Three chapters in one. Why, you may ask? Because I'm not going to post the rest for a while. I've nearly posted the entire first book and I want to focus on writing the second. Also, the first two are rather short- only about a page or two in Word, so I thought, 'Eh, why not?' 

I don't like the last chapter because it has too many scenes skipping around. It starts with Carmen eating dinner then switches to Meagan than to Ebbony then to Meagan again... I dunno. I might rewrite that in the final *final* draft~ which would be my fourth of this story. 

One Small Seed

Ayana was still fighting it. Awake, it could do no more than whisper and nudge, and went largely ignored. But asleep, dreaming, it was harder. The Fire won when she slept. There was so little of it in her, but it grew until she feared slumber. All the while, she took pains to hide her restless nights, her nightmares and suspicions, from Esi.
The night Jenni went missing again, Ayana had fallen asleep after helping Carmen with some gardening. She hadn’t meant to, but she had been awake almost the entire night before. In her dream, there was no heat, no fires and flames. She was standing waist-deep in water covered with low-hanging fog. Two trees stood behind her, arched over as if forming a gate. Twins of those trees were two more in front. All four were weeping willows, hunched over in their sobs. Across from her, a lone figure beckoned.
Ayana stepped forward. As she came closer, she realized the figure was Jenni. “Ayana,” she greeted.
“Jenni, what’s going on?”
“Jenni who? Jenni, Jenni, Jenni… oh, that’s her name. Right. I forget sometimes. I just wanted to talk, flame to flame.” She smirked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll lose eventually. She did. Believe me, I didn’t want to resort to such drastic measures as making her comatose, but I did. And I can. So surrender now.”
“No.”
“Fine.” Jenni shrugged. “That’s not even the subject of our little chat. Right now, we’re mere inches apart, but the truth is, physically, there’s hundreds of miles between us, maybe more. The path to me is the Lunar Citadel. It’s an amazing place, Ayana. You should visit it sometime.”
“Why?” Ayana demanded.
“Because you could possibly- and that’s the key word there- rescue the poor girl I’m currently occupying. You could even discover some artifacts or two that’ll greatly amplify your power.” She grinned wryly. “Not that your power needs it, though.”
By now, Ayana had realized she was speaking to the Fire, not Jenni. “If I go at all, it’d be to save Jenni from you,” she spat.
“Oh, you’ll come. You can’t pass if up.” Jenni smirked.
And Ayana woke up.


Weaseling Information

The being that was using Jenni sat upright, rubbing her eyes before opening them. She ached all over. The leaving usually didn’t hurt so much. Ah well. The sleep had helped, in more ways than one. Soon Ayana would tell Meagan of her dream, and then…
Since using corporeal beings, the Fire had experienced emotions. A valuable lesson, for it allowed it to know how people would likely react. Jenni would rush to the Citadel if Meagan was captive; the being knew the converse was true as well.
Ayana poured the story to Meagan without pause, not leaving out a single detail. Meagan, without a second’s hesitation, buckled her sword’s sheath to her belt, grabbed a canvas knapsack, and started shoving clothes in it. Once it was half-way full, she went downstairs into the kitchen. Ayana heard muffled voices arguing, then silence for several minutes. When Meagan came back, the rest of the sack was filled with food. “Are you coming?”
“What?”
“Are you coming?” Meagan repeated, tapping her foot.
“Where?”
“Where else?”
“Meagan,” Ayana pleaded, “going is what the Fire wants. You’re playing into its hands.”
“Jenni’s hands,” Meagan replied. “It’ll bring me into Jenni’s hands. Fire or not, that’s worth it.”
“She could’ve lied. She might not be there and it’s something else entirely.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Yes!”
Meagan scowled. “Carmen might know where it is.”
“Meagan, don’t change the subj-“
“I think we should ask her,” she continued.
“Carmen won’t let you go.”
“If my mom is letting me, she’ll let me too.”
“Your mom…? You convinced her to let you?”
“More like I convinced her not to come with me,” Meagan replied. “Do you think she’d pass up a chance to see Jenni again? Do you think she’d entrust just anyone with Jenni? No offense to the sheriff, but Carmen didn’t exactly find her last time, did she?”
“Neither did you,” Ayana pointed out.
“Are you coming or not?” Meagan asked for the third time.
Ayana bit her lip before replying. “Of course.”

Requiem answered the door. She wasn’t wearing her elven tunic anymore, instead donning a pair of comfortable slacks and one of Carmen’s old tees, evidently too big on her. She held her lyre in one hand, and Tristan behind her was strumming a guitar, tuning it. Sheet music lay in front of him, and Requiem held a page in her other hand. Shouts could be heard from the backyard. Meagan raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“Jess and Joel are sparring,” Requiem shrugged, then jumped as a large bang came from the kitchen. “That’s probably Emma and Quay trying to make dinner. It’s a bit lively around here, eh?”
“Crowded, more like it,” Ayana responded as she stepped in.
“Does Carmen have a minute?” Meagan asked.
“Er, not really. Esi and Carmen have been working overtime to find the missing Circle. She just got home, is in a bad mood, and is debating with Esi about what to do next. They’re both tired and extremely irritable. They’re frustrated because Linius won’t talk, and then there’s Arya and the Fire to deal with. I think it’s best not to bother them. They nearly beheaded me for playing too loudly!”
“How about Mariale?”
“She was about to go shopping. I don’t think she’s left yet. I’ll go get her.”
Requiem ran into the hallway, disappeared in a room, and yanked Mariale out after her. Mariale glared, not appreciating the rude summons, and turned to Meagan. She had changed from her Victuran dress into something more blendable- jeans and a strapped top, which Meagan thought looked strange on her; she thought Mariale seemed more like the type to wear more formal clothing, modern or archaic aside.
“What is it?”
“Do you know anything about the Lunar Citadel?”
“Yes, I do. I graduated from there with a science degree about ten years ahead of the average rate- I was fourteen. Why?”
“What is it?” Ayana inquired.
“It’s a university. It’s built on an island in the middle of the Lake of Roses, in Aeternam. It was a Victuran place of learning, part of it being devoted to Valkyrie students and their training for their calling. The Citadel was built so well that a thousand years would not make it crumble, even if there was no caretaker; a bit necessary, I think, seeing as it was inhabited by people who can live for twice that long. Carmen’s mother, for instance, was over three thousa- never mind. That’s not important. Sections of the university contained studies and laboratories for research, and others were entirely devoted to serving as libraries. Naturally, there were classrooms as well.”
“Why’s it called the ‘Lunar’ Citadel?” Meagan said. “Citadel seems a strange thing to name a school.”
“The ‘lunar’ part of the name comes from the university’s central room, a vast calendar of the night sky during every day of the year. During certain conditions, the full moon appears to perfectly and completely match the round hole in the ceiling. The hole is covered by thick glass to keep the elements and thieves out. Not that there were many people who’d be insane enough to try and rob the Lunar Citadel. As for the ‘Citadel’ part of the name… in its early days, when our people were not as… sophisticated… and our Empire was much smaller… it was a place for training soldiers for conquest.”
“There’s yet another glass roof,” Meagan complained. “Okay, one last question- how do you get in?”
Mariale smiled. “I thought you’d say that. I have every right to stop you right now.”
“We know. Skip the lecture and get to it,” Ayana grumbled.
“Well, first, you have to make it to Lune’s Island in the middle of the Lake of Roses. From there, you’d need the key. I’m not exactly sure where it is. Sorry. There’s no way to get in other than the front door, so don’t even look. Believe me, the Entia Nocte tried very hard to get in, but without the key, it’s hopeless. Maybe Jess could help; her uncle was caretaker of the island, after all. Jess!”
“Yes, Mistress?” Jess answered, emerging from the back with several new bruises and Joel trailing behind her. He had considerably more marks than his partner.
“I want you to accompany them to the Lunar Citadel.”
Jess snapped straight and whooped. “All right! Adventure!”
“Could I go too?” implored Requiem. “Please?”
“It’s fine with me, but what Carmen would say…” Mariale replied.
“Who cares?”
“Arya might.”
Requiem turned red. “So what? Meagan, can I come?”
“Uh, yes?”
“All right, then. That’s settled. Try and stop me.”
Mariale sighed. “Stubborn. It seems to be a thing with this generation.”

Scholl’s Ferry

“Yet another day’s worth of labor and nothing accomplished,” Carmen complained, cutting into her steak with a vengeance.  “What in the- this thing is rock hard!” She scowled and attacked it with renewed ferocity.
“Yup,” Esi agreed, poking hers with a fork and making a face. It looked akin to burnt ash.
“Something wrong?” Mariale asked, eating the vegetables but leaving the meat untouched.
“Only that Linius is being about as helpful as dirt,” Carmen replied, “and we haven’t found a single clue as to the Circle’s disappearance. I have every spare officer working on it! The higher-ups are starting to get on my case. ‘Carmen, you used to be so competent, what’s up with you losing Bella AND the Circle?’ ‘Carmen, do you need a long vacation?’ ‘Hey, Carmen, what’s up with all those people in your house?’ Like it’s any of their business!” She stabbed her knife in the middle of the steak and then forcefully speared a stewed baby carrot with her fork. “Idiots.”
“So how was your day, Mari?” Esi asked sweetly, sensing Carmen was not in the mood for conversation.
“Um, Meagan was here. She asked about the Lunar Citadel.”
“So then her intentions are easy enough to guess,” Esi scowled. “You just let her go?”
“I sent Jess with them. Do you think I’d let them go on their own? They’ll be fine.” She smiled, but her eyes betrayed her doubt. “I just felt it was the right thing to do. I can’t really explain why it was, though.”
“Is it possible she’s one of the Victor’s children?” Oleander asked.
“We’re all children of the Victor, Ole,” Carmen retorted, and rolled her eyes. “That’s why we’re VICTura.”
“That’s not what I meant. What if she’s one of the ones with the Gift?”
“There hasn’t been anyone with the Gift in millennia,” Esi said. “It’s been so long some people are calling it a myth.”
“And a stupid one at that,” Carmen declared. “’When the end of his people is nigh, the Victor’s children will rise.’ Well, our end was five hundred years ago. Where were the children then?”
“Gifts of old,” Mariale muttered. “I saw no indication of it in Meagan, but it may yet arise. After all, we have no idea what form it will take.”
“It won’t take any form,” Carmen protested, “seeing as it doesn’t exist. Where was it when our people were sieged by the Dark Beings? Where was it when we were hunted for genocide? Where was it when we died one by one?”
“I don’t know,” Esi shrugged. “Why do you look at me? Perhaps there is no truth in it after all. They are myths, after all. Nothing more.”
“Myths may hold as much truth as dreams, but that truth is still there,” Mariale said, “something that Cattallus seems to forget quite often. Even as a child she hated following the old traditions. As I recall, Little Raspberry, you hated hanging up raspberry sprigs, claiming Belladonna had never come before.”
“Well, just my luck she’s eating at my table,” Carmen hissed. “Forgive me, Regina, but myths did not keep me alive. Myths did not ease the pain of losing my arm or my identity, and myths did nothing to mend broken hearts. For five hundred years, Regina, myths have been worse than useless; they have been dangerous hopes. Why should I trust them now? Why do you trust them now? As I recall, you also shunned them your whole life. How much do you really believe them, Dark Lady? Are you going to fight me, Belladonna, as the myths say? Will you take arms against your foe Raspberry?”
Mariale darkened. “That was uncalled for.”
“Indeed it was,” Oleander agreed. “Cattallus, you should apologize.”
“Hmph.” Carmen stood. “I’m done eating.”
“Get back here!” Oleander called after her as she retreated to her room. “Carmen, is it your logic or your pride that keeps you barred?”
There was no answer but the slamming of a door.
“I’m sorry,” Oleander said.
“She’s never liked me,” Mariale shrugged.
“Yes, well, she was a bit protective of me, and getting married made her think-“
“Before she even knew we were engaged. She would talk to every scientist but me. She’d offer to help all of them. She was friendly with everyone. Maybe she was scared of me, because of my name.”
“Mariale, even in the stories Belladonna is never really truly evil.”
“She’s death.”
“No one ever considers death happy, do they?”
“Why should they? It’s the end of a life.”
“No, it’s the start of a new one. After death… no one’s ever thought of that in all the stories with Belladonna, have they?”

“If we crossed the Laurel Bay, we’d get there way faster,” Jess suggested. “No one in the right minds would take us directly to Aeternam, but even if we went just to Esse to the south, we’d save tons of time. It’d sure beat going around through Nanum and then up to Esse.”
“Sounds good,” Meagan agreed. They’d been walking several hours now, and her feet ached already. She was not looking forward to weeks of just plodding towards the Citadel. Perhaps they should have bought horses.
“Joel’s from Esse,” Jessica said. “So am I, but I left when I was really little, so I don’t remember much. Joel hasn’t been home in-“
“Let me guess,” Ayana interrupted. “Five hundred years. It’s everyone’s favorite number.”
“We’ll be walking five hundred years!” Requiem retorted. “Even worse, everything looks the same!”
“Does not,” Ayana shot back, though Meagan felt that Requiem had a point. “Hills all look alike to you?
Don’t they to everyone?
“Yes!” Requiem answered.
“Trees to do me. Imagine directions in Dryadales- go forward three oaks until you see an aspen. Then turn left until you reach the giant pine. From there, turn right until you see the eucalyptus and tamarisk…”
“You’re very funny.”
“Don’t argue over scenery,” Meagan pleaded.
“Yeah, your cacophonous voices make my ears hurt,” Jess added.
“Scholl’s Ferry is the nearest,” Meagan continued, ignoring the statement. “I took it from Nanum to Regnum. Esse’s just north of dwarf country- maybe for some extra coins he’ll take us.”
“What’s the bay like?” Requiem asked.
“It’s like the sea, only smaller,” Ayana answered. “I went to Laurel Bay one summer with my parents. It’s nothing special, and it smells like fish. I hated it.”
“What’s the sea like?” Requiem said.
“Well, it’s blue.”
“Great poetry there!” Jess hooted. “It’s just like a giant lake, with bigger waves, that smells like fish.”
“Ah,” Requiem nodded. “What’s a lake li-“
“Someone doesn’t get out much,” Jess muttered. “It’s a bunch of water! That’s all you need to know!”
Requiem shrank back and walked at the rear, putting Meagan between her and Jess. Meagan groaned. Day one and they weren’t getting along!
“Requiem,” Meagan said.
“Yes?”
“Did you bring your lyre?”
“No, just my flute.”
“You play the lyre and the flute?” Ayana asked.
“And the harp, elven pipe, panflute, harpsichord, piano-“
“It would be easier if you just listed what you don’t play.”
“I play everything.” Requiem grinned.
“Ahem,” Meagan cleared her throat, regaining everyone’s attention. “Could you pipe something on the flute for us?”
“Of course.” She pulled the three pieces of it out of a pouch that hung from a cord around her neck. Meagan wondered why she never noticed it before, then noticed how Requiem carefully tucked the pouch where it couldn’t be seen, under her jacket. Requiem assembled it, and smiled. “This song is called ‘Star’s Prelude.’” She took a deep breath, put the flute to her mouth, and began playing.
Meagan smiled at the soft melody, noting with satisfaction that Jess’s black mood disappeared with each note. The music niggled at the back of Meagan’s mind, trying to evoke memories and feelings that she knew weren’t hers. Had she heard this before? No, not her. Someone else. There was a jarring pain between her eyes, blackness, and the next thing Meagan knew she was on the same road, the same music drifting over her. Everything was brighter, more vivid, as if every color shone with a light harbored deep inside their being.
Behind her, Requiem held the pipe away from her mouth, mouth open and eyes wide in what Meagan could only think was terror. Somehow, the music continued, even though she was no longer piping. In front of Meagan, Jess and Ayana were gone. Instead, two youths, easily recognizable as Victura by their violet eyes, were playing the same song.
Just as the scene sank in, the jarring pain returned, and Meagan was out of the- dream, she thought- and in reality. Ayana and Jess turned around.
“Elfy! Why’d you stop piping?” Jess asked.
“I thought I saw… never mind.” Requiem clutched the flute, knuckles white. “Are we near the ferry?”
“You wish,” Ayana laughed. “We’ll be lucky if we get there tomorrow!” She shrugged. “Horses would’ve… eh?” She looked up at the pigeon circling her head. “What do you want?”
It dropped a message into her palm, squawked almost accusingly, and then flew away.
“Message?” Meagan asked.
“Yep. From Esi.” She unfurled the rolled sheet of paper and read it quickly. “Basically saying we’re idiots and should come home immediately.”
“Not a chance,” Meagan snorted. “Anything else?”
“She says that if we insist on being stubborn pigs, then she wishes us luck.”
“Not sure how to take that,” Meagan said. “I suppose I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. But… pigs?”

Ebbony had not stayed. Had anyone even noticed her leaving? Carmen- or Cattallus, as Ebbony still liked to think of her as- was in good hands now. Hands she didn’t like, but good hands nonetheless.
The wind tousled her hair. Ebbony didn’t even look like Cattallus did when she was thirteen. That was due to unfortunate circumstances. Once, they had been splitting images. Most dream-selves were. There were exceptions, of course, but they were in minor ways- the color of the hair, a feature that is ‘mirrored’ and on the other side, or so on. Not so with Ebbony. She looked nothing like Cattallus at all.
Where would she go now? Back to her hut in front of a volcano in Magos? Pfft. The idea was so pathetic it made her want to laugh. She’d said she was going to go home, but now that she thought about it… that wasn’t her home. Her home was in Aeternam, and it was nothing but rubble and ashes now.
Should she explore or travel? It had no appeal. Remain in place? Not a chance.

“So, Jess…”
“Yes, Meagan?”
They were about half a day’s walk from the ferry now, all four tired and wishing the journey would end. Already, sea scent permeated the air.
“I’m confused about essence.”
“How so? Basically, everything has a mark that describes its inmost being. Every essence has certain traits, such as gender and race, but the rest of it is defined by personality, prowess, abilities, individuality, and all the things that make people unique. Therefore, no two essences are alike, but they are close enough to be classified.”
“When Victura shape-shift…”
“Essence and appearance are not the same thing. The essence is unchanged. That’s how many Victura were killed, even if they didn’t look like Victura at all. However, half-breeds have two essences and can switch between them at will. This is a bit rarer, especially amongst the Victura, but there have been some here and there.”
“But Carmen has no essence.”
“And you think I know how she did that? Carmen’s always been doing things no one can explain. You wouldn’t know, because you haven’t lived with her, but I have, and I know. I know I look fourteen, but I’m much older. I bet people call her weird, eh?”
Meagan nodded. People did.
“Well, she is. Just not the way you’d expect. What she has done borders on impossible and probably has bad side effects. Or maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe she’s not really a Victura,” Jess mused, offering no explanation of the enigmatic statement.

“Finally!” Ayana whooped as the ferry came into view. A well-kept, modest establishment, Scholl’s Ferry was as small and cozy as they come. A buffed, polished sign greeted them to the dock, and three boats were tethered to it: the Cheyenne, the Enoby Raven Way, and the Mary Sue. A shack in front of the dock displayed prices on its door.
Meagan walked up to the shack and rapped on the door. A muffled grunt made its way through the wood before the door was thrown open by a grisly old man. “What?”
“We’d like passage to-”
“I’m closed.”
Ayana sighed and pulled a kerchief out of her pocket. “Not now you’re not.” The blue cloth was clearly embroidered with the Chief Sorceress’s symbol. “Orders of the Chief Sorceress Annalise, Circle of Sorcery, Medal of Honor, yada yada yada. I think you catch my drift.”
“You are?”
“Ayana, her apprentice. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get to Esse before nightfall.”
The man groaned and shook his head. “An impossible demand, Miss Ayana. There are few hours of sun left, and many hours needed to cross the Laurel Bay. To Esse, even! That is a country of spirits, hardly a place for one of your position.”
“I’ll decide that,” Ayana whispered, pressing coins into his hand. “Can we get there by dawn tomorrow morning?”
“Aye,” the man answered, tossing the coins lightly as if to test their weight. “Do you have papers needed to cross?”
“Don’t need them, do I?” Ayana replied. “Spirits don’t have want of passports, do they?”
“Aye, indeed. So, three of you?”
“What? Three? No, there’s… oi! Elfy! Where’d you go?” Jess whirled around.
Meagan frowned. Now was not the time to run off. “Requiem!” she called.
“I’m here,” came the weak reply.  Requiem leaned against the side of the shack, trembling.
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“I saw… I saw… fire. Everywhere. Burning. It was pirates, Meagan.”
“She’s babbling.” Jess put her hand to Requiem’s cheek. “Burning up, too. She’s got the fever and chills.”
Meagan grabbed Ayana and dragged her to where they would be able to converse freely without fear of being heard. “What happened? Is it the Fire? You can tell if it’s the Fire, right, because it’s in you. So is it the Fire?”
Ayana shook her head. “No. Her eyes would be red. I was thinking… she told me about the Pancake House…”
“The what?”
“Then there was on the road, and right now. Maybe she can see the past.”
“But the fever-“
“Is gone,” Jess said, walking up behind them. “She’s all better.”
What kind of fever lasts for two minutes?
Requiem stood straighter, hands at her temples. “Ugh, my head… did someone step on it?”
“Nice ears,” said the ferryman, leaning against his door. “You an elf?”
“Halfish.” Requiem touched her ears, as if reassuring herself they were still tapered. “Why? Does this bother you?”
“Not at all. Just curious. Your folk all stay in the forest.”
“And you think I don’t envy them?” Requiem muttered.
Jess snorted. “Can you get in the boat?”
“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” She took a few lurching steps, seeming to regain her balance with each one, until she leaned over and threw up. Despite it, she insisted on getting on the boat anyway. Meagan rolled her eyes but made no comment; opposition only fueled Requiem’s resolve and stubbornness.

The Mary Sue was a small, pleasant boat, though with little room for idle passengers. The man- Moth, he called himself, though Meagan was sure that wasn’t his name- kept them busy, either swabbing decks or performing odd jobs around the steamer. The only person he didn’t ask to help with anything was Ayana; indeed, he went out of his way to make her as comfortable as possible.
It became dark just as Meagan leaned against a rail, stretching her stiff arms. Moonlight, soft yellow, glinted off the waters, giving her a strange feeling of ecstasy. Closing her eyes, she reached for the place where she could feel the pounding of her heart, and smiled as she felt it thud against her chest. For the first time, she was aware of not just the Victuran’s heartbeat, but, somewhere in the rhythm, the softer but ever-present taps of a Valkyrie’s drum. Two essences- two beats- mingling into one.
“What are you doing?”
Meagan jumped and snapped out of her reverie at Requiem’s voice. “Thinking.”
“Me too. Everyone else is below deck, sleeping. Moth is intent on getting us there by dawn, and he’s piloting this thing like a man possessed. It’s either Ayana’s symbol or her gold, but he’s madly motivated.”
“Could be both.”
“Could be.” Requiem paused, then said, “I used to dream about sailing. Everything’s grander in a dream.”
“True,” Meagan agreed. She knew all too well.
“Like my mom. I always dreamed of her to be drop-dead gorgeous, and famous or rich, even though I knew no one married to a carpenter could be an idol or celebrity. Arya’s all those things, but… I can’t view her as the mother I dreamt of.”
“Arya’s your mother?”
“No need to act surprised.”
“My mother’s Victuran too,” Meagan replied. “Probably, my father was too, but I didn’t ask.”
“Yeah, but your parents are everything Arya’s not- actually motherly and fatherly.”
“Are you upset?”
“At what?”
“That your dream was better.”
Requiem laughed bitterly. “We’ve all got to wake up sometime.”
Some nightmares aren't supposed to end, sweetheart. At least, not by waking up… 
“Do we, though?” Meagan thought aloud, the changeling's words in her mind.
“Do we what?”
“Do we really have to wake up?”
Requiem groaned. “Listen to us, discussing dreams.”
“Dreams are real.”
“So is moss. That doesn’t make it important.”
“Who says moss isn’t important? If moss didn’t exist, then the things that eat it would-“
“Eat something else,” Requiem replied, and rolled her eyes. “I’ve thought about this.”
Silence. Then Meagan whispered, “Why did you really want to come? I remember in Dryadales, you didn’t want to go adventuring, and now you’re volunteering!”
“I couldn’t stay there with her,” Requiem answered.
“Arya?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, that, and when I heard the name of the Citadel… a shiver ran down my spine. Not of fear, but… recognition, almost. Like I had been there before.”
“But that’s-“
“Impossible. I know. Everything’s impossible.”
“We all have to dream too, you know,” Meagan said. “Nothing’s really impossible.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We all have to wake up, but eventually, we have to go back to the dream.”
“Do we, though?” Requiem mirrored Meagan’s earlier question. “Do we, really?”

“This is Esse’s harbor?” Jess asked, disbelief etched on her face. “It’s in ruins!”
“Aye. It was destroyed when the Essens lost their bodies.”
“I’m from Esse. We have bodies.”
“Don’t see how you can be an Essen, seeing as the Valkyries stripped their bodies away hundreds of years ago. You’d have to be ancient. Nice story, kid, but if you really want to hide who you are, you have a better chance saying you’re from Magos or Regnum. Even Nanum and Mgypt would make more sense.”
“Valkyries did this?” Meagan whispered, surveying the crumbling buildings. “Why?”
“No one knows. They were angry, I guess.” He shuddered, face pale. “Listen, I’ll be leaving now. No laws against visiting Esse, mind you, but I see why no one comes here.” He sped off to the boat, without a backward glance. Moments later, the Mary Sue gave a puff of steam and shot out of the harbor.
Meagan drew her sword.
“Oh, because that’s definitely going to work on things with no body,” Ayana mocked. “It’s Dietum all over again!”
Was it? Dietum was so long ago, and felt so different. No, this wasn’t like Dietum at all.
“What do we do?” Requiem asked. “No offense, but if Valkyries did this, I don’t think they’d look too kindly on-“
“Ssh!” Jess hushed. “Don’t go announcing it to them!”
“So how come this didn’t happen to you?”
“I was with Oleander. I guess I was spared.”
Slowly, they began to pick their way through the shambled buildings, eyes searching for any sign of a malevolent spirit. Meagan felt no fear, only a deep, bone-filling calm. Let them come. As a Victura, I will bind them. As a Valkyrie, I will cut them down. She then felt anger, fathomless and consuming, and Meagan understood the ire that caused the Valkyries to punish so terrifyingly, so mercilessly.
“Such rage,” Requiem mumbled. Meagan shot her a side-long look. “I feel their emotion, but what compelled it…”
It was beyond them, obscured behind a roiling mass of madness, insanity of a form, and hatred. Beneath the hatred, sorrow and regret formed thick mists. There was nowhere near enough to strip the mass of the self-righteousness of the anger, but there was enough so that it didn’t completely overwhelm.
“Why have you come here?” demanded a voice as they stepped into the center of the port town. “Why have you come to torment and mock us, heir of the Valkyries?”