Sooka sat in her room, frowning at the band on her arm. Its oppression was fierce and unforgiving. Holding out her hand, she summoned a shower of sparks and winced to feel a strange force poking at her mind even as the diamond in the band began to glow blue. Where her magic had been free flowing, she now felt a mask like a blanket weighing down her very thoughts. The feeling was most uncomfortable, almost as if her mind was bruised and the magic poked the painful spot. She feared what may happen should she cast a more potent spell, and she sighed as she dismissed the display.

With difficulty, she reached out to find her magical spellbook that had always been so readily accessible, so obedient to her commands. And yet, there was nothing. Her mind was closed off from it; the connection had been totally severed.

She pulled her knees to her and rested her forehead on them. For some time, she sat, mourning her losses. Her spellbook was her only form of communication beyond the broken kenku speech whose shortcomings still haunted her memories.

Suddenly, a message echoed in her mind, and she recognized the voice of Lady Ewyn from the Library of Illumination as she said, "Sooka, I'm aware that you've been studying the Age of Arcanum. The library closes at noon on the day of Vigil. Come see me then."

"Sooka," she replied in confirmation, and then she smiled. Now she had something to look forward to, something to break the monotony of a life devoid of magic.

Magic… she considered.

It had become such a part of herself. She had always loved learning new bits and pieces that had eluded her in the past, and now she could do little to gain more of it. It felt as if all magic was walled off from her, and yet, she craved the new experiences that it normally brought to her life.

For some time, she pondered ways that she could bring it back, even if those ways weren't in their very essence true magic. After some time, an idea formed in her head, and she turned to the clock hanging on the wall. It was just nearing dinnertime. With a small smile, she hopped up and scampered down the stairs before rushing over to the kitchen, where Unger was hard at work. She pattered up to him, and he greeted her happily.

"Evening, Sooka!"

She nodded and then sat on a stool.

"Do you know how to" "make" "cake?" she asked.

"Yes, of course! Would you like some for dessert?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Can you teach me?"

"I would be delighted to! We can work on it tonight, if you'd like!"

She grinned. "It's like magic!"

Unger smiled, and Sooka grinned at the lack of his left tusk. "Why, cooking is a bit like magic, isn't it? And I'm sure you'll be a quick study. You may even put me out of business!"

He chuckled, though it was more of an erratic grunt, and Sooka repeated the humorous sound back to him.

In frustration, Bash held his forehead over the parchment on his desk. For this occasion, he'd pulled out the special golden quill that had decorated Rolen's office, and it now lay on the desk, wet with ink, ready to be used for some purpose whose specifics eluded him.

He'd seen Enna journal almost every night that he'd ever known her. While he'd never pried, he'd always been curious what sort of things she'd written about. How often had he made an appearance in her text? Or had he ever?

And then there was Sooka, who he'd also noticed writing furiously on several occasions. What filled the pages of her diary?

Some of his acquaintances had mentioned journals in the past, but they'd only ever mentioned them in passing. From what he could understand, some people simply recorded each day's events – a common pastime of many elves whose lives far outlived their memory. But others focused on emotion rather than circumstance. Which was better? Was one better than the other? Which did Enna do? Which did Sooka?

He sighed. Nothing to do but make the attempt, he supposed. He'd decided that he needed a new hobby, and maybe this would do the trick. Tentatively, he picked up the quill, dipped it again in ink despite its already-soaked status, and began to write the thing that filled his mind at this moment.

Enna had her magic taken away.

He stared at the lonely sentence, then recalled something Enna had said the day before. In irritation, he scratched through the sentence and rewrote it.

Enna and Sooka had their magic taken away.

It was a start. Something had happened, and it had been recorded. Did emotions come next?

They're both very upset about it, and I spoke to Enna. She feels responsible, but I tried to tell her not to focus on what happened. I want her to understand that she's allowed to make mistakes. I want her to

He stopped suddenly. What did he want? He thought for a moment as he watched the ink pool at the tip of his pen.

I want her to see her the way I see her. She's

Again, he paused, unable to think of the right words. Was writing always this hard? Did Sooka and Enna ever struggle to find the right pharse?

In his opinion, there were no words that could adequately describe the beautiful wood elf. In fact, he imagined that he could fill at least three leaves of parchment making the attempt if he could find a time to be really inspired. After some time, he finally finished the sentence.

She's everything.

He sighed. How frustrating that he should feel such a swell of emotion! His love for her seemed almost against his will, and part of him felt a need to distance himself from Enna; every time he was near her, the feeling only grew worse, more potent, more intense. More frustrating. He loved her, but he could not give himself to her. Not yet. And yet, her presence almost demanded his very soul.

Shaking his head, he moved down to the next line, trying to push the feeling away. He focused on what he had felt during their sentencing. Sooka and Enna both, he reminded himself.

I was being selfish and let them handle the punishment on their own. I wanted to distance myself from them and what they did at the museum. Despite every sin I've ever committed, I decided that theirs was somehow more grievous. I focused on myself instead of my friends. My family. I won't do that anymore. I'll be there for them. I'll be what they need. If I can just figure out how.

But can I do it all at once? There are four of them, and one of me. How does someone split their attention? I feel like I can only focus on one at a time. And right now, Enna needs me. Sooka has William and Aribis. Enna has me.

He stopped again and considered the strokes of William's name as the ink faded into the parchment. What was William going through? Surely, it was something horrid, considering everything that had happened at the Sour Apple. William had joined a fight club of some kind, too, and yet he had never been willing to talk about what had happened, what had driven him to such a thing. Was it just a search for entertainment, or something deeper and much darker? Did William have anybody that he felt he could talk to? If he didn't, was there anything Bash could do?

With sudden inspiration, he grinned and wrote out his plans. Then he shoved the parchment in the desk drawer, tossed the quill into the inkpot, and ran downstairs. To his great delight, everyone was in the lounge waiting for dinner, except Sooka, who seemed to be helping Unger in the kitchen. Bash cocked his head at the sight, but then he dismissed it and addressed the room as grandly as he could manage.

"My friends!" he bellowed, and all eyes turned to him. "As you all know, the Vigil of the Long Night approaches! Wait, do you all even know what that is?"

Sooka, Enna, and Unger nodded, but William and Aribis shook their heads.

"That's right, you two aren't from here. Well, let me explain. The Vigil of the Long Night is the last day of Frostfall, and it's a delightful festival that the entire city takes part in. The celebration is representative of the Age of Silence, as all the magical lights in the city – even the werelights – are turned off. Except for the beacon of Erathis, of course. Everyone lights a bunch of candles, and every family stays home inside, staying up as late as possible. We eat food, hang out, play games, what have you. It's one of the best nights for thieves and assassins. Some of my most exciting jobs happened during the Vigil!"

He waited for an impressed response, but the group merely watched him, Sooka and Unger exchanged an amused glance, and Aribis muttered something that Bash didn't care enough to try to discern.

"Anyway, the day after is St. Laurelyn's Day, also known as the first day of Snowset. But we don't care about that right now. What we care about is the many long hours that we will be awake during the Vigil of the Long Night, and this time will need to be filled with entertainment if we are to survive! Now, for my main purpose!" He turned and pointed at William. "I challenge you, sir! To an arm-wrestling contest to be held during the Vigil of the Long Night!"

William stood and crossed his arms, making sure to flex his biceps as he did so. Aribis snickered to see the muscular difference between the two, but Bash's eye gleamed with the possibility of victory. The others may not have known, but in his room right now was a belt that would assure him the victor's crown. Or in this case, the victor's truth. He would be able to learn more about William.

"Are you sure that you want to do this, Bash?" asked William seriously.

"Oh, I'm sure." Bash stepped forward and put his hands behind his back as he eyed William with a smile. "But there are stipulations. Specifically for the loser."

"Oh?"

Bash spun again, throwing his hands out to the side as he boomed out dramatically, "The loser must sit in a zone of truth for five minutes!" He held up five fingers. "And everyone must be present in the room. Aribis, can you make that happen?"

"Aye," nodded the bird man. "And I'll be happy to heal you when William breaks your arm."

"Come now," said Bash as he leveled his eyes with William's. "You don't think I can win?"

"We will see," grunted William, and he held his hand out. "I accept your challenge." Bash shook it and forced himself not to wince under the immense pressure.

The next day, Bash eagerly scampered into town with a pocket of gold and ordered two hundred flyers. That evening, they were delivered to him, and he spent a very excited hour posting them up on every available wall surface in the manor. Before long, the entire building shouted at the residents about the big event.

On the second floor, he very nearly tripped over a glowing fox that was walking down the stairs with a calm air about it. He watched curiously as it approached Sooka's door and disappeared into the wood. Shaking his head in dismissal, he continued with his efforts, eventually placing the final poster on his own bedroom door. After tacking it in place, he stood back and admired his handiwork

SEBASTIAN vs. THE PACIFIST
Who will emerge the victor?
Everyone is encouraged to attend the event that will end in secrets being revealed.

When: The Vigil of the Long Night
Where: The Misfit Manor
Stakes: HONOR and TRUTH

Exquisite, he thought.

Then just as he was about to step into his room, he heard a soft sound coming from Enna's. He paused and listened, eventually inching his way toward her doorway that was draped with ivy.

After a moment, he was able to make it out. She was crying.

He sighed quietly, stepped into his room, and closed the door quietly behind him. Then he approached his desk once more. Sitting, he stared at the meager stack of parchment. Then he took up his gold quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote.

I'm not sure what to do. Enna is so sad, and there's nothing that I can do to make it better. I don't know if I need to talk to her or leave her alone. Maybe a bit of both? I just want her to be happy. I'm not sure if I can help with that. I don't even know what she needs. Maybe I should ask her.

A ritual to save one soul and devour the other.

The phrase consumed William's thoughts. His mind was restless, as it always was whenever the world was still and he was left alone. It was during these times that he fought the hardest to keep his thoughts in check, to keep them calm and purposeful. He sat meditating in his room as he considered the hag's prophecy and what it could mean.

Devour a soul, he considered for the thousandth time.

What even was a soul? He was unsure. Was it a substance, an ethereal form, or something else altogether? Can they be manipulated or destroyed? Devoured?

He sighed. Moments like these came and went, moments where his mind would not yield to his many attempts to calm it. He released his body from its tense frame and let his shoulders droop. Then he rubbed his hands along his knees.

Normal temperature, he thought.

Eventually, he resigned himself to his fate: he must ask these questions of someone who would know the answer.

It was time.

Leaving the peaceful solace of his room behind him, William strode purposefully down the stairs and was surprised to find Aribis there in the main room. He was putting away some newly acquired liquor with specific care, and William approached just as the last bottle was set in place.

"William!" greeted Aribis.

"Good morning, Aribis. Do you know where the temple of the Raven Queen is?"

"Aye, I'm headed there now, actually."

It appeared true, as William now noticed the cloak about his shoulders. Clearly, he had chosen an appropriate time for his venture.

"Oh. Do you mind if I tag along? I have my own questions I'd like to ask the Duskkeeper," he said.

Aribis shrugged. "You know what? Fine. Let's go."

The pair walked and made small talk as they meandered their way to the Raven Hall. Though the air was chilly, William noticed that it was warmer than it had been yesterday; perhaps a rush of heat was on its way from over the horizon. While he appreciated his cloak, he realized that he might have gotten along just fine without it.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination, and they entered the large building without preamble. William had only been inside once before, for Rolen's funeral, but it seemed that Aribis was comfortable as he stepped into the vestibule that was lit with blue flame. In and out of seven doors bustled what seemed to be a hundred acolytes, each wearing jet black robes. Some stood on stools or ladders to hang decorations, and others were placing dozens of black candlesticks around the room.

Preparing for the Vigil of the Long Night, realized William as he recalled Bash's earlier description. He wondered if some decided to celebrate at shrines or temples such as this, rather than their own homes.

After only a moment, an acolyte approached them.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as his eyes flashed a bright blue that matched that of the surrounding candles.

"Yes, I'm here to see the Duskkeeper," said Aribis.

"Lady Shoed?"

"Yes."

The acolyte turned to William. "And you, the same?"

William nodded.

The acolyte seemed hesitant. "She's quite busy right now… Is there something that I can help you with?"

"She was looking into a personal matter for me," explained Aribis.

"And, you are…?"

"Aribis."

"Ah, okay. And… oh!" Recognition crossed the acolyte's face as he peered at William, and he grew suddenly joyous. "You're the Pacifist! Oh, man! Can I get your autograph?"

Mouth agape, Aribis held his arms out in disbelief.

"If you would like," said William as he nodded. "Would you also like Aribis's autograph?"

"Oh, I know Aribis," dismissed the acolyte. "But you were the MVP! You did the uppercut to the giant frog thing! You smashed that flying bird thing right out of the air! Sorry, no offense." He motioned to Aribis, then apparently realized that he was wasting precious time. He retracted his wild gestures and hung his head. "I'll go get the Duskkeeper."

"Thank you!" exclaimed Aribis in irritation.

The acolyte disappeared into the crowd, and for some time, the pair watched the others as they rushed back and forth. Now that he had time, William counted only twenty or so, and their numbers were dwindling as their tasks were complete. Within only another minute, the candles were all in place, and thirteen of the acolytes disappeared into one of the seven doors. They watched with mild amusement as two women worked to direct a man in the hanging of black streamers. After several minutes, one of the women became so exasperated that she insisted on taking over the project, dismissed the man, and climbed the ladder herself.

"I'll give you whatever privacy you require when she comes, and then I'll speak with her," said William as they watched.

"What business do you have with her?" asked Aribis.

William hesitated. "I would like some information about souls and a prophecy that was made."

"That's a fascinating subject, and it's a subject that just so happens to coincide with what I need to talk to her about. So, you're welcome to stay. I don't mind."

"Thank you. I feel the same."

At long last, the door to the far left opened, and Lady Shoed appeared. She hurried over to them while wiping her hands off, and she smiled to see them despite the unrest in her face.

"Oh, Aribis! Good to see you again!" she called.

"And you," he replied.

She turned. "And, William, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry for the wait," she said. "I'm terribly busy preparing for the Vigil. Is there something I can do for you?"

Aribis began, "I was just wondering if there was any update on the—"

"Yes, yes. The artifact we discussed. I haven't had a chance to really look into it yet because we've had a lot of things going on."

"Fair enough."

"But I have sent word to one of my contacts, and they said they're doing some research into the artifact. After St. Laurelyn's Day and everything calms down, we should be able to do a bit more with it. William, what do you need?"

There was a bit of urgency to her words, and William got the idea that she hoped they would leave quickly.

"It's a little more in depth," he said cautiously. "But you seem busy… If you do not have time, I can come back later."

"Well…" She glanced over her shoulder at the door she'd just used. "I am a little busy, but if there's something immediate that I can help with, I'd be happy to."

Grateful for her dedication, William reached into his pack and withdrew a pendant. Then he showed it to her. "This is a necklace of the Raven Queen, correct?"

She nodded in recognition. "Yes, this is part of the vestment worn by our acolytes. How did this come into your possession?"

"He got it in the same place I got my ring," explained Aribis.

"Oh… Okay. Well, unless you're consecrated to the Raven Queen, it's not necessarily appropriate for you to bear this symbol. It is yours, and that's fine, but keep in mind that it is a holy symbol."

William nodded and pocketed the amulet. So, there is a connection, he considered. Now, if I can just figure out how to use it properly.

"I have a couple other questions, too," he added. "First, how does the Raven Queen see souls? What is their nature?"

Mistress Shoed appeared slightly exasperated as she began to formulate her answer. Then as quickly as she could manage, she said, "The Raven Queen is the ferryman between this life and the next. Her realm is over the brief moment when the soul has left its body but has not been carried to its next location. This is when the soul is the most vulnerable, when other forces might come and try to capture it. This is why she intervenes, to make sure that the soul is not affected by those other forces."

"I see… There was a prophecy made recently that discussed souls. It spoke of 'a ritual to save one soul and devour the other.' What does that mean? How should such a thing be interpreted?"

Mistress Shoed thought for a moment. "It's an interesting concept, a soul consuming a soul… I've never encountered anything like that before. I don't think a soul is even capable of consuming things." She shook her head. "Obviously, I don't know all. But the context makes it hard to gauge anything for you. I'm sorry that I can't be of more help."

"It is okay," he dismissed, though he was troubled at her answer. No, frustrated. There seemed to be no direct answer to his question. Would those answers ever be found? He felt at the amulet in his pocket. There was one who might be able to answer his questions, if only she would communicate with him.

"Two more things…" he said. "First, how does one commune with the Raven Queen?"

"The best way is to find a moment of solace. Mortals have difficulty accepting the concept that death is a natural part of life. You must do so. Find the balance between accepting life and accepting death, and there, you will find the Raven Queen."

William nodded, already formulating a place where he could go. "And my final question: do you need any help preparing for the festival?"

Somewhat shocked, the priestess nodded and began listing the many things that needed to be done. When William said that he would do whatever was needed, she immediately put him to work while Aribis went back to the manor. For several hours, William labored at the Raven Hall, aiding the acolytes in their duties. Most of that time, he lifted heavy things that needed to be moved, and by the end of it, it seemed that the acolytes were vying for his attention. Several of them repeatedly touched his arms, and many of them asked for autographs. Despite the chaos and intermittent privacy violations, William felt content to help. For once, he was able to use his body to help others in their need. And that would be enough, at least for today.

Three days after the incident at the museum, Bash awoke early from his trance and moved to his balcony. Daring to open the doors, he was pleased to find that the morning was oddly temperate for the end of Frostfall, and he breathed deeply of the fresh air. For an hour or so, he sat there and watched the sun rise over the city.

It had always been one of his favorite things – the crisp air, the morning dew, the scent that foretold a new day. He'd watched a thousand sunrises over Agneward, and each time, he relished the event.

The sky grew brighter, and then the light exploded with the appearance of the bright, yellow orb. Slowly, his mind turned to a time when he'd sat with Enna one morning in the Dandelions and watched the sun crest the horizon. She had seemed so content, so happy just to watch the world exist. He could still recall the way her skin had lit up at the first rays of the sun.

When the same rays began to pierce his eyes, he retreated into his room. There, he hesitated, then finally marched toward his door, pulled it open, and stepped across the hall. Then he knocked on Enna's doorpost and poked his head through the vines.

There she was, lying on her bed, but he couldn't help but grin to see how she had oriented herself. She was on her back, and her black hair was hanging over the edge while her heels were resting high above her on the wall. A shimmering white fox lay next to her with its chin on her belly, and her left hand scratched it while the right swirled a tiny thunderstorm hovering just above her face. The diamond in her cuff glowed softly green in resistance to the magic. Her expression was rather vacant.

"Morning," she said without turning to look at him. He supposed she must have heard his door close and known it was him. He stepped through the vines and took in her earthy room.

All around was evidence of Enna's deep love of nature. Vines had cascaded up the walls, and in either corner was a circle of moss that she'd somehow managed to grow inside. Among the moss were a thousand leaves, sticks, rocks, and other things that Bash would have said belonged outside; and yet, somehow, they seemed at home there in her room. He even thought he saw a squirrel digging among the far pile.

"Good morning," he replied as he leaned against the wall by the doorway and crossed his arms. "Where did the fox come from?" He now recalled seeing one enter Sooka's room the day before; it wasn't a normal fox, as it seemed to shimmer in the way of magic.

She nodded toward Aribis's room. "Our small, feathered friend sent me a small, furry friend."

"Aribis, being nice? Almost too strange to believe."

A small grin lifted her features, and Bash smiled.

"He's been a little extra nice lately. This isn't the first little creature to appear."

She smiled at the fox, then pulled her legs from the wall and swung around to face him. She crossed her legs, and the fox settled in her lap.

"How good of him," he muttered as he watched. Enna's hair was haphazard today, and he appreciated its wild beauty. Several tendrils fell across her collarbone, and as she bent her neck to look at the fox, more strands fell to join them. He wished he could sweep them back into place. But then he noticed the sadness hidden in her eyes, comforted as she might have been by the animal. "Are you doing okay?" he asked, allowing his words to carry weight.

She hesitated, then glanced at her cuff and then up at him. "It's… not easy," she admitted. "Harder than I thought it would be."

Bash nodded, as if he understood. But he knew that he could never understand. Not without being a druid.

"Can I help?" he asked. "I could make you some tea. My mom used to make me oolong tea when I was sick. This is kind of like that, right?" He offered a smile.

She returned it. "Tea is nice, but a cup of tea can't fix this ailment." She sighed. "I know I've mentioned before that it's harder for me to feel my connection to nature in this city." She paused and considered her words. Then finally, she continued, "It's like… feeling thirsty. Normally, I had a rushing river to quench that thirst. In the city, that river is reduced to a small stream. With this—" she held up the cuff, and her eyes returned to their melancholy "—that stream has become a few drops of water. No matter how much I try, I can't quench that thirst."

An idea formed in Bash's mind, and he walked over to her and held out a hand. "Then how about we go find a spring?"

Uncertainty bridled with trust filled her eyes, and she took his hand with relative surety. Then she stood, cradling the fox with her other arm.

"Alright," she said.

Grinning at her confidence in him, he began backing toward the door, and she followed along. He almost felt as though he had to watch to make sure that she would follow. But when he reached her doorway, he forced himself to turn around, and they walked together, hand in hand, down the stairs and out the front door. The manor was somberly quiet so early in the morning, though Bash was certain that the others were awake. Still, he was grateful not to have to speak to anyone else as he led Enna out the front door, around the house, and to the stables. Once inside, he drew out two horses and picked up a saddle. With a practiced hand, he strapped the saddle to Whinny.

"I used to need to get away from everything," he said as he tightened the straps in place. "I would always take my favorite horse and ride into the forest. I figured, maybe that'll help you, too. Although, there are no forests around here. The plains will have to do."

He began working on Prince, and Enna smiled. Then she set down the fox, and it scampered off toward the manor.

"The plains have grown on me over the years. They have their own beauty to them." Then she stepped up to Prince and petted his long face. "Are you ready to stretch your legs, friend?"

Prince snorted, and Enna turned to Bash with a smile. For the first time in three days, Bash saw that it even reached her eyes.

"Let's go find that spring," she said.

He couldn't help but grin, and he swung up onto Whinny as Enna mounted Prince. Then they were off.

They rode through each of the districts of Agneward – the Circle, Daffodils, Carnations, Tulips, and Dandelions – until they reached the northeastern gate. Bash led them through, and then he turned due east.

The sun was high in the sky now, and they rode until it was nearly overhead. Then, finally, when the sounds of the city were long gone and all that could be heard was the wind on the grasses, Bash came to the top of a low hill and dismounted. As Enna did the same and then whispered her thanks to Prince, Bash sat on the grassy hill, loosely hugged his knees, and turned his gaze to Agneward.

It had been some time since he'd seen the beautiful city from outside the walls. The last time had been their arrival some weeks ago, and before that, he thought that it had been a century or more. So rarely was he offered a time to appreciate the city for what it was. He saw the circular districts cascading up to the brilliance of the Bastion's Crest, and there, high above, Erathis stood at her protective perch. From here, the blue of the water was nearly invisible – just a glint of sunlight.

Enna came to stand beside him, and her gaze swept across the plains until it rested on the city.

"I still remember when I first came here," she said. Bash looked up at her and watched the wind ruffle her hair and the loose parts of her outfit. "I think I wandered around for two whole days before I finally found the Circle." She chuckled. "The guards didn't believe me when I said I was there to visit my family. I'm sure I was a sight to see, coming from traveling through the wilds for years."

"It's true, you were," replied Bash, fondly recalling the sight from his hidden perch near Marigold Manor. "Sticks and leaves all in your hair. I think it was down that day, too, all free and flowing, and terribly knotted." He laughed. "I wanted to brush it out so badly."

Enna plopped down next to him and turned to him with an intrigued grin. "So, you've been watching me from the moment I entered the city, huh?"

Blood rushed to his cheeks as he realized his folly. Enna had never been aware of his presence in those earliest days. Their first formal meeting had been over a year later, and yet, he had studied her for most of that time in between. Even then, she had intrigued him.

But, she couldn't know that. Not now.

"Actually, I was watching Rolen," he replied honestly. At the time, it had been his main purpose – to judge what type of visitor might have come calling on the evil half-elf. "I was almost always aware of people coming and going at Marigold Manor."

"But you even remember that my hair was down that day. I must have made quite an impression, coming in like a wild elf."

"There's no need to be modest. You were basically a goblin at that point." He grinned.

She elbowed him lightly. "Hey, now!" Still smiling, she added, "You wouldn't believe how many people thought I was a half-orc or a really tall goblin. I even had someone turn me away at a bar in the Carnations!"

"That's just atrocious! You're much prettier than half-orcs and goblins."

The faintest of color came into her cheeks as she said, "Why, thank you very much! I'm glad to have at least met that bar. Though, I have seen some very pretty half-orcs, in my opinion."

"I don't know if I'd call Unger pretty, with that tusk missing and all."

"I think he has the right idea, using it as an earring. I think it makes him prettier. I should tell him next time I see him."

"I'm sure it'll mean a lot to him, coming from his own kind."

Enna burst into laughter, and Bash couldn't help but join in. It was such a joyous sound, and so contagious.

"I've missed your laugh," he said.

"I've missed being able to laugh so freely," she replied with a smile.

His heart swelled as her green eyes watched him with such appreciation. For a moment, he thought—no. No, he couldn't think that. He tore his eyes from her and settled them back on Agneward as she turned and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Bash," she said quietly. "For always being here. And for bringing me here."

"It was my pleasure," he returned, resting his head on hers. He smiled. For just this moment, everything was alright. For now, everything was perfect.

That evening, the group gathered again for a meal in the dining room. Again, Bash noticed that Sooka was helping Unger in the kitchen, and while it seemed odd, he couldn't help but notice that it was bringing a certain level of joy to Sooka. In fact, as he watched, she almost seemed to be excited. He smiled to see it, happy that she was finding sources of joy despite everything.

Dinner was delicious, as it always was, and conversation flowed among them as they ate. Even Sooka contributed often, although it escaped no one's attention when she retreated to the kitchen with a sullen look. Still, after this morning's excursion with Enna and the joy it had brought her, and having had dinner with his friends – his family – so often the past few days, Bash couldn't help but feel content. He found himself smiling more than usual, and every now and then, he'd glance at one of the dozens of posters in the dining room and happily imagine the look on William's face when he was decidedly defeated in just a couple days.

Toward the end of the meal, as everyone was finishing up the last of the roasted carrots, Sooka came shuffling back into the dining room carrying a plate. On the plate was a solitary cupcake, but it had been decorated with green icing and a red flower. The flower was no masterpiece, and Bash realized that Sooka had made the cupcake and decorated it herself, and suddenly he was impressed with her resolve and skill to learn such a thing in a span of a few days.

The kenku walked up to Enna and set the cupcake on the table with a look of pride, but just after, her face became veiled with sorrow.

"I'm sorry" "for all the trouble," she said, holding up the cuff on her arm. "Thank you for" "sticking" "with me" "and for being my friend."

Compassion filled Enna's eyes, and she placed a hand on Sooka's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, too," she said. "I shouldn't have gotten so mad."

Sooka embraced her, and a single tear fell down Enna's face. Then Sooka sat at her spot at the table, seemingly content with her gesture. Enna reached for her cupcake, but she was interrupted when the door opened.

"Finwe's here to see you guys," announced Flinn. "Should I let him in?"

Everyone heartily agreed, and they stood to greet Finwe as he wandered awkwardly into the lounge. His hands were behind his back, but Bash could see that he was fidgeting with the fabric of his cloak. He nodded jerkily at them.

"Hey, guys," he said. "So… Uh…"

"Would you like something to drink?" asked Aribis.

"It's like, nine in the morning."

Aribis shrugged. "So?"

"No, I'm okay. Thanks, though."

"Just smell it!" Aribis waddled over to the bar, snatched a glass, opened a cabinet, and poured a glass of his poisonous, sweet-smelling ale. Despite the pleasant scent, Bash still felt his gag reflex working its way into functionality.

"Finwe, don't do it," warned Enna seriously.

"Please, don't," pleaded Bash, recalling the horrible scene from a few nights ago.

Aribis shushed them fervently, then held the drink out toward Finwe.

"Don't poison the poor man," insisted Bash.

"It's not poison!"

Cautiously, Finwe took the cup and sniffed it. His eyes turned suspicious. "Did you make this?" he asked.

"Yeah!" nodded Aribis proudly.

For a second, Finwe glanced between the cup and Aribis. Then he made up his mind and set the drink on the table.

Aribis stared at him blankly. "I'm insulted."

"I'm gravely sorry," replied Finwe flatly. Then ignoring the ale altogether, he straightened himself, pulled back his shoulders, and announced, "Lady Illia would like to see you all the day before Vigil. She says she has your next assignment, if you want." Then his resolve seemed to falter, and his shoulders fell. "So… Yeah… I just wanted to, uh… say that. Um…" He blushed and looked down. "Um… Enna, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," shrugged Enna.

Concern filled Bash's heart, and he narrowed his eyes as Finwe beckoned for Enna to follow him into the entry way. Despite Finwe's desire for privacy, Bash, Aribis, William, and Sooka all shuffled over until they could see and hear everything being said. Bash waited in horrid anticipation.

Finwe shifted his weight over and over, and his fidgeting had now shifted to one of his belt loops. He couldn't seem to maintain eye contact with Enna for more than a second or so. Then he began attempting to speak.

"Uh… I'm not sure if you have, uh, plans on the day of the Vigil, but… I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have, like, uh… There's a little café… The Root! The Steeped Root. I was kind of… Would you like to go—Maybe just at noontime, maybe in the evening, like—Oh, uh… Aribis, can I help you?"

As Bash's heart sank, Aribis had poured another glass of a special brew that he'd kept on his person for some time. Bash recognized it as the one he'd given to William so long ago at the Exhibition Dinner in the Greenmere Stadium. The brew had managed to make even William sure and eloquent for his evening with Kjelle. It was this magical brew that Aribis had taken to Finwe, and now he stood with his hand thrust out, waiting for Finwe to receive the glass.

"Aye. Drink this! Quickly," instructed Aribis.

"I really don't want to drink that," resisted Finwe.

"No, you really want to drink this one."

"Drink it!" called William, and Bash furrowed his brow.

"That's really nice, but…"

"Trust me," encouraged Aribis.

"I appreciate it, that's really great, but can you just give me a minute?"

"Enna, hold this," instructed Aribis, and he turned and waddled back to the group.

"Okay." She took the drink, clearly used to Aribis's antics by now, and returned her attention to Finwe.

Bash looked around at his companions. Aribis, William, and Sooka were wholly invested in the goings on of the entryway, and each of them had not even given him a second thought. It was as if Bash had ceased to exist altogether. Wasn't it just a moment ago that they were having such a good time, filled with such camaraderie?

Aribis and William had even encouraged Finwe in his attempts to make advances on Enna, the one woman that Bash loved more dearly than anything in the world. Did they not care? Was his heart not worth their time?

Slowly, he retreated behind them so that they could not see his sorrow that was steadily filling him. Soon, he feared that it would overflow.

"So anyway, there's this little café…" continued Finwe. "I'm sorry, I've never done this before. There's this little café… It's not too far from the library. It's called the Steeped Root. Anyway… I was just wondering if you'd like to have tea with me." He exhaled in relief, having finally gotten his words out.

Bash froze.

"Sure!" replied Enna with a light shrug.

The breath fell out of Bash's lungs, and he stumbled backward toward the stairs.

"Really?" said Finwe in surprise.

"Yeah!" answered Enna, as if this was any old trip into town. "You saved my life! Of course, I'll get tea with you."

"Oh… Okay."

That was the last Bash heard of their conversation. Tears were already beginning to spill from his eyes, and he could not let the others see. They were happy for them. They were happy for Enna and Finwe. They didn't care about him.

Working as hard as he could to keep his footsteps silent, he rushed up the stairs and into his room. Closing the door behind him, he finally breathed, and the strength left his legs. He slid against the door until he was a huddled mass on the carpet, hugging his knees as he wept.

He knew that he had no right. He knew that he had told Enna no. He knew that she was free to do as she willed. And yet, he still felt this way. He still felt as though the world might end, right here and now. After four hundred years of life, he knew how silly and fleeting emotions were, and he'd laughed at many a bemoaned friend who had experienced loss of love. How many times had he belittled their feelings and pointed at the plethora of other options in such a vast city?

Now, he realized the cruelty of what he'd done. Had anyone been there to say such things to him now… He didn't want to think about it. As childish as he felt, he could not push away the pain that had settled into his heart.

Enna had chosen someone else.

When the tears subsided to a mild stream, he picked himself up and moved over to his desk. His short entry from yesterday still lay there, and as he sat in the chair, he stared dismally at the words that now taunted him: I just want her to be happy.

Taking deep breaths to steady himself, he reached once more for the quill. Flipping the parchment over, he began to write with a trembling hand.

Enna chose Finwe. I can't talk to her about it. I have no right. I have no right.

This morning, it was just the two of us. Now it's all different.

I gave her my answer. And I love her too much to take it back now.

A drop fell onto the parchment, and the ink in Enna began to smear. Then another fell, and another. Then with great frustration, Bash tossed aside the quill, picked up the parchment, and ripped it in half.