of an apple sack to staunch the blood flow from the knife wound on her cheek.
"I'll live," the harpy replied.
"Y'know, a guy on our team knows some decent healing spells," the girl said. "That looks like it hurts."
"I'm fine, Sword Girl, I've had worse dealing with customer service," the harpy said. "Speaking of which, what does that bag your friend's holding have to do with my boss pulling a knife on a paying customer?" Ignoring the teen girl who was still trying to talk her into visiting this cleric they knew, she walked over to the vampire and reached for the bag, only for the vampire to pocket it.
"It's hard to explain. Better if we can sit down and talk about it," the vampire said. "Just know that the contents of this bag are dangerous." As much as he appeared to be trying not to show it, the knife wound in his stomach was clearly bothering him. "Anyway… I almost forgot about the reason for this whole mess."
Oz had been watching all of this play out, numb, as if he weren't even present, up until now. Now that the shock was draining away, his head pounded with the pain from the sizable welt on his head from his staff, in addition to the dozen other aches and bruises he had sustained on the way down. However, he tried to force himself up, reaching for his staff in case he needed to defend himself.
But the vampire's sharp blue eyes suddenly softened. "Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah, I think," Oz said, gingerly rubbing his head. "But… you're hurt, too."
"It's fine - like I said, we have a cleric in our party." He held out a hand to help Oz up.
"...I'm sorry," Oz said nervously, his tail swishing. "I didn't know what to do. I just… froze up. I'm not a very good fighter."
"Nah, it ain't your fault," the teen girl cut in. "That fruit vendor was way outta line."
The harpy peeked around her. "Are you good to walk, monk? Sword Girl's not shutting up about seeing a cleric for my injuries-"
"Hey! The name's Black Flame Sword!" the teen girl said, bristling.
"-So we might as well get all of our injuries checked out."
"I can walk," Oz said. "It's just my head."
"Right. Where's your cleric friend, Sword Girl?" the harpy asked.
"He said he was headin' back to the inn wit' Princess an' Key Mace," the teen girl (Black Flame Sword) said. "They're two more of our party members."
"A party of five, huh?" the harpy muttered. "Okay, lead on, Sword Girl."
"My name is Black Flame Sword!"
The vampire smirked as the two women bickered. "If we're giving out adventurer titles, I'm Bat King," he told Oz. "And you?"
"Goldeneye," Oz murmured.
"Goldeneye, huh? Bet you I know where that came from," Bat King said with a laugh.
"Yeah, I… I mean, I don't have any special skills to take my adventurer name from. And… I didn't really want to advertise that I was a demon with the name I chose."
Bat King frowned. "I… haven't been in Kosuta for long, but I've heard enough to know how people feel about demons. So you're a monk? Where from?"
Oz's mouth dried up. He'd never gotten close enough to someone to be asked for specifics about his origins, and a part of him found it simpler to keep his background vague. Better that than to confide in this complete stranger that he had no idea where he was from. "Uh… the mountains?"
Bat King looked thoughtful. "Right. So you're just passing through like us?"
Oz nodded.
Bat King grinned.
"What are you grinning about?" Oz asked nervously, wondering why this scenario - that smile - felt so familiar.
"Oh, you'll see," Bat King said. "Come on, the inn is this way!"
Morrowseer, who met them at the room door, turned out to be an elf with short white hair and purple eyes. He wore armor over his shirt and pants and an adventurer's sheath on his back, currently empty. He reminded Oz of a mature older brother or a parent - stern, but affectionate. Now, though, he looked like he was barely restraining his anger.
"What happened?" he asked calmly.
"It wasn't my fault this time," Bat King said immediately.
"Yeah! A guy at the market pulled a knife on this lady and this monk!" Black Flame Sword interjected. "He had one of those black shards! Show 'im, Bat King!"
Bat King retrieved the pouch from his pocket and opened it, pulling out what was inside.
Oz felt a chill as he saw the small, jagged black crystal. It seemed to absorb all the light from the sun slanting through the drapes that hit it, leaving an impossibly dark, matte void.
Morrowseer's eyes widened when he saw the crystal.
"In here, now," he ordered. To someone behind him, he said, "Princess, Key Mace - Bat King and Black Flame Sword have returned. They have news."
"How much do you want to bet they got into another fight?" a young girl's voice deadpanned.
A small, high-pitched voice answered, "I don't make bets I know I can't win, Miss."
A few minutes later, Oz was sitting awkwardly on the bed in the front room beside the harpy. Bat King had pulled off his tunic and Morrowseer was in the process of healing the wound on his stomach. Oz watched, fascinated, as a golden light shone from the elf's hand and the knife slash began to knit itself closed.
"You have to understand how lucky you are," Morrowseer said sharply. "You're not indestructible, Bat King. Suppose Black Flame Sword had gone back to the inn with us?! Or she hadn't gotten there when she had!?"
"I didn't have time to grab somebody for help, Morrowseer," Bat King replied, wincing in response to the magic's touch. "I had to make sure he didn't hurt anyone."
"Where did a fruit vendor get a black shard anyway?" the Princess, who turned out to be a little fairykin girl wearing a beautifully decorated dress under her black leather chestplate, asked. Key Mace, her fairy companion, mirrored her confusion from her seat on the kitchenette table.
"Whoever's behind them is passing 'em out like candy, and that's gonna be a problem," Black Flame Sword said.
"And the vendor?" Morrowseer asked.
"I knocked him out with my mesmer ability. He was out for blood, Morrowseer, I didn't know what else to do," Bat King replied.
"What do those black shards do?" the harpy wanted to know. "I got my face sliced open thanks to one. My boss tried to kill Goldeneye, a paying customer, because he had one. I want answers."
"They're something we've been finding on our travels," Morrowseer said.
By now Bat King's wound had completely vanished, and the gold light faded from Morrowseer's hand. He pulled back. "You next, Miss," he said politely to the harpy.
"Silverclaw," the harpy said as she moved over to let Morrowseer begin healing her.
Morrowseer nodded in acknowledgement as he held up his hand next to her face. "Anyway - the black shards. We don't know exactly what they are, or who makes them. All we know is that they work to bring out your darkest impulses, and magnify them to the extreme. They make angry people become rabid and aggressive. Make cowardly people afraid of everything and think the world is out to get them. Opportunistic people become amoral backstabbers and manipulators. Proud people become lethally arrogant and reckless. You get the idea - whatever your fatal flaw is, a black shard forces that flaw to take over your entire personality. We believe some kind of mind magic is involved, similar to mesmering - as Bat King and other vampires we've met are unaffected, as you saw with Bat King touching it and staying sane. And - as you saw, they're finding their way into the hands of normal citizens, with the expected result."
Oz bit his lip. "Who would stand to gain from this? What would someone get out of forcing people to succumb to the worst parts of themselves like that?"
"Someone who needs to be stopped," Key Mace said firmly.
Morrowseer nodded in agreement. "Goldeneye, was it? You're next."
Oz quietly scooted over on the bed and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Morrowseer's elf magic wash over the lump on his forehead.
"Don't be angry with them," he mumbled. "Your party mates got into a fight looking out for me, and-"
"It wasn't your fault. Neither of them can leave it alone when someone needs protecting, and they both adore a good fight. And I'm not angry at them. Well, I am - a bit." He gave the two teenagers a stern look. "But at least them getting involved meant they found the black shard. The less of them there are in circulation, the happier I'll be."
"What'll happen to the guy?" the Princess asked. "You two just beat him up and left him there?"
"I'll go back and talk to him," Morrowseer said. "I can't ignore the fact he wasn't in his right mind."
"He was intolerable even before the shard drove him crazy," Silverclaw said coldly. "You said that bauble magnifies flaws, not make them up from thin air."
"Racist, short-tempered, and cowardly though he may be," Morrowseer said firmly. "He didn't deserve to fall under the spell of a black shard. No one does."
The harpy waved her hand in a "whatever" gesture. "I'm not saying he did," she said. "I'm just not completely shattered by it. He gave me a job when I stumbled into town with only a name and a satchel on my back, but he was hardly a good employer."
Oz opened his eyes as he felt the warm touch of Morrowseer's light magic fade. He reached up to touch his head, surprised it didn't even feel sore.
"A satchel?" Morrowseer asked. "Like this one?" He picked up a leather bag slung over the end of the bed.
Oz's hands went to the satchel he had hidden under his cloak.
Silverclaw's eyes widened. "That bag looks just like mine!" she realized.
"We all have one," Bat King said, retrieving a third identical bag from the adjoined room.
"Did ya get the same message as us, too?" Black Flame Sword asked.
"Message?" Silverclaw asked knowingly.
"Here," Black Flame Sword said, reaching into her own bag and pulling out a crumpled, water-stained slip of paper.
Oz subconsciously reached into his bag and fingered the piece of paper in his own bag, knowing what the adventurer was going to read off before she read it.
"Kill to survive, survive to win." Black Flame Sword grinned. "I'm thinkin' you did get a message like that, didn't ya?"
Silverclaw folded her arms. "So what if I did? What are you saying?"
"Almost everyone in this party, save Key Mace, has gotten the same bag and the same message. We're hoping if we discover who sent it, we can determine why," Morrowseer said.
"You can come along if you want to," Bat King said. "We're all in the same boat."
Silverclaw scowled. "Look, it's great and all that your backstories are similar to mine, but that's no argument to come with you."
"What kinda argument do ya need?" Black Flame Sword snapped. "Six heads are better than one, and if whatever wacko dropped us here and gave us these notes tries somethin', wouldn't we be better off fightin' together!?"
"I can look after myself, Sword Girl."
"My name is-!"
"Enough!" Morrowseer said sternly. "Black Flame Sword, Silverclaw is under no obligation to come with us, or even to decide right now. It's been a stressful few hours, for all of us, and we should all rest."
Oz bit his lip.
"I… guess this is a bad time to tell you that I got the same message?" he said, smiling weakly.