Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Caleb heard ‘house party,’ he’d been picturing a smaller house.

Three stories of monstrous suburban mansion loomed against the dusky purple sky, windows alight from within like many multi-colored eyes. A faint thrum of bass-heavy music leaked out into the surrounding air. It was a wonder that none of the neighbors had complained yet, though the night was still young. 

A few stray partygoers were scattered on the sprawling lawn, taking in gulps of fresh air before reentering the fray. Despite all the exposed skin, none of them seemed bothered by the biting chill in the autumn air. Caleb tugged the sleeves of his sweater farther over his hands, shivering in sympathy. 

“Who’s house is this again, Jester?” Fjord asked, slamming shut the driver’s side door of his borrowed van. In the row of cars parked all along the street, it stood out for being by far the largest and oldest model.

“Claudia Sheed! She sits next to me in art class. Don’t you know her, Fjord? She’s in your grade.”

Fjord shook his head. 

“Caleb? Yasha?” Jester turned to the other seniors among their group, who both shrugged.

“I don’t talk to many people,” Yasha explained. Caleb nodded his agreement.

“And you’re sure it’s ok that we’re here?” Nott asked.

“Of course! Claudia said I could invite whoever I wanted. Now come on!” Jester grabbed Beau and Fjord, the nearest to her, by one arm each and dragged them up the walkway toward the front door. The rest of them followed with varying levels of enthusiasm.

A wall of heavy, synth-pop music slammed against their eardrums immediately upon entry. There were only about five square feet of empty space in front of the door. Beyond that, the house seemed to be filled wall-to-wall with people dancing and talking and downing shots of unknown alcohol from plastic cups.

It was everything Caleb had ever been told a high school party was, and everything he’d hoped would turn out to be a lie. Beads of sweat began to form on the back of his neck and the palms of his hands. He couldn’t be sure if it was an anxiety response or because the combined body heat of a hundred teenagers had turned this house into a furnace. Probably both.

No one paid their group any mind, continuing their revelry without giving a second glance to the new arrivals. Between one blink and the next, the front line defense of Beau, Jester, and Fjord was swallowed up by the crowd. Caleb caught a few flashes of green and blue in the chaos, but there was no telling if those were his friends, and he had no desire to venture out into the throng to find out. 

“I’m going after them,” said Caduceus. “Somebody has to make sure Fjord doesn’t drink anything.”

With that, another one of Caleb’s safety blankets merged with the crowd, although his height meant he stayed visible, towering above the rest like a bright, pink lighthouse.

“Sucks to be Fjord,” Nott laughed. 

Indeed, Fjord hadn’t been given much of a choice in taking the role of designated driver, despite Caduceus and Jester both preferring not to drink in general. Being the only one of their group with both a driver’s license and reliable access to a car had its disadvantages. 

“I’m going to go find a drink. You okay, Caleb?” Nott turned a concerned glance up at Caleb, who did his best to hide his panic. Much as he very much did not want Nott to leave his side, he wasn’t about to hold her back for his own comfort. This was her first real party, too. She deserved to have fun.

“I’m fine, Nott,” he insisted. “Just be careful, ja ?” Caleb inclined his head toward her, and by the way Nott wilted he knew she understood his meaning. 

“Right,” she said, and scurried away to follow the trail of booze.

Caleb sighed. It wasn’t his place to lecture Nott, much as her predilection towards alcohol worried him. 

He turned to his last remaining companion, his ally in introversion. Yasha met his gaze with a quiet sort of determination, like a soldier about to enter battle.

“Shall we?” he asked, and she nodded, squaring her broad shoulders. Steeling themselves, they abandoned the safety of the doorway and ventured into the unknown wilds of the party.

The music pounded against Caleb’s skull like a hammer. Farther into the house, the dancing and lounging bodies grew more densely packed, and the heat only got worse. Caleb could feel sweat running down his spine, and had to fight the instinct to roll up the sleeves of his sweater.

He had made some effort to dress up for the occasion, as they all had at Jester’s behest. But despite foregoing his usual brown hoodie, Caleb still stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd. Yasha, in her customary ensemble of black and leather, was for once more able to blend in. 

After fighting their way through the jungle of the house, they situated themselves in a corner of the kitchen, away from the main hub of the party. Yasha crossed her arms and put on her most intimidating face, as if daring anyone to bother them. Caleb did his best to become invisible beside her. He wished he’d brought a book, but Beau had forbidden it.

They passed a long stretch of time people-watching in companionable silence before Yasha eventually spoke up.

“How are you?” she asked. “You don’t seem to be having fun.”

“This is not exactly my scene,” Caleb responded, jerking out of the way as a half-elf girl tumbled drunkenly in front of them, nearly barreling into Yasha. Another girl grabbed her and guided her to sit down, mumbling an apology to the pair of them.

“What about you? Are you having fun?” Caleb asked, cocking an incredulous eyebrow at Yasha. She shrugged.

“It’s not so bad. These are very good.” She waved a handful of chips at him. The spot they’d claimed happened to be within arm’s reach of one of the many snack tables. “Do you want any?”

“No, thank you,” Caleb replied. His stomach was tying itself in knots as he fought to stay calm, and food probably wouldn’t help. Yasha shrugged and stuffed the chips into her own mouth.

“Why, hello there.” A human boy with a scraggly mustache appeared suddenly in front of them, his eyes locked onto Yasha. He held out a hand to her, seemingly oblivious to Caleb’s presence. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. What is your name, you gorgeous creature?”

“Um…”

“I’m Robert.” Without waiting for a response, he took Yasha’s hand and brought it to his lips. Yasha recoiled as soon as his grip relaxed.

“I’m Yasha,” she said uncertainly, and shot Caleb a panicked aside glance. 

What should I do? her expression said. Caleb lifted his hands to say I don’t know, I’m sorry.

“Where do you go to school?” Robert continued, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort he was causing. 

“Um… Wynandir High?”

“Ah. That’s why I’ve never seen you before. I go to the Zauber Academy.” He waited, clearly expecting some kind of impressed reaction to name-dropping the elite private school. Yasha remained silent and wide-eyed.

“Leave her alone, creep!” shouted a familiar voice, and Jester appeared at the rescue, shooting a death glare at Yasha’s admirer. 

Robert’s eyes widened at the sight of her, a deep maroon blush blooming on his cheeks. He spluttered, attempting to form some sort of retort, but Jester cut him off.

“Why don’t you beat it, go find a balcony to hang out on.” Jester waggled her eyebrows, and though neither Caleb nor Yasha knew what she was referencing, Robert seemed to understand. His blush spread to his ears and after another moment of opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he stormed off in the opposite direction.

“What was that about?” Yasha asked, the tension relaxing from her posture once Robert had disappeared.

“I used to go to camp with that guy,” Jester explained. “Let’s just say I have a lot of dirt on him. He’s a real dipshit.” She smiled in her angelic way that usually meant she had done something far from innocent.

“Come on, let’s go dance! You can shake the creepy off of you.” She took Yasha by the elbow and drew her out of their safe little corner. Torn between being left alone and entering the nucleus of the party, Caleb followed with a lead weight in his stomach.

Jester dodged and weaved her way through the crowd and into the main room, where the music was the loudest. She took Yasha by the hands and began bouncing and swaying with her to the beat. Yasha followed her lead clumsily; though her movements were more subdued and jerky than Jester’s enthusiastic flailing, a smile began to spread slowly across her cheeks.

Caleb watched this from the fringes, unable to bring himself to breach the edge of the dancers. He lingered just close enough to keep his friends in eyesight, hugging his arms around himself in an attempt to avoid brushing up against anyone. But it was no use—the crowd was packed too tightly, drunk teenagers flinging their limbs every which way with reckless abandon. He envied their inhibition.

With every unintentional touch, Caleb withdrew further towards the wall, his nerves prickling with discomfort. He could barely see Yasha’s head poking above the sea of dancers anymore. It was all too much, the people, the noise, the pulsing lights…

Before he could even register what he was doing, Caleb’s legs were dashing to retreat. He stumbled into a few people on his way through, muttering half-hearted apologies as he fled. 

But there was nowhere to flee to. Everywhere was too crowded—even the entryway was now blocked by a wall of bodies, thwarting any half-formed plan Caleb might have had to get some fresh air outside. 

Desperate, he forced his way to the one unoccupied space in the house he could see: the staircase. Though there was nothing barring access to the second floor, the party seemed mostly relegated to the downstairs. Caleb took the steps two at a time, his breath starting to grow worryingly rapid.

The second floor wasn’t entirely empty, after all. As he crested the staircase, Caleb saw a glimpse of a couple attached at the lips, chest, and hips just before they fell into a bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them. Not eager to discover how many other rooms were being similarly utilized, Caleb made for the partially ajar door across the landing, which led to a mercifully unoccupied bathroom.

He groped in the dark for a light switch, then collapsed onto the floor, leaning his back up against the wall of the bathtub. It was pleasantly cool through the fabric of his sweater, and Caleb focused on the sensation, trying to ease his erratic, shallow breathing the way the doctors at the hospital had taught him.

Panic attacks were hardly unfamiliar territory, but it had been a long while since his last one, and he’d foolishly begun to think that perhaps they were behind him. Clearly he’d overestimated himself. 

The party was a bad idea. He never should have come. He should be at home in his apartment with Frumpkin, waiting for Nott to return and tell him what a good time she’d had with their friends. He should be working on his history essay or studying for the physics test or practicing his flashcards for the next quiz bowl competition or—

The sound of the doorknob turning made Caleb’s head shoot up in surprise. Fuck, why hadn't he thought to lock the door?

His chest heaved again at the prospect of the inevitable awkward exchange with whatever poor sap was about to discover him, a hyperventilating mess curled up on the floor, blocking the way to the toilet.

The door opened slowly, a white-haired head peering around to look inside. Instead of retreating in a hurry upon spotting Caleb, the figure slunk inside to join him, shutting and locking the door behind himself.

Before Caleb stood a drow boy with dark, blue-purple skin the same dusky shade as the night sky outside. His long, pointed ears were adorned with silver piercings, his ice-grey eyes lined with liberal amounts of black pencil. His clothes were in line with the styles Caleb had seen on many of the other party attendees: dark, ripped jeans tucked into leather boots, and a black mesh shirt layered over a matching tank top. The only thing that ruined the punk-rock display was the pair of large, wire-rimmed glasses perched atop his nose.

It was so far from the visage Caleb was used to that he almost didn’t recognize the boy, but his subconscious mind recalled the familiar face which he had seen at so many academic competitions, wearing the prim and proper uniform of the Zauber Academy and smiling smugly after yet another correct answer. That face stirred up every ounce of Caleb’s competitive spirit, and had lately begun stirring up slightly more complicated feelings which he hadn’t cared to examine quite yet.

“Thelyss?"

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Essek did not actually enjoy parties. He attended so many because they offered him three things, none of which was pleasure: the opportunity to make money, more time spent away from his house, and the illicit thrill that came from shucking off the mask of perfection he wore five days a week and donning a persona that would give his mother a stroke.

If she could see him now… if his father could see him now. The thought sent a shiver of fearful adrenaline down Essek’s spine as he passed along yet another dime bag, this one to a tiefling boy covered in a generous layer of body glitter. Barely an hour into the evening, and his supplies were already running low as his wallet grew fat with the cash of rich suburban teenagers desperate for a taste of rebellion.

He could hardly judge them, really. He was one of them. It wasn’t like he dealt because he actually needed the money. He’d just realized early on that providing goods for the underground high school economy brought him much more satisfaction than being a consumer. 

He caught a slurred “Thanks,” from the tiefling before the boy withdrew, no doubt going to share his prize with friends. Essek stuffed his payment away and turned around, eyes combing the room for the next potential customer.

He wove his way artfully through the crowd, dodging sweaty dancers and sticky puddles of spilled beer, all the while keeping an inviting smile plastered on his face. The expression was well-practiced from spending hours upon hours in church services, exchanging pleasantries with his mother’s congregants and pretending like he didn’t think the whole practice was bullshit.

He lurked at the edges of the party, making himself available without having to initiate any conversations. He was a known entity to enough of the people here, including the host, that even first-timers only needed to ask around briefly before knowing that he was the person with what they were looking for. 

It was mostly a weed party, but he did trade a couple tabs of LSD to some veteran customers. Claudia had requested that things not get too out of control when she’d invited him, so it didn’t take long for him to tap out his supply. 

It was a relief to ditch his empty coat to the pile of jackets in the closet—it was hot in here—but it also left him in the unfortunate position of being closed for business. Which meant he was just another party guest, an extreme introvert stuck in a house full of business contacts at best, strangers at worst.

But anything was better than going home, where his mother would surely still be awake, so Essek found himself a drink and resigned to spending the remainder of the evening huddled awkwardly in a corner by himself, pretending to text.

Only a few minutes passed this way, however, before something intriguing caught his attention. Among the sea of tight, black fabrics, Essek saw a figure in a baggy sweater retreating hurriedly from the dance floor. He was moving impressively fast for the amount of obstacles in his way, and if it weren’t for the telltale, copper-red hair, Essek might not even have recognized him.

Caleb Widogast did not belong in a place like this. He belonged in the other part of Essek’s life: in dusty school libraries, and at quiz bowl tournaments hitting the buzzer for ten correct answers in a row. And, maybe, occasionally, in Essek’s dreams, but that was neither here nor there. 

Before he could think better of it, Essek found himself dodging and weaving to chase after him. He followed the beacon of color around the bend to the front of the house and up the staircase, where he saw the heel of Caleb’s shoes disappearing behind a closed door. Hesitantly, he approached, stopping himself just short of reaching for the doorknob.

What exactly was he planning to do? Ask Caleb why the hell he was here? Challenge him to a trivia contest? 

...Finally start a real conversation with the boy whom he had been admiring across auditoriums for months but had never been brave enough to actually speak to?

Essek’s heart beat in his throat at the prospect, but as his cowardly hand inched away from the doorknob, he realized that the blood in his ears was not the only sound he was hearing. 

Caleb had not pulled the door fully closed, and through the slight crack, Essek could hear tight, shaky breaths coming in arhythmic patterns.

It only took him a second to recognize. This was a sound Essek had heard coming from his own lungs many times, in the dead of night when his mother was asleep and he let his composure crack enough to feel the perpetual pressure on his chest, instead of just the numbness that had been drilled into him for so long.

With this realization, Essek finally pushed the door open, jiggling the knob a bit as a warning so Caleb wouldn’t be too startled by his entrance.

He walked in slowly, still unsure of himself, and closed the door behind him. It locked with a soft click , ensuring their privacy. If it were him, Essek would not want anyone witnessing his weakness.

Which probably meant he should leave Caleb alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the boy, looking piteous and miserable sitting on the floor of a bathroom with his knees tucked up to his chin.

He was staring at Essek with an expression like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Even through the panic attack, he was able to muster an impressive level of incredulity to his voice as he said, “Thelyss?”

“Hi,” said Essek dumbly.

“What are you doing here?” Caleb heaved. His breath was slower but still worryingly heavy. “What are you wearing?”

Essek glanced down at himself. Right. Caleb had never seen him outside the context of quiz bowl. 

“Got to blend in,” he mumbled. Before Caleb could comment further, Essek crouched down to sit next to him. Caleb leaned his forehead against his knees as another wave of hyperventilation overtook him.

“Breathe,” said Essek. 

“What. Do you think. I am trying. To do,” Caleb huffed. His eyes were damp and bloodshot, but no tears fell.

Essek lifted a hand to rub Caleb’s back comfortingly, but thought better of it halfway there. His arm hovered in awkward stasis for a moment before he let it drop back into his own lap.

“Try to match me, alright?” he suggested, and began taking deep, purposeful breaths, exaggerating the volume so Caleb could hear over his own wheezing. He counted out loud, timing the inhaling and exhaling in the way he’d taught himself.

Gradually, Caleb’s breathing calmed to a normal rate. Essek’s counting petered out, but he continued to breathe in tandem with him. It felt like falling out of synch would break some sort of spell the two of them were under.

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered after a while. Essek hadn’t been keeping track of time, but it felt like he had been in this bathroom all night.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. The spell was broken.

Both of them kept their eyes straight ahead, unable to look at each other. Essek worried that if he looked Caleb in the eye, the small amount of alcohol still in his system would overtake his common sense and he would do or say something he couldn’t come back from.

“Where did you learn that?” Caleb asked. 

Essek risked a split-second glance before answering. “Online. It happens to me too, sometimes,” he admitted, “so I looked up how best to handle it.”

“You’ve never gone to see anyone about it? A doctor?”

“No,” Essek said, too quickly and too defensively. Then, softer, “Have you?”

Caleb shifted next to him. “A while ago. They taught me the same exercises, but I was never good at calming myself down.”

“Glad I could help. What brought it on, if I might ask?” Essek regretted his words as he turned and saw Caleb’s face screw up in consternation. He was about to take the question back when Caleb answered:

“I don’t like crowds.”

Essek bit back a laugh. It wasn’t that Caleb’s predicament was funny, but he couldn’t ignore the irony.

“Why did you come here, then?”

Caleb sighed. “I thought I could handle it.”

“If you give me some time to sober up, I can take you home.” The words were out of Essek’s mouth before he could stop them. It took all his self control not to smack himself in the face—what was he doing? He and Caleb barely knew each other. Their relationship consisted entirely of an unspoken academic rivalry in an arena that mattered to very few people. They’d never exchanged more than a few clipped, overly polite words at competitions before, and now he was offering his nemesis a ride after helping him through a panic attack. He didn’t even know where Caleb lived.

“That is alright, thank you,” Caleb answered, interrupting Essek’s spiral. “I’ll be leaving soon anyway. My ride has a midnight curfew, and it is already 11:39.”

Curious, Essek pulled out his phone to check the time. Caleb was exactly right, down to the minute. Essek raised his eyebrows, impressed, but didn’t comment.

Another moment passed without either of them speaking. Normally, silence was Essek’s preferred way of passing the time, but a nervous energy was coursing through him, making him jumpy and discombobulated.

“Are you ready for next week?” He blamed the small-talk on his tipsiness. It was easier than acknowledging how his heart jumped in his throat every time Caleb shifted and came close to brushing his shoulder against Essek’s.

Caleb tossed him a small smile, and Essek’s heart did not skip a beat.

“Of course. We are going to crush you.”

Essek smiled back. Adopting the cadence of a quiz bowl moderator, he said, “Mr. Widogast, please name the respective locations of all four Ashari societies.”

“Zephrah, Summit Peak Mountains, Tal’dorei; Terrah, Cliffkeep Mountains, Tal’dorei; Pyrah, Sunderpeak Mountains, Othanzia; Vesrah, Anamn Islands, Ozmit Sea,” Caleb recited without hesitation. 

“You’re smart, Widogast, but you can’t carry your whole team.”

Caleb cocked his head. “Watch me.” 

Before, Essek had been afraid to look directly at Caleb. Now, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

A cheery tapping on the door made both of them jump.

“Caleb, are you in there?” A bubbly, lilting voice called from outside. “We’ve been looking for you!”

“Ja, I am here.” Caleb lifted himself to his feet. He stepped around Essek to open the door, giving him barely any time to stand up before the doorway was filled with the concerned faces of six unfamiliar people. 

The most visible of them, at the front, was a blue-skinned tiefling girl in a sparkly green dress. 

“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” she said, grabbing Caleb’s hands with both of her own. “Were you crying in here?”

“I am fine, Jester.” Caleb tugged one hand out of her grip to rub the remaining moisture from his eyes.

“We didn’t mean to lose you,” said the goblin girl standing at Jester’s hip. She stared up at Caleb with a plaintive look, round yellow eyes perfectly matching the shade of her own dress.

“It’s fine, Nott, really. I promise. I just got a little overwhelmed and had to step away.”

“We shouldn’t have left you,” Jester insisted. A third girl, human, wearing a blue crop top and a challenging expression, poked her head into view. While the others doted over Caleb, her gaze locked onto Essek hovering behind him, uncertain.

“Why were you hanging out in the bathroom with the drug dealer?” she demanded.

Instead of answering, Caleb turned around to give Essek a dubious look.

“You are a drug dealer?”

Essek shrugged. “Did you want something?”

Caleb blinked. “I suppose that explains the outfit,” he muttered before turning back to his friends. Essek crossed his arms over his chest, hiding as much of himself as he could under the circumstances.

Jester and Nott, apparently noticing Essek for the first time, looked him up and down with fascination.

“Hi,” said Nott.

“Hello,” said Essek.

Jester’s eyes darted between him and Caleb, lips widening into a frightful grin.

“Yeah, Caleb, what were you guys doing in here?” She bounced her eyebrows up and down in an obvious insinuation, concern forgotten.

“Essek, these are my friends, the Mighty Nein. Everyone, this is Essek Thelyss.” Caleb stepped aside so the others could all see, and Essek got a better look at the remaining members of this strangely-titled group: a large, pale girl with a naturally intimidating presence, a firbolg boy, tall and thin as a stalk with bright pink hair, and a half-orc boy whose tusks seemingly hadn’t come in yet. Essek inclined his head in greeting, defaulting to ingrained etiquette in this most unusual of circumstances. 

“He helped me…recover. I know him from quiz bowl, he is captain of the Zauber team,” Caleb continued his introduction. The pale girl nodded in recognition.

“The nerd games,” she said, like she was proud of herself for remembering.

“Yes, Yasha,” Caleb said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare towards the dark-skinned human girl. “Those.”

She shrugged, arms crossed. “What do you want from me, Caleb? They’re games, they’re nerdy.”

“You are on the team now, you could at least call it by its name.”

“What?” Essek interjected. He thought he knew every team in the district, but he had never seen this girl before.

“Beauregard is our newest recruit,” Caleb explained. “You’ll be seeing her next weekend.”

Beauregard waggled sarcastic fingers at him. Essek narrowed his eyes.

“Good to know.”

“I’m sorry, but can we please get going?” the half-orc spoke for the first time. “It’s already,“ he checked his watch, “11:47, and it takes at least fifteen minutes to drop everyone off.”

“Right. Sorry, Cap’n.” Beauregard saluted at him. “Saddle up and move out, everyone!”

Beauregard in the lead, the group of them began to shuffle towards the stairs.

With the others’ attention diverted, Caleb took a moment to turn back to Essek. 

“Thank you, again,” he said, voice pitched low. “I appreciate what you did for me.”

Maybe it was the alcohol still buzzing in his system, or the strangeness of this whole night, or the heady thrill of having a conversation with someone who didn’t expect anything from him for once. Whatever it was, something possessed Essek to take one more risk. Just as Caleb was turning away, Essek grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Do you have a phone?” he asked.

Light, what a stupid question, he chided himself. Everyone has a phone!

Caleb nodded, and pulled from his pocket an ancient, flippable monstrosity.

Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid question. Caleb was clearly more than a little behind the times.

Regardless, Essek accepted the device and entered his number before he could lose his nerve. He handed it back to Caleb, arm shaking just a fraction.

“In case you need someone to calm you down again,” he said. 

Caleb looked back and forth between the phone and Essek, brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape.

“Thank you,” he repeated, and disappeared after his friends.

Essek stood there a moment, alone on the landing. Downstairs, the party was still going strong. Claudia’s parents were gone for the entire weekend, as they often were, and precedent said the festivities would stay strong for at least another hour, possibly two or three. 

Essek wasn’t about to go home sooner than he absolutely had to. He descended back down the steps, seamlessly reentering the fray. He found his way to a window overlooking the front yard, and with his keen dark vision, quickly spotted the group he was looking for, halfway across the lawn. Beauregard had one arm around the half-orc, who pushed her away playfully. Jester bounced around them all, briefly walking backwards to face the firbolg as she gesticulated wildly. And Caleb, if Essek’s eyes did not deceive him, was still clutching his phone.

An hour later, the unmistakable flash of red-and-blue lights appeared at the end of the road, and Essek was grabbing his coat and out the back door before anyone could say a word.

He returned home, turning the key in the back door as slowly as possible, expertly dodging the creaky floorboards, and creeping silent as a shadow into his bedroom. 

He changed quickly, stuffing his clothes under the loose floorboard in his closet and viciously scrubbing the eyeliner off his face so that not a trace would be visible when his mother saw him in the morning. 

Once he had successfully purged any evidence of his nightlife, he threw himself down onto the bed, limp with exhaustion

Before he could begin to enter a trance, however, a sharp buzzing sound pierced the silence, startling him upright. Wincing at the noise, Essek dived for the desk where he had discarded his phone, and checked the notification.

Unknown Number 

This is Caleb. Goodnight.

Essek’s heart soared.

Chapter Text

Church mornings were an established routine in the Thelyss household: Deirta woke up at 5:00 and set a pot to boil while she made final edits to that week’s sermon. Essek awoke at 5:30 and joined her for a cup of tea. They both dressed, Deirta in the traditional white and silver robes of a Luxon priest, Essek in a suit and tie, before loading into the car in time to arrive at the temple at precisely 6:00. The congregation trickled in over the next half hour, while Deirta waited at the door to greet them and Essek read a book or did homework in the pews. By 6:30, everyone was settled and ready for the Sunrise Service.

Deirta took her place in front of the crowd, laying her notes out on the ornate podium carved with images of a Beacon. 

The dodecahedron shape was everywhere in the decor—statues by the entrance, stained-glass windows, designs burned into the wooden benches where the congregation sat.

It was a little on the nose, in Essek’s opinion, but nobody ever asked him.

Seated as always in the very front row, Essek had no hope of secretly passing the service with his head in a book, as he would have preferred. Instead, he sat dutifully in place: back straight, chin high, eyes locked on his mother with a look of intense concentration that other children in the church were encouraged to emulate. 

Over a lifetime of biweekly attendance, Essek had honed the skill of paying just enough attention that he could form intelligent comments on the service when his mother inevitably asked about it afterwards, while also letting his mind wander so that the boredom didn’t make him want to crush his own head under one of those stone Beacon statues.

While his ears angled toward his mother’s voice, taking in her message about light and rebirth, his mind’s eye replayed images from the previous night: Caleb, huddled on the floor; Caleb, smiling at him; Caleb, looking shocked but pleased as Essek handed back his phone.

He hadn’t responded to the text yet. He had no idea what to say, and Caleb would surely still be asleep anyway. He had at least until the end of the service to come up with something.

But when, three hours later, his mother ended the final prayer with a call-and-response “Light be with you,” Essek had yet to settle on a reply.

What could he possibly say? It wasn’t enough to just type out a simple greeting and be done with it, he had waited too long. He had to justify the lapsed time with something of substance.

He lingered as people filed out of the main sanctuary, returning the polite greetings offered to him while he waited for his mother to gather her things.

Up at the podium, Deirta was deep in discussion with another, familiar drow woman. With a sigh, knowing that he would be summoned to join them anyway, Essek approached.

“There you are,” said his mother, as if he had been hiding and not plainly in her line of sight this whole time.

“Good morning, Essek,” greeted Chief Leylas Kryn. 

Essek always thought that his aunt looked smaller when out of uniform. Though, to be fair, even in her church finery, and without the gun and the badge, she still commanded an impactful force of presence.

Or perhaps that was just the knowledge that she wouldn’t hesitate to throw Essek in jail the second he misstepped.

“Good morning, Aunt Leylas.” He inclined his head politely. Theirs was not a hugging family. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted. “I was just telling your mother, the night shift had a rather late noise complaint about a party up on Julous Street. It was like a zoo over there—a hundred kids at least, drinking like it was the end of the world. A few were even brought in for possession.”

“Really?” Essek raised his eyebrows, the picture of disapproving surprise.

“Indeed. It was mostly children from Wynandir, but one of our arrests is a student at Zauber.”

Deirta spoke before Essek could react. “I really can’t believe these children. All the work we do for them, the fortune parents spend on a school like Zauber, and they’re willing to throw it all away for one night of frivolity.”

“Teenagers don’t have much perspective, in my experience. They only think about the here and now, never the consequences of their actions. Isn’t that right, Essek?” Leylas smiled at him, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“All Essek does is think about the future,” said Deirta. “Always so proactive.”

At that moment, Essek was, in fact, thinking about the future. In particular, he was thinking about the future likelihood of those arrested students ratting him out.

Essek was not one to take risks without a safety net. He was the only dealer at his small private school, so none of the Zauber students could turn him in without losing their easy access. (Of course, there were plenty of other, incredibly easy avenues for getting drugs, but most of them didn’t know that.) Wynandir kids didn’t know his name, and even if they described him to the police, he had looked very different when they saw him at the party. Drow were a minority in this town, but he wasn’t the only one at the party last night, or even the only male of his approximate size. No cops would be able to identify him on such vague parameters alone, even his own aunt.

His mental calculations determined that the probability of discovery was slim, but that didn’t stop his heart thumping against his ribs when Leylas looked at him.

If she ever found out about his business, he was a dead man.

“Well, Essek is something of an exception to the rule. I’ve never encountered a more sensible teenager,” said Leylas, grinning proudly as if she had anything to do with his sensibility.

“All it takes is a firm hand, and the light of the Luxon to guide them.” Deirta matched her sister’s expression, gazing at Essek like an artist stepping back to examine the masterpiece she had just finished painting.

Essek returned her smile while internally squirming with the insult of their combined condescension.

At the end of the day, he had the last laugh. He took comfort in the reminder. 

Much as he planned on never getting caught, Essek had a private fantasy of seeing his mother’s face if she ever found out about his nighttime activities. The shock and horror in her eyes as it dawned on her just how far off the mark her perfect parenting had gotten; being forced to turn to her younger, brutish, B-average-at-military-school son and say, You’re the golden child now.

The memory of this final satisfaction would probably be of minimal comfort to him in prison, which was why it could never be allowed to come to pass. But it was still a pleasant enough daydream to keep the smile plastered on his face as his aunt and mother talked about him like he wasn’t there. 

“Okay, so what do I do with this little spikey thing, then?”

“Hmm?” Caleb lifted his head to blink at Beau. She rolled her eyes.

“Dude, my parents are paying you to teach me math, not check your phone every five seconds.”

“I am not…” Caleb trailed off, unable to refute her statement. He shoved his phone roughly back into his pocket.

“Do not smirk at me, Beauregard. What was your question?” He leaned over to get a better look at her worksheet. Beau pointed out the spikey thing in question with the tip of her pencil. 

“That is a sigma. It—did your teacher not explain this?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It is kind of an important symbol to teach.”

Beau shrugged, tucking her chin towards her chest the way she did when she was uncomfortable or frustrated. “I dunno. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention when we went over it. I tend to zone out when Tubo gets going.”

Caleb pursed his lips. He had noticed this from his first session tutoring Beau, her habit of blaming herself for a lack of knowledge or understanding. She was incredibly smart when she put her mind to something, but a combination of rebellious spirit and dismissive authority figures meant she tended to give up quickly.

He was her friend. He wanted to help build her self-confidence. Should be able to. But encouragement was not his forte.

He looked to Beau’s sunken, defeated face, then down at the worksheet, only one-third completed. Back to Beau.

“When is this due?”

“Third period on Conthsen,” she answered dully.

“Let’s come back to it.” Caleb shoved the offending paper away. “We can practice for quiz bowl instead.”

Beau’s expression brightened despite herself. Much as she liked to gripe about her parents making her sign up for ‘nerd shit’ to pad her extracurriculars, anyone who had met Beauregard knew she never did anything she didn’t want to do. 

Caleb dug in his bag until his hand found the familiar shape and pulled out a set of flashcards tied with a rubber band. Unwinding the elastic, he said, “First question.”

Beau squared her shoulders as if preparing for an attack.

“In the myth of Calamity, which god is credited with sealing away Tharizdun, the Chained Oblivion?” Caleb read off the card.

Beau leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes in concentration. “...Pelor?”

“That is correct,” Caleb smiled at her. Beau pumped a fist in victory.

“Next question: Mordenkainen's Law states…”

A muffled ping from Caleb’s pocket interrupted the question. The cards nearly flew out of his hand as he jumped in surprise.

“What is with you, man?” Beau marveled as Caleb scurried to check his phone. “What is so important? Is your grandma in the hospital or something?”

“I don’t have any grandparents,” Caleb muttered. His attention was elsewhere.

Essek Thelyss 

Looking forward to this weekend’s competition. I hope you’re ready.

Caleb let out a breath of relief. He wasn’t a very experienced texter; it was only recently, after months of badgering from his friends, that he’d even bought a phone. He had been fretting ever since sending that initial message to Essek that he’d done something wrong, broken an unspoken rule of some kind. But Essek had responded at long last, which meant he wasn’t upset with Caleb.

“Oh, I see.”

Caleb’s pulse jumped. Beau’s voice was coming from right by his ear as she leaned close to read the text over his shoulder.

“Don’t do that,” Caleb pleaded, tilting out of her reach.

“That’s the guy from last night, right? Essek-from-quiz-bowl?”

“Yes.” There was something in Beau’s tone that he didn’t like the sound of.

“You gave him your number?”

“He gave me his.”

“Huh.” Beau leaned back into her own personal space, arms crossed. She raised a pierced eyebrow at him, looking extra cool and smug.

Caleb took the bait. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.” Beau shrugged one shoulder, the picture of disinterest. Caleb didn’t buy it for a second. “I just didn’t think nerd-by-day, druggie-by-night would be your type.”

Caleb willed the heat rising in his cheeks not to show. “That is not what this is,” he insisted. The ‘druggie’ comment twisted in his chest, but it wasn’t worth protesting. “Essek is just—”

Caleb cut himself off. He couldn’t call Essek a friend, really. Could you be friends after only a handful of interactions? But after the previous night, it felt wrong to think of him as a rival anymore. Perhaps the best word was ‘frenemy,’ but Caleb couldn’t bring himself to say that out loud in front of Beau. He had a touch more pride than that.

“I…I am not very good at making friends,” he began in an attempt to explain what was going on in his head. “Our group, the Mighty Nein, has been very patient with me, more than most people would be. We are all just fucked up enough for each other, I think.” Beau let out a snort of laughter.

“Pretty much,” she agreed.

“And Essek showed me kindness in a… less than ideal situation. I owe him, and I worry about messing up somehow. Hence my,” he waved to indicate his phone, “agitation.”

“Look man,” Beau sighed. “You may not have the most refined social graces, or whatever, but you’re a great fucking friend. I mean, you spend half your weekend trying to teach my dumb ass algebra—that’s a good friend.”  

“Your ass is not dumb, Beauregard. And I get paid to do this,” he pointed out.

Beau shrugged. “Only because I convinced you not to do it for free when we could ring money out of my parents for it.” 

The ring of another notification sounded through the empty library, this time from Beau’s phone. Her face fell from soft amusement to hard anger as she read the text.

“We have to go.” She was already standing up and grabbing her bag in one hand, skateboard in the other. Confused, Caleb followed suit.

“What is it?”

“It’s Yasha. She’s at the soccer field.”

Caleb hurried to follow Beau as she dashed out of the library and through the deserted school hallways. Wynandir High remained unlocked on weekends mostly for the administrative staff—very few students cared to spend more time inside its walls than necessary. Caleb and Beau had been coming here for their study sessions ever since the incident which got him and Nott banned from the public library ‘until further notice.’

By the time they exited the building and were crossing the athletic field—a multi-purpose swath of grass surrounded by a gravel-paved running track—Caleb was several feet behind and huffing to keep up with Beau’s hurtling gate. 

They spotted Yasha’s large frame by the bleachers, sitting alone with a gym bag at her feet. She looked up as she heard them approaching.

“Where is he?” Beau demanded as soon as they were within earshot. “Did he hurt you? I’m going to rip his fucking nuts off, I swear to every god!”

“It’s ok, Beau,” Yasha said softly. “He’s gone.”

“Who?” Caleb panted.

“Obann,” Yasha replied. “I came to run some laps this morning, and I saw him watching me.”

Caleb’s hands curled into fists at the mention of Yasha’s former boss. He now understood Beau’s intense reaction. 

“I confronted him and he left, but I didn’t...I don’t want to walk home alone.” She hung her head. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have texted you, Beau. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! That fucking rapist stalker is the one who should be sorry. And he’s gonna be if he ever tries to come near you again.” Beau sat down next to Yasha and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Yasha whispered, leaning into the touch.

“Do you want us to call the police?” Caleb offered. Yasha shook her head.

“It won’t do any good. And he’s long gone by now. I hit him pretty hard.”

Beau’s head whipped up to look at Yasha. “You punched him?”

Yasha nodded. “Of course. I think I might have broken his jaw”

“Fuck yeah!” Beau lifted her hand for a high-five, which Yasha obliged with a smile. 

“You know what, fuck studying. Let’s round up the others and get some ice cream or something.” Beau looked between her two friends. “What do you say?”

“That sounds nice,” said Yasha. Caleb was already texting the group chat.

Code Yellow. Beau, Yasha, and I headed to Flotket.

The responses came almost instantaneously, a series of confirmations and then working out the logistics of transportation. Caleb left that conversation to its own devices as he and the girls started on their way, navigating instead to a different text thread. With hesitant thumbs, he typed out a message.

I am very prepared. I only hope you can say the same.

His stomach flipped with nerves as he pressed send . Copying Essek’s goading tone seemed appropriate. He only hoped he wasn’t pushing it too far.

No response came in the immediate few seconds after sending, so Caleb pocketed his phone and tuned in to Beau and Yasha’s conversation about the relative merits of kickboxing versus boxing for some distraction.

Flotket Ice Cream Parlor was a good twenty minute walk from the high school, so by the time the three of them arrived, Fjord’s van was already situated in the parking lot. Jester spotted them through the large windows and waved enthusiastically.

Inside, Beau and Yasha headed to the counter to order their cones while Caleb went straight to join the others by the window, where they had pushed two tables together to accommodate their large group. He didn’t have much of an appetite for sweets at the moment.

“What happened?” Jester whispered loudly as he approached. She had a dot of whipped cream on her nose. Caleb slid into a seat next to Nott.

“Yasha had a run in with you-know-who,” he explained. “But she took care of him. With her fists.”

“Good! I hope he’s in the hospital for months. I hope he falls into a coma and dies !” Nott screeched.

The only other customers inside, a gnome woman and her young son, looked over at their group with confused and horrified expressions. Fjord flashed them a placating smile.

Beau and Yasha came to join them at the table, ice cream acquired.

“Heard you put that right hook of yours to good use, Yasha,” Fjord greeted. Yasha’s lips quirked into a small smile.

“Twice,” she corrected, which triggered a round of whooping cheers from the group.

“I thought that dick was supposed to be in jail,” said Jester. She had wiped the whipped cream off her nose, and it had been replaced by a smear of chocolate sauce at the corner of her mouth. “Didn’t he get arrested for having drugs or something?”

“The charges didn’t stick, I guess,” Yasha replied. “I don’t know.”

“That’s so stupid!”

“Cops are incompetent,” said Beau. “Trust me. All it takes is someone saying ‘Look over there!’ or waving a bribe under their nose, and boom! What speeding ticket?”

While the others laughed, Caleb chanced a glance at his phone under the table.

Essek Thelyss

Don’t you worry about me. I’m more than prepared.

A smirk tugged at Caleb’s lips as he composed his reply.

I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

“You know, if the cops aren’t going to do anything to take Obann down, that doesn’t mean we can’t,” Nott said, just before stuffing a comically large scoop of peanut butter ice cream into her mouth.

“What are you thinking?” asked Beau, leaning in with interest.

“I don’t know. But there’s got to be something we could do. Break into his house, find some evidence ourselves, something the cops can’t fuck up.” She motioned between herself and Jester. “We are the world’s best detectives!”

“You’re saying that we should break and enter, steal something, and then deliver what we stole to the police?” Fjord’s incredulity was palpable.

Nott shrugged. “It was just a first draft. We can work on the plan.” 

“What if we cut the cops out altogether?” Beau suggested. “Speaking as someone with several citations under her belt, they won’t trust a word I say, and I don’t trust them, period.”

“What exactly can we do to Obann that doesn’t involve the authorities?” Caduceus asked through a mouthful of something green —matcha, maybe, or pistachio.

“I don’t know, maybe rough him up more? Send some kind of message? I’m just spitballing here, but how do you guys feel about vandalism?”

“Very in favor!” Jester cried. “But, Obann’s a really dangerous guy, Beau. What if he finds out it was us?”

“She’s right,” said Yasha. “I don’t want any of you to put yourselves in danger just because of me.”

“We’re the Mighty fucking Nein!” Beau shouted, receiving another glare from the gnome woman as she led her son out of the establishment. “Obann is one small-time, wannabe mobster, we can totally take him!”

“Mobster’s usually have friends, Beau. Wannabe or not,” said Fjord.

“Come on, Yasha, you can’t tell me you don’t want this guy to pay for what he did to you.”

“I suppose I do. And for what he did to Jourrael and Ganix.”

Nott slammed a bony fist into her palm in emphasis. “Exactly! What’s stopping him from ruining more people’s lives? No one is safe as long as he’s still on the streets. We've got to take him down!”

“Yasha, do you have any insights that might help us think of a plan? A weakness of his, or some damning evidence?” Caleb asked.

“I don’t know.” She looked around at them all, the smallest grin creeping over her lips. “But I can think about it.”

Chapter Text

Seeing as there were only three high schools in the county—Wynandir, Zauber, and Apple Tree, another public school—the quiz bowl tournament only had so many combinations it could make on the district level. So, rather than an elimination system, the competition operated on a point scale. The team with the most wins out of nine at the end of the season would advance to the national championships.

This, Caleb explained to an increasingly disinterested Beau on the bus ride to the Zauber Academy, which was hosting this week’s competition. 

“Why not just have each team face each other once?” 

“Because then we would only go to two competitions a semester,” Caleb frowned.

“I’m just saying, it’d be more efficient.” Beau tugged at the collar of her team t-shirt.

“What are these things made from, burlap?”

“Cotton.”

“They’re scratchy as hell.” She continued plucking the fabric away from her skin.

Caleb narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Beau groused, shifting around the vinyl seat in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

“No. Something is wrong. What is it?”

Beau stayed silent for several drawn-out seconds before letting out a long-suffering sigh.

“It’s not a big deal. And it’s not like I even care.”

“Your parents?” Caleb guessed. Beau glared at him, but nodded.

“They’re not coming. And it’s stupid, cause, like, I don’t even want them there! But this whole thing was their dumb idea in the first place.” She slouched even lower in the seat, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Hesitantly, Caleb reached out and placed a stiff hand on her shoulder. Beau looked at it, then up at him. She smiled reluctantly.

“Thanks, Caleb.”

They continued the last few minutes of the drive in silence, until the bus pulled up to the tall, stone spires of the Zauber Academy.

The school had originally been built as a monastery, and that history was evident in its architecture. The high arches and steepled roofs looked even grander to students coming from the flat, brick rectangle of Wynandir.

Inside, they followed the faculty chaperone—beloved chemistry teacher, Pumat Sol— through to the auditorium where the competition would take place. On the way, they passed by a series of massive display cases lining one wall, showing off the accolades of Zauber students past and present. In addition to the expected athletic trophies, there were also two full cases dedicated to academic achievements. Seemingly every award from the past three years sported the name Essek Thelyss, including three quiz bowl championship trophies.

“Holy shit,” Beau whispered next to Caleb, following his line of sight. “Talk about an overachiever.” 

Caleb merely hummed in response before they were both ushered along by Mr. Sol.

Based on a cursory estimation, the auditorium appeared able to easily fit several hundred audience members. However, only about a dozen seats were currently filled. Among the limited spectators were the rest of Mighty Nein, who began clapping and cheering as soon as they spotted Beau and Caleb.

Caleb gave a small wave in acknowledgement. Beau put up two peace signs. 

On stage, two long tables with four chairs each were set up on either end, angled inward towards the podium in the middle where the moderator would present the questions.  

The Zauber team were already seated, each face familiar to Caleb from past competitions. His eyes seized immediately on Essek, seated in the captain’s position closest to the moderator.

It was almost impossible to reconcile the presentation before him—pressed shirt, neatly combed hair, tie knotted just so—with the mesh-wearing boy who had joined him on a bathroom floor a week ago. The only outward consistency between then and now were his glasses. 

It was even harder to believe that this model student moonlit as a drug dealer. Caleb wouldn’t have believed it, if Beau hadn’t testified to buying weed from him a handful of times.

He realized belatedly that Essek was looking at him in return. Panic jolted through him—should he smile? Wave? But Essek was already turning away, joining his teammates in a whispering huddle.

The Wynandir team ascended the stage in a line to take their places. Caleb went first as the captain, with Beau filing in next to him, followed by Zeenoth, and finally Rissa.

The moderator, an older, half-elven man in an ill-fitting tweed suit, emerged from backstage and shuffled across the stage to take his position. In a gruff, bored voice, he said,

“Welcome, everyone to the first competition of the season for the Wynandir County Quiz Bowl Tournament. The rules are as follows: I will read questions off these cards.” He lifted the stack of flashcards limply to show the meager audience. “The first student to buzz in on either team must give the correct answer to gain a point. If they answer incorrectly, the opposing team will have a chance to steal. At the end of the round, each team’s points will be added to their running score for the season. In the event of a tie, the team captains will enter a lightning elimination round. Any questions?”

He turned his head back and forth to each team. Receiving no objections, he lifted the first card off the stack.

“In what year did the Arcana Pansophical…”

Distraction did not suit Essek.

He bit his lip so as not to let the growl of frustration be audible to his teammates as the Wynandir team buzzed in yet another correct answer courtesy of Beauregard.

His teammates seemed unbothered by the tipping scales. They were still in the lead, but the margin was far narrower than usual, and growing slimmer as Beauregard’s smug grin bloomed wider. Essek glared daggers at her self-satisfied smirk, but his traitorous eyes were drawn like magnets to the seat on her left.

Unlike his lieutenant, Caleb’s expression was not one of pleasure at their performance. His blank-faced stare displayed incredible focus and intensity as he slapped the buzzer in front of him.

“Bioluminescence,” he stated clearly, his Zemnian accent arching around the word in a way alluringly foreign to Essek’s ears.

“Correct. Point to Wynandir.”

Essek resisted the urge to slap himself. In his distraction, he hadn’t even heard the question.

Under the table, he felt a sharp elbow poke his arm. Essek turned his glare on Adeen, seated beside him, and Adeen gave him a look that said, quite plainly, What is wrong with you? Get it together.

Essek squared his shoulders. Adeen was right, for once in his life. Essek readied his hand over the buzzer, muscles tensed like a moorbounder about to pounce.

“What do the letters in the word ‘laser’ stand for?”

“Light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation.” Essek barely paused to breathe between the words.

“Correct. Point to Zauber.”

Essek kept his eyes fixed forward, refusing to allow them even a glance in Caleb’s direction.

The questions continued as they ticked towards the close of the hour, both teams remaining infuriatingly neck-in-neck. 

Nearly every season since the tournament had been established, Wynandir and Apple Tree had competed for second place while the Zauber Academy rocketed ahead. Since Caleb had joined the team the previous year, Wynandir’s performance had been steadily improving. Essek had feared that, with Caleb as captain this year, they might actually pose a threat to Zauber’s winning streak, and this match was proving him right. 

The addition of Beauregard to the team had lessened the load of dead weight on Caleb’s back, and the pair of them kept in pace with Essek’s seasoned team question after question until a final answer from Caleb brought the score to a tie just as the moderator’s timer announced the end of the round.

“As we enter a tiebreaker round, I must ask all but the two captains to exit the stage. There can be no collusion between team members,” the moderator’s bored voice droned into his microphone. Obediently, the three extraneous students on each team stood up and filed off the stage to take up seats in the audience. Essek saw Beauregard pat Caleb’s shoulder as she left.

If this were the finals, the team captains would meet on either side of the moderator’s podium and stand face-to-face for the final round. Essek took a brief moment to be thankful that this was not the case now. The only way he had any hope of winning was to keep his eyes and mind off of Caleb Widogast entirely.

“Gentlemen, this is lightning round elimination. You will take turns answering. Once one of you answers a question wrong, the other will have to provide the correct answer in order to win. We begin.”

A blank calm washed over Essek’s mind as he readied himself for the onslaught. He was in his element like this; his own knowledge to the test, nothing standing in the way of success but his own incomparable intellect. Caleb Widogast did not exist, nor his teammates, nor the audience. The moderator was but a disembodied voice prompting the information forward. Answers spilled from Essek’s lips like water: 

“836 P.D.”

“The Arbor Exemplar.”

“The unique factorization theorem.”

“Taryon Darrington.”

Unfortunately, Caleb was keeping equal pace, answering the questions directed to him with a perfunctory, automatic speed. If Essek were allowing himself to give any consideration to his opponent, he would have been quite impressed, and a little turned on.

“Mr. Widogast, what is the name for the densest classification of star, with an average mass of 1.4 solar masses?

“White dwarf,” Caleb answered.

Essek felt his stomach swoop in delight. He’s wrong.

“That is incorrect. Mr. Thelyss?

Essek almost wished they were still using the buzzers this round; slamming his hand down on it would have been immensely satisfying.

“Neutron star,” he spoke clearly and calmly.

“That is correct. The Zauber Academy wins.” The second he finished speaking, the moderator stood up and walked out through the same door he had entered, leaving the competitors behind.

For other students, this might have been the moment for celebration, to gather around each other for high fives and congratulations. But it wasn’t really so exciting for Essek and his team; winning was a foregone conclusion, and always had been. There was no point in making such a fuss, even if today’s match had kept things in more suspense than usual. If anything, the close call should be a source of shame, and motivation to do better in the future. They would be facing the tag-team of Widogast and Lionett again, and Essek had no intention of letting himself fall so far behind a second time.

Essek merely nodded his acknowledgement as his teammates returned to gather their things, offering him words of praise for his success on their way out of the auditorium. He lingered over retrieving his own bag, watching the Wynandir kids curiously. 

Caleb had descended from the stage to be swarmed by his team, as well as his friends, whom Essek recognized from last weekend’s party. Through the cluster he could see Beauregard ruffling Caleb’s hair, the little goblin girl, Nott, leaping into his arms for a hug, the firbolg patting a large, gentle hand on his shoulder—all of them reaching over to touch him in some way, beaming at him like he hadn’t just lost.

Watching this, a coldness gripped Essek, like an icy hand was wrapped around his heart and squeezing with all its might. It wasn’t pain he felt, or the tell-tale shortness of breath that heralded a panic attack. He couldn’t identify the feeling at all, and the enigma made it all the more frightening. Feeling almost sick, he jerked his arms through the straps of his backpack and fled through a side door which brought him straight to the parking lot. 

Once outside, he leaned against the rough, stone wall of Zauber’s edifice, letting the crisp air soothe him. It was an overcast day, the slate-gray cloud cover blessedly thick enough to keep the mid-day sun from prickling his sensitive skin. The custom lenses in his glasses darkened slightly, guarding his eyes proportional to the weak daylight.

Humans and the like complained about this sort of weather as being dreary and depressing, but to Essek, it was his favorite, the next best thing to the relieving cover of night.

His mother was leading some sort of lecture at the church that day, “How The Luxon Can Fix All Your Problems,” or something to that effect, meaning she had not come to watch the match, and was forced to give Essek permission to drive himself. Just as he was gathering his composure enough to be on his way, a commotion drew his attention, the approaching sound of laughter and conversation. 

Peering his head around the corner, Essek saw a mass of people exiting the main doors, identifiable even at a distance as the Wynandir team and company. They didn’t appear to notice him, but by angling his ears right he could pick up their words as they crossed the parking lot. He ducked back around the corner and focused on listening.

“You guys are so smart!” The bouncy voice was unmistakably the tiefling, Jester. “Like, I knew you were smart, but I had no idea you knew so much stuff !”

“Thanks, Jessie.” That was Beauregard. 

“Sorry it all had to come down to you, Caleb. I really hate that tiebreaker rule.” This gnomish accent belonged to Rissa. She had joined the team last year as well, and was only really memorable to Essek for the time when she had single handedly fixed all the broken buzzers at a competition.

“No need to apologize,” came Caleb’s familiar voice. He sounded relaxed and, if not happy, not particularly upset either by the results of the match. “I’m only sorry I lost it for us.”

“Don’t be stupid. Who the fuck knows what star has a density of 10 billion solar-whatevers anyway,” said Beauregard.

“Essek does,” said Caleb.

“I can’t believe we lost to that Crick again .” This was Zeenoth, the final member of Wynandir’s quiz bowl team and the only one who had been in the tournament since his freshman year, as long as Essek had.

Essek ignored the unpleasant tug in his gut at that word, more interested in concentrating on eavesdropping than wallowing over casual racism.

But instead of further conversation, all he heard next was a thwap and faint scuffling sounds punctuated by a cry of pain. Unable to contain his curiosity, Essek risked another peek around the wall.

It took a moment to process what he was seeing. Zeenoth was lifting himself gingerly off the ground, rubbing at his arm where he seemed to have been hurt. The most obvious explanation would be that he fell, if it weren’t for Beauregard standing over him with a murderous glare and shaking out her hand.

“What is wrong with you?” Zeenoth cried as he finally got to his feet. “You can’t just punch people!”

“ You can’t just say shit like that,” Beauregard shot back. Around her, the others were all looking similarly livid.

“What? It’s just a word.”

“It’s a slur, asshole, what the fuck?” 

Zeenoth’s long elf ears drooped, his shoulders slumping. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and it sounded at least somewhat genuine. “I was just… my parents say it all the time.”

“Well, your parents are dicks,” said Jester matter-of-factly. 

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Zeenoth muttered, and he waved a stilted goodbye before breaking off from the group. Rissa let out a long, low whistle in the subsequent silence, then also bid goodbye to the others and headed towards a parked pickup truck with some bizarre, inscrutable modifications.

“Not that I don’t support the sentiment, but you didn’t have to punch him straight off,” said the half-orc after another minute of silence. “Remember that talk we had about using our words?”

Beauregard heaved a sigh, tilting her head back towards the gray sky. “I know,” she moaned upwards. “It was a gut reaction.”

“I think it’s safe to say he learned his lesson,” said the firbolg in a calm, lofty manner.

“Do I have to apologize to him?” Beauregard whined. She looked to the half-orc, who shrugged.

“I think we can let this one go,” Caleb spoke up. He had been silent for a while, and from this distance Essek couldn’t read his expression.

Without warning, Caleb continued walking, the group following his lead. They were coming in his direction, and Essek pulled himself back again, praying that they hadn’t seen him.

Whether or not they had noticed him eavesdropping, they certainly saw him when they all rounded the corner and stopped abruptly before him. They looked rather shocked, so Essek assumed he had not been spotted earlier.

Jester recovered first. “Hey, Essek!” She waved at him frantically, beaming like she was greeting an old friend. “You did so good back there, you know. You’re, like, super smart.”

“Thank you.” Essek put on his polite smile, but it felt even more forced than usual.

He didn’t know how to feel about what he had just seen, and that uncertainty was putting his social instincts off-kilter. In his experience, nobody but other Xhorhassian drow found the term “crick” particularly offensive, and if anyone objected to its use, the situation was laughed off. 

When he had first learned what the word meant as a child, he had asked his parents what he should do when people said it to him. His mother had used it as a preaching opportunity: let it go, you don’t need the validation of others, the Light will guide you above their hatred . His father had told him that actions spoke louder than words, and he could prove himself above their taunts by achieving greater heights. Above all, they told him never to retaliate directly, or he would just be proving what others thought of people like him.

Beauregard had lashed out at Zeenoth without hesitation, and it awoke something sharp and vitriolic in Essek. Like he had just eaten his first scrap of food in years, and hadn’t known until that moment that he’d been starving.

He needed to get out of here.

“Congratulations on the win.” 

Essek almost didn’t register Caleb’s words, but he managed another small, “Thank you.” He cleared his throat, and continued, “You did quite well yourself. It was very impressive.”

Caleb ducked his head in humility. “Not quite enough, though. Not to beat the master.” His lips quirked up just enough to indicate he was joking.

“Well, astronomy is something of a specialty of mine. It was my elective last year, and I’m taking an astrophysics course at the community college in my spare time.”

Beauregard let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a cough. Essek chose to ignore her. 

“It is a fascinating subject,” Caleb agreed. “I would love if Wynandir offered something like that.”

“They don’t?” Essek’s eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. “It’s a fairly standard subject, isn’t it?”

“Not for us,” Nott piped up. She was looking at Essek with an undisguised suspicion which was fairly disconcerting. 

“Wynandir doesn’t have a whole lot of resources,” explained the half-orc. “They only offer a handful of elective courses, it’s all they have the staff for. I’m Fjord, by the way.” He held out his hand, which Essek took, mildly surprised to be back in the polite territory he was accustomed to. “We sort of met at the party, but…yeah.” He trailed off as Essek released his handshake.

“Of course, I apologize,” Caleb spoke again. “I did not give proper introductions last time. You know Beauregard now, of course, and Fjord. This is Jester, Nott, Caduceus, and Yasha.” He indicated each of his friends in turn, who all nodded or waved.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Essek greeted, cataloguing each face and name. He had a feeling he was going to be seeing more of these people so long as Caleb and Beau remained in the tournament.

“And Fjord is correct,” Caleb continued from where the conversation had been interrupted. “If it is not a required grade-level course, Wynandir probably doesn’t have it. Our elective options are limited.”

“They cut a bunch of art classes this year,” Jester said mournfully. “My mama wanted to send me to a different school after that. But they have some really cool art classes at the community center Beau introduced me to, way more than school ever did, so it worked out.” She perked up, expression brightening like a lamp being switched on. “Essek, you should come join us sometime! They’re super fun!”

“Oh, I am not much of an artist,” Essek replied, startled and confused by the out-of-the-blue invitation. He was having trouble following Jester’s train of thought in addition to the overwhelming energy of her presence. 

“But,” he refocused, “if you would like, Caleb, I can lend you some of my old course books to read.”

“Really?”

“Of course. There’s no fun in beating you if we’re not starting on equal footing.” He didn’t mention how this revelation about the poor quality of Wynandir’s curriculum put Caleb’s vault of knowledge, and Beau’s for that matter, in an entirely different context.

“Well, ah, thank you,” said Caleb. “That is very generous of you.”

“When can I bring them to you?”

“Oh,” Caleb cast a look around, as though the answer was hiding someone nearby. “Why don’t you come to the school tomorrow? Beauregard and I will be in the library at ten to study. You can meet us there?”

“Sorry it’s so early,” Beau chimed in. “My fault, I have judo in the afternoons.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I will be up far earlier than that anyway.”

“Why?” asked a soft voice. This was the first time Yasha had spoken, and it was surprising to hear such a gentle voice coming from her large frame. Essek hesitated, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

He didn’t really want to tell them. He was known as ‘the preacher’s son’ by far too many people already.

“I have to go to church,” he admitted finally. He decided not to mention his mother.

They did a respectable job hiding their surprise, which Essek appreciated. 

“Cool,” said Beau. “Well, we’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”

“Do you need a ride home?” offered Fjord, as he seemed to question for the first time why Essek was still hanging around long after the competition had finished. “My car’s pretty big, we’d be able to fit—”

“That’s alright,” Essek cut him off. “I have my own.” He pointed across the lot to where his sleek, black vehicle was parked.

Fjord let out a low whistle of appreciation. Essek hoped he wasn’t about to ask any mechanical questions. Just because he had a nice car, that did not make Essek a ‘car guy.’

“Alright. Nice to meet you, again,” said Fjord, and the rest waved their goodbyes and began to retreat.

“Think about that art class!” called Jester from several feet across the parking lot. Essek waved her off, but he felt a smile, a real one, tugging irresistibly at his lips. Strange as she was, she was quite a charming one. They all were.

Chapter Text

Ironically, Wynandir High was actually closer to Essek’s home than his own school. In less than ten minutes, he was pulling into a nearly deserted parking lot outside the squat, brick building. 

As promised, the doors were unlocked, and nobody tried to stop him as he walked in. 

Caleb had texted him precise directions, so Essek found his way to the second-story library without fuss. It was a modest space, but serviceable, with bookshelves arranged into tightly-packed lines like dominos, and rectangular tables filling the remaining floorspace. The room appeared empty of people, aside from one occupied table. There sat Caleb and Beauregard, as expected, but they were also joined by Jester, Nott and Yasha.

They spotted him the instant he walked in, and waved him over. Feeling for the first time like he was not meant to be here, Essek slunk over to join them.

“Shit, is this what you always look like?” Beau greeted. She was looking him up and down with a critical eye. “I assumed your preppy get-up yesterday was just for the game. What happened to the rave-punk we met last week?”

Out of sorts as he was, it took Essek a moment to realize she was talking about his clothes. He’d decided not to change completely after church, opting instead to shuck off his jacket and tie at home and be on his way. The resulting outfit was, indeed, fairly standard for him.

Essek opened his mouth to reply, but Jester got there first.

“Don’t listen to her, Essek. I think you look very handsome!”

Essek slid into the empty seat next to Yasha, across from Caleb. He chose his next words carefully.

“In my business, blending in is a necessary skill. Suffice to say, I can be a chameleon when called upon, but yes, this is how I normally dress.”

“I liked your other look better,” Nott announced. “It was hotter.” 

Essek didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead of speaking, he unzipped his bag and lifted out the thick stack of books and papers, placing them between himself and Caleb.

“I brought some extra materials you might find interesting.”

This was a bit of an understatement. Not only had he brought his old astronomy textbook from the previous year, but every supplementary reading he could find, selections of his most legible notes from lectures, and print-outs of a few articles his astrophysics professor had recommended.

Despite attending all advanced classes at an elite institution, Essek rarely found himself in the company of someone who matched both his intellect and his enthusiasm for academics. He thought—hoped—he had found a counterpart in Caleb, and might have gotten a bit carried away.

Caleb’s eyes widened at the pile in front of him, but Essek thought he read excitement there rather than alarm or judgement. He grabbed the top item of the stack, a lengthy research paper on Exandria’s moons, and began flipping through eagerly.

“Great. There goes my tutor,” Beau huffed. Caleb remained enraptured.

“What are you working on?” Essek asked her. It came out somewhat timid. He wasn’t sure how far his welcome extended, if maybe they would prefer him to leave now that he’d dropped off his cargo.

“Logarithms,” Beau groaned. “I think I’ve got the hang of it though. Just need him to check my work.” She poked Caleb hard in the shoulder with the soft end of her pencil. He ignored her.

“I could look it over, if you like,” Essek offered tentatively. Beau raised an eyebrow at him before handing over her worksheet.

The problems were of a kind familiar to Essek, and Beauregard had shown her work step by step. He was able to breeze through checking the problem set, nodding as he went. 

“Take another look at number eight. Otherwise, good work.” He handed the paper back to her. Beau looked down at it with a frown. Seemingly spotting her mistake, she attacked it with her eraser and began scribbling out the corrections.

“Thanks, man,” she said. It was casual. 

Essek smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“Great! Now that you’re done, you can help me study.” Jester handed Beau a sheet of looseleaf paper covered in tidy, graceful handwriting. “I have a vocab quiz tomorrow.”

Beau accepted the sheet, and Essek returned his attention to Caleb. He was still engrossed in the article, his eyes darting across the paper at a frenzied pace. He only had a few pages left, and within mere minutes was setting the whole thing aside. He looked up to meet Essek’s eyes.

“Fascinating.” His voice was just a tick above a whisper. “I never knew that about Ruidus.”

“Isn’t it?” Essek replied, leaning forward towards him. “I was never particularly interested in the effect of celestial bodies on our planet—I prefer the more theoretical topics in astronomy—but that paper nearly changed my mind.”

“Dr. Sunlash is quite passionate,” said Caleb, referring to the article’s author. “I wonder, though, when he compares the orbit with—”

“Hey, nerds,” Beau interrupted him. “Sorry to break up the moon-talk, but you’re supposed to be teaching us .”

“ I am supposed to be teaching you , Beauregard,” Caleb mirrored her intonation back at her. “I am only getting paid to tutor one of you.”

“Yeah, but you love us so much, so you help all of us!” said Jester. “And it’s way more fun to study as a group, isn’t it?”

Caleb gave her a small smile. “You make a strong argument,” he yielded.

“If I am inhibiting your productivity, I should probably leave.” Essek made to stand up.

“No, Essek, don’t go!” Jester pleaded. 

“I have to be getting home anyway.” This was a lie. Essek had no commitments dragging him away, other than the acute certainty in the deep recesses of his mind that every second he remained here, he was pushing his luck. Pushing towards what, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t imagine it was anything good.

“Maybe we can continue our discussion another time,” Caleb offered as Essek swung his backpack over his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” said Essek. He couldn’t bring himself to be more definitive than that. Appealing as the prospect was, it felt wrong somehow. He liked these people against his better judgment, and the idea that they liked him as well, sincerely wanted to spend time with him, was a concept his brain seemed unable to accept.

“I might need some help, with these.” Caleb lifted up the papers in indication. “Would you be willing to be my tutor, as it were? I would owe you.”

Essek paused. Though he highly doubted Caleb would need his help understanding any of the materials, the offer of an exchange intrigued him, and the thought of more time spent alone with Caleb Widogast sent a familiar jolt of adrenaline through him, the nourishing thrill of rebellion.

“Why not?” he replied. “Meet me at the public library tomorrow at 4:00.”

“Oh, could we not meet here, instead? I am, ah, banned, from the public library,” Caleb admitted, looking abashed.

“Me too,” added Nott.

Essek narrowed his eyes with curiosity, but filed that away as a story for another time. “I might be able to help with that,” he said. “I know the head librarian rather well. I’ll speak with her.”

“Really?” Caleb’s eyes were wide as saucers. “That would be… very much appreciated.”

“Two favors, then,” said Essek. “See you tomorrow.” 

He kept his walk as even and unhurried as possible as he made his escape, ignoring the tiny mote of excitement sparking in his chest.

Caleb watched Essek retreat with mounting confusion. Everything had seemed to be going smoothly, with no awkward pauses or unpleasant exchanges, so why the hasty exit? What had he done wrong? 

But, perhaps he was reading too much into things. After all, Essek had agreed to meet with him again, so Caleb couldn’t have offended him too egregiously. 

Framing it as transactional was just a hunch, an experiment of sorts. The fact that this was what made Essek agree to a second meeting cemented their similarity in Caleb’s mind, although finding a kindred spirit on that front was perhaps not wholly a good sign. It was refreshing while at the same time putting Caleb on high alert, like two undercover spies identifying each other on sight. Takes one to know one.

“I like that guy,” Jester declared, once Essek had disappeared around the corner.

“I don’t know about that guy,” said Nott. She had abandoned her essay in favor of folding her notes into amorphous origami creatures. “He seems shady.”

“Of course he’s shady, he’s a drug dealer. It’s in the job description,” said Beau.

“He’s nice,” Yasha added over her book. 

“Sure, he seems nice, but who knows what sort of nefarious criminal underground he’s mixed up in. Where does he get the drugs from, hmm?”

“Probably online.”

“And lest we forget, just yesterday he stole victory from Caleb and Beau!”

“It is just a game, Nott,” said Caleb. “And it was only one match.”

“Maybe she’s right, though!” Jester joined in the narrative, her theatrics matching Nott’s determined paranoia in their ever-escalating pattern. “Maybe he gets his drugs from, like, the mafia! Or one of those Marquesian cartels you always hear about on the news!”

“Yeah! And eventually his crimes are going to catch up to him, the way they always do!”

“Says the shoplifter,” Beau added, to which Nott responded by blowing a raspberry at her.

“On the scale of delinquency, drugs are way worse than stealing,” she said with smug certainty.

Caleb chose not to say anything on this topic. He scratched at his forearms, careful not to displace his sleeves and reveal any skin. His friends had all seen his scars at some point or another, but he still preferred not to unveil them, especially in public spaces.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” Beau announced mere seconds later, closing her notebook with aggressive finality. “I can’t look at any more numbers or I’m going to puke.”

“We could work on your history essay instead,” Caleb offered.

“No way. I’ve got forty-five minutes before judo starts and I brought my skateboard. If I start now, I can get there in time and I won’t have to call my dad to drive me and sit through yet another college lecture.” Beau stuffed her materials into her backpack, clumsily kicked the board up into her grip, and saluted them all goodbye.

“Mama will probably want me home soon, too.” Jester began packing away her things, smiling. “She kicked her client out early so we could spend the afternoon together!”

“That sounds fun,” said Yasha. Jester nodded eagerly.

“Bye guys! I’ll see you tomorrow!” She waved over her shoulder all the way out the door.

Yasha, Caleb, and Nott exchanged looks across the table.

“Shall we?”

Essek’s astronomy books weighed down Caleb’s backpack like bricks as he loaded them in. He was glad Beauregard wasn’t there to hear his indignant grunt when he hefted it over his shoulders. 

The apartment building which he, Nott, and Yasha all called home was technically within walking distance of the school, but just because the journey was feasible did not make it pleasant, especially since the weather had by now definitively shifted into the crisp chill of autumn. 

Especially since Caleb made them take the long way around.

Nott grabbed Yasha’s wrist as she went to turn right at the intersection, shaking her head and glancing unsubtly at Caleb. She course-corrected and they continued straight across the bridge.

Due to the inconvenient positioning of the Labenda River (a piddling little creek that curled its way through town like a worm, neatly separating the population into two income brackets), taking this alternate route added an extra ten minutes to their trip. But it was a necessary sacrifice to avoid passing the Soltryce Rehabilitation Center.

At four stories, the building towered over most of its residential neighbors, the large glass windows and sleek, polished edifice transplanted from a stylish city center into their modest little town.

Few but Caleb knew what went on behind that welcoming exterior, the sort of malpractice that was conducted out of sight of those shiny glass walls. Just thinking about it made him reach to rub his forearms again, the scars prickling with phantom pain.

Earlier this semester, he had tried to take the direct route, thinking he was removed enough from his time there to keep his composure walking past the building. 

He’d had to sit down on the sidewalk, the vertigo so strong his knees nearly buckled out from under him.

He shook his head to rid himself of the memories, and tried to ignore the guilt climbing up this throat. Yasha always said she enjoyed walking along the nature park which surrounded this section of the river, and Nott never once complained about taking the scenic route. Still, Caleb felt the weight of the inconvenience he caused them heavy in the air.

Casting around for distraction, he said, “Have you thought any more about Obann, Yasha?”

Yasha nodded, frowning. “I haven’t been able to think of anything we could use. So much of that period of my life is sort of hazy, is the problem.”

“That, I can understand,” said Caleb.

“I remember some of the things he used to tell us, but it was all sort of vague and rambling. Maybe if I had something to jog my memory…”

“Don’t tear yourself up over it, “said Nott. “We’ll find something either way.”

Yasha nodded again, but didn’t look very reassured. 

At long last, they arrived at their small apartment building, one of very few in the area. The grey, brick rectangle housed a grand total of six apartments, three per floor, with a coin-operated laundry machine in the basement. It wasn’t much, but it was home. 

Caleb fished in his pocket for the keys, but Yasha got there first. She held open the door for him and Nott, then climbed the narrow staircase to her solitary apartment. Caleb and Nott waved goodbye before heading down the hall to their ground-floor accommodations. 

It was a dingy one-bedroom that they shared, but it was far better than the youth shelter where they’d met, so neither was inclined to complain. There was hot water and central air, and with four jobs between them (technically three, but Nott’s occasional pickpocketing generated enough income to count), they were able to afford the rent more or less comfortably.

“Are you alright, Caleb?” Nott asked once they were inside.

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Just, you were really quiet on the walk here. Were you thinking about…?” She left the question hanging in the air, but they both could fill in the blank.

“A little bit,” Caleb confessed. “No more than usual.”

“Ok.” Nott sounded only a smidgen reassured. Wringing her hands, she said, “You know you can talk to me about it, if you want?”

“I know, Nott. I know.”

“I was sort of surprised you wanted to hang out with Essek again. I thought his whole thing might bother you. You know.” She mimed smoking what was presumably meant to be a joint.

“I do not care what other people do with drugs, so long as no one tries to give me any,” said Caleb, heading into the bedroom in search of his cat. He found Frumpkin stretched out on the foot of his bed. When he saw Caleb, he leapt up onto his shoulder, mewing in greeting.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve found a new friend, even if he is weird and shady,” said Nott, following behind him. “Speaking of which, I’ve got some stuff I want to take to Keona, do you want to come?”

“I think I will stay behind today,” said Caleb, lowering himself to sit on the bed, gingerly so as not to disturb the cat lying like a scarf around his neck. “But don’t let her lowball you on that bracelet. Those are real diamonds, I am sure of it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Nott darted to the closet, pulling out the black drawstring bag where she stored her treasures.

“Be back soon!” She dashed back out of the apartment, loot bag thrown over one shoulder.

Caleb sat back against his pillow, Nott’s words replaying in his mind. I’m glad you’ve found a friend.

It was the same word he’d used when talking with Beauregard last week, and it was accurate—he did want to be friends with Essek. But, hard as he tried, he couldn’t quite ignore the thrum of… other kinds of interest.

It had been a long time since Caleb felt this sort of attraction, and his previous experience hadn’t exactly attached fond associations to the concept. He’d begun to think that Astrid might have soiled him on relationships for good, and he would have been happy to accept that fact. Though, to be fair, their disastrous ending had had much more to do with Caleb than with her.

All the more reason to avoid a repeat mistake.

Essek was smart, and handsome, and charming in a quirky sort of way. Caleb could appreciate all those qualities about him without pursuing anything more than friendship. 

He couldn’t blame Nott for being surprised by his interest in Essek; Caleb was surprised himself. Emotional bonding was not his strong suit. It had taken him long enough to warm up to the Mighty Nein, and he wouldn’t have thought he had any love left in him to give, platonic or otherwise. 

Something about Essek’s mannerisms, his clear reservation, resonated with Caleb in a new and fascinating way, one which he would quite like to explore.

And perhaps Essek could help them all, in more than just teaching Caleb new subjects. Nott may have had a point, amid her earlier ramblings: he was a criminal, technically speaking, and their current mission involved finding information on a career criminal. If Yasha was coming up empty on leads, Essek might possibly be able to offer some insight. 

It was a long shot, but maybe Caleb could start working that angle at their meeting tomorrow, or at least use his readmittance to the public library as an opportunity to research local crime. There had to be something they could use against Obann. 

He was determined to get Yasha the justice he could not get for himself.

Chapter Text

“You guys, I have great news!” 

Jester threw herself down onto the grass, barreling into Fjord with her momentum. 

A respite of summer-like warmth had interrupted the steadily dropping temperatures that day, so the Mighty Nein were gathered outside for lunch, huddled in their usual spot under the massive oak tree. Any opportunity to avoid the noise and bustle of the cafeteria, they were eager to take, especially Caleb.

“Jester! Where were you?” A hint of worry poked into Beau’s voice. “You missed history.”

“Sorry, Beau. I skipped class to go to Zadash.”

“Just this morning?” Fjord asked. “Isn’t that, like, an hour and a half drive?”

“An hour and forty-five minutes,” Caleb corrected. “Two in traffic, an hour and fifteen by train.”

“Yeah,” said Jester. “Bluud drove me, it was super boring.”

“Why?” Nott asked.

“Cause I didn’t bring anything to do, and Bluud doesn’t like to talk when he’s driving on the highway—”

“No, I mean, why did you go to Zadash?”

“Oh, right. I went to visit my dad!” Jester beamed at the six stupefied expressions staring back at her after this statement.

“As in, the Gentleman?” Beau clarified.

“Yeah! I thought maybe since he’s, like, a mob boss or whatever, he might be able to help us with Obann.”

“Can he?” Yasha’s intense whisper precluded anyone else from questioning Jester’s logic.

“Well… sort of? He said he doesn’t know much about the Angels of Irons—that’s what Obann’s gang-group-thingy is called, right?”

“That’s what he called it, yes,” Yasha answered.

Beau rolled her eyes in contempt. “Most pretentious criminals ever.”

“ But, he said he might know someone who can help us!” Jester continued. “He gave me the name of an old contact nearby, she runs a bar where lots of criminal types like to hang out, people from all around the area. My dad said if Obann operates locally, chances are he’s been there.”

“Where is it?” Yasha leaned forward eagerly. 

“The bar’s called Mythburrow,” Jester read off her phone, where she had written down her dad’s directions. “It’s somewhere out of town in, like, the middle of nowhere. He said to ask for Gelidon, and to be super careful and super polite cause she’s almost definitely murdered people, probably.”

“That’s great!” shouted Nott. “I mean, not the murdering part, but it’s a lead!” She lifted her hand for a high five. “Great detective work, partner!” Jester obliged and slapped her outstretched palm with eager force. Nott winced, shaking out her hand as soon as Jester’s back was turned.

“Yes,” said Yasha earnestly. “Thank you, Jester.”

“It was no problem! I’ll take any excuse to visit my dad. I haven’t seen him since we all were in Zadash together over the summer. He was so happy to see me, you guys, he was like, ‘Oh my gosh, Jester, I missed you so much, I love you, I wish you could stay here with me forever!’”

Caleb nodded along with the rest of the group. Although his memory of the Gentleman was a good deal more temperate than Jester’s view of him, neither he nor any of the others were inclined to crack her rose-colored lenses. She saw her father infrequently enough that a little idolization wasn’t going to hurt, even if it was, in Caleb’s opinion, unearned.

“Have you heard of Gelidon, Yasha?” Fjord asked. “From when you were with Obann?”

“I think so. It’s a little hazy, but the name sounds familiar. I… I don’t think they like each other. Which is probably good, if we want her to help us work against him. So, when can we go?” She posed the question to the group at large.

“How about today, after school?” Beau suggested. “The sooner the better, right?”

“I can’t,” Caleb spoke up. “I am meeting Essek this afternoon.”

“Right, for your study date.” Jester waggled her eyebrows at him. “What are you going to wear?”

“This.” Caleb indicated his current ensemble. “Because it is not a date.”

“ Su-ure .” Jester drew out the word in a disbelieving sing-song. Caleb heaved a sigh. There would be no dissuading her, clearly. 

“Be careful, Caleb,” Nott warned. “I’ve been thinking, this whole tutoring thing might be a trick.”

“How so?”

“What if he, like, feeds you the wrong information or something, so that you get all the astronomy questions wrong at the next quiz bowl?”

“I doubt that is his plan. I have his textbook, I think I would be able to tell if he were teaching me falsehoods.”

“She’s got a point, though,” said Beau. “Maybe not exactly that, but I wouldn’t put sabotage past him. I’ve been talking to some people—”

Who? Caleb wanted to ask. Beau often seemed to have a limitless network of information for every scenario.

“—and it sounds like Essek takes quiz bowl really seriously. He got someone kicked off the Zauber team last year for being dead weight. Plus, he’s the valedictorian, and all valedictorians are type-A psychos.”

“I am valedictorian, Beauregard.”

“I rest my case.” She smiled and punched his shoulder jokingly. 

He rubbed the sore spot, which was almost certain to bruise. “I will be careful,” he acquiesced. “But I think you both are overreacting.”

“You can never be too careful,” Nott said wisely, before guzzling loudly from the thermos of coffee she’d swiped from the teacher’s lounge.

“So, this bar?” Fjord refocused the conversation. “How about tomorrow?”

“No, Fjord!” Jester whined. “We’re going shopping that afternoon, you all promised!” she pouted, imploring them with devastating puppy-dog eyes.

“Why don’t we take a leaf out of Jessie’s book and go in the morning? Cut class?” Beau suggested eagerly. Caleb and Fjord both shook their heads in unison.

“I have a test first period.”

“Vandran will kill me if he finds out I skipped school.”

Beau groaned dramatically. “ Fine ,” she groused. “The day after tomorrow then? Conthsen, after school?”

They all nodded at the proposition. 

“Will you be ok to drive us there, Fjord?” Caduceus asked.

“Should be. Vandran’s bringing the van—”

“The Ball-Eater,” Nott, Beau, and Jester all corrected simultaneously.

“Vandran’s taking the Ball-Eater for an oil change tomorrow, but she should be fine to make the trip after.”

“Great! Then it’s settled,” Jester announced triumphantly. She leaned across the circle to lay a hand over Yasha’s. “We’re going to get him, Yasha,” she whispered.

“Thank you, Jester.”

“Now, Caleb, are you sure you don’t want me to help you pick out an outfit?”

Essek tapped his pencil nervously against the tabletop, trying and failing to resist checking the clock on the wall for a fifth time.

Caleb wasn’t even that late. There was no reason for him to be this keyed up.

He unlocked his phone screen, opening up his text conversation with Caleb yet again. There was nothing new since their last exchange, when Essek had confirmed that the library ban was lifted and Caleb had thanked him profusely.

An elderly halfling woman glared at him from the next table over, and he stopped tapping his pencil, throwing her an apologetic smile.

He wished he’d brought some of his own work to distract himself, but he had completed all his homework during study hall and had no long term assignments at the moment to occupy his attention. 

Thinking to the week ahead, a stroke of inspiration hit him. He pulled his laptop out of his bag, opening an incognito window and typing in the familiar address.

His suppliers communicated solely through a password-protected chat system run on a private server. Essek didn’t precisely know the technical details of their cyber security, but he wasn’t complaining, even if it seemed a bit overkill. It saved him from having to hide incriminating texts or email chains from his nosy mother.

He began drafting a message to his contact, requesting a meeting later in the week. His marijuana stores were running low, and with midterms around the corner, he was sure to need plenty of Adderall to fuel those of his classmates to whom studying did not come so easily.

He had just hit send on the order when a familiar Zemnian accent reached his ears.

“Sorry I am late.”

Essek snapped his laptop shut with perhaps unnecessary force. 

“It’s no problem,” he said quickly, heart racing from the surprise. He hadn’t noticed Caleb approaching.

Caleb sat down opposite him, setting out the astronomy materials that Essek had lent him.

“I’ve been reading,” he began. “It is truly fascinating stuff. I had a few points of confusion I was hoping you could clarify…”

 It was a miracle that Essek was able to keep a level enough head to actually teach. As Caleb laid out his questions, referencing details from across all of the readings Essek had given him only yesterday, he kept getting distracted watching the way Caleb’s eyes lit up brighter and brighter the longer he spoke. He’d never seen anyone get so passionate about planet classifications or elliptic orbit trajectories. It was like looking into a mirror, only instead of showing the indifferent face which Essek presented to the world, this mirror reflected the deeply buried inner workings of his curious soul, and projected them onto a face with a mesmerizing pattern of freckles.

Essek refused to draw any parallels between those freckles and the constellations they were discussing. 

“It is funny, knowing that it was ancient Zemnians who first mapped the cosmos, and I had no idea,” Caleb commented as they reviewed the chapter that outlined the history of astronomical study. 

“They were mostly wrong,” said Essek. He cringed inwardly as the words hit his ears and he recognized the potential insult. But Caleb just laughed.

“True. But without their mistakes, we would not have learned and built on those discoveries. We owe our advancement to the scholars who came before us.”

“That is a beautiful way of looking at things.”

Caleb cocked his head to the side. “You have a different view?”

“I… suppose I’ve never really thought about it before.” 

Everything for Essek had always been about the future, his future, and what he could accomplish with it. He longed to see his name listed among those great scientists of old with their groundbreaking discoveries, but he had never thought to credit his ambition to figures of history.

Caleb shrugged, unconcerned. 

“When did you leave?” Essek blurted. “I mean,” he clarified at Caleb’s confused look, “it’s clear from your accent that you grew up in the Zemni Fields. How long have you lived here?”

“I moved when I was about fourteen. My, ah… my parents came down here for work.”

He averted his eyes, fiddling with the corner of the page in front of him. 

Clearly, there was something more to the story. Though curiosity begged him to ask, Essek resisted the urge to press for information. Caleb was very obviously uncomfortable with the topic.

“And you?” Caleb asked. “Your accent is not native either.” 

“Correct. I grew up in Rosohna.” Essek paused, bracing for some adverse reaction. Though Caleb had done nothing up to this point to indicate that he held any prejudice towards drow, the Kryn, or Xhorhas in general, it never hurt to be prepared. People could always surprise you. Better not to let them.

Caleb’s expression remained one of mild curiosity, with no hidden distaste. “What brought you here, then?” he asked. “Moving from a capital city in one country to a small suburb in another seems like quite an adjustment.”

“The same as you: work.”

“What do your parents do?”

Shit. Of course Caleb would follow up with that. “Well, my father is dead,” he stalled.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Essek waved him off. “He was…” he trailed off, uncertain how much to say. He had a feeling he could spill his entire, complicated history with his father and Caleb would understand, but habit kept it back. 

“And your mother?” Caleb pressed.

Was it worth trying to lie? He had no convenient story that could not be quickly unraveled. Winging it was not Essek’s strong suit; he preferred to prepare these sorts of lies in advance.

“My mother is a, um, a preacher of the Luxon,” he admitted with reluctance. Hopefully he had made enough of an impression on Caleb by now not to be overshadowed by the preacher’s-kid identity. “She wanted to ‘spread the word of the Light across international borders,’ or something like that. And this area has a surprisingly large population of Xhorhassians, enough to establish a Luxon church.”

Caleb nodded. “Zadash has the fastest increasing rate of immigration of any Dwendalian city. Some of that is bound to spread into the suburbs.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that we’re close to the border with the Menagerie Coast,” Essek countered. “Nicodranas is quite the melting pot as well.”

“44.2 percent immigrant population. Even larger than Port Damali.”

Essek paused, lips parted but silent as he realized that he hadn’t known that.

It had been a very long time since someone knew a statistic that Essek didn’t. The craziest part was, instead of feeling the shame of inadequacy or the bitter sting of competitiveness, he almost wanted to tell Caleb and actually admit his ignorance for once, because perhaps there was more that Caleb knew which Essek didn’t. Maybe they could teach each other.

Before he could indulge this impulse, Caleb spoke again.

“Do you mind if I ask—how did you start, ah…” He looked around, as though checking for eavesdroppers. “Your, ah, occupation?”

 “Oh.” Essek blinked, taken aback by the sudden change of subject. “I suppose not, but why do you want to know?”

“It is complicated.”

Essek pursed his lips, considering. Getting into the details of his illegal exploits was unwise, especially in public, but he didn’t want to shut Caleb down without any explanation.

“I sort of fell into it, I guess. I went through a phase of… recreational experimentation, a couple of years ago. It didn’t last long, but I met some people, who put me in contact with other people. It’s very lucrative.” He raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Are you interested?”

“No,” Caleb said quickly. “I just want to know if you’ve ever met or heard of a man called Obann in those sorts of circles.”

Essek wracked his memory for any hint of the name, but came up empty. He shook his head. “My scope is fairly limited. It’s safer that way.” He knew more about the local crime goings-on from his aunt than from his suppliers.

Caleb nodded distractedly.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” Surprisingly, he meant it.

“It was a long shot,” Caleb sighed.

“What do you want with this man?”

“He…” Caleb seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “He has done things. Hurt people. We are looking for a way to, to take him down.”

“We?”

“The Mighty Nein.” 

Essek paused, letting the implication of this sink in. “You and your friends are trying to ‘take down’ some criminal, all on your own?” 

“More or less.” Caleb either didn’t grasp the insanity of what he was saying, or he was putting on a very convincing show of confidence. Either way, Essek was intrigued despite himself.

“Well, if I hear anything, I will let you know.” He grinned, and even he couldn’t say whether it was more sarcastic or genuine.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Caleb mirrored the smile, and Essek felt his stomach flip uncomfortably.

It was impossible to ignore: the harmless attraction he harbored was growing in intensity the more time he spent around Caleb. He would have to keep an eye on that, before it got out of control.

Upon having this realization, Essek made the mistake of glancing behind Caleb to see that the clock, which earlier had ticked so slowly, had fast-forwarded the time far beyond his estimation.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I need to be home soon.” Reluctantly, he began packing away his things. 

“Maybe we could do this again?” Caleb wondered aloud. “There is still almost half the textbook to get through. And I have plenty more questions.”

Essek felt a smile pull unwittingly at the corners of his mouth. “How about the same time next week?” he offered, zipping his bag closed. 

“Perfect,” Caleb responded, and Essek turned away before he could see his smile stretch any wider.

Chapter Text

In a small, suburban town, there are not many dark and dingy alleys in which to conduct illicit business. Fortunately, Essek’s contacts did not need such seedy locales to operate. 

The Tri-Spires business park was home to many white-collar operations, everything from accounting to legal consultation. Room 287, a windowless, single-room office, had no nameplate to announce what business was conducted there. Most of its neighbors assumed it was unoccupied, and the owners of the building had no concern for it beyond the rent checks they received every month.

Late afternoon in the middle of the week, the hallways were abustle with employees fleeing their workday and escaping to the parking lot, and so no one paid any mind to the drow teenager who walked straight into 287 without knocking.

Inside, the room was furnished with only the drab, gray carpet which matched the rest of the building and the cheapest desk available on the market, intended to maintain some illusion regarding the type of work being done there.

Waiting by that desk, standing tall and prim with an attempt at a haughty look on her face, was a familiar human woman. ‘The annex,’ as Essek knew her, waited for him to close the door behind him before speaking.

“Good afternoon,” she said. Always so polite, but Essek had seen the way her lip curled at their first meeting. He did not return the greeting.

“Do you have what I requested?”

“Of course. But first…” She held out an expectant hand. Essek reached into his bag and handed over the money, as well as the detailed ledger he kept of his sales.

The annex took a moment to count out the bills, cross checking with Essek’s records as she went. Halfway through, she pulled a smartphone out of her pocket, and Essek could see her navigating to the calculator app.

He rolled his eyes. He had already calculated his cut of the profits, of course, and had done all the math in his head.

“Alright,” said the annex, handing his notebook back. “Everything looks to be in order.” She hefted an unremarkable laptop bag off her shoulder and onto the desk, and pulled out two small, opaque bags. Essek didn’t need to look inside to know the contents. He simply accepted them when the annex held them out to him, and slipped them into his own bag.

He turned then, about to leave, but the annex stopped him with a call.

“There’s more.” She held another bag out to Essek. “It’s a new product. The bosses want to start selling on the ground level.”

This one, Essek did open, and pulled a single, oblong pill out of the heap inside. Green and semi-translucent, it had almost the appearance of a refined precious stone when he held it up to the light.

“What is it?”

“Something like a cross between ecstasy and Adderall. We call it residuum.”

Essek furrowed a brow at the strange name and strange description, but elected not to question it. 

“Do you have any other information for me?” he asked instead. “Dosage, price, side effects? People aren’t going to want to ingest an unknown psychotropic. Amphetamine. Whatever this is.”

“Clearly you're selling to the wrong people,” the annex laughed. “Just treat it the same as ecstasy, but with a price increase. Start small: ten, maybe fifteen percent. We can start hiking it up later.”

“Have you sold it anywhere else?” Essek couldn’t take his eyes off the pill, transfixed by the tiny flecks of something that seemed to float in its substance like stars. He’d never seen anything like it, and for the first time in many months, he had the urge to sample a taste of the product. 

He wasn’t going to, of course. But the curiosity was there.

“Nope,” the annex answered. “This is the first batch we’re sending out. Congratulations; you get to be a trendsetter.”

“Why me?”

“Because you have great numbers. And because this town is perfect for a trial run: high usage and low arrests. The local law enforcement don’t seem to care too much about drug activity, which is just the way we like it. Plus, we’re close to the manufacturing site.”

Essek had to bite his tongue to hold back the laugh as he pictured his aunt, stern-faced and strict, and tried to imagine her expression if she knew that the criminals she detested so much thought she was lax on drugs.

He knew, of course, that this was the opposite of the truth. She was just looking in all the wrong places, sending extra patrols to areas where the homeless and desolate gathered, when she should be investigating her neighbors, those paragons of suburban excess with cash to burn on expensive hobbies.

Essek added the residuum to his backpack.

“One more thing,” the annex added. “My boss wants to have a word with you.”

Essek’s blood ran ice-cold at these words. His mind raced, trying to think of what he could have possibly done wrong to warrant such a request. He knew better than to think that gaining the attention of a higher-up member of a crime syndicate could mean anything good.

“In reference to what?”

The annex shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I was just told to pass along the message. She wants to meet here next week. Folsen, 7:00 pm.”

It took a second for Essek to process what that meant. 7:00 pm on Folsen…

Shit.

“I can’t.”

The annex gave Essek a pointed look. “Yes, you can. Be here,” she commanded, and  

with a narrow-eyed glare, she walked to the door and waved Essek out.

Essek barely registered his own movements as he followed the familiar path out of the building. The hallways were deserted by now, all the 9-to-5 workers having embarked on their commutes home. Essek’s car was one of only a handful still sitting in the parking lot.

Since the time he was old enough to support his own head, Essek had attended church twice a week, Miresen mornings and Folsen evenings. No excuse, no conflict or illness, was sufficient to convince his umavi mother to allow an absence.

He could think of nothing to say, no story he could weave, that would permit him to skip out on next week’s Sunset Service. But mulling it over, his mind only half paying attention to the road as he drove, there was no question what he had to do. Whatever punishment his mother might devise for truancy, it was far preferable to standing up a career criminal of unknown power.

Instead of driving home as he had originally intended, Essek found himself turning on a whim towards the commercial section of town which was home to a collection of odd stores and fledgling restaurants. Always bustling with some manner of shoppers, it seemed like an ideal place for Essek to avoid being noticed. He needed to take a walk, to calm his electrified nerves after that meeting.

However, no sooner than he had gotten out of his car, he heard a familiar, cheery voice calling from the other side of the street.

“Essek!”

He turned to see a blur of blue rushing across the street towards him, followed by an equally colorful group.

“It’s so good to see you!” Jester beamed at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh…”

“We were about to get something to eat, and then do some shopping.” She waved around at the rest of the Mighty Nein, now crowded onto the narrow sidewalk. “Do you want to join us?”

“Uh…” 

He should really say no. He had every reason to decline.

“Why not?”

Jester beamed. “Come on!” She grabbed his hand and began leading him down the street. “We’re going to try this new Xhorhassian place that just opened. Do you like Xhorhassian food?”

“You could say that. It’s what I grew up on,” he replied.

“You’re from Xhorhas?” 

Jester didn’t say it the way most people did: hesitant, and with a touch of fear, or sometimes disgust. She said it with the same joyful enthusiasm she seemed to apply to everything in life. Essek felt the tension in his shoulders relax a fraction as he nodded.

“Yasha’s from Xhorhas, too!”

“Really? Which part?” Essek inquired. Yasha spoke up from behind him.

“The south.” She seemed unwilling to elaborate.

“...Neat.” This was all Essek could think to say.

The restaurant in question was just a few doors down, a small establishment with only a handful tables, but impressively accurate decor. The dim, green lanterns hanging from the ceiling were perfect replicas of the street lamps Essek recalled from his childhood in Rosohna. Filtering in from a back room, presumably the kitchen, he could hear chatter and barked instructions spoken in Undercommon.

The waitstaff had to push two tables together to accommodate their large party. Essek thanked them in Undercommon, and received surprised smiles in return. He couldn’t be sure whether this was in response to hearing their native language, or because they were unused to polite customers. 

They ordered quickly, a mountain of dishes that Essek was sure they couldn’t possibly all finish. As soon as their waitress left, Beau started in.

“So, Essek,” she said. “What brings you here? Shopping?”

Her words were casual, but her tone would have been more appropriate in an interrogation. There was no animosity in her narrow-eyed stare, though, just curiosity. 

“I was just...wandering.” Essek answered lamely. He had no defendable purpose for the sojourn, and he couldn’t exactly divulge the real reason he’d wanted to delay returning home. 

Despite this, and without fully meaning to, his mouth was spilling out a half-truth.

“I have a lot on my mind. I thought I might take a walk, mull things over.”

“What’s on your mind, Essek?” Jester leaned forward, eyes wide and inviting.

“It’s nothing,” he said hurriedly.

Their food arrived impressively fast, filling the air with sweet and spicy smells that transported Essek back to the kitchen of his childhood home.

“So, where are you from?” Beau continued her questioning.

“Rosohna.”

“Are you dating anyone?” Beau smirked at him. From anyone else, he might have taken that question as an expression of interest, but he very strongly doubted that was Beau’s intention.

“No?”

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“My mother’s name is, um, Deirta.” What was the purpose of this?

“Cool.” Beau sat back, seeming inexplicably satisfied by his answers.

He should ask questions back. That was the polite thing to do.

“Uh, how was—”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, Nott was already changing the subject.

“Hey, you have a car, right?” 

“Yes. You just saw it.”

She ignored this. “Are you busy tomorrow afternoon?”

“A bit.”

She ignored this too. “Could you give us a ride somewhere? The Ball-Eater’s in the shop.”

At a loss for words, Essek surveyed the group, searching for some sort of explanation for this nonsensical statement. All he got were a few giggles from Jester and furious blushing  from Fjord.

“Come again?” 

“It’s the name of Fjord’s van,” Beau explained, although this only really created more questions.

“It is a long story,” Caleb said, with an expression that told Essek he was better off not voicing those questions.

“Right.”

“Anyway,” continued Nott. “We have an… errand to run out of town. Fjord was supposed to drive us, but now he can’t. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours.”

“What sort of errand?”

“That is also a long story,” said Caleb.

“Basically, we’re tracking down this kinda shady person so we can defeat this other shady person who is an asshole, cause the first shady person might have information we can use against the second,” Jester relayed in one breath.

“You ever heard of Mythburrow?” Beau asked. “It’s a bar.”

Essek paused to think about it.

“No.”

“What about a woman called Gelidon?”

“Also no.”

“So will you help us?” Nott jutted in impatiently.

Essek looked over them all, the gears in his mind whirring almost too fast to follow.

He had a dilemma, a serious dilemma that he needed to be focusing on solving. However, from what he knew of these people (which, admittedly, wasn’t all that much), they were smart, kind, and capable in unexpected ways. Perhaps, with the right leverage, they could be of aid.

“I can give you a ride. I will do this for you,” he continued before they could respond, “but not for nothing. I may need to ask a favor from you all in return.”

Who knew how they were going to help him be in two places at once, but the tight anxiety curling around Essek’s lungs loosed a fraction at the prospect of having any sort of backup. 

The Mighty Nein exchanged unreadable looks with each other, then, with uncanny unity, turned back to Essek and said, “Deal.”

Essek resisted the urge to ask more details about their errand or Gelidon all through the rest of the mid-afternoon meal. Aside from Jester’s baffling explanation, none of them seemed eager to provide any details, and the risk of offending them and souring the deal outweighed his curiosity.

He focused instead on silently observing, listening to the Mighty Nein’s strange pattern of conversation. 

They almost seemed to be able to read each other's minds, sometimes. Nott and Caleb especially had a tendency to finish each other’s thoughts. Essek tried in vain to keep up with the staccato rhythm of their discussion, but the speed of their familiar back-and-forth, and the frequent inside jokes, left him lost. Still, it was oddly entertaining.

“So, what should we do next?” Jester asked the group at large once the check had been paid. (Caleb had started doing the math for an even split before Essek could offer to treat them, which was probably for the best.)

“You wanted to look at that dress shop, right?” Yasha replied as they got up to exit the restaurant. “You said you needed something for the dance?”

“You all need stuff for the dance, because you’re all coming, right?” 

Essek had never seen Jester look so forceful. He already possessed what he

considered a healthy fear of her seemingly boundless energy, and the glare she leveled at her friends cemented that he was right to do so.

“Jester, trust me, it’s not worth it,” Beau groaned. “School dances are never actually fun.”

“Well, of course it won’t be fun if you guys don’t come with me!” Jester pouted.

“Don’t people customarily attend dances in pairs?” Essek interrupted, forgetting for a moment his determination to stay quiet and unobtrusive.

“Have you never gone to one?” asked Nott.

“I have never wanted to,” said Essek. He did not add that he wouldn’t have been allowed to attend a dance even if he had wanted to, and certainly not with a date.

Jester’s eyes lit up brighter than the sun. “You should come with us!” she squealed. “We’re allowed to invite plus-ones from other schools!”

“I… appreciate the offer, but I’m alright.” He forced his eyes to look anywhere but at Caleb. Not the time. Never the time.

“Come on, guys! Be better at being teenagers!” Jester moaned in frustration.

Though no one vocally relented to attending the dance, the Mighty Nein all still accompanied Jester without complaint as she led the way to the boutique, back the way they had come. Essek followed only as far as where his car was parked.

“I should be getting home,” he muttered, breaking off from the group as he fished in his pocket for the keys. “Enjoy your shopping trip.”

“Oh, Essek, wait!” From a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt, Jester produced a cell phone wrapped in a sparkly pink case, perfectly matching her backpack. Placing it in Essek’s hand, she said, “Put your number in so I can text you about the dance.”

“Um…ok.” Compliance seemed the easiest way out of this situation. With no intention of responding to whatever information Jester sent him, Essek entered his phone number and handed it back to her.

“Well… goodbye.” He retreated awkwardly, fighting the heat he felt blooming on his cheeks as the group watched him. He turned his face away to hide the embarrassed blush as he got into the car and fiddled with the ignition. By the time he chanced looking back, the Mighty Nein had already moved on.

“What kind of favor do you think he’s going to ask for?” Beau posed the question to the group at large as they huddled by the front of the school the following afternoon, hunched against the cold drizzle of rain. Wynandir let out classes a half hour earlier than the Zauber Academy, so the Mighty Nein had no choice but to sit and wait for their ride.

Sitting and waiting did not suit Beauregard well. She paced back and forth, bouncing with pent-up energy. She’d even resorted to doing a few cartwheels, until Caduceus had idly wondered aloud whether a fall on the unforgiving pavement would break her neck or just give her a concussion, at which point she had stopped.

“What are you talking about?” Nott asked.

“Essek! What kind of favor is he going to ask for, in exchange for driving us to Mythburrow?”

“I do not know,” Caleb answered. The same question had been floating at the forefront of his mind since yesterday, when Essek had proposed a quid pro quo. It could be that he had no particular intentions, and merely wanted assurance that his kindness would be reciprocated. However, a nagging voice told Caleb that Essek had something specific in mind for a return favor.

Before anyone else could offer their thoughts on the subject, a sleek black car with a familiar driver pulled up to the curb. 

This was when everyone realized their collective lack of forethought. 

Essek’s car had five seats, including the driver’s. The Mighty Nein were seven passengers.

They all stood in front of the left side door, staring at the car’s interior as though it might suddenly expand before their eyes and solve the problem for them.

It did not.

Essek rolled down the window to call out to them. “You don’t all need to come, do you? Can’t some people stay behind?”

He received only glares in response.

In the end, it took a full twenty minutes to wrangle everyone in, with Jester, Nott, and an extremely churlish Beau sitting on Yasha, Caleb, and Fjord’s respective laps. Caduceus, as the tallest by far, was granted the honor of the front seat. 

“Here’s hoping we don’t get pulled over,” Fjord muttered as Beau wriggled to get comfortable on top of him.

“Is everyone ready?” Essek called over his shoulder, amusement apparent in his voice.

The Mighty Nein chorused their sullen affirmatives, and Essek hit the gas.

“Do you have the directions?”

Fjord whipped out his phone, ready with the map. 

“You’re going to go over the bridge and make a right onto Pentamarket,” he instructed, and Essek obeyed with a deft turn of the wheel.

From his prime view in the middle seat, Caleb watched his movements over Nott’s head, unwittingly fascinated. Learning to drive was one of the many staples of adolescence he’d missed out on, but he’d never felt much regret over that particular loss when watching Fjord fight the Ball-Eater’s gear shift with increasingly creative swears. But watching Essek skillfully swerve through traffic, he felt a curdle of something—sadness, jealousy, grief, perhaps—stew in his gut.

Something soft tickled the underside of his chin, and he looked down to see that Nott was tilting her head back to look at him, brushing the frizzy hair around her forehead against his skin.

“What?” he asked, to which Nott just narrowed her eyes, like Caleb was a riddle she was on the verge of solving.

“Nothing,” she said, and turned her attention back to the colorful game lighting up her phone screen.

In the end, the drive took forty-five minutes. The only sounds for most of this were Fjord’s periodic directions to Essek, punctuated with occasional, doomed attempts at conversation by Caduceus or Jester. The combination of tense anticipation and the off-kilter experience of having an outsider in the driver’s seat meant that no one was in the mood for chit-chat. 

“There, on the left! That’s Mythburrow,” Fjord announced at last as a ramshackle, one-story building emerged out of the mist. It was the first structure they’d seen on the landscape since a tiny gas station several miles back.

Essek continued towards the bar and turned into what might generously have been called a parking lot. The cracked asphalt was more weeds than pavement, and the lines to indicate spaces had either faded with time or had never been painted in the first place.

Theirs was the only car present, along with several motorcycles gathered by the entrance. Essek glided to a stop as far away from these as possible.

“You sure this is it?” Beau asked, peering out the window. The building had no signs anywhere to confirm that they were in the right place. 

Fjord shoved his phone in front of her face and pointed at the screen. Leaning over, Caleb could see the little red dot indicating their location and the letters overtop reading Mythburrow Bar and Grill.

“‘And Grill?’” Beau looked dubiously back and forth between the map and the building.

From inside came a sound like shattering glass, followed by muffled, angry shouts.

“I’m going to stay out here,” Essek announced. His accent was thick with either fear or judgement. “You all are crazy.”

No one bothered to protest as the rest of them spilled out of the car. Beau took the lead of the group, shoulders squared and eyes alert, and Yasha only a half-step behind her. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Fjord whisper-shouted. With one hand on Beau’s elbow, he pulled them all into a huddle several feet from the entrance, the misty rain settling over their forms like morning dew.

“What exactly is our plan here?” His eyes darted across the group. “Just walk in and ask for Gelidon? And then what?”

“Simple: ask her if she has any dirt on Obann,” said Beau.

“And why would she tell us anything? A bunch of teenagers walk into a biker bar in the middle of nowhere, that sounds like the beginning of a bad joke that ends with us dead!”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh yeah? You’ve seen television, what happens if someone in there pulls a gun on us?”  

“Well, I have this,” said Yasha, and produced a wicked looking knife the length of Caleb’s forearm from somewhere underneath her jacket.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Fjord squeaked.

“I’ve always had it.”

“You brought that to school ?”

“I don’t think we should be threatening anyone in there,” Caleb interjected. “Fjord is right, we’re in dangerous territory. We need to be careful. Yasha, you think Gelidon will be willing to help us with Obann, right?”

“I know there’s bad blood there. I remember, the gang that he— that we worked for had some deal with her go sour. I think I remember him bragging about screwing her over.”

“Alright,” Caleb continued. “So we make our case, ask for her help, and if the slightest thing goes wrong, we bolt. Agreed?”

The others nodded, though Beau looked slightly put out by the lack of violence in this plan. Yasha sheathed her blade without complaint.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

The interior of Mythburrow matched it’s exterior to a tee. Caleb had never been inside a dive bar before, but if asked to describe one, his description would have looked very much like this place.

It was dim and dingy, the few windows shaded against letting any natural light in to aid the weak overhead lamps. The floor was spattered with old, brownish stains that could easily have been liquor or blood. The pool tables outnumbered the regular tables three-to-one. 

Most of the sparse patrons were gathered around one of these, apparently watching an intense game, based on the yells and jeers. All of them looked large and scary enough to almost certainly be the owners of the motorcycles outside. Other than them, the only occupants were a dark-skinned, light-haired woman sitting at the end of the bar with her back to the door, and the bartender.

Beau walked brazenly up to the bar, putting on her most take-no-shit expression. The bartender looked up at their group’s approach, adopting a look of haughty surprise as she took them in. 

She was a frighteningly pale woman with white-blonde hair to match, and the sort of ageless appearance that could have put her anywhere from twenty-five to fifty. Her ice-blue eyes were all iris, with the thin slit of a pupil giving her a frightening, lizard-like appearance.

“We’re looking for Gelidon,” Beau demanded, and Caleb was impressed at how confident she sounded. Only years of close friendship allowed him to detect the faintest quiver in her voice.

The bartender cocked her head curiously. “You’ve found her,” she said, voice as harsh and cold as her gaze. 

Beau drew back a step. Caleb could see her boldness fizzling under this woman’s piercing stare.

“You children have five seconds to tell me why you’re in my bar before I throw you out by your scrawny asses.” Gelidon passed her rimy glare over them all, one eyebrow quirked up in what might have been curiosity or amusement.

“We’re here about Obann,” Yasha’s quiet voice spoke up, and Gelidon’s head shot towards her so fast it gave Caleb whiplash to follow.

“What does that little pissant want?” she growled.

“We’re not here on his behalf. We want to destroy him.” Yasha sounded just as confident as Beau had, but Caleb could detect no posturing underneath the bravado. It was unnerving; he was so used to Yasha of the Mighty Nein—the Yasha who sat with them at lunch and study hall, who made deadpan jokes that no one got, who liked old fantasy novels and berry-flavored ice cream—that he sometimes forgot where she came from. She wasn’t only familiar with places like this, facing down people like Obann or Gelidon—she was comfortable there.

He shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised that she brought a knife to school.

Gelidon’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes flashed with interest. 

“Well—”

“Beau? Is that you?”

This voice, coming from the other end of the bar, was soft and sweet and absolutely did not belong in a place like this. Caleb turned and was shocked to find he recognized the person behind it, as did Beau.

“Reani? What the fuck?”

“It is you!” Reanminere, former classmate and Beau’s brief summer fling, hopped off her barstool and rushed over to them. “Hi guys! Gosh, it’s been so long. What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Beau’s wide-eyed surprise was mirrored on all of their faces.

“I come here all the time! Umi loves the turkey legs here, he always asks me to pick some up for him.” She blinked owlishly at them, apparently oblivious to the strangeness of the situation.

“You know these children?” Gelidon asked Reani, her other eyebrow rising to join its pair.

“Yeah! They went to my old school before I graduated. They’re really great.” She smiled, golden freckles shining in the dim light. “What do you guys need Gelly for?”

“I told you not to call me that,” Gelidon growled.

“Right, sorry!” Reani did not sound remotely sorry.

“So, er…” Fjord’s eyes ping-ponged between Reani and Gelidon, at a loss for words. He finally landed his gaze on Yasha and nudged her on with a look.

“We, uh, wanted to know if you had any information,” Yasha started again, now sounding much more her endearing, awkward self. “Something we could use against Obann.”

“What exactly are you looking to do with it?” Now, after Reani’s interruption, something in Gelidon’s tone sounded much more… tolerant.

“We want him off the streets,” Fjord interejected, saving Yasha from having to talk any more. Always savvy in the art of pretending, his aplomb was even more convincing than Beau’s. The half-orc in front of them now looked like he would have no qualms about Yasha pulling out a weapon. “Whether that means in jail or in the ground, we’re not picky.”

Gelidon gave him a chilly once-over. “You kids are more than you seem, huh?”

We’re really not, thought Caleb. “Yes, we are,” he said.

“And we know you’d love to see Obann taken down a few pegs. So why not let us do you a favor?” Fjord leaned one hand on the bar, pouring all his considerable charm into the words.

Gelidon stared him down for a long minute. Then, after a quick glance to Reani, who nodded encouragingly, she rolled her eyes.

“What the hell,” she said. “I don’t have any smoking gun to hand over to you. But I do know that the Angels of Irons have a storage unit where they keep… potentially incriminating items. Things they can’t get rid of just yet. You might find something to use against Obann there.”

“Where is it?” Beau pressed.

Gelidon eyed them all. “I might be able to tell you that, too,” she hedged. “But what’s in it for me if I do?” 

“What do you want?” asked Yasha.

Gelidon shrugged, nonchalant. “Probably nothing you could get me.”

“What about ice flex?” said Reani. “Weren’t you just saying you needed ice flex?”

“‘Need’ is a strong word. I wouldn’t turn it down.”

“What’s ice flex?” Nott asked.

“It’s a type of drink that’s made from this super rare plant that only grows in the Greying Wildlands. It’s insanely expensive,” Reani explained. 

“It’s a mushroom, actually,” Caduceus corrected. All eyes spun to him.

“What?”

“Well, if you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, the drink is made from the Mithril mushroom.” He reached into his messenger bag, fumbled around a bit, and pulled out a handful of fungi. “They’re called mithril after the metal, cause of the silver sheen, see?” He lifted it up so everyone could get a good look.

“You just carry rare mushrooms around with you?” Reani asked. 

Caduceus nodded. “Yeah!”

“Cool!”

“How the fuck do you have those?” Gelidon demanded. 

“My family grows a lot of things that require specific conditions,” said Caduceus. “It’s sort of a hobby. I can give you all the ones I have on me, and you could ferment them yourself.”

Gelidon stared at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. “You kids are weird,” she said. “But it’s a deal.”

“Really?” said Beau, shocked.

“Yeah,” Gelidon replied, watching intently as Caduceus retrieved more of the silvery mushrooms from his bag and piled them on the bar. Once he finished, she swiped them all into a glass and set it under the bar. Then, she pulled out a pen and began writing something down on a napkin.

“Don’t ask me how I know this,” she said, handing the napkin to Fjord. Caleb could make out part of an address. “And don’t tell anyone where you got that, obviously.” She snorted. “Who am I kidding? You kids are dead meat. No one’s gonna be able to trace this back to me once the Angels kill you all. Now scram.” She shooed them away with a bored hand wave.

“Bye guys!” Reani called as they left.

“Holy shit, Caduceus!” Beau exclaimed, slamming the door shut behind her as they piled back into Essek’s car.

Essek glanced up from his book, craning his neck to get a sense from their faces of how the conversation had gone. He’d expected them to be inside much longer. Their swift return was either a very good sign or a very bad one.

“I can’t believe you just happened to have exactly what she wanted. Talk about a coincidence!” Fjord laughed.

“Oh, I didn’t,” Caduceus said as he maneuvered his long legs into a comfortable position.

There was a long pause. Essek turned his head back and forth between them, unsure what they were talking about and trying to put the pieces together.

“What do you mean, you didn’t have what she wanted?” Fjord spoke slowly. “What did you give her?”

“Mushrooms. Just not the kind she needs for her ice flex,” Caduceus said, and Essek’s brain swam with the effort of following this nonsensical conversation. 

“So you lied?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d try it out. It felt weird. I don’t think I like it.” He turned to Fjord. “How do you do that all the time?”

“I don’t lie all the time.”

“You lied to Vice Principal Hass this morning.”

“That wasn’t—”

“Fjord!” Beau interrupted. “Not the point.”

“Right.”

“So, Caduceus, just to be clear: you decided on a whim to try lying for the first time, and you thought a good target would be the super dangerous, super hot bartender with criminal connections?”

“I suppose? I hadn’t exactly thought about it like that.”

“That is fucking awesome, and we are so fucked.”

“I don’t think we are. From the sound of it, Gelidon hasn’t ever had ice flex. So she won’t know that I gave her the wrong ingredient. She doesn’t have anything to compare it to.”

There was a pause as the group took this in.

“You genius little cow man,” Beau said in awe.

“Why did you lie, Caduceus?” Yasha asked softly.

Caduceus swiveled all the way around in his seat to make eye contact with her. “Because you deserve closure.”

“...I take it we’re returning home, then?” Essek interrupted, deciding not to ask for clarification on any of this conversation. 

“Unless you’re feeling generous enough to chauffeur us to yet another seedy location.” Caleb flashed him a droll smile, and if Essek had a touch less self-restraint, he would have agreed then and there. He would have agreed to drive that smile across the country.

“It’s getting late,” he said instead, and pulled back onto the road towards home.

“Thanks again for doing this, man.” Beau leaned forward, elbows perched one each on the driver and passenger seats so that her head poked into Essek’s periphery. “We really appreciate it.”

“A favor for a favor,” said Essek. “Speaking of which, I may need to call mine back in soon.”

“Oh yeah? What’ve you got in mind?”

“I have… let’s call them conflicting appointments,” Essek started, weighing his words carefully. “I’m supposed to meet with a business contact next Folsen, at the same time I am expected, on pain of death, to be attending church with my mother. I was hoping you might be able to help me out.” 

He risked taking his eyes off the deserted road to glance at the reactions. Beau looked intrigued, while Caduceus was as placid as ever. Through the rearview mirror, he glimpsed a few curious looks exchanged between his other passengers.

“Help you out how?” came Nott’s suspicious voice.

“Ooh! We could make, like, a replica of you to go instead! I have a bunch of papier- mache at my house,” Jester offered.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a distraction. Something that would interrupt the service enough for me to slip out for an hour or so without being noticed.”

“What kind of distraction?” Beau asked.

Essek sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was hoping you might have some ideas.”

“Oh, yeah?” Essek could feel the heat of Beau’s smug smile without needing to look. “Mr. Boy Genius needs ideas from the public school kids, huh?”

“That is what I said.”

“Give us some time to brainstorm,” she said, flopping back into her seat. Fjord emitted a small oof! “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

“You think so?” Essek pressed.

“We’re the Mighty freakin’ Nein, dude! It’s what we do!”

For perhaps the thousandth time, Essek wanted to ask where in the world that moniker had come from, but he held his tongue.

“By the way,” Jester chimed in, “is it just me, or are Reani and Gelidon totally fucking?”

Chapter Text

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me,” Caleb said as Nott trotted along next to him, the pair of them buffeted on either side by students rushing for the exits after the last bell of the day.

“You say that every time, Caleb. Of course I’m going to wait for you.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hand into his and giving it a squeeze. Caleb couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank you, Nott.” 

They stopped in front of a plain door, tucked in a corner between the vice principal’s office and the teacher’s lounge. Nott slid easily onto the floor, making herself comfortable leaning against the wall, cell phone in one hand and a can of soda pilfered from the cafeteria in another. 

“Have fun,” she chirped, and Caleb huffed a laugh. ‘Fun’ was not the word for these meetings, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

He knocked lightly on the door, and the genial “Come in!” rang from the other side.

With a steadying breath, Caleb pushed open the door to the guidance counselor's office.

Mx. Feelid, or Bryce as they insisted Caleb call them, was sitting behind their desk, smiling brightly.

“It’s good to see you, Caleb,” they greeted, warmly as ever. “Go on, take a seat.”

Trying to hide his reluctance, Caleb slid into the chair opposite Bryce, setting his bag down on the floor. He always felt a little bad about how much he dreaded these monthly meetings. Bryce was one of the most pleasant members of staff; it was the content of their conversations that had Caleb dragging his feet, not the person.

“How have you been lately?” Bryce started the same way they always did.

“Fine,” Caleb answered, the same way he always did.

“Care to give me any more details?” they urged. Caleb sighed, searching for something easy he could offer that Bryce wouldn’t see through as a deflection. They were annoyingly good at that aspect of the job.

“We had a quiz bowl competition last weekend.”

“How did it go?”

“Good. We lost, but the score was close.”

“That’s great!” Bryce smiled even wider. “And how did you feel, during it? Happy? Anxious?”

“Both?” Caleb hedged. “You know I do not like being in front of an audience, but it helps that there are never big crowds at this sort of event.”

“Did anyone you know come to watch? To support you?”

“My friends were there.”

“Ah, yes. ‘The Mighty Nein.’” Bryce’s unfailing smile almost covered their long-suffering sigh. Almost. “You know, your group has something of a reputation among the faculty. I believe Beauregard is on the verge of breaking her personal record for longest stint without any detentions.”

“You should not tell her that.”

Bryce laughed. “She avoids my office like the plague these days. I used to have her in here quite a bit, but she didn’t seem to enjoy our chats very much.”

“She thinks you are nice,” said Caleb. “But she hates anyone who tries to make her talk about her feelings on principle.”

“And what about you? How do you feel about our conversations?”

Caleb said nothing.

“You can be honest. I won’t be offended, I promise.”

“I think they are pointless.”

“How so?”

“You cannot fix me.”

Bryce’s face fell into an expression of sickening sympathy. “This isn’t about fixing you, Caleb. You're not broken.”

Caleb snorted. Discomfited by Bryce’s intense stare, he averted his eyes to his hands, curled tightly in his lap.

“You’ve been through a lot. I know that. My purpose here is to give you a chance to work through some of those feelings.

“I’ll admit,” they continued when Caleb remained silent, “your situation is a little beyond my expertise. I’m a school counselor, not a trauma specialist. But I still think it would help you to be able to talk about your experiences.”

“I do not want to talk about it,” Caleb mumbled.

“Do any of your friends know about what you’ve been through?”

More than you do , Caleb wanted to say, but that would only make things worse. The official record that the school had on file, which Bryce was basing their pseudo-therapy on, painted a bleak enough picture of Caleb’s mental health. If he revealed the true nature of his year at Soltryce, they would treat him like even more of a basket-case. They certainly wouldn’t believe him.

“I have told them about it,” he said. It was true, more or less. The information was a bit scattered—Beau and Nott were the only ones he’d given the full story, but all of the Mighty Nein knew enough to put the pieces together.

“That’s good,” said Bryce. “Having a good support system is crucial. Has it helped, confiding in them?”

Caleb nodded.

“I’m really glad.” They paused, considering. “Do you remember what you said to me in our first meeting, at the beginning of last year? When I asked if you had made any friends?”

He did, but kept silent.

“You said ‘I don’t deserve friends,’” Bryce continued. They leaned forward to catch Caleb’s eye, drawing his gaze upward. “I’m really proud of how far you’ve come since then, Caleb.”

Hot needles of discomfort prickled against Caleb’s skin. This was why he hated these mandatory ‘therapy’ sessions so much. Bryce’s sincere attempts to connect with him, to help and comfort him, made Caleb sick to his stomach. 

He didn’t deserve this kind of effort from a near-stranger, and the knowledge that Bryce certainly wouldn’t be so compassionate towards him if they knew the full extent of what he had done made the pretense that much harder to bear.

But he couldn’t divulge any of those thoughts, no matter what Bryce might say about honesty and safe spaces. The only way to put an end to this monthly charade was to make Bryce, and the faculty at large, believe he was improving. 

So Caleb whispered, “Thank you,” and Bryce smiled at the accomplishment.

“Do you have any big plans for this weekend?” they switched tactics, and Caleb let out a 

quiet, grateful breath. Much as he hated small talk in most circumstances, he would take it from Bryce over deep dives into his past.

“Nothing much,” he answered. Other than brainstorming how to break up a religious service long enough for our new, drug dealer friend to meet with some suspicious ‘business contact.’ He omitted this part.

“Are you planning on going to the school dance tonight?”

The memory of Jester pouting at the Nein, employing her notorious and irresistible puppy-dog eyes to full effect, swam to the front of his mind, and Caleb didn’t bother stifling his sigh this time. 

“I am.”

“Really?” Bryce wasn’t able to hide their surprise. The beaming smile they gave Caleb at this news almost made him wish he’d lied about it. “Going with any… special someone?” They flashed Caleb an exaggerated wink, and he had to cringe. Adults were so weird.

He shoved aside the involuntary image of indigo skin and shrewd, silver eyes. 

“ No. ” There was more force behind the word than Caleb really intended, but Bryce seemed unbothered. Rather, their smile turned knowing and amused as they let out a small laugh.

“Understood,” they said, and Caleb willed his cheeks to stop burning.

A shrill ring startled Essek out of his textbook, figures and charts swimming in front of his vision even after he lifted his head. He reached blearily for his buzzing phone and pressed the green answer button.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Essek! It’s Jester!” Her palpable exuberance was not hampered even through the phone. “Just checking if you wanted us to pick you up tonight, or if you’re going to meet us there.”

“I—what? Meet you where?” 

“At the dance, silly,” Jester giggled. “Did you forget?”

“I, um…” He had not forgotten. In fact, he very distinctly remembered declining her invitation.

Although, thinking back, he hadn’t told her an outright no. He’d wormed his way out of giving a direct answer, which in his experience was the same as refusing. But perhaps not everyone interpreted it that way.

If there was anyone who would take a polite brush-off as agreement, it would be Jester Lavorre.

“Don’t worry about it!” she said. “Fjord’s driving us all, he can give you a ride too.” She paused a moment while a muffled voice, presumably Fjord, spoke. Essek couldn’t make out the words. 

Then, Jester resumed, “We’ll come get you after Beau. Be there soon!”

“No, Jester, that’s not—” 

The line was already dead.

Essek stared at the wall in front of him in bemusement for several seconds, weighing his options. 

He could call Jester back and explain to her directly that he could not attend. But then she would ask him why, and the only answer he’d have to offer would be ‘Because I don’t want to.’

Whether it was the years of ingrained propriety from his upbringing, or his bizarre affection for these strange people who were suddenly popping up everywhere in his life, Essek couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Jester like that.

And besides, he reasoned, he was still counting on the Mighty Nein’s help. It would be foolish to risk angering them now, when they could so easily turn back on the deal.

Which left him with his other option, which was to set aside his homework until tomorrow and start getting ready.

Feeling rather surreal, Essek stood up from his desk chair and made his way over to the closet.

Fortunately, he was more than prepared in terms of formalwear. He selected a hanger at random from the row of church jackets and pulled out a black, tailored suit coat. 

It was the one he’d worn to his father’s funeral, which felt appropriate in an odd, sadistic sort of way. General Thelyss would have turned up his nose in disgust at the thought of his son spending his time on something so trivial and undignified as a high school dance.

He changed quickly, invigorated by the thought of spiting his father. He took extra time fixing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror, relishing in the memory of how the General used to chastise him for such ‘useless vanity.’

Satisfied with his appearance, Essek paced idly around his room, checking the time every few minutes as he waited for an alert from Jester.

Before long, his phone buzzed with a text:

Unknown number

on our way! btw whats ur address?

Privately amused, Essek sent her the information, then took the time to add Jester’s number into his contacts.

While the seconds ticked past at a snail’s pace, Essek’s nerves began to grow. They were small at first, easily ignorable pangs of anxiety which then germinated quickly until they encompassed his every thought.

He did not enjoy parties. He didn’t like crowds, or strangers, or the oppressive expectation of social niceties, no matter how accustomed to those things he was. Most parties he attended were only bearable because they were for work. When he had a job to do, he could compartmentalize his unease into a manageable obstacle. When his only task was to socialize, or Light forbid, ‘have fun,’ things got tricky.

And there was the solution, wasn’t it?

Essek rushed to his bookshelf, his frantic energy jumping at the outlet, and stretched to pull down the large, outdated encyclopedia from the top shelf.

Inside, a square section of the jaundiced pages had been hollowed out to create a sizable hiding nook. Tucked inside were several plastic baggies of assorted substances, lined up neatly and sorted by popularity.

Essek grabbed the most recent addition to his stash, the striking green pills of residuum, and divided out about half of his limited supply before stuffing the bag into the interior pocket of his coat. 

No one ever thought to check the inside pockets.

As soon as he’d placed the encyclopedia back on the shelf, his phone buzzed to alert him of a text.

Jester Lavorre

we’re outside! :D :D :D

Essek descended the staircase, beyond thankful that his mother had an appointment that night—some sort of appreciation dinner for the clergy. Whatever it was, she had warned him not to expect her home until late, which meant Essek was free to leave regardless of her dictatorial curfew rules.

Outside, the sun was just beginning to fall behind the horizon, casting a gradient rainbow of light across the sky, soft enough not to burn his eyes.

Idling in the driveway of Essek’s house was a large, bottle-green van with tinted windows and a stripe of wood across the side like an old-fashioned station wagon. He could see Fjord at the wheel through the window, and Caduceus next to him.

As he approached, the back door slid open to reveal Beau, standing partially undressed in a mystifying combination of skirt and sports bra.

“Welcome aboard the Ball-Eater!” she shouted, and moved aside for Essek to climb in, which he did to the best of his ability while trying to keep his eyes averted from her bare midriff.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Beau began shimmying out of the skirt. Essek’s hand flew up to cover his peripheral vision, blocking her out.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he sat and groped blindly for a seatbelt.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Beau snapped. 

The engine grumbled to life as Fjord followed the looping driveway and pulled back out into the street. Jester’s head popped up from the back row of seats. She was glowing, literally and figuratively, as the light hit her glittery makeup.

“Beau’s parents are dicks,” she explained. “They make her wear dresses and stuff, but she hates it, so we brought her a change of clothes.”

Essek risked lowering his blindfold. Despite being in a moving vehicle, in the few seconds since he had covered his eyes, Beau had managed to change into a pair of gray slacks and was halfway through buttoning up a blue dress shirt.

“That is…” kind was the word on the tip of his tongue, to go out of one’s way to save a friend from discomfort. 

“Ingenious,” he said instead. Jester beamed with pride. 

“It was my idea,” she preened. “You look beautiful, Beau!”

Beauregard blushed tomato-red, mumbling her thanks.

“And you look very handsome, Essek.”

“Thank you, Jester.”

“So,” said Beau, seemingly in a much better mood now as she kicked the discarded skirt away and flopped into the seat next to Essek. “You holding?”

“Uh…” Essek stalled, caught off guard at her bluntness. 

“That’s alright, man. You don't have to tell me now.” She winked. “We brought some stuff for later. I stole a bottle of wine from my parents and Fjord got a case of beer, we’re all gonna go to Jester’s to get fucked up after the dance.”

“Do you want to come, Essek? My mama would love to meet you,” said Jester.

Essek’s brain did a double take as he processed those words. “You—your mother is home?”

“Yep!”

“And you are going to drink? At your house? While she’s there?”
“Well, I’m not going to drink anything. I don’t like it. But Mama’s ok with us having a little to drink as long as it’s all under thirty percent alcohol.”

“That is...” irresponsible, insane, inconceivable. “Very tolerant of her.”

“Are your parents, like, super strict about that kind of stuff?” she inquired, elbows propped up on the seat back and face in her hands.

“They are strict about everything.” He thought about elaborating, or clarifying that the present tense only applied to his mother, but he forced himself to hold back, refusing to indulge in Jester’s wide and welcoming eyes.

“Same, dude,” Beau commiserated. “Fucking sucks.”

“Indeed.”

It took several minutes to arrive at their next stop, the van winding out of Essek’s neighborhood and across the bridge to the less affluent area of town. The door lurched open, and Essek got a glimpse of a drab apartment building in the background before his eyes focused in on the figure in front of him and all other thoughts were shoved aside in favor of just looking . 

Caleb’s outfit was relatively simple: a maroon sweater worn over a collared shirt, and khaki pants. It wasn’t particularly formal or impressive by any measure; it didn’t look like he’d put all that much effort into it. He even wore the same beat-up boots as every other time Essek had seen him.  

But he might as well have been dressed in solid starlight, for the way Essek’s brain was short-circuiting.

He vaguely registered that Nott and Yasha were also there, and also dressed up, but his eyes weren’t really able to process this. Too much brain power was being used instead to form the continuous mantra of ponytail ponytail ponytail echoing through Essek’s head.

He also blamed this malfunction for how long it took him to realize that Caleb was staring back at him. Once he finally registered this, Essek forcibly dragged his eyes away.

He remained still and silent as they climbed into the empty spots in Fjord’s spacious van, only nodding in response to greetings. He kept his eyes fixed on the back of Caduceus’ seat for the entire remainder of the drive, only half-hearing Jester’s compliments to the new arrivals.

Get it together, Thelyss.

Essek didn’t do this. He didn’t lose control of his faculties, ever, and he certainly didn’t melt into a useless puddle of goo at the sight of a cute boy. He was smarter than that. Better than that.

But it was still happening.

Desperate for an anchor, he patted his chest and felt for the bundle of pills through the fabric of his jacket. 

He had a job to do. A party at Wynandir was the perfect place to start distributing the 

residuum, and if he was successful at spreading the word about the new drug, he could bring the news to his meeting next week and possibly curtail whatever doom his supplier had in store for him. That was what he came for, not to make friends with the Mighty Nein or ogle over Caleb Widogast.

The remaining drive to Wynandir High lasted only a couple minutes, and then Essek was following the group through the halls of their school, eerie-looking in the gloom of half-lit fluorescents.

They arrived at a set of open double doors, a portal to the dance itself. Inside was much of what Essek had expected: a school gym, garishly decorated in an attempt to make it look like not a school gym; teenagers in varying levels of finery either swayed clumsily to the playlist of radio-friendly pop hits, or milled awkwardly around the edges of the room.

In terms of security, the only thing barring them direct entry was a cheerful-looking firbolg man with a bushy beard, sat on a folding chair in front of the door and checking bags as people arrived. He did not look particularly threatening or attentive to the task.

“Well if it isn’t some of my favorite students!” he greeted as the Mighty Nein approached. “And… I know you!” He smiled at Essek. “Nice job at the quiz bowl last week. We almost had you Zauber kids!”

Essek forced his talking-to-adults smile in place. “Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Mr. Pumat Sol, at your service.” He offered his arm for a handshake, which Essek obliged.

He waved them through without so much as a peek into Jester’s purse. Essek didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or simply appreciate the easy victory.

“Come dance with me, Fjord!” Jester grabbed Fjord’s hands and whisked him towards the dance floor the second they were inside. She turned her head back, waving for the rest of them to follow.

“Come on, guys!” she called, but no one else seemed eager to join them.

Like a herd of self-conscious gazelle, they shuffled in formation towards a free section of bleachers, where the less outgoing partygoers were dwelling. 

Beau plopped herself down with impressive force of will, resting her chin in one hand and generally exuding an air of too-cool-for-this. Yasha, Caduceus, and Caleb assumed positions on either side of her. Essek remained standing.

“I’m going to check out the snack situation. I’ll report back.” With this, Nott disappeared.

“Now what?” Beau asked. 

“Now,” Essek answered. “I excuse myself.”

Beau seemed to understand his meaning instantly. “Oh, fuck me,” she moaned. “I didn’t bring any cash.” She raised her eyebrows at Essek. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to offer a free sample? For a friend?” She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated affectation. It was more scary than persuasive.

“Next time,” he said, turning away from her disgruntled expression and melding into the party proper, determinedly not dwelling on her use of the word friend. She was just trying to manipulate him. It didn’t count.

His practiced eye had immediately noted the chaperones scattered about the gym, and he skirted their attention, just another student among the throng.

It was absurdly easy. Making eye contact with the right person, ducking under the bleachers or into a deserted hallway behind one of the many unwatched exits. A few words exchanged, a deft hand-off. It only took Essek two laps around the room before he had sold off the last pill of residuum.

By the time he returned to the Mighty Nein’s spot, only Beau remained there, looking even more glum than before as she watched the dance floor.

Essek followed her line of sight to see Jester dancing with Caleb in a bizarre bastardization of a waltz, completely at odds with the rhythm of the music. They were surrounded by the other members of the Mighty Nein, excluding Nott, who bobbed and swayed as they took in the performance. 

Essek ignored the initial, loathsome pang of jealousy at this display.

As he watched, Jester spun out of Caleb’s grip and into Caduceus, grasping her new partner’s hands without missing a beat and continuing to dance. Looking back and forth between the dance floor and Beau, he saw her eyes track Jester’s movement closely, and his brain connected the dots.

Beau hadn’t seemed to notice his return yet, so he sat down next to her, alerting her of his presence, before he spoke.

“You should ask her to dance.”

Beau’s head spun around to face him. She looked murderous, but the obvious pink tinge of her ears gave her away.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“She’d say yes. You’ll feel better if you talk to her.” He couldn’t say for sure why he was doing this. Giving romantic advice was neither his preference nor his area of expertise. He also wasn’t sure where his certainty about what he was saying came from, other than pure, gut instinct and some subconscious observations of Beau and Jester’s previous interactions. 

Beau scoffed. “You’re one to talk,” she muttered, jutting her chin towards where Caleb was bent over laughing at Caduceus and Jester’s’ swing dance.

 Essek felt his hands go clammy.

“I don’t—” 

But what was the point of denial, really? He wasn’t talking to his mother. 

“...Our situations are not the same.”

“How do you figure?”

“You actually have a chance.”

Beau was silent for a moment, and when Essek finally managed to drag his eyes away from Caleb to face her, he was greeted by an incredulous stare. Beau was looking at him like he had just declared with complete certainty that the sun was blue.

“What?” he said defensively, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Essek was saved from having to respond to this by Jester, flushed from laughter and exertion, appearing suddenly in front of them.

“You guys aren’t going to have any fun if you just mope over here by yourselves,” she scolded. “Come on, come join us!” 

Her face lit up as the current song faded out and into the next one, a fast and energetic drum beat pounding through the speakers.

“Beau! It’s our song!” she squealed. “Now you have to dance.”

She held an expectant hand out to Beau, who heaved a defeated sigh before taking it.

Jester pulled Beau to her feet, then offered her other hand to Essek.

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“Nice try,” said Jester. “Like I’m going to leave you here alone.” She reached down and

grabbed Essek’s wrist, tugging him along with surprising strength. Caught off guard, he didn’t have a chance to even think about resisting before he was being pulled onto the dance floor.

And shoved straight into Caleb.

He just caught Jester winking at him out of the corner of his eye as she spun under 

Beau’s arm.

“Sorry,” he winced, as Caleb recovered from the collision.

“It’s alright.” Caleb, usually so soft-spoken, almost had to shout to be heard over the speakers, even in such close proximity. “Jester can be very…enthusiastic.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

There was a long beat of silence as they looked at each other, neither sure of what to  say.

“You seem much… happier than I expected,” said Essek, desperate to fill the pause. “The last party I saw you at, you… didn’t seem to enjoy yourself very much.”

Caleb shrugged. “Some days are worse than others. And this is a lot less crowded. The place is familiar, the people. I would not necessarily say I’m enjoying myself, but it’s easier.”

“Why come then, if you’re not having fun?”

Caleb glanced behind Essek, the corners of his lips quirking up. Essek followed his gaze to see Beau, Jester, and Yasha had formed some sort of headbanging circle, hair flying every which way and dangerously close to knocking their skulls into each other. 

“Why did you come?” Caleb threw the question back at him. 

Essek pursed his lips, unable to answer. Or just afraid to.

“I know how it can be hard,” said Caleb, “to let people in. But they could be good for you, the way they were good for me.”

Something in Essek’s chest tightened, and he found himself at a loss for words. 

Caleb was offering him something he had long since convinced himself he didn’t need. Solitude had been his indemnity for practically his entire life, but every interaction he had with these people poked another hole in his conviction. Whether he realized it or not, Caleb was on the verge ripping the cocoon wide open, 

“I—”

Essek was cut off by a muffled, continuous beeping from his pocket. Seething, he rifled for his phone, determined to silence it and prevent any further interruptions. But his blood ran cold as soon as he saw the caller ID displayed baldly on the screen.

He withdrew to the edge of the dance floor in a daze, his heart beating painfully hard against his ribs. If he had felt nervous before, it was nothing compared to now.

He was distantly aware of Caleb following at his heels as he lifted the phone to his ear  with a shaking hand.

“Hello?”

“Where in the Luxon’s name are you, Essek?” His mother’s voice hit harsh and shrill  against his ear.

“I—”

“I want you home this instant. You can explain yourself to me in person.”

“Yes, Ata .”

“Now, Essek!”

“I am on my way. I promise.”

Lowering the phone, he looked up to see that the Mighty Nein had circled around him, concern etched on their faces.

“That sounded serious,” said Caleb.

“I have to go home. I’m sorry, but, Fjord, would you mind—?”

“It’s no problem,” Fjord assured him. “I can drive you back.”

“We’ll all go,” Nott piped up, appearing out of nowhere at Essek’s elbow and making him jump.

“No, please, I don’t want to ruin your night,” said Essek, once recovered from the shock.

“What’s to ruin? We came, we danced. I already stole everything worth taking from the  snack table.” She held the pockets of her jacket open to show him the insides, one stuffed to the brim with loose pretzels and the other straining to hold five pouches of fruit punch. “I was going to suggest we leave soon anyway.”

The others all nodded their agreement, already making to head towards the exit. A  strange, overwhelming feeling spread through Essek, starting in his chest and making his limbs tingle, though not unpleasantly. He fought to speak clearly around the tightness in his throat.

“Thank you. I appreciate it, very much.”

The drive back was tense and silent. Essek mumbled his goodbyes to the group before jumping out of the van.

With the distinct feeling that he was walking to his own grave, he approached the front door.

Deirta was waiting at the kitchen table, mouth a thin, angry line and eyes full of worry as she watched her son approach.

Essek didn’t dare speak first. He lingered in the silence, not meeting his mother’s gaze.

“We had an agreement, Essek.”

“I know.”

“One night a week, I said. One night, you could be allowed to stay out late. I let you pick the day, and you picked Da'leysen. I agreed, even though it’s the night before the Sunrise Service, because I trusted you to be responsible. I trusted you to heed our agreement. One. Night. A. Week.”

Deirta Thelyss never yelled. Essek wasn’t sure she was physically capable of raising her voice above a strong projection. What she could do was make a slow, measured, conversational tone sound like a death threat.

“What day of the week is it, Essek?”

“Yulisen,” he breathed.

“So why, pray tell, did I return home tonight to discover that you were nowhere to be found?”

“I—”

“Was it, perhaps, because you snuck out without permission, disobeying my rules and thrusting me into all sorts of distress, not knowing if you were ok?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want apologies, Essek. I want to know that I am raising a young man who understands responsibility, and knows how to follow directions.”

Knowing there was nothing he could say that would appease her, Essek kept silent, lowering his head in submission.

“Go to bed, Essek. I’ll decide your punishment in the morning.”

“Yes, Ata .”

He took the stairs two at a time.

Chapter Text

Beau was late.

Caleb sat alone in the living room of his empty apartment, Nott having long since left for her shift at the Plexus Post. Essek’s astronomy book sat open on his lap, but couldn’t concentrate on the words for more than a few minutes at a time. He glanced repeatedly at the front door, confusion turning to annoyance and then to worry as time ticked by without a knock.

He’d received a text from Beauregard, only an hour after leaving Jester’s from the previous night’s sleepover, declaring that she was coming over. Though she hadn’t specified a time, the implication was that she was already on her way. 

Tardiness wasn’t like Beau. She normally fled her house as soon as possible on weekends, when her father was home from work and, in her words, ‘just sitting around waiting to criticize me.’ She had confessed to Caleb a while back that the reason she’d started going on early-morning runs in the first place was to avoid seeing her parents at breakfast.

He would have thought that dodging her family was the only reason she wanted to come over, if not for the urgent I need to show you something in her text.

So he waited with mounting concern, until finally a pounding knock sounded through the apartment.

Caleb got up to unlock the door and was almost barreled over by Beau shoving past him as soon as he opened it.

“Beaure—” he began to say, but was interrupted by Beau slamming a newspaper down on the trunk which he and Nott used as a coffee table. The words The Daily Chronicle glared up at him in bold, embellished font. Caleb wasn’t much for current events, but he recognized the name of the standard local news fare.

“Sorry it took so long,” she grunted brusquely. “My dad wouldn’t let me take his paper so I had to stop and buy my own.” She jabbed a finger at it. “Page five.”

“You read the newspaper?” And she called him a nerd.

“Just fucking read.” Her tone allowed no room for jokes or argument. Obediently, Caleb flipped to the appropriate page and sat down to read.

Surge of teen overdoses baffle hospital

A dozen students from Wynandir High School were admitted to Everlight Hospital last night exhibiting symptoms of drug overdose, an unprecedented number of simultaneous cases. Of these, two remain in critical condition...

Caleb skimmed the rest of the short article, his mind leaping forward to the conclusions Beau had no doubt already drawn. There seemed to be no further concrete details about these cases, or else the journalist who wrote it wasn’t a very thorough reporter, preferring to fret about the deteriorating safety of local children rather than provide actual information.

“I called around,” Beau said once Caleb looked up. “Based on my sources, everyone who’s in the hospital was at the dance last night.” She raised her eyebrows at him, clearly waiting for a reaction, but Caleb didn’t know how to respond. 

She continued, frustrated, “We both saw Essek dealing shit out last night. What the fuck did he give them?”

“I don’t know.”

Beau gaped at him. “Why are you not more bothered by this!” she shouted.

“I am very bothered, Beauregard. I just do not know what we can do about it.”

“We can call Essek, that’s what. You have his number, right?” Beau crossed her arms in the way Caleb knew meant that she was trying to cover up her fear by projecting toughness.

“I do,” he replied. “What are you planning on saying to him?”

“I don’t know, I’ll figure it out, just give me your phone.” She held a hand out, waving for him to hurry. Caleb obeyed, pulling up Essek’s contact and handing over the phone in a daze.

He was having trouble sorting out his feelings. He wanted to be proactive, like Beau, or at the very least be able to form some coherent thought about the situation. Instead, he just felt numb, his faculties shutting down in defense against the rising tide of repressed memories that threatened to drown him. The resurgence had begun as soon as he’d read the title of the article. 

Though, if he were being honest, cracks in the dam that he’d worked so hard to build had begun forming over two weeks ago, from the moment the Mighty Nein had discovered him and Essek sitting on that bathroom floor, and Beau had so casually revealed that his rescuer and former nemesis was a drug dealer.

He’d tried to move past it, tried not to acknowledge the lurch in his stomach at those words, but the slow, creeping reminders had built up over time. This new crisis was the final push to send him reeling back.

It was a visceral recollection: the identical, colorless rooms, everywhere smelling of antiseptic. Sharp pain in the crook of his arm, the needle administered by a harshly lined and jaundiced face. Calm, blissful oblivion, the relief of vacuity for a mind accustomed to overflowing with information, then replaced all too soon by pain, everywhere pain, muscles contorting, head pounding, his own voice begging for release…

“Caleb?” This voice came from very far away, but the hand on his arm was close, too close. He flinched, jerking away so abruptly that he almost rolled off the couch.

The couch… 

His couch, with the tattered blue cushions, which he and Nott had dragged four blocks from a yard sale and had barely fit through the door. 

The door of his apartment. His home, where he was now, and the hand grasping his arm was Beauregard, not Ikithon, her voice filled with concern instead of anger.

“Caleb? You’re ok, man. You’re fine, everything’s fine.” She was doing a good job of hiding her alarm. She’d seen this from him before, of course, though it was many months since he’d had an episode this bad.

Frumpkin appeared out of nowhere beside him, nudging his leg with a concerned murp. He pulled the cat into his lap.

“I… I’m alright,” he said, once his mouth started working again. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should’ve realized that this would...” Beau trailed off, shaking her head. “I never should have shown you that article.”

“You did nothing wrong,” he assured her. 

She pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced. “Let’s go somewhere,” she declared suddenly. “Let’s, I don’t know, go to the fucking park or something. Get you some fresh air.”

“No,” Caleb asserted. “You wanted to call Essek. Let’s call Essek.”

“Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, he picked up his phone from where Beau had dropped it and dialed the number himself. 

It rang, and rang, and rang, until Caleb finally hung up on the automated voicemail message.

“No answer.” Caleb looked up at Beauregard. “What do you want to do now?”

“We could go to his house? We know where he lives, now,” Beau suggested. Caleb shook his head.

“Something tells me that is not a good idea,” he said, remembering the look on Essek’s face when they drove him home early from the dance. “We can try again later?”

“Sure,” said Beau. Her incensed fury from before had faded drastically. Caleb couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, he felt guilty for scaring her.

“I promise I am ok.” 

It was true. Though shaken, the combination of Beau and Frumpkin presence was pulling him firmly back into reality. The painful memories retreated back behind his mental walls, their barricades reinforced against another escape attempt. 

Beau worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m still sorry,” she said. 

Caleb smiled weakly back at her. A few moments passed in silence before he worked up the strength to ask, “Seriously, what were you going to say to Essek if he had picked up?”

“I don’t know,” Beau muttered. “Ask if he knew what happened. If he did it on purpose.”

“You really think he would do something like that? What would be the point?”

“I don’t know!” She threw up her hands in frustration. “Maybe he’s selling for some serious villains who want to, like, kill the whole population with bad drugs or something.”

“You sound like Nott and Jester.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just feel like something is going on. Call it a hunch, I guess.”

“We have been dealing with a lot of dramatic shit lately. Chasing clues and criminal undergrounds.”

“True,” Beau grinned. “I kind of love it.”

“It has been a while since we got into proper trouble like this. Things were getting quiet, and you do not do well with quiet.”

“It’s not bad to want a little excitement in your life,” Beau defended.

“I never said it was,” Caleb replied. “But maybe not everything is a conspiracy?”

“ Maybe ,” Beau groused. “But you can’t say it isn’t a little suspicious.”

“It certainly is not good.”

“Like, even if Essek didn’t know, that doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. It’s super irresponsible to sell shit if you don’t know the effects. Quality control is a thing.”

Caleb hummed noncommittally, pulling Frumpkin in closer.

“Shit, sorry!” Beau winced. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Well, since you are already here, do you want to practice?” Caleb suggested. “While we wait to try Essek again?”

“Quiz bowl?”

“We have Apple Tree soon, and then our rematch against Zauber in a couple weeks.” Caleb lifted Frumpkin off his lap so he could walk over to where his backpack was sitting against the wall, and retrieved the trivia cards from inside. Waving them enticingly at Beau, he said, “Pumat gave these. Questions from last year’s national championship.”

A sly smile crept over Beau’s face. “We can investigate real shit later,” she said, flopping down against the arm of the couch. “Hit me.”

Essek crept downstairs that morning to find his mother chatting amiably with his aunt over breakfast, wearing an expression of sedate good humor, the exact opposite of how she had looked the previous night.

Still, he approached with caution. No matter how good her spirits, there was no chance Deirta had forgotten about his transgression last night. 

“Good morning, Essek,” Leylas greeted him over Deirta’s shoulder, and his mother turned primly in her chair to face him.

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” she said. Essek glanced at the clock and almost laughed. His mother would certainly be horrified to know what time most people his age arose on weekends.

“Good morning,” he said, sounding as relaxed as possible while bracing for her to deliver his sentence.

“Do you have your phone with you?”

Essek produced his cell phone from his pocket to show her, suspecting what was coming. Wordlessly, Deirta held her open palm out towards him. Essek placed the phone in her hand, not daring to argue.

“I’ve been discussing the events of last night with Leylas,” she said pleasantly. “She thinks I should be lenient with you. What do you think, Essek?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you agree? Do you think you deserve leniency?”

This had to be a trick or test of some kind, but he couldn’t identify the key to his mother’s mind games.

“It… was a first time offense,” he tested the waters. “I believe that counts for something in Aunt Leylas’ line of work.”

“Often. Not always.” Leylas looked at him over the rim of her own mug, considering. Essek knew better than to imagine her presence would be of any aid to him in his quest for mercy. Leylas was a stickler for law and order, through and through.

“Then why don’t we take another leaf from Leylas’ profession, hmm?” said Deirta. “We’ll have a probationary period. No phone, no car, no late nights whatsoever. Good behavior may earn you an early release. Does that sound fair?”

This was not a genuine question. This was another test, with a much more obvious correct answer.

“Yes, Ata .” Undercommon for mother, the last vestige of the language used regularly in their home.

Deirta turned back to her food, satisfied. Essek took the cue to join them at the table, where a plate had already been set for him.

Honestly, he was relieved to be getting off so easy. It would be inconvenient, especially not having his car, but these were consequences he could work around, and she hadn’t given him any repentance-based religious assignments to suffer through. It was close to a best case scenario.

“Essek’s behavior is really quite tame on the scale of teenage impropriety. Though still ill-advised, of course.” Leylas shot him a disapproving look, and he kowtowed appropriately.

“More degenerate parties this weekend, I take it?” said Deirta.

“Not exactly. Have you read the newspaper this morning?”

Deirta shook her head.

“There was a rash of overdoses last night. Twelve high school students were admitted to the hospital.”

Essek froze with his fork in mid-air.

“I only found out this morning, myself. Officer Mirimm called me at the crack of dawn.”

“Have you interrogated them yet?”

Essek’s heart stopped beating.

“The ones that were fit to talk, yes. None of them gave us anything useful. They all claimed not to remember what they took or who sold it to them.”

Essek’s heart started pumping again, but it didn’t feel like the blood was reaching most of his body.

“Do you believe them?”

“It’s hard to say,” Leylas sighed. “Most young people are too scared of retribution or ‘being a snitch’ to tell us who they bought from. Memory loss is an easy lie, but it could also be a genuine side effect of whatever they took.

“And that’s the really troubling part,” she continued. “Abrianna spoke with some of the hospital staff; apparently the symptoms these kids experienced weren’t consistent with the usual substances we see around here. They all took something much stronger, probably synthetic.”

A strong, steady buzzing sound filled Essek’s ears.

“That sounds serious,” said Deirta.

“It’s certainly not a good thing, and this is only the latest in a long line of drug-related cases. The Zadash Police are sending a detective down to help with the investigation. They seem to think our rising narcotics problem is related to major crime operations expanding their revenue out from the big cities.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh.

“You disagree?”

“Not necessarily, but I certainly don’t relish having some arrogant detective take over my case. They’re likely to tear the neighborhood apart looking for the culprits. No sense of community values.”

The buzzing in Essek’s ears grew louder, enough so that he couldn’t make out any more of the conversation.

There was no chance that it wasn’t the residuum. The coincidence was too strong, that another unknown, synthetic drug would have been distributed among the teenage demographic in the same time and place.

He had to tell someone. The annex had said that his was the first batch of residuum, but who knew how much more they had just waiting to be distributed? He hadn’t sold more than one pill per person, and had given every first-time customer the proper warnings.

At least, what he’d thought were the proper warnings. The annex had told him to treat it like ecstasy, so he had, but clearly there was more to the drug. They needed to adjust their approach accordingly. 

But on the other hand…

Essek couldn’t afford to be the bearer of bad news right now, not with his meeting still looming. He needed to make himself indispensable, not a liability. 

If it was in the news, the annex or someone had probably seen already and connected the dots. Really, there was no need for it to come from him.

He would send a message still, telling them about his sales and including a subtle inquiry about their future plans for residuum. He could gauge the threat of the situation, and hold off on directly addressing the overdoses until after his meeting.

“Please, excuse me,” he said when he could finally speak again. “I have a lot of homework to do today.”

His mother dismissed him with a wave, and Leylas nodded goodbye before returning to their conversation. 

Essek waited until he was out of sight from them before breaking into a run to his room.

Chapter Text

“And this will be your desk for the duration of your time here. I hope it’s up to your standards,” Chief Kryn concluded the tour of her police station.

Dairon nodded. “It’ll do just fine.” 

They knew better than to expect a warm welcome from the local law enforcement, but the chief at least had the decency to remain professional about it. She’d even offered to show them around herself, rather than hand the task off to a subordinate. If a mildly cold shoulder was the worst treatment Dairon was going to receive, they could more than live with that.

"I understand you intend to commute back and forth, is that correct?" the chief asked.

"I'll have to return to Zadash once or twice to keep up with some concurrent leads there. I'm juggling quite a few different angles on this case, but I intend to stay here as much as I can."

Chief Kryn hummed. Dairon couldn't quite tell whether or not they were imagining a judgmental undertone in the sound.

“Let me know if there is anything else you need from us.”

“I was hoping to start by taking a look at your arrest records from the past few years.”

Chief Kryn nodded primly and disappeared into a back room. Dairon sat down at their new desk, stretching and cracking their joints, stiff from the drive. They’d only stopped at the motel long enough to check in and toss their suitcase, then come straight here.

The office space really wasn’t very far from what they were used to. Same outdated computers, same piles of paperwork on every surface, same cheap and squeaky desk chair that offered nothing in terms of lumbar support. The only difference between this and the precinct in Zadash was the view outside the windows, that of an idyllic suburb street instead of the brick edifice of a neighboring building. That, and the lack of perpetual car honks in the distance.

It wasn’t exactly Dairon’s speed, but they could appreciate the change of pace.

Chief Kryn returned a moment later, carrying an enormous stack of files which she dropped on Dairon’s desk. 

“These go back about ten months,” she said. “Ask Zethris when you’re ready for the next batch.”

“I don’t suppose you have these filed digitally as well?” said Dairon, straightening the stack so that it didn’t tumble and scatter all over their desk.

“I’m afraid not.”

“No problem, then,” said Dairon.

“If I may, detective,” Chief Kryn spoke, her tone a little less cold now and a little more curious. “Why are you here?”

Dairon looked up at her. She was really a strikingly beautiful woman, much more elegant than most officers Dairon had met, with her long, silver-white hair and bone structure more suited to a runway than a police station. But Dairon wasn’t about to underestimate her based on this, especially not with the way those shrewd, blue eyes bore into them like a hunter contemplating its prey.

“What do you mean? You were briefed as to the nature of our investigation, weren’t you?”

“Of course,” she answered. “I meant, why are you here? When I was informed we would be joined by a detective from Zadash, I anticipated the dregs of your ranks, some fledgling investigator too low on the totem pole to turn down a relocation.” She cocked her head slightly to the side. “But I’ve heard of you, Detective Dairon. You’ve had quite an impressive career. Surely you could have passed on this assignment if you’d wanted to. So why didn’t you?”

Dairon raised one eyebrow, considering. They hadn’t planned on confiding their genuine motivation to anyone here, sure that the local officers would be more hindrance than help, but the chief was an impressive surprise. Though they’d only just met, Dairon prided themself on their instinct and judgement of character, and it was plain to see that Leylas Kryn was no slouch. Far from it.

Dairon cast an eye over the room, noting the handful of police officers and administrators attending to their work at nearby desks.

“Is there perhaps somewhere more private we can talk?”

With a curt gesture, Chief Kryn beckoned for Dairon to follow, leading them down a short hallway and into what appeared to be her office, judging by the placard on the desk reading Chief Leylas Kryn .

Dairon shut the door behind them as the chief sat down, looking at them expectantly.

“Are you familiar with the Cerberus Corporation?” they began.

Chief Kryn frowned, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Yes, of course. It’s the biggest pharmaceutical company on the continent. ”

“I believe they are behind the increase in drug activity here.”

They couldn’t blame the chief for laughing. It was a distant, hollow sound, and no humor reached her eyes.

“The reason for our increased drug activity is—no offense, detective—the gang presence leaking out of Zadash that your police force has so far failed to keep contained.”

Dairon wasn’t about to argue—the chief was half right.

“And I have a theory about who is funding those gangs and enabling them to expand their spheres of influence,” they said.

Dairon saw Chief Kryn’s expression morph from self-righteous, to confused, to intrigued in the space of a breath.

“You believe,” she said, her words coated thickly with doubt, “that an internationally respected corporation is financing low life criminals? To what end, exactly?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m here.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need a bit more clarification, detective.”

“Of course,” Dairon sighed, trying to find the best way to succinctly present months of scattered research and hunches.

“You know the Soltryce Rehab Center?” they began. 

Chief Kryn nodded, looking wary. “It’s a staple of the community,” she said defensively. “It’s not just a rehab clinic, you know, they offer an array of medical procedures, and all sorts of psychiatric treatment for people who can’t otherwise afford it.”

“Saints, I’m sure.” Dairon resisted the urge to roll their eyes. Soltryce’s impeccable reputation for charitable practice was one of the main reasons the higher-ups had dismissed Dairon’s theory out of hand. They were getting sick of hearing about it.

Dairon continued, “There was a lawsuit against them a few years ago involving the wrongful deaths of several patients. There was no proof, and the plaintiffs ran out of funds almost immediately, so the case was thrown out.”

“I’m familiar,” said Chief Kryn curtly. “What does this have to do with Cerberus, or my drug case, for that matter?”

“The Cerberus Corporation owns the Soltryce Rehab Center.” 

Dairon allowed themself a smidgen of satisfaction at seeing the chief’s eyes go wide at this statement, if only for a brief second before her calm and collected demeanor was back in place.

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Neither was I, until recently. I started looking into it when I noticed that several of our collars, mostly dealers, were listed as low-level employees of Cerberus’ subsidiaries. Not necessarily suspicious, in itself—plenty of drug dealers have day jobs. But I decided to look into it. You know what they say: twice is a coincidence, etc.”

Chief Kryn nodded for them to continue.

“So I looked into their financial records and learned that everything at Soltryce is paid for by the Cerberus Corporation—equipment, salaries, lawyers to bury inconvenient lawsuits…”

“I suppose that explains how Soltryce stays afloat as a veritable non profit.” Chief Kryn’s lips were pressed into a thin line, the gears working in her mind almost visible behind her eyes.

“I managed to gain access to Soltryce’s financials as well,” said Dairon.

 Which had been much harder than getting a look at Cerberus' history. The corporation could likely have halted Dairon’s investigation in its tracks, but the CEO, Ludinus Da’leth, had been unexpectedly open and, in his words, ‘keen to cooperate with our nation’s finest.’ 

Conversely, Dairon had needed to call in quite a few favors and step on a number of toes to get the same cooperation from Soltryce, despite it also being a part of Ludinus’ domain.

“I found a major discrepancy.” And here at last Dairon pulled the folder from their bag, laying it open on the desk for the chief to see. They flipped through papers until landing on the photocopies of both sets of financial records, side by side, with the relevant sums circled in damning red pen. 

“See here?” They pointed, Chief Kryn leaning forward to read the page. “That’s the total amount Cerberus allocates quarterly to the rehab center. And over here, Soltryce’s total quarterly expense.”

“They don’t match.” The chief’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Exactly.”

“That’s hardly proof of anything,” she argued, leaning back in her stately chair. “There’s almost guaranteed to be some inconsistency in any business’ spending.”

“The same amount, every year since Soltryce was founded?”

Dairon had to fight a smile from curling over their lips as they watched the chief’s reaction, the cracks forming in that self-possessed demeanor and growing with every word Dairon spoke.

It wasn’t just pride at shaking such an unflappable woman that was lifting their spirits so much. This was the longest they’d gotten into explaining their hunch to anyone without being shut down. It was a relief to see shock and consideration on the chief’s face, as opposed to contempt.

“So what exactly do you think this means?” Chief Kryn asked. “You’ve yet to explain how this relates to the drug situation which is your actual assignment here.”

“I promise I’m getting to it.” Dairon flipped to another paper, a compiled list of relevant employees.

“The liaison between Cerberus and Soltryce is a man named Vence Nuthaleus.” They pointed out his name, accompanied by a grainy, thumbnail-sized picture. 

“I questioned him, of course—he was useless—but luckily for me, he managed to get himself arrested a couple weeks ago during a raid on a suspected Angel of Irons hideout.”

“Angel of Irons?” the chief asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“Or Angel s of Irons, I’m never sure what the exact title is,” said Dairon. “It’s a small gang that’s cropped up recently. Small, but influential, as we’re starting to learn.”

“So this is your connection between Cerberus and our crime situation?”

Dairon nodded. “Vence was a bit more loose-lipped when he was facing charges. He admitted to transferring a monthly stipend to the Angels of Irons from Soltryce. My guess is that the Cerberus people use Soltryce as a middle man to make the transaction harder to trace.”

“Did this Vence tell you anything more? Any evidence that these ‘Angels of Irons’ are the ones responsible for our drug situation here?”

Dairon fought a wince. They were hoping that maybe Chief Kryn wouldn’t ask more about Vence.

“Unfortunately, he escaped custody shortly after giving us this information. We have no idea where he is now.”

They ignored the chief’s disapproving frown, speaking before she could get off a snide comment about incompetence.

“I recognize that, on paper, it’s not much more than a hunch. But, I know that the Angels tend to be more mobile than most of the other syndicates that we deal with in Zadash. I’m in contact with some Zhelezo in Nicodranas who’ve had encounters with them, and this town is directly on the path between the two cities. It makes sense that they would have some presence here, and the pattern of activity you’ve seen growing in the past few months matches their MO exactly.

“So, that’s why I took this assignment.” Dairon closed and picked up the folder of evidence, tucking it safely under their arm.

They waited with bated breath for the chief to speak again. Despite their earlier excitement at being able to properly share the theory they’d been working on for months in secret, Dairon found that they now felt rather exposed and vulnerable, awaiting Leylas Kryn’s verdict as they would their own commanding officer’s.

“So, to summarize,” Chief Kryn said slowly, “the Cerberus Corporation is funding a small but powerful crime syndicate known as the Angels of Irons by feeding money through the Soltryce Rehabilitation Center, which they also own. These ‘Angels of Irons,’” she spoke the name with obvious scorn, “are distributing unprecedented amounts of illegal substances into my community. In terms of evidence, you have an inconclusive financial paper trail and the testimony of one employee, now on the run. Is that correct?”

“That about covers it,” said Dairon through gritted teeth.

“Well, difficult as it is to believe, it’s more to go on than I have at the moment.”

Dairon blinked, taken aback. It almost sounded like…

“Are you saying you’re going to follow these leads?” Dairon filtered any hint of surprise out of their voice. Even a modicum of uncertainty could throw off whatever tenuous credence they seemed to have with the chief.

“I’m saying I will not get in the way of you conducting your investigation, and if you need aid, I will do my best to spare whatever resources I can.” She looked at Dairon intensely, a ruthless conviction in her eyes that bored into them like a laser. “The drug situation is a blight on our community. I will do anything to take down the reprobates who are putting our children in the hospital.”

She heaved a sigh. “And I can’t pretend that I am being treated with good faith by those who have noticed the force’s ineffectiveness in these cases so far. I’m running out of ideas, and you’ve just handed me a fresh perspective. I’d be a fool to ignore it.”

Dairon did not smile, because Dairon never smiled, but they did hold out an appreciative hand. Chief Kryn accepted the handshake with a nod.

“I'll get to work, then,” they said, and allowed themself the smallest of grins only once they had turned and exited the office, out of sight.

Chapter Text

Essek had never before in his life gone through a single class period without raising his hand to answer a question, let alone an entire day.

Two days since he’d sent a message to the annex asking about the residuum, and he’d received no response. This timeline wasn’t necessarily worrisome, but usually his communications were answered within forty-eight hours at most. The longer time dragged out without a reply, the more sour anxiety built up in his gut and clouded his brain.

There had been no further news about the people still in the hospital.

It wasn’t his fault. Of that much, Essek was sure. He had followed the same protocol he always did, given the same safety warnings to the buyers. He’d had no way of knowing the strength of what he was selling, so he was in no way culpable for the consequences.

It wasn’t his fault.

The sick, acidic burn in his chest was not guilt, because there was no reason to be guilty.

It wasn’t concern, either. Taking drugs came with an inherent risk, and it was not his job to wring his hands over the fates of the people he sold to. His connection to them began and ended with the transaction itself. It was up to the users to know their own limits, not him. If he spent his time fretting over the wellbeing of every single buyer who overestimated their tolerance, he would never have any time left in the day.

The tension that was blocking his lungs from taking in the proper amount of air was stress, not for his customers but for himself. The fact that none of them had informed on him yet was only a small comfort. Any one of them could easily change their minds, or recover their clouded memories. It would only take one person out of twelve to sink him.

Not to mention that overdoses were extremely bad for business. There was a reason Essek made sure to talk new buyers through exactly what they were signing up for, and it wasn’t altruism. Drug dealing was a field built on good faith and word of mouth. If rumor spread that Essek was selling bad shit, his profits would plummet. He didn’t know how many people would be able to connect the dots between the newspaper article and his presence at the Wynandir dance, but it wasn’t a risk he was comfortable with.

There was a small bright spot on Essek’s grim horizon, at least. He’d informed his mother that he had started tutoring another student (while omitting certain details, of course), and had received conditional release from his solitary confinement to continue. He would be seeing Caleb again that afternoon, if only for an hour, at which point Deirta’s clemency ended.

He took the steps up to the library two at a time in his rush. 

Caleb was already there, sat at the same table as last week, with the materials stacked in front of him. Essek slid eagerly into the chair across from him, already unzipping his bag.

“I found a book in the school library that I think—”

“Did you know?”

Essek looked up to see Caleb’s face set in a serious frown. 

“Did I know what?” Essek asked thickly, though he suspected the answer. 

Caleb pulled a folded-up newspaper from underneath the heavy astronomy textbook and placed it between the two of them, open to the article.

Essek pushed it away. “Of course I didn’t.”

“But it was you who sold it to them?”

Essek sucked in a breath, letting it out as steadily as he could manage. “I can’t be certain that it’s the same people I sold to, but the timing lines up.”

“Beauregard says everyone who overdosed was at the dance.”

“How did she find that out? They didn’t release anyone’s name.”

“She has her ways.” Caleb shrugged. “She’s something of an investigator.”

Essek thought back to the way Beau always looked at him like he was hiding something and questioned him like an interrogator on the most inane subjects. 

“I can see it.”

“You really didn’t know that this would happen?” Caleb repeated.

“Of course not. You think I would have sold something to these people that I knew would hurt them?”

“I don’t know. I’m starting to realize I know very little about you, Essek.”

Caleb’s voice was stiff and frigid. A numbness gripped Essek, choking off the excitement he had felt only moments before.

“Is there something you want to say to me, Caleb?” he said, matching that phlegmatic tone.

Caleb deflated. “I suppose not,” he said, casting his gaze downward and seeming to morph back into the endearingly awkward personality Essek remembered.

They were both silent, held at a stalemate with neither certain how to ignore the tension that had formed between them. 

Essek opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say but determined to get them back on track, when a distinctive voice called from the entrance.

“Hi guys! Sorry I’m late!”

Jester Lavorre seemed impervious to the glares and shushings she received from the library’s other occupants as she barrelled towards them.

“Hello, Jester.” Caleb seemed as surprised by her arrival as Essek was. “I didn’t realize you were going to join us.”

Jester shrugged. “I thought it would be fun!”

“Are you also interested in learning astronomy?” Essek asked. He hadn’t pegged Jester as the studious type, but perhaps he had misjudged.

“Sure, maybe,” she replied. “Is it anything like astrology? Cause I already know a lot about that.”

“No.”

“Bummer. Maybe I can teach you some stuff, then,” she suggested. “Do you know anything about astrology, Essek?”

“No, and I don’t care to.” Essek turned back to Caleb while Jester pouted. “As I was saying,” he said, pulling his prize at last from his bag, “I found a book that I thought you might find interesting.” He handed the volume over, watching eagerly as Caleb took in the faded, gold-embossed title.

“ The Folding Halls , by Halas Lutagran…” He looked up at Essek, eyes wide. “Is this a first edition?” 

“A translation,” Essek admitted. “But side by side with the original Zemnian.”

“Zeidelian, technically.” Caleb’s eyes returned to the book, hands flipping reverently through the pages. 

“Zeidelian is recognized as an early dialect of Zemnian, not a separate language,” Essek corrected him.

Caleb scoffed. “Not if you ask a Zemnian.”

Jester peered over Caleb’s shoulder. “What is it?” 

“It is considered to be the first ever science fiction novel,” Essek answered, “although it also contains a great deal of original research into the cosmos. Halas was a scientist first. There’s actually quite a bit of debate over whether the fictional narrative came from him or another writer working from his research notes.”

“Cool,” said Jester.

“This is a remarkable find.” Caleb made to pass the book back to Essek. He shook his head, holding his hands back from accepting it.

“It is a gift.”

Caleb’s eyes darted back and forth between the book and Essek. “Really?”

“Well, technically it’s due back to the library in two weeks,” he amended. “But I imagine you won’t need that long to finish it.”

Caleb pulled the book back towards himself, still looking stunned. “Thank you,” he said softly. “That is very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Essek mumbled, pride and sheepishness warring for his attention.

“That’s really sweet, Essek,” Jester crooned, glancing between the two of them with an impish gleam in her eye.

“Yes, well,” Essek cleared his throat. “We should get started. I have to be home by five.”

Apart from the occasional nonsequitur question, Jester’s presence did little to interrupt the rhythm of their lesson. She mostly spent the time scribbling furiously in a sketchbook, and though Essek couldn’t see what she was drawing, he did catch her stealing frequent glances at him and Caleb, and at one point holding up her pencil, seemingly measuring part of Essek’s face.

As he guided Caleb through his old notes, Essek couldn’t decide whether to resent Jester for crashing or be grateful to her. Though he felt the loss of one-on-one time with Caleb keenly, Jester had an infectious quality to her that brightened up the vicinity even when she was silent. Her arrival had saved them from the earlier tension, and her unobtrusive presence took a great deal of pressure off of interacting with Caleb alone.

What he definitely resented was the alarm going off on his watch, signalling that he had ten minutes to get home before his mother murdered him in cold blood.

“You really do have strict parents,” Jester mused as Essek began to pack up his things in a hurry.

“Yes, well,” he muttered, not eager to get into it.

“Before you go, Essek, I wanted to ask,” said Caleb. “I tried calling you, the day after the dance. Why didn’t you answer?”

Shit . He was going to have to get into it.

“My mother took my phone,” he said, shrugging in a way that he hoped made it seem inconsequential. 

“What, why?” cried Jester, looking scandalized.

“I didn’t have permission to go out that night,” he said quickly, praying for this line of questioning to end. “Her punishment style is a bit cliché, but bearable.”

“Aww, Essek! You snuck out of the house just to spend time with us?” Jester made a face like she had just been gifted with a basket of puppies. 

“I… suppose.”

“I am sorry we got you into trouble,” said Caleb. There was a pity in his gaze that turned Essek’s stomach.

“It’s hardly your fault,” he said, turning away from them. “And I really need to go.”

He could feel both sets of eyes on him as he walked out the door, but he refused to look back.

Caleb watched Essek’s retreating back silently, his brain sorting through this new information and adding it to his ever-growing ‘Essek’ file.

“That's so sad,” said Jester from beside him. “I bet Essek can’t talk to his mom about anything . I can’t imagine what it would be like if my mama was so hard on me.”

Caleb didn’t say anything about his parents’ disciplinary style, because it didn’t matter.

“Let’s go,” he said instead. “The others are meeting at the Blooming Grove, right?”

Jester nodded. She hooked an arm around Caleb’s elbow as they exited the library, then stopped in her tracks as soon as they were outside. Realization growing on her face, she said in disgust, “Wait, do we have to walk?”

“Unless you have a car and a driver’s license all of a sudden.”

“Shit,” Jester muttered. “I didn’t think this through. I should have left straight from school with the others.”

Despite her regret, Jester kept up a continuous, cheerful chatter on the long walk, Caleb interjecting every so often to answer a question. He was only half present, still mulling things over, but Jester didn’t seem to mind.

The Blooming Grove Café looked more like a greenhouse than an establishment that served food. Every surface was covered by at least one pot of something: orchids on the tables, succulents lining the register, feathery ferns emerging from the walls and dangling down from the ceiling like a rainforest canopy.

The others were all gathered at a corner booth when Caleb and Jester arrived, excluding Fjord, who was standing behind the counter wearing a pastel pink apron.

“Five more minutes till my break,” he explained. “Either of you want anything?”

Caleb shook his head while Jester scanned the chalkboard menu overhead, as though she didn’t have the whole thing memorized by now.

“One wildberry muffin, please!”

While Fjord retrieved the pastry, Caleb joined the group, sliding in next to Nott.

“Did you talk to Essek?” Beau asked him immediately.

“I did,” Caleb answered. “He said he had no idea.”

“Of course he said that!” yelled Nott. “He wouldn’t just admit it if he laced the drugs!”

Beau pointed emphatically at Nott, as if to say, yeah, what she said .

“I really don’t think he did it on purpose,” Caleb insisted. “What would be the point?”

Nott shrugged. Beau, apparently having no answer either, said, “So what, just because he didn’t know, that absolves him of all responsibility?”

“Well…” Unbidden, a memory flashed into Caleb’s mind: two faces, one red-haired and serious, the other dark blonde and weathered, each accepting a paper cup with a green pill inside.

Danke, Bärchen, they both smiled at him in thanks as he handed them cups of water to easier swallow their deaths.

But it wasn’t the same. He’d known what he was doing. Even if he hadn’t been able to anticipate the results, it was willful blindness on his part, not genuine ignorance.

If he'd wanted to, he could have made the same argument about Essek.

“So, er, Obann? Storage unit? That’s what we’re here to talk about, right?” A now apron-less Fjord squeezed himself into the packed booth, apparently not having heard any of the conversation up to this point.

“Yes,” Caleb said, and continued even as Beau opened her mouth to interrupt. “We need to find a time we can all go scope it out.”

“It’ll have to be a time when no one else is around,” said Yasha.

“4:00 am.”

Everyone turned to Nott with questioning looks. 

“4:00 am,” she repeated, like it should be obvious. “It’s the perfect time to sneak around: it’s too early for anyone who’s going there during the day, and if there are any other people planning to heist it in the middle of the night, they would want to be gone by then.”

“That’s very smart,” said Yasha.

“Yes,” Caleb agreed. “Although I was thinking more along the lines of staking it out for a while, learning the patterns of movement, and then going at a time we know for sure it will be empty.”

“That’ll take too long,” said Beau. “I like Nott’s idea.”

“We’ll have to go on the weekend then,” said Fjord. “I suppose we could go one morning before school, but 4:00 would be cutting it close.”

“You guys are way too hung up about not missing school,” Beau complained, slumping back against the wall with a mopey pout. “We are terrible sleuths, and it’s all because you think your GPA’s are more important than catching an actual, legit criminal.”

“It’s almost midterms, Beauregard,” Caleb said instead of contradicting her. Beau slammed her head down onto the table with a groan, mumbling something too indistinct to make out, but that sounded kind of like fucking lame-ass loser nerds .

“Why don’t we go once to check it out in daylight first?” Caduceus suggested. “Just to get a sense of the place. There’s nothing suspicious about going to this facility, so long as we don’t try to break in anywhere just yet.”

“Boring, but true,” ceded Beau, lifting herself back up. “We can go after school sometime this week. When’s everyone free?”

“Deuce and I both have Folsen off,” said Fjord. “Does anyone else have to work then?”

Nott, Caleb, and Yasha, the other members of the group with after-school jobs, all shook their heads.

“But we do have a commitment that day, at least in the evening,” Caleb reminded them. “Essek’s favor?”

“Shit, right!” Beau smacked her hand against her forehead. “What the hell are we even going to do for that? Do we have a plan?”

“I still have time to make a papier-mâché Essek,” said Jester around a mouthful of crumbly muffin.

“Why don’t we call that plan B,” said Caleb, “and keep brainstorming?”

“How about Modern Literature? Or Spider Eyes?” Nott suggested, an eager glint in her eyes. “It’s been so long since we pulled something from our old playbook, Caleb!”

Caleb smiled warmly at her. “Those were designed for smaller audiences, I do not think they are so well suited to our purpose now.”

“Pulling the fire alarm is always a classic,” Beau offered. “Nott could sneak inside during the service.”

“Would I even have to sneak? It’s a church, can’t you just walk right in?” She looked to Caduceus for an answer, eyebrows raised quizzically.

Caduceus shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. The Wildmother doesn’t really have churches, or organized gatherings. Sometimes my family will all go out in the woods and meditate together, and in that case, yeah, you can just walk in.”

“Would a fire alarm be enough? Essek said he needed an hour, right?” Fjord looked to Caleb for confirmation, being the one with the eidetic memory. He nodded.

“What if we, like, prank called Essek’s mom? Cause she’s the only one he’s worried about, right?” said Jester. “So if we could get her to leave somehow, then Essek could go to his meeting.”

“I think most people turn their phones off during religious services,” said Fjord. 

“Like you would know, hippie,” Nott teased. He stuck his tongue out at her.

Caleb pursed his lips, mind whirring with possibilities. “We have a few decent options,” he said, “but I think we might need something with a little more verve…”

Essek made it home with a minute to spare. Sighing out a breath of relief, he let himself inside. 

Deirta was sitting with her eyes trained on the front door, obviously waiting for him. Essek bit back a comment about what she could accomplish with all the time she spent tracking his every move, and instead smiled politely in greeting.

“Hello, Ata .” 

She didn’t respond. Instead, she raised something up in her hand for him to see, and Essek recognized his cell phone clutched between her manicured fingers.

“So, Caleb or Jester? Which one is it?”

Essek felt his insides turn to lead at these words. Doing his best to ignore the new weight dragging him down, he said “What do you mean?”

“You’ve only texted two people at all in the past three weeks. A ‘Caleb Widogast’ and a ‘Jester Lavorre.’” She fixed him with her most penetrating glare, throwing her words at him like stones. “So, which one is it?”

Essek shut his eyes, wishing he could be anywhere but here, having any conversation but this. He should have known this was coming the moment she’d confiscated his phone, but he was idiotic enough to think that maybe they were at a place by now in their relationship that allowed a sliver of privacy. 

But of course, she insisted on knowing all of his passwords, why wouldn’t she use them? 

“It isn’t like that.” He opened his eyes again. His mother looked like she had become somehow even more incensed in the few seconds he’d had them closed. “They’re just friends, both of them.”

“Of course they are,” Deirta scoffed. “That’s what your brother said about that Bilan girl he met at school, and look what happened there!” Her nostrils flared with anger like a bull about to charge, but she took a deep breath, her tense posture relaxing. Her voice adopted the cadence she used with her sons whenever they questioned her authority: calm, dulcet, and with a level of commanding presence that could bring kings to submission.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Verin,” she continued. “The Luxon demands our full devotion. Relationships this early in life always end in heartbreak. You are so young, my dear, far too young to have your focus drawn away from the Light by something so trivial.”

So trivial as love? Essek thought but did not say, both because his mother would never tolerate to hear it, and because a terrifying nausea overtook him even just to think the word.

“I promise,” he said, pouring as much sincerity into his voice as he could muster, “there is nothing untoward going on with either of them. They are just friends, good friends. The best I’ve ever had.”

The last part came out like a whisper, a plea, and Essek hated himself for saying it out loud almost as much as he hated it for being true.

His mother remained unmoved by this profession. She placed his phone gently on the table beside her—evidence already presented, no longer necessary to display— and crossed her hands in her lap. This motion from her was as good as tying the noose around Essek’s neck.

“Even if you are telling me the truth, I can’t ignore the facts. Ever since you started communicating with these people,” she tapped the phone with one nail, “you’ve been distracted, disobedient, not acting like yourself. They’re clearly a bad influence on you, Essek.” Her gaze softened, looking at him with dreadful, loathsome sympathy.

“You have your whole future ahead of you—a future we have both worked so hard for. There is far too much at stake for you to be getting mixed up with the wrong people at this stage. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stop seeing them.”

Essek’s mouth was open to protest before he even registered what he was doing, his heart racing with fear, and desperation burning through him in a frantic mantra of no, please, no.

And then he closed his mouth. Placed his hands out of sight in his pockets and curled them into fists, pressing all his feelings into his tightly coiled fingers and then digging his nails into the flesh of his palms until he stopped feeling anything but the faint sting of pain. 

When had arguing ever worked? When had his mother ever listened to a word he said that contradicted her myopic perspective? What was the point in wasting his energy beating his fists against the stone walls of this prison? He would only bloody his knuckles, and be no closer to escape.

“You’re right,” he said, letting the familiar comfort of the mask fall back over his face. He should never have let it slip. It was tempting to expose his true face to the world when presented with the prospect of acceptance, but it was only a charming lie, a pipe dream for children and the hopelessly naïve, of which Essek was neither. “I won’t see them again.”

It was a lie, of course. He might not be able to circumvent his mother’s dictums, but he had always been able to lie to her, easy as breathing. Easier, sometimes.

Deirta smiled like a wolf whose prey had just lain down at her feet. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Essek didn’t bother saying another word, only nodded at her before retreating up to his bedroom.

Perhaps there were people in the world who could let themselves be viewed without a veil, real and unfiltered, but he had spent too long living in the mask. His skin underneath was raw and tender, and the faint hope of relief wasn’t worth the scorching pain it took to get there. Clearly.

Chapter Text

“Essek, could I have a word with you for a moment?” Leylas’ voice materialized behind him, and it took all Essek’s willpower not to jump. It wouldn’t do to showcase how on edge he was, especially not to his aunt.

“Of course,” he replied easily, heart beating in his throat. It only grew worse as Leylas led him out into the hallway, away from where the congregants were milling around and chatting before the start of the evening’s service.

“I wanted to speak to you,” she said, voice low, and measured as ever. “I’ve been… concerned, about your recent behavior. Deirta’s told me some things. You haven’t been acting like yourself.”

And how would you know? Essek thought. No matter how much time she spent with the Thelyss’—quite a lot, since they’d all immigrated together—it wasn’t as if Leylas worked very hard to bond with him. His mother only saw an infinitesimal fraction of him that wasn’t an act, and his aunt was privy to even less.

“I know better than anyone the kinds of things that can happen to children your age when they get on the wrong path,” she continued. “Here especially, you wouldn’t believe the lengths kids will go to for the sake of rebellion. They ruin their lives; I’ve testified in so many juvenile court cases, they all blur together.”

Children, kids, the words grated against Essek like sandpaper. He was an adult, for fuck’s sake, legally. It wouldn’t be juvenile court he ended up in if he got caught. But even before his last birthday had made it official, he’d been smarter than most adults he knew, including Leylas, including his mother. It wasn’t arrogance, it was fact. 

Condescension dripped from Leylas’ every word, and it was that much worse that she didn’t even realize what she was doing. 

“Your mother told me about those friends of yours, what were their names—” She barely paused for a second trying to recall before dismissing it as unimportant with a shake of her head. “And I want to commend you for severing ties with them. I’m sure it can’t have been easy, but it was the right call.” She smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was taller than her, but somehow she still managed to look down on him.

“You're an exceptional boy, Essek,” she said with rare affection, “and you’re going to accomplish incredible things. I would hate to see you sabotage your future by getting involved with the wrong people. You’re on the right path—let the Light guide you from straying off of it.”

A familiar numbness spread through Essek, filling him with a comfortable blankness. It was the easiest thing in the world to smile back at her, although he was sure his eyes remained empty and dead. It didn’t matter; she wouldn’t notice.

“Thank you, Aunt Leylas,” he said. “Your encouragement means a lot.”

With one last patronizing smile, Leylas returned to the main room, where the congregation was beginning to migrate as Deirta called for a start to the service.

A sharp, scorching desire to punch a wall pierced through the numbness, but Essek buried it easily as he joined the mass.

As the service dragged dully on, Essek lost count of how many times he’d checked his watch so far.

It wasn’t a motion he could get away with during a morning service without his mother noticing, but Sunset Services weren’t held in the main sanctuary, with the congregation sitting in neat rows of pews. For their evening service, worshippers of the Luxon gathered in what was known as the observatory: a separate, spacious room in the back of the temple with a wall made entirely out of stained glass facing westward. They stood in a crowd as the umavi gave her sermon in front of this wall, watching the sun descend gradually behind her, a kaleidoscope of colors casting over them as the light filtered through.

Huddled in the mass, Essek was able to sneak glance after glance at his wrist, his heart beating increasingly faster as the tiny hands ticked from 6:00, to 6:30, to 6:45…

His phone still held hostage, he hadn’t been able to contact any of the Mighty Nein to confirm their plan. If they took any longer, he would have to just leave and hope no one stopped him.

He couldn’t be late to this meeting. If it came down to dying at the hands of an angry mobster or his angry mother, he would choose his mother. At least he knew that she would be quick about it.

One more minute, and then he would make a break for it.

Maybe they weren’t coming. Maybe there was no distraction to wait for, because the Mighty Nein had forgotten about him, or decided that helping him wasn’t worth the hassle. Maybe they had never planned to repay him at all, and had just said whatever they needed to in order to get him to chauffer them.

Just as he was about to duck out through the back, a buzzing noise reached Essek’s ears. At first he thought it was in his own head, a side effect of the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but then it started getting louder. And closer.

Essek stepped to the edges of the crowd, clearing a line of sight behind them to the wide, open archway connecting the observatory to the main building, where the sound seemed to be coming from.

A tiny, yellow honey bee meandered its way into the room, buzzing happily, followed by another... and another… and another…

By the time the first person screamed, Essek was already moving. The bees were emerging from his intended escape route, but there was an emergency exit door on the other side of the room. He only made it a few feet before chaos erupted, peaceful church-goers suddenly running amok and bumping into each other to avoid the swarm. 

Though it slowed his progress, the mayhem also provided perfect cover, as Essek was hardly the only person now hurrying to the exit. He slipped out into the parking lot between a pair of panicked tieflings, just catching his mother’s voice from inside, begging for calm.

Instead of beelining straight to his car, Essek circled around to the main entrance of the church. Huddled quite conspicuously around the corner were the Mighty Nein, Caduceus holding an odd-looking wooden crate for which Essek could guess the purpose.

“Did it work?” Jester whisper-shouted as he approached. In place of answering, Essek pointed back towards the steady stream of people fleeing out the emergency exit. 

“Not exactly what I was expecting, but the results speak for themselves. Thank you,” he said, glancing nervously over his shoulder for any sign of his mother, or aunt, or anyone mindful enough to notice the suspicious group of them.

“Don’t worry,” said Caduceus, smiling affably. “The bees will be perfectly fine. I already called my parents, they’ll be down here to round them back up in no time.”

Essek had not given a single thought to the wellbeing of the bees, but he nodded anyway. “Good,” he said. “Although hopefully not too soon…?”

“It’ll take a least an hour to clear them out and double-check the whole building,” Caduceus assured him. 

“You’re in the clear dude, now go,” Beauregard ordered, and Essek obeyed with one last grateful nod, dashing towards his car.

Despite ‘no car’ being a pillar of his punishment, Deirta hadn’t blinked at his suggestion that they drive to the temple separately—thank the Light for small mercies—saying that she needed to stay late after the service to work anyway. 

He wasn’t completely in the clear yet, of course. Once the initial havoc cooled down, his mother would have the opportunity to notice that he was missing. But, Essek reasoned as he sped through town, he could make excuses for leaving under the circumstances: he’d gotten scared, assumed that the service would be cancelled due to the interruption, et cetera. There was even a chance that she would be too distracted supervising the clean-up to notice his absence at all.

He arrived at the Tri-Spires in the nick of time, slipping into Room 287 just as his watch ticked from 7:00 to 7:01.

“You must be Essek.”

He jumped in surprise, too elated by his success to have registered the person sitting at the cheap desk, awaiting his arrival.

A half-elven woman with short, neatly-styled brown hair peered at him over a book, which she had evidently been reading while she waited. Traces of wrinkles curled around her mouth and eyes, though they were not the kind of crow's feet born of frequent smiling.

Essek wasn’t really sure what sort of person he had been imagining for this mysterious meeting, but this certainly wasn’t it. This woman looked like she would be more at home in a lecture hall than perusing the black market. 

Although, to be fair, so did Essek, and the annex was hardly the stereotypical image of a criminal either. 

“Yes,” he said, hesitantly approaching the desk. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She smiled at him, surprisingly warm. “You’ve done very good work for us, so I hear.”

Essek wasn’t sure the right way to respond to this—should he be humble? Proud?—so he said nothing.

“My name is Vess DeRogna.” She drew forward in her seat, making her already straight posture even more poised. “Do you know why I requested to meet with you, Essek Thelyss?”

“I’m afraid not.” And he was very afraid. 

“I have a request to make of you, on behalf of our entire organization.” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side, as though a thought had just occurred to her. “How much do you know about our operation, really?”

Honestly, not much, but that seemed like the wrong thing to say.

“I know as much as I need to do my job,” he answered. 

That was really his attitude in a nutshell. Though he was as desperately curious about the people he worked with as he was about everything, he was also smart, and had a strong enough sense of self-preservation not to peek behind the curtain. Once you eat the food in the faerie realm, you can never go back. His sense of rebellion wasn’t strong enough to sell his soul for. 

Although, the echo in his head of Leylas’ lecture from earlier that evening was testing his resolve. Her words had made him aware of a heat simmering under the surface of his consciousness, though it must have been present for a long time before now, like a dormant volcano biding its time until agitated enough to erupt. An anger that he had kept buried for years was approaching its boiling point, and he feared what might happen if it melted through the last of his interior defenses.

“Well, I won’t bore you with too many details,” said Vess DeRogna. “The relevant information is that we’ve had something of a security breach. An employee was arrested in Zadash recently, and police raided his home.” Her cadence reminded Essek of a teacher entering into a lecture, and he felt the instinctive need to take notes. 

“Unfortunately, this employee happened to be in possession of some sensitive documents, which contained, shall we say, unflattering information about some very important people. People without whom this whole system would fall apart.” She gave Essek a look, no more than a quirk of an eyebrow, but he could read the meaning in it clear as day: If we go down, you go down with us .

“All the evidence that the Zadash police gathered is on its way here, to this town,” DeRogna resumed her professetorial tone. “From what I know, the lead detective on the case has relocated here to work with the local police. Which is where you come in, Essek. I understand you have a rather close connection to the chief of police, is that correct?”

A picture was beginning to form in Essek’s mind, one which was as terrifying as it was thrilling, and which set the volcano inside him rumbling eagerly.

“It is,” he answered.

“Have you ever been inside the police station?”

“Yes.”

“Would you say you're very familiar with it, and the people who work there?”

“I know my way around.” He’d only visited Leylas’ work once or twice, but he had a good memory and, even more importantly, a strong sense of what was expected of him in this conversation.

“Then I have something of a quest for you, Essek. It’s very simple. There is really only one file that’s truly important to us, and we would quite like it back, preferably before this detective has a chance to read it.”

“When do you think that would be?” How long do I have?

“My sources say she’s headed back to Zadash in a day or two to handle some other case. A very well-timed emergency, if I do say so myself, which will force her to miss the delivery. The timeline’s a little murky at the moment, but I would estimate she’ll be back in a week or so.”

“Plenty of time,” Essek said airily.

“I agree.”

She was quiet then, not needing to ask the question openly in order to wait for his answer.

Essek took a deep breath through his nose, as imperceptibly as he could.

Breaking into the police station and stealing evidence would be the riskiest thing he’d ever done. It was an objectively stupid risk to take. But, standing there in front of Vess DeRogna, he knew he had no real option in the matter. She may not seem immediately threatening, but looks could be deceiving. He had no doubts about the power she wielded, and he didn’t want to think too hard about what she could do to him if he refused.

Not to mention the thrilling shiver that moved down his spine at the thought of it, a familiar sensation but a hundred times stronger. 

Something inside him craved to do this, roared for it like a caged lion taunted with a piece of meat just out of reach. In this sense, he was both prisoner and jailor. He could unlock the door to his own cell and devour that prize, quench that insatiable hunger. 

Every rational cell in Essek’s brain told him that the satisfaction wouldn’t be worth it, but for once in his life, he was tired of being rational.

“Sounds simple enough,” he said. 

Vess DeRogna grinned.

“Thanks for calling us, kids,” said Cornelius Clay, voice muffled through the mesh of his beekeeping suit. “I’d hate to think what would’ve happened if someone had called an exterminator down here first. They don’t always use the most humane extraction methods, you know.”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Beau, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We actually have to get going, like, right now. Have fun with the bees!”

She grabbed Fjord and Caleb by the elbows and dragged them away, the rest of the Mighty Nein following as Cornelius and Constance both called a confused “Goodbye!” at them.

“Sorry you had to lie to your parents, Caduceus,” said Jester as they all climbed into the newly-repaired Ball-Eater.

“I didn’t,” Caduceus said easily. 

Caleb replayed their conversation with the Clays in his mind and realized that Caduceus was right; he hadn’t said a single false word to them. It wasn’t as if they had asked him directly, ‘Did you and your friends steal these bees from your sister’s hive and release them into this church?’ There was an argument to be made about lying by omission, but Caleb wasn’t going to be the one to make it. He was just relieved that Caduceus had been willing to go along with the plan, and even more relieved that it had worked. He’d had his doubts. 

Favor to Essek repaid, the Mighty Nein had another errand to attend to that evening.

“Hurry up, Fjord!” Beau moaned, leaning forward into the front seat. “It’s bad enough we had to spend all afternoon gathering bees, I want to get there with at least a little bit of daylight left!”

It wasn’t looking likely, as the sun sank lower and the sky turned a darker and darker blue. But, fortunately, the address that Gelidon had given them wasn’t very far out of town. 

The lot was relatively small, only two rows of four storage units each, with a courtyard of asphalt in between, tacked onto the left side of the road like an afterthought.

It was also crawling with police.

Fjord slammed on the brakes as soon as they turned the corner and the first cop car came into view, parked a hundred feet down the road and positioned to block any other cars from entering the lot. He looked back to the others in panic as the Ball-Eater sat rumbling in the middle of the deserted street.  

They all looked back at him in equal shock.

Finally, Yasha said, “Pull over,” and Fjord obeyed, inching the van to the side of the road as surreptitiously as possible. It wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous vehicle, but in the dim dusk light, none of the officers seemed to notice.

Beau peered through the windshield, trying to get a better scope of the situation. At this angle, coming at it from the side, much of their view was blocked by the wall of units. 

“Looks like it’s just the two cars, no idea how many people, though,” she commentated. “I’d have to get closer.”

“Do you think they’re here for the same reason we are?” asked Jester.

“I think so,” said Yasha, also squinting intently at the scene.

“We need to get a better look. I’ll go,” said Nott, before scurrying out the door and disappearing into the bushes lining the road.

“No, Nott—” Caleb tried, but she was already gone. “ Shei ße.”

“This is good, right?” said Caduceus. “The police are getting evidence. Wasn’t our whole plan to find something that proved Obann’s guilt and give it to the authorities?”

“Maybe,” grumbled Beau. “That’s assuming they don’t fuck this up like they do everything. Wait…” She trailed off, squinting into the distance. “Is that…?”

And then she was out the door too, dashing nimbly in Nott’s wake.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” Fjord whispered in exasperation, smacking his forehead down onto the steering wheel. “We’re all going to jail!”

“Should we… go after them?” Jester wondered, wringing her hands nervously.

Caleb shook his head. “The more people go, the more likely someone is to spot us. We’re better off just waiting.”

And so they did. For one minute… then two… then three… five…

Fjord nearly screamed when the door seemingly opened on its own. Against the dark of the night in her black hoodie, her green skin the same shade as the plants behind her, Nott was next to invisible as she scurried back into the van. Beau appeared on the other side another minute later, having gone all the way around the back of the storage facility to rendezvous.

“There’s like ten officers,” Nott reported. “And caution tape everywhere. They’re clearing out one of the units, the same number Gelidon gave us. Looks like a lot of papers and weapons, plus some bundles of stuff I couldn’t make out.”

“Probably drugs,” said Yasha.

“You guys,” said Beauregard, eyes glinting with excitement. “I recognized one of them. Detective Dairon is here.” She flashed a beaming grin.

“Who?”

“Gods, you guys really need to watch the news,” she sighed. “Dairon’s a big-league investigator in Zadash. She uncovered a corruption scandal that got the Starosta kicked out of office. I followed the whole case last year. She’s a total badass.”

Caleb frowned. “So what is she doing here?” he wondered.

“I think the Angels of Irons have a presence in Zadash,” said Yasha. “Obann used to travel back and forth a lot.”

“You think that Zadash sent some big-shot detective down here to investigate Obann?” said Fjord.

Yasha shrugged. “Maybe. Or the Angels in general.”

“All I know is, if Dairon’s on the case, I take back everything I said about the cops fucking stuff up. Obann is going down hard .” Beau grinned.

Yasha smiled softly back at her. “I like the sound of that.”

“So, is that it?” said Nott, with a hint of disappointment. “We’re done here, case closed, the cops have got it handled?”

“At least for now,” Caleb answered. “There is nothing more we can do here, at least not with police everywhere. And if they are taking all the evidence away, then our plan is moot. The best we can do now is keep an eye on the news for reports about any arrests.”

Nott sulked a bit in her seat, but the rest of the Mighty Nein seemed satisfied with this pronouncement. Fjord turned the key in the Ball-Eater’s ignition and made as subtle and quiet a u-turn as he could manage.

“How do you feel about this, Yasha?” Jester asked, hopping seats to sit next to her. 

Yasha pursed her lips, looking deep in thought. 

“Good, I think,” she answered. “I just want to stop Obann from hurting any more people. If Beau thinks that this Dairon person can get him for something, then I’ll be happy with that.”

Jester leaned her head on Yasha’s shoulder. “That’s all we want, Yasha, for you to be happy. And to feel safe.”

“Oh, Jester.” Yasha smiled and wiggled to wrap an arm around Jester’s back, hugging her close. “I always feel safe with you.”

Chapter Text

Essek arrived at quiz bowl practice the following afternoon with his head in a fog, all his attention preoccupied by the task set before him by DeRogna. So it was several seconds after walking into the classroom that he noticed he was not the first to arrive, as usual, but that his teammates were ready and standing by the desks, clearly waiting for him.

“Essek,” Adeen growled. “How nice of you to finally show up.”

Essek glanced at his watch. He was only a few minutes late.

Adeen was speaking again before Essek could even open his mouth to defend himself.

“We need to talk to you. It’s important.” Beside him, Yun and Lythir nodded their heads, though looking slightly less sure of themselves than Adeen.

“We know you’ve been hanging out with the Wynandir team. I saw you out with them last week, and Yun saw you at the library with Widogast.”

Yun ducked her head, avoiding Essek’s gaze. 

“Why in hell are you helping them?” Adeen barrelled on. “They’re our competition .”

“I haven’t been helping them,” Essek shot back. “So I talked to them a couple times, so what?”

“Don’t lie to us. Wynandir used to be at the bottom of the standings. Last match, we barely beat them by one question, and they crushed Apple Tree by a mile in their game. Yun saw you studying with their captain! You’re going to cost us the championship!”

“We’re not going to lose.” Essek rolled his eyes. Adeen had always been touchy and a tad over-dramatic, but this was beyond ridiculous, especially when Essek had much more important things on his mind.

“Maybe this doesn’t mean anything to you,” Adeen accused, waving his hands around to indicate the team, “but some of us take this seriously. This team has a chance at a perfect record—championships four years in a row. I’m not going to let you fuck it up for us.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Adeen, it was me who won the last game. Not us, me. I’ve won every game for this team since freshman year, so don’t pretend like I’m the weak link here,” Essek snapped. He’d always hated Adeen as a person—he was all posturing and no substance—but he made a tolerable teammate so long as he was pliant and listened to instructions. This insubordination was insufferable, and so beneath Essek that it was almost funny.

Adeen’s hands curled into fists as he stepped forward, getting up in Essek’s face and lowering his voice to a near-whisper.

“I’ll make it simple for you, oh Mighty Captain Thelyss. I know about your little side business,” he snarled. “And I’m sure your aunt would love to hear about it. So, stop helping the enemy, or I’ll go to the police and tell them exactly how you spend your weekends.”

Essek managed to cover the hitch in his throat with a scoffing laugh. “You’re bluffing.”

Adeen shrugged, stepping back out of Essek’s space. “You want to take that risk? Your new friends are really worth getting arrested and expelled for?”

“You’re being an idiot, Adeen.” But Essek couldn’t summon the proper vitriol into the words. Pressure was building in his chest, shoving painfully against his lungs. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to get any air. 

He refused to let the team see him like this, especially Adeen. He couldn’t give him the satisfaction of witnessing him break.

Priorities. First: escape. He would figure out what to do about Adeen’s threat after he could breathe again.

“You can practice on your own today,” he said, hoping the heavy disdain in his voice was enough to cover the breathlessness. “It’ll be good for you to see how well you can actually manage without me.”

With that, Essek turned on his heel and walked straight back through the door. He maintained his indifferent expression and kept an even pace all the way down the hall and around the corner, where he was finally able to duck into a bathroom and fall apart in a private stall.

He leaned his back against the locked door, listening closely for any footsteps. The stall was far from soundproof, and the idea of someone walking in and hearing his erratic breathing only worsened Essek’s panic.

Vess DeRogna, his mother and Leylas, and now fucking Adeen on top of it all… it was too much.

Confident that no one was approaching, he stopped trying to stifle the wheezes, allowing his lungs to gasp as desperately and uselessly as they pleased around the sharp pain in his sternum. He didn’t bother to count or slow down his breaths. 

Essek had always prided himself on his ability to work under pressure. He thrived on it, and had the grades and accolades to prove it. But everyone has a breaking point, or so he was learning now, weepy and breathless and out of his mind.

Unbidden, the image of another bathroom and another panic attack rose to the surface of his memory. But this time he was the one in crisis, and no one was coming to sit and comfort him. He wouldn’t want them to.

Thinking of Caleb only worsened the pressure that seemed to be bearing down on him from all sides. It wasn’t just panic that had him feeling so dreadful; there was grief mixed in there too. He was mourning a friendship—seven of them.

Because he knew, deep down, that Adeen wasn’t bluffing. They’d been in school together for years. Essek knew him well. This type of controlling, excessive ultimatum was perfectly in character for him, and he wasn’t one to back down.

And if Adeen made good on his word and went to the police, then he was right. Essek was a criminal . He would go to jail . And it wasn’t just the drugs now, he still had DeRogna’s task to complete, and if he got caught for that… 

Essek leaned his forehead, slick with anxious sweat, against the wall, but the cool metal of the stall offered only a crumb relief. His arms, wrapped tightly around his torso, were meager comforts.

It was less than a week ago that his mother had made the same demand for him to stop seeing his friends. It had hurt then, that she cared so little for his happiness, but the pain was mitigated by the knowledge that he wouldn’t actually have to heed her. Now, though…

Essek didn’t believe in the Luxon, or any other god. He didn’t believe in fate, or the will of the universe. He believed in science, and facts, and science and facts indicated that there was no conscious force pulling the strings of life. It was all randomness and chance, neither malicious nor benevolent. 

However, in that moment, it felt very much like something out there was determined for Essek to be miserable. And it was succeeding.

Caleb hadn’t heard from Essek since the bees distraction, four days ago.

He hadn’t allowed this to worry him at all over the weekend, knowing that Essek was probably still without his phone, and so a lack of communication was to be expected.

But he had not expected to sit in the library for half an hour after their scheduled tutoring time with no sign of Essek, and that was starting to worry him.

“Caleb? How much longer are we going to wait?” Nott asked. She was perched cross-legged on top of her chair and jiggling her knees hard enough to shake the whole table, clearly overflowing with energy from sitting still for too long. 

Caleb went to rub his eyes for the third time since they’d sat down, and for the third time was startled by the glass blocking his way.

“Stop smudging them!” Nott scolded, smacking his hands away from his face. “We only have the one pair.”

Caleb sighed, fiddling with the new frames hanging over his ears. He’d only spent a day and a half wearing glasses so far, and the feeling was still jarringly foreign, although the clarity with which he could now see was certainly appreciated. Who knew there was so much detail in the leaves on trees?

“You are sure they don’t look dumb?” he asked sheepishly.

“No way!” said Nott. “The hot nerd look is super in right now, Jester told me so!”

Caleb felt his cheeks flush, but his lips still lifted into a grateful smile.

“Good thing the school does those mandatory eye exams, or we would have never known,” said Nott.

“I am sure I would have figured it out eventually,” said Caleb, although the nurse’s assessment of his deteriorating eyesight had come as a surprise. He had managed not to notice how blurry the world was getting until he’d followed her advice yesterday and visited an optometrist. 

Though, he still wasn’t sure clearer vision was worth the exorbitant price tag.

“Stop it,” said Nott. “That’s your guilt face. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

“I was not thinking anything,” he lied. 

Nott scowled at him.

“We should probably go,” said Caleb. “I doubt Essek is coming at this point.”

“Do you want to try calling him, just in case? Maybe he got his phone back, and he just forgot about today, but if you call him he’ll rush right over.”

Caleb pulled out his phone, almost glad that Nott had given him an excuse to do so. It would have felt pathetic, calling in vain out of his own doomed hope, but Nott was offering him a logical justification.

The empty, continuous ringing came as no surprise, but that robotic voicemail message still sent a disheartening stab through Caleb.

“Alright,” Nott gave in when Caleb lowered the phone and returned it to his pocket. “Let’s go. Screw Essek, right?”

Caleb smiled weakly at her attempt to cheer him up. “Maybe we can stop by the Cryptic Collection on the way home? See if they have anything worth grabbing?” he suggested.

Nott’s eyes lit up. “Really?” she gasped.

“We have to pay these things off somehow.” Caleb tapped the side of his glasses with a cheeky grin, which Nott returned.

They did not, in fact, end up going to Nott’s favorite shoplifting target, because halfway there they ran straight into Yasha, walking along the side of the road looking dazed and distracted. 

“Yasha?” Nott called to her, and she jerked her head toward them like she had been snapped out of hypnosis.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here? I thought all the jocks were at the gym this afternoon.”

“I decided not to go. I didn’t really feel like working out.” Yasha’s voice was as blank as her expression. 

“Are you alright?” Caleb asked, exchanging a concerned look with Nott.

“I’m fine,” said Yasha. “I just, needed to be alone for a while.”

“Do you want to be alone now?” 

Yasha looked between the two of them, blank eyes filling suddenly with emotion.

“No.”

Nott jumped into action, grabbing Yasha’s large hand in her tiny one. 

“Let’s go home. Caleb and I have ice cream and whiskey at our apartment.”

Calen nodded confirmation. “Also jellybeans,” he added.

Yasha smiled, weak but grateful. “I like jellybeans.”

Caleb took Yasha’s other side on the brief walk back to their building, not holding her hand like Nott, but attempting to exude as much of a supportive presence as he could. 

Once there, Nott beelined immediately for the fridge while Caleb grabbed a few assorted mugs and bowls and cups from the cupboard. Together, they assembled three proper snack servings of sweets and booze, and gathered around the living room area. Nott sat with Yasha on the couch while Caleb took their flea market monstrosity of a beanbag chair.

No one said anything for a long time. Nott experimentally doused her mug of ice cream with a generous helping of whiskey sauce. Yasha sprinkled jellybeans overtop of hers. Caleb kept his separate for the time being.

“There wasn’t any arrest,” Yasha eventually spoke.

“Huh?” Nott coughed a bit on an over-enthusiastic gulp of her drink.

“Obann.”

“We don’t know for sure,” Caleb tried to comfort her. “They might not have told the press about it, if they had.”

“They didn’t. I saw him.”

“What? When?” Nott sat forward so quickly she almost spilled her alcoholic dessert concoction all over herself.

“Yesterday. He came to the bar where I work.”

“That little shit!” Nott swore. “What happened?”

“Nothing, really. He seemed surprised to see me. I’ve only been working there a couple months, so,” she shrugged, “he must not have been there looking for me. He left pretty quickly after he saw me.” The tiniest quirk of a smile passed over her lips. “His face was still pretty fucked up. I don’t think he ever saw a doctor after I hit him.”

Caleb held his hand out for a silent fist bump, which Yasha obliged. 

“Maybe they just haven’t finished going through all the stuff from the storage unit yet. It’s only been a few days,” said Nott.

Yasha shook her head. “They’re not going to arrest him.” She sounded more defeated than Caleb had ever heard her, shoulders slumped and eyes despairing. “Whatever they find, he’ll find a way to slip out of it. He always does.”

Without warning, she slammed a fist down on the couch cushion beside her, letting out a fearsome cry of frustration. Nott jumped away in surprise.

“I’m so… angry! ” Yasha growled, her face screwed up tightly and her jaw clenched. “And I don’t know what to do with it all!”

Her eyes shone, but no tears fell as she looked miserably back and forth between Caleb and Nott.

“I lied,” she continued. “At the storage unit, when I said I just wanted Obann off the streets. I lied. I want him to hurt . I know it won’t help anything.” The words spilled from her mouth, and Caleb got the sense that these were thoughts she had been keeping behind a dam for a long time. “I’ve already hurt him plenty of times, and it’s never enough. I don’t know what will be enough.”

“Nothing will be enough,” said Nott flatly. “When people hurt you, really hurt you, there’s nothing that feels like retribution, because no matter what happens to them, it can’t change what happened to you.” She took a long swig from the remaining whiskey in her mug. “So you just have to learn to live with it.”

“That sounds awful.”

“It is,” said Caleb. 

Yasha stayed quiet for a long moment, tracing a finger around the rim of her ice cream bowl. 

“I’ve hurt people,” she said finally. “You both know, when I was working for Obann. Lots of people. People who didn’t deserve it.” Her finger halted. She tapped once, twice in thought. “I hate to think that I’ve made other people feel the way I feel now. But I suppose there’s a kind of poetic justice in that. This helplessness, I’ve brought it on myself, in a way. I’ve earned it.”

“There is no justice in pain,” said Caleb. “The only thing you can do is live with it. Confront what you have done, try to prevent the same mistakes being made again. Do whatever you can not to be a cog in the perpetual cycle. Survive.”

“I can understand survival,” said Yasha.

“That’s all any of us can do, really,” said Nott. “On the bright side, your regret proves that you’re not a heartless monster like Obann. You’re better than the people who have done this to you.” 

She addressed her words to Yasha, but Caleb could feel her eyes on him.

“Pay it forward.” Caleb hadn’t fully meant to say the words out loud, and after the moment passed, he wasn’t entirely sure that he even had.

“Do you want to stay here tonight, Yasha?” he offered, finally focusing his eyes again to look at her. “You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch.”

Yasha shook her head emphatically. “That’s ok, Caleb. But thank you.”

“More whiskey,” Nott pronounced, and scrambled back to the kitchen area for the bottle.

Caleb stood up, a plan coalescing from the swirling vortex of his mind. 

“I have something I need to do,” he said, sliding his unfinished ice cream over the trunk towards Yasha. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” Nott called across the room.

“I just need to talk to someone. I won’t be too long.”

He was out the door and closing it behind him before she could question him further.

His perfect memory didn’t fail him in recreating the route the Ball-Eater had taken on the night of the dance, but he hadn’t really taken any time to consider the distance on foot. It took over an hour to reach his destination. Nott even texted him to check in halfway there. He assured her that he was alright, although he was breathing quite heavily by the time he finally reached the large house.

If he’d not been to Jester’s mansion already, the scope of Essek’s home would have been overwhelming. The grey-white exterior loomed like a castle, complete with a gate (mercifully unlocked) and a sprawling front lawn. He guessed that three of his childhood houses could have fit within it.

Though it was, by the looks of things, actually smaller than Jester’s home and certainly plainer, the grandeur still gave Caleb pause. Jester’s mother had made a fortune in Nicodranas as an entertainer and courtesan, and still brought in plenty of business since moving to the suburbs. Essek had said his mother worked as a preacher. Caleb was not aware of what the average clergy worker made in a year, but he wouldn’t have guessed enough to live someplace like this. His father must have had an incredibly lucrative job before his death, or else the family had some kind of impressive inheritance.

He shook his head as he approached the door, shoving his curiosity away. Theorizing over the Thelyss family’s socioeconomic status was not his purpose here. 

Swallowing his hesitation, Caleb knocked on the door, forgoing the ornate knocker to tap his fist, firmly yet politely, against the gleaming mahogany.

He waited. Ten seconds… thirty seconds… one minute… two minutes…

Debating whether he should try the knocker this time, the sudden sound of a clicking lock made Caleb’s pulse jump.

The door opened agonizingly slowly to reveal Essek, still in his school uniform and looking uncharacteristically frazzled. His eyes widened at the sight of Caleb.

“Hello,” Caleb greeted.

“You’re wearing glasses,” said Essek numbly.

“Oh, right.” He’d forgotten about that. Caleb reached up automatically to readjust the frames. “They are a, ah, new addition.”

“They suit you.”

“Thank you.”

Caleb paused, ringing his hands as nerves finally made themselves apparent. Whether he’d run out of strength to suppress them or it was only Essek standing in front of him that triggered it, he didn’t know.

Essek glanced over his shoulder, his surprise transforming into something like fear. 

Turning back, he all but hissed, “What are you doing here?” The vehemence of the question, in addition to Essek’s clearly distressed state, put Caleb on high alert. Something was wrong.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he said. “Why didn’t you come to the library this afternoon? Nott and I waited for you.”

“I just… couldn’t make it.” Essek checked again over his shoulder, as if afraid of what might appear behind his back if he let his guard down long enough.

“We missed you.”

Essek said nothing to this.

“Do you want to reschedule for another time? I know you’re busy, but—”

“No.”

Caleb stopped with his mouth still part-way open.

“I can’t keep tutoring you. Consider our meetings cancelled.” 

Instead of protesting, Caleb just said, “Why?”

“I can’t see you anymore, Caleb, or the rest of your friends. Not for tutoring, not for anything. And tell Jester to stop texting me.”

So he did have his phone back.

A voice called from deeper in the house, “Who is it, Essek?” and a woman with Essek’s sharp cheekbones and silver-gray eyes emerged behind him.

“No one,” said Essek. “And he was just leaving.”

Essek’s mother gave Caleb a chilling once-over. Her expression was not cruel—far from it, she wore a distantly polite smile, but one devoid of warmth.

“Caleb Widogast, I presume?” she said. Caleb didn’t know whether to be scared or impressed.

“…Yes.”

Her smile grew wider and yet also harsher.

“Thank you for coming, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Essek is busy.”

She didn’t give him even a moment to respond before shutting the door, forcing Caleb to take a step back.

Unsure of what else he could do, Caleb walked slowly back across the lawn, beginning the long journey back home. As he did, the image of Essek and his mother swirled behind his eyes, suspicions forming into theories and then to conclusions as he mulled over the brief encounter. He still might not have the whole picture fully realized, but the puzzle of Essek Thelyss was starting to take shape.

Chapter Text

Essek was hardly a stranger to crime, but breaking and entering was not a part of his repertoire. 

DeRogna had contacted him the day following their meeting to confirm that Detective Dairon would not be back in town to examine the findings for at least a week. They had left for Zadash to deal with an emergency which DeRogna declined to elaborate on.

Don’t worry about that, she’d written. Just focus on the files I told you about. No need to waste time.

This message, she’d accompanied with a detailed description of exactly what he was looking for, including size, paper quality, and the date it was taken.

Following DeRogna’s example of prioritizing precision over haste, Essek took six days out of his seven-day timeline to prepare the caper.

Step One: steal the spare key to Aunt Leylas’ house that his mother kept on the hook by the front door. Tricky under Deirta’s ever-vigilant watch, but not impossible, especially once she had regranted him his car privileges. 

Essek had expected the worst from his mother after Caleb’s surprise visitation, but Deirta was shockingly understanding. She had apparently overheard him telling Caleb off, and the whole affair actually pushed him further on the path to lowering her suspicions, rather than setting him back. 

He owed Caleb a thank you, not that he would ever have a chance to give it.

Step Two: use the key to get into Leylas’ home while she and her wife were at work. This required him to leave school during lunch period—technically against the rules, but there was a lot you could get away with as the valedictorian and every teacher’s pet with a spotless disciplinary record.

Step Three: locate the set of spare keys Leylas kept as an anal backup, as though someone as orderly as her would ever lose a key. Make impressions of every key to the station, including interior locks. Get copies made by a locksmith who didn’t ask too many questions.

Step Four: Get into his aunt’s work email using the password he’d found while looking for the keys, written on a slip of paper next to her computer. (Why adults always insisted on keeping an analogue record of their passwords, Essek did not know, and he wasn’t about to question the logic when it benefitted him.) Copy down her login information and authorization code to shut down the station’s surveillance system. 

Leylas really had an awful lot of sensitive information lying around her house. Her loss was his gain. She shouldn’t have put so much naïve faith in her in-home security, or her relatives.

Step Five: Break in, shut down the security cameras, grab the file, leave no trace. Easy.

He had every contingency planned for: gloves to prevent fingerprints, mask and hood to obscure his identity from the cameras before he could turn them off from the inside. He even walked to the station in the middle of the night rather than risk someone spotting his license plate.

None of these preparations calmed Essek’s heart from beating like a hammer in his chest as he paced along the sidewalk several yards from the station, doing his best to look idle and inconspicuous while keeping a vigilant eye on the front door.

Finally, when he was about ready to explode with nerves, the signal he’d been waiting for arrived.

This was his other reason for waiting to strike until the last possible day before the detective’s return. The 22 nd of Quen'pillar, that being tomorrow, was Civilization’s Dawn. It was an ancient holiday and rarely celebrated in its original form, if at all, but it was still a bank holiday, and all schools would be closed for the day.

Claudia Sheed, true to form, was holding a party that night, taking the rare opportunity for a mid-week rager. Essek’s presence had been requested to provide some recreation to her guests, but he’d turned her down.

And called the police to her address with a noise complaint.

He watched as two patrol cars peeled out of the parking lot, holding four officers between them. Objectively overkill for such a routine call, but Essek had counted on the night-shift officers being bored and desperate for action. Also, he may have implied that they would find a fair bit of drug use going on at this particular party, as an insurance policy.

Peering from afar through the window and into the well-lit interior, Essek only spotted one desk still occupied: a secretary or some kind of administrator, playing on their phone with a bulky pair of headphones covering their ears.

So far, the plan couldn’t have been going better. As he slunk around to the back door, Essek did his best to ignore the pessimistic voice in his head that told him his good luck had to run out soon. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, though.

It took him four tries to fit the key into the lock around the back entrance of the station.

The front half of the building was all open desks and workspace, where the officers on-duty were located. The back half, as Essek recalled distantly from his few times visiting Leylas at work, housed the more sensitive areas of the station, private offices and the like. He was sure to find his targets there.

This late at night, the halls were pitch-dark, cut off entirely from the bright fluorescents still lighting up the bullpen.

He darted around the shadows easily, keen dark-elf eyes spotting the few security cameras on his route and skirting around their sights to the best of his ability.

He’d thought about finding some way to blind their lenses or reposition them as he went, but that was sure to be suspicious. If he was able to avoid detection entirely on entry, the shut-down might be attributed to a technical malfunction. 

There was really only the slimmest chance that no one would realize a theft had been committed altogether, but Essek was willing to take those odds, if only out of desperation. Either way, he was confident that even if he did appear on the security feed, he wouldn’t be recognizable in the slightest. He’d even worn his rarely-used contact lenses in case Aunt Leylas saw him on the footage and recognized his glasses

His memory of the layout, however distant, served him well in navigating the station. He was able to locate the surveillance control room and then the evidence lock-up in quick succession, unlocking both doors as silently as physically possible, his heart racing a mile a minute to make up for how slowly his fingers twisted the keys.

The evidence room looked like it hadn’t been cleaned out since the station was first built. Shelves upon shelves filled the musky, windowless space from floor to ceiling; boxes stacked three-deep bordered the edges of the linoleum floor, and one entire wall was covered with a row of industrial-sized filing cabinets. 

Essek shuffled over to these, squinting to read the handwritten labels. They were organized by date. He worked his way down, looking for the current year, before realizing that the dates were actually subdivisions. The files were split into umbrella categories: closed cases and open cases. Trying to take deep breaths without making any extra noise, Essek reconfigured his search, hyper-aware that every second he spent here brought him closer and closer to getting caught.

Finally, he located the appropriate drawer. He rummaged through the files, gloved fingers stumbling clumsily over the papers. As his search narrowed, the organizational method grew more complex: each folder was labeled with some kind of alphanumeric code, presumably a standardized filing system for police that he couldn’t hope to decipher. Rather than try in vain to discern the meaning of the code, Essek scanned methodically through each folder, one at a time, his heart rate increasing with each one he eliminated as the chances of capture and failure both grew. By the time he alighted on his quarry, his heart felt like it must have matched the speed of the average hummingbird’s.

His hissing intake of breath seemed to echo through the silent room when he withdrew the thick folder matching DeRogna’s description. He pulled it out gingerly, hands shaking ever so slightly.

As described, it appeared to be medical files of some kind, stapled together with many pages of photocopied notes, all in the same handwriting and all printed on letterhead from the Soltryce Rehabilitation Center.

Essek scanned through the top pages, double-checking that it was, without a doubt, the evidence he’d been sent to find.

Two identical forms topped the packet, bearing the heading:

Incident Report Form C218-W24403 

They were both filled out in the same neat, cursive hand, and the entries on each matched almost word for word. The only differing line was the very first question listed right under the heading, where the form asked for Name of Patient . On the first page, this line was filled out, Una Ermendrud. The second read , Leofric Ermendrud. 

The rest of these forms offered little more information. Mostly filled with a shorthand that Essek couldn’t parse, there were only two other lines that made any sense to him:

Cause of Death: Cardiac Arrest 

Next of Kin: Bren Ermendrud (ref. Employee Information Form PC201-12)                        

He could have stopped reading there. It was more than enough confirmation that he had the right papers. But stubborn curiosity had Essek flipping over to the next packet, eyes devouring the chicken-scratch at a rapid pace, even as his better instinct screamed at him to flee as soon as possible.

Much of the notes were redacted with inscrutable black marker, but a few entries were left untouched, as well as the heading at the top of each and the signature at the bottom. A few particular entries drew Essek’s attention, dated across the span of several months, starting almost three years ago.

Personal Log 

Residuum Experiment, Trial Round 3. Patients exhibiting harsh side effects, primarily mild hallucinations and muscle convulsions. Adjust formula accordingly. 

Astrid has disposed of the remaining supply of this batch.

Bren has finally stopped hesitating when administering the trial doses.

Signed:Trent Ikithon

 

Personal Log

Residuum Experiment Trial Round 4. Side effects were mitigated, but primary effect was also diluted. I’ll have Bren assist in rebalancing the formula, he shows more aptitude than Eodwulf on the chemistry side of things.

DeRogna visited today to check on our progress. She still refuses to give a deadline for completion other than ‘soon.’ She seems to expect a finished product in a timeline of months rather than years, despite my cautioning.

Signed:Trent Ikithon

 

Personal Log 

Residuum Experiment Trial Round 6: We were overambitious. Back to the drawing board.

Bren did not take the news well. Nurses are attending to him now. It’s a regrettable waste of talent, but on the bright side, he is a perfect candidate to replace our lost test subjects. Margolin is drawing up the intake papers now.

Signed:Trent Ikithon

 

Personal Log

Residuum Experiment Trial Round 8: Much improved results this time. Astrid has made an extremely helpful lead assistant on this project since Bren’s breakdown. I have spoken to Margolin about employing her full-time once she graduates, although I suspect Ludinus might want her working up at his end. She shows a knack for the business side of things as much as the science.

I worry that mixing the experimental drug with Bren’s daily prescription is muddling the test results. Keeping him docile is more important than keeping him in the trial. Perhaps we should begin screening for a replacement subject.

Signed:Trent Ikithon

 

Personal Log

After much consideration, I have decided to release Bren from in-patient treatment. He has been entirely off of his meds for 10 days now and still shows no signs of memory regarding the experiments or any sensitive information to which he was privy as my assistant. There is no further purpose in keeping him in Soltyrce’s care.

Signed:Trent Ikithon

Essek turned the page in a trance and blinked in shock to see he had reached the end of the file.

His mind raced, whirring like an overheated machine as it processed everything he’d read. Dumbfounded, he attempted to organize his discoveries.

Whoever the people he was working for were—DeRogna and her mysterious organization—they were connected to the Soltryce Rehab Center. The rehab center, or certain people working there, had developed the residuum drug on DeRogna’s orders by testing it on their patients, almost certainly without their knowledge or consent. The notes didn’t say explicitly that people had died from the experiment, but Essek could put two and two together, what with the reports of ‘incidental’ deaths attached. Essek had to imagine these fatalities were covered up, given that no visible consequences had befallen Soltryce and he was currently tasked with stealing evidence to the event. 

Additionally, one of the people involved in the experiment, this Bren Ermendrud, had become an unwitting subject after the deaths of his parents. 

Essek’s heart ached in rare empathy as he stared at that name, printed so many times by the unsympathetic hand of Trent Ikithon. Whoever that man was, the dispassionate tone of his notes put Essek at extreme unease.

Staring at the long, thin signature, Essek was gripped with a sudden urge to put the file back. He didn’t want this Ikithon man to get away with what he’d done, which would surely happen if he stole the evidence as planned. 

What did you expect? a callous voice spoke from the back of his mind. You were told to steal from the police, did you think it was a parking ticket that DeRogna wanted out of that detective’s hands?

Essek knew, intellectually, that he worked for dangerous people. ‘Bad’ people, his family would say, although he had never ascribed to such pedestrian distinctions himself. But something about seeing the names of the victims, inked and unequivocal in front of him, made it feel too real . This cruelty was beyond his scope.

He was on the verge of caving to the tiny remnant of his moral compass when from somewhere outside, a slamming sound like a car door sent an electric jolt of panic through him. He didn’t breathe for a second, and then he was out the door, file clutched vice-like against his chest. 

He didn’t know what it was he’d heard, if it was actually a car nearby or if he was just paranoid. He didn’t know if it represented a true threat of discovery or if it was just his fear telling him that the officers he’d sent away must be back by now. All he knew was that as soon as he’d locked all the doors behind him, he ran all the way home, still grasping the file like a life-line. 

It was the most exercise Essek had gotten in years. He was panting like a dog by the time he reached his house, barely able to ascend the steps up to his bedroom, stifling his gasps and wheezes with a hand over his mouth so as not to wake his mother.

He stashed the file in the only hiding place it would fit—under the floorboard in his closet, wrapped up in a pair of contraband ripped jeans.

Despite his exhaustion, Essek didn’t rest a minute that night.

Chapter Text

Wynandir High School did not have a grand auditorium in which to host events, but Mr. Sol had done a commendable job of setting up the gym for that weekend's quiz bowl competition. With the help of the custodial staff and his three identical brothers, they arranged the usual configuration of two tables and a podium. These lacked the elegant tablecloths and name plates that the Zauber Academy had provided, but Mr. Sol had decorated them enthusiastically with bunting left over from the last pep rally.

Caleb paced back and forth slowly in front of the tables, running his hands over the rough plastic texture in an effort to distract himself.

“What is up with you man?” Beau punched his arm, lightly for her, but still forceful 

enough to make Caleb wince. “I’ve never seen you this nervous before a game. Usually you get all grumpy and focused.”

“I am not nervous,” said Caleb, although he could tell how flimsy a lie it appeared as he fiddled with the cheap plastic of one of the pennants. “I am not nervous about the competition,” he amended.

“What, then? Essek? You think he’s gonna pull some shit?” Beau scanned the gym with a calculating look. “This isn’t really a prime market.” 

She nodded towards the bleachers, where the audience was meant to sit. Apart from the Mighty Nein settling in on the front row bench, the only spectators were a scruffy, gnomish man, whom Caleb recognized as Rissa's father, and a blonde elven woman, whom he’d seen at previous events and was presumably Zeenoth’s mother.

“I do not think he is going to do anything… egregious. I just worry. It’s what I do.” Caleb shrugged, hoping Beau would let it go. 

He hadn’t told anyone but Nott about his visit to Essek’s home, and she hadn’t shared his concern. The phrase ‘good riddance’ had come up. If he doesn’t want to hang out with us, that’s his loss.

Caleb knew she was probably just being protective after seeing how hurt he was by the whole encounter, but her rejection of Essek hadn’t brought him any comfort. And Beau was even more critical of Essek these days, still righteously angry about the hospitalizations even after her spy network had confirmed that everyone was recovered. He didn’t really want to hear her opinion on their almost-friend at that moment.

He couldn’t even really figure out what his opinion on Essek was. Was he angry? A little. The mistakes that Essek had made were hard ones to let go entirely, especially for him. But knew that he didn’t feel nearly as much vitriol as Beau and Nott apparently did (although he had a feeling their anger was a cover to at least a small degree.)

Something was going on with Essek, something bad. The overdoses, his mother, that mysterious meeting, now ghosting all of the Mighty Nein, these were all pieces to a puzzle that Caleb was sure led to Essek being in some kind of trouble. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to place those pieces in their proper spots to make the full picture.

Maybe he was overreacting. He’d accused Beau of seeing intrigue where there was none, maybe their investigative mission with Obann was getting to him as well. Perhaps Essek had just decided he didn’t want to be friends with any of them, after all.

He couldn’t pretend that the thought didn’t hurt.

With all this muddle festering in his brain, the last thing Caleb wanted to do was sit opposite Essek in competition. However, he still had a team to lead. If there was one thing Caleb could do better than anyone, it was compartmentalize. He had a certified guidance counselor’s professional opinion backing him up on that.

Maybe he could corner Essek after the game was over, find a way to talk with him where he couldn’t so easily retreat. If it really came down to Essek not wanting to be around him, he would respect that. He just needed answers first.

“The Zauber team should be here any minute,” came Mr. Sol’s voice from high above their heads. “Everybody take your seats.”

Caleb took the captain’s chair with Beau flopping down beside him. Rissa and Zeenoth joined them, completing the line up.

Indeed, as soon as they were settled in their positions, four drow in navy-blue jackets and gray ties marched into the gymnasium.

Caleb had always found it somewhat odd that the Zauber team was made up entirely of dark elves, when they represented such a small fraction of the population. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so anomalous; it was really only rich families that could afford to emigrate from Xhorhas, the kind of old money that would only settle to send their children to private school. Logically, it made sense for Xhorhassians to be overrepresented at Zauber, excepting those like Yasha who had crossed the border for asylum. 

Still, it was a majority human institution by far. Were they treated with the same thinly-veiled racism there that Caleb so often saw in the country at large? He wondered what it was like for Essek, if he experienced any bullying from his classmates. Caleb certainly had as a child, although not for his race. Still, it could be another thing that they had in common.

A hard poke from Beauregard brought Caleb back to himself, and he realized he had been staring openly at Essek as the Zauber team took their places. He averted his eyes, giving his head a small shake. He pulled his glasses off and began cleaning them with the edge of his shirt, just for something to do. 

Pumat Sol leaned in to the microphone on the moderator’s table, wincing along with the whole room as shrill feedback rang throughout the gymnasium.

“Oh, uh, sorry about that, everybody! What I was saying was, our usual moderator has apparently quit his position, so I’ll be giving the questions today. Don’t worry!” he chuckled. “I’ll be impartial.”

The only response was a bark of deranged laughter from Rissa’s father up in the bleachers.

“Alright then, without further ado, let’s begin.” He pulled a card from the top of the pile. “Question one: in what year was the Clovis Concord founded?’”

The match passed in a blur as Caleb tuned out everything but Pumat Sol’s voice. His view of the gym faded into a blur, though his eyes were open and his glasses were cleaner than ever. He heard his own voice as though through a veil of distortion as he answered the continuous stream of questions with an automatic rhythm.

A jolt went through him each time the pierce of Essek’s voice made it through the fog with a correct answer, but he ignored it. No time now, he told himself. Later.

“Approximately how long does it take for sunlight to reach the surface of the planet?”

Caleb’s hand was on the buzzer before he had even fully processed the question, his perfect memory recalling in distinct detail exactly where he’d heard those words before.

Introduction to Astronomy, chapter two, page fifty-seven. Essek had laughed at him in surprise, almost bordering on cruel, when Caleb had admitted that this was new information to him.

“I thought you were exaggerating when you said your school was bad.”

“I never said it was bad,” Caleb defended. “Just underfunded.”

“Eight minutes and twenty seconds, on average.”

“Correct!” Mr. Sol exclaimed, just as the timer next to him dinged. “Wynandir wins!”

Caleb blinked in shock at these words. In the haze, he hadn’t been keeping track of the score. 

“ Fuck yes!” Beau pumped a fist in the air, narrowly missing smacking Caleb’s shoulder in her excitement. The glee building in Caleb’s heart was enough to make him ignore the close call.

Wynandir High School hadn’t beaten the Zauber Academy in any academic arena since long before any of the Mighty Nein had been there.

Caleb barely had time to stand up before he was surrounded by his teammates, grinning and bouncing with joy. Beau hooked an arm around his shoulders in a fierce side-hug. 

Their friends joined quickly.

“Can we hug you?” Nott asked, and the second Caleb started nodding, he was being piled on from all sides. 

As the celebration died down, Caleb spotted the Zauber team dispersing from their seats, three heading for the main doors, and Essek about to sneak out a side exit. 

“Excuse me, I will be right back. Ah, bathroom,” he explained to his friends’ curious looks, and darted to follow Essek before they could respond.

Essek was already beyond the door when Caleb reached it, but he spotted him quickly down the quiet hallway, leaning against a wall of lockers.

He glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps and his eyes grew wide as he spotted Caleb.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding a little breathless.

“I…” he trailed off. What was he doing, exactly? He didn't have much of a plan for what to say. “I just wanted to see if you were ok.”

Essek scoffed. “Thank you for your concern, but I am not a child. I can handle a loss just fine.”

Something about his tone told Caleb this was not actually the case, not to mention the fact that Essek had fled to an empty hallway instead of leaving with his team.

He thought for a moment about recycling one of Bryce’s lines, something about all emotions being valid or ‘it’s important to feel your feelings!’ but he didn’t think he would be able to pull it off convincingly. 

“Ok,” he said instead. “That’s good.”

He paused, biting his lip as he searched for the words to ask what was wrong in a way that Essek wouldn’t brush off, but before he could find them, Essek was pushing off of the lockers and moving past Caleb.

“I need to go.”

“Wait.”

On impulse, Caleb grabbed Essek’s hand as he passed. As soon as he did so, the urge to let go was overwhelming as he realized that this was the first time he had ever touched Essek more than an accidental brush of shoulders huddled together over a book. Still, he held fast, ignoring the way his palm felt like it was burning from the contact.

Essek stopped and turned, looking surprised and more than a little annoyed.

“Essek,” Caleb began, fumbling over his words. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me. I am not very good at, you know, emotions. But I can listen, if you need that.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it felt right. No pressure, no accusations, just reaching out the way his friends had done for him, time and time again.

Essek’s features morphed into a pained look that Caleb couldn’t read. He cast a nervous glance at either end of the hallway as if scared someone might be watching them.

“I have to go,” he repeated, and yanked his hand out of Caleb’s grip. Caleb let him, and said nothing more as Essek bolted towards the exit and out of sight.

Head buried in a textbook, Essek jolted in surprise at the sharp knock on his bedroom door. He was immersing himself in his calculus homework, attempting and mildly succeeding to distract himself from the afternoon’s events.

His mother didn’t wait for a response to enter, which was no surprise. Aunt Leylas appearing behind her, looking stone-faced in full uniform, was a surprise.

Deirta looked at him with a mixture of horror and grief.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Essek,” she said. Leylas laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She was in full work mode, emotionless and intimidating without trying. “Essek, please wait in the hall. I need to conduct a search of this room.” 

It took absolutely everything in Essek’s power not to react outwardly to this statement as a tsunami took place in him, drowning him from the inside.

“May I ask why?” he managed not to garble the question, although he was sure his aunt could detect the strain in his voice.

“I received a tip about you this evening. An accusation I have no choice but to follow up on.”

Adeen.

That motherfucker.

He’d thought perhaps he had seen a figure ducking out of sight when he was talking to Caleb, but when he’d followed and seen no sign of his teammate, he’d chalked it up to a trick of his eye, like an idiot .

“Please.” Leylas gestured to the door with an air of politeness that was sickeningly ironic under the circumstances. “I’ll be quick.”

Essek opened his mouth, prepared to protest—there had to be something, anything he could say, some optimal point he could make that would convince her to back down. Some way to talk himself out of this situation.

Leylas was speaking again before he could utter a sound. “If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to worry about.”

This time when she motioned to the door, Essek stood and obeyed without a word. 

It was a miracle the deafening thump of his heartbeat didn’t give him away as he walked past her.

His mother avoided looking at him, retreating several steps away from him with stiff movements. 

Essek hovered just beyond the doorway, tracking Leylas’ every move with his heart in his throat. He tried to reason with himself that his mother had looked through his things plenty of times over the years and never once found his hiding places. But Deirta was not a trained investigator.

Leylas began with a cursory sweep of the room, combing over the surface of his desk and crouching to look underneath the bed. Essek stood, petrified, as she opened his closet, but she merely glanced it over, rifling through the hangers and pockets a bit before shutting the door without discovering the loose floorboard.

Essek’s relief was short-lived. She moved on to opening draws and rummaging through their contents, sliding furniture away from the wall to check behind it. Distantly, he felt a spark of annoyance that she was messing up his room so callously, but his mortal fear was too overpowering for anything else to make much of an impression.

When she moved to his bookshelf, he thought about running.

If he bolted now, the element of surprise might get him past his mother and down the staircase. But from there, then what? His car keys were sitting on his desk, out of reach, and there was only so much a head start could help him on foot when Leylas would inevitably pursue him by car.

And even if he could manage to elude her chase, what then? Where would he go?

These were not questions he could answer, and so he stood, paralized like a statue, as Leylas combed through his shelves, taking books down by the armful to check behind and underneath them. 

She set aside the thickest books—the ones big enough to hide things in—and once finished with the rest, she began to flip through them. 

One by one, she examined and set aside an atlas, an anthology of ancient Sylvan poetry, and an annotated collection of world mythologies, until the only tome remaining was an old, outdated encyclopedia.

Essek closed his eyes. It was over.

Shutting his eyes didn’t block out the unmistakable sound of plastic crinkling, or the heavy thud of a book being set down. Or the clink of handcuffs drawing nearer.

He opened his eyes to see Leylas standing in front of him. He still couldn’t read any emotion in her face, and somehow that was the worst part.

He held his arms out to her rather than make her grab him. There was no point in resistance. 

A small mercy, she cuffed him in front instead of making him put his hands behind his back, although the cold, compressing metal around his wrist was still extremely uncomfortable. She didn’t pull them unreasonably tight, but the fastenings still pinched his skin if he twisted too much. 

Leylas looked over Essek’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Deirta,” she said, as she guided Essek towards the stairs.

Why are you apologizing to her ? Essek thought bitterly, but he kept his mouth shut. Better not to say anything at this stage.

Essek didn’t try to catch his mother’s eye as they moved past, but he could still sense that she was avoiding his gaze. As soon as he and Leylas were across the landing, she disappeared into her bedroom.

It was a very silent drive to the police station. It wasn’t until they pulled into the parking lot that Essek realized.

She hadn’t found the folder in his closet.

Chapter Text

Essek could have gone his whole life without knowing what it felt like to spend the night lying on a metal bench.

The answer was: bad. It felt very bad.

Sitting and waiting unendingly in his aunt’s office the next morning, he was still finding new knots in his back, crackling like fireworks when he stretched them.

He couldn’t stretch very far, though, while handcuffed to a chair.

It seemed that, in a town this size, there wasn’t much need for the police to have an interrogation room, so when Leylas had retrieved him from the holding cell (after she’d arrived from church, the first Sunrise Service Essek had missed in his life), she’d brought him into her office instead. 

The handcuffs were a ‘safety measure,’ according to her. 

I know how clever you are . For the first time, these words were not said with pride, but had rather been laced with faint disgust.

He still didn’t understand what was taking so long, what Leylas was waiting for. Surely she intended to question him. 

Maybe it was a tactic, letting him stew, as if he could be bored into talking.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the worst strategy. He was growing desperately bored, sitting there and watching the clock over the door as the seconds seemed to grow longer and slower.

Finally, the door opened again, but it wasn’t his aunt who entered.

An elven person with a shaved head and dark brown skin slipped into the room, dressed in a simple, blue-gray pantsuit and holding a stuffed binder tucked under one arm.

Essek suddenly had a terrible hunch about who would be interrogating him.

“Sorry for the delay.” They set the binder down on Leylas’ desk and held out a stiff hand, which Essek accepted awkwardly with his uncuffed left hand. 

“Detective Dairon,” they said. Essek didn’t bother introducing himself, assuming that since Dairon was there, they must already know.

Instead of stepping around to sit at the desk, as Essek had expected, Dairon dragged a spare chair from against the wall and placed it opposite Essek, about a foot away. They sat down, staring a calculating glare at Essek. He maintained eye contact.

“I imagine you know the kind of charges you’re facing, but in case not, you should know that the minimum sentence for possession with intent to sell is ten years in prison, and fines from ten to one hundred thousand gold.”

“A range can’t be a minimum.”

“Excuse me?” Dairon’s composure fell for a moment as genuine confusion crossed their face.

“You said the minimum fine would be between ten thousand and one hundred thousand. That is a range. The minimum is ten thousand.”

Somewhere in the back of Essek’s head, a muffled voice was screaming at him to stop antagonizing the detective, especially over such a pedantic point. But he was tired, his back hurt, and he was still coming to terms with that fact that his life was over. He didn’t feel like cooperating, and for once, he didn’t have the energy to force congeniality.

Dairon quirked an incredulous eyebrow at him. Getting back on track, they said, “You’re smart. That much is clear from your record.” They reached over to the binder and slid a piece of paper out of the front pocket.

“Straight A’s, honor roll, valedictorian,” they read out. “I imagine you had a lot of options for college. Scholarships, recruiters already showing interest?”

Essek did not respond.

“I’m sure you know that most schools ask about a criminal record on their applications. But, that won’t matter for you either way; you can’t attend college from prison.”

Essek said nothing.

“What would you do,” Dairon continued, “if I told you that I could smooth this all over for you?”

That got Essek’s attention. His ears perked up without his direction.

“I wouldn’t believe you,” he replied, even as a tiny ember of hope glowed in his gut. “Then I’d ask what I would need to do in return.”

Dairon didn’t smile, but their eyes did light up in a sort of satisfaction. “Catching drug dealers is great, but catching their suppliers is better. I know where you got those drugs from, though I’m guessing you don’t, at least not the big picture. I don’t need to spend all day interrogating you to get that information. What I need is proof, and you are in a perfect position to get it for me.”

“How so?”

“All you would need to do is go to your usual meeting place with your supplier. Arrange a meeting if you need to, however you normally go about things.”

“And then I go wearing a wire and you listen to the conversation?”

“In essence, that would be the idea. We’d need to go over a few details first, but I’d rather not discuss that until you’ve agreed for certain.”

“You seem very sure that I’m going to agree.”

Dairon smirked at him. “You don’t have much of a choice.”

They were right, of course, but Essek wasn’t about to implicitly trust such an easy solution handed to him on a silver platter.

“How exactly would you get my charges dropped?” he asked.

“I never said I could get them dropped. I said I could help,” said Dairon. “I have a lot of connections in the justice system, and a lot of people who owe me favors.”

“I’m not betting my life on abstractions. What exactly can you accomplish for me?”

Dairon sighed, apparently reaching the end of their patience. Essek wasn’t sure if that was good or bad for him.

“There are a couple routes it could go. I could possibly arrange for you to be tried as a minor. You’re an adult in the eyes of the law, but only barely, and you’re still in school, so that wouldn’t be too hard. Or I could focus my efforts on getting you a sympathetic judge. Either way, as the lead detective on this case, I would make my official recommendation to the court be a minimum sentence.”

“A minimum sentence like ten years in prison and ten thousand gold in fines?”

Dairon exhaled something that was part way between laugh and groan. “We could possibly whittle that down, depending on how successful the operation is. Think of it like this: the more of your bosses you help me arrest, the fewer years you’ll spend in prison.”

Essek let out a long sigh, releasing a fraction of the pent-up emotions from the most stressful twelve hours of his life.

“Is there any universe where I don’t go to jail?” He hated how desperate he sounded, but he had to ask.

Dairon paused for a long moment before answering.

“It might be possible, but I can’t promise that,” they said. “I can promise you that this is your best option.”

Dairon slid his school record back into the binder, and Essek caught a glimpse of the other papers and files that filled the rings to the brim. It was a familiar sight, and jogged a memory which Essek had neglected to consider.

In all the stress of the previous night, he hadn’t given more than a second thought to the stolen evidence, still hidden in his bedroom. Those papers that Vess DeRogna was so afraid of this detective seeing. 

Essek didn’t know much about the law or courts. He had no idea how incriminating the files truly were, or how much he would add to his charges by admitting he’d stolen them. But if they were valuable to DeRogna, they would be valuable to Dairon.

He had one remaining card to play, and he was going to keep it close to the chest until the last possible second.

“If I agree,” he spoke slowly, working out a plan in his mind. “Will I be allowed to leave? To go home, I mean?”

Dairon seemed slightly taken aback by the question, but they nodded. 

“You’ll have to pay bail, like anyone else. I think your aunt is working that out now. But by my leave, yes. I have no reason to think you’re a flight risk. You’re smarter than that. There’s no need for you to stay in holding.”

“Alright, then. I’ll do it.”

Perhaps Essek should have felt trepidation regarding this arrangement, or jubilation over Dairon’s promises. He thought that he probably should have been feeling something, but instead a familiar, powerful numbness was overtaking him, his oldest defense mechanism finally returning to him.

Dairon nodded, still unsmiling but resolute, and stood up to leave, taking their binder with them.

“I’ll be in touch soon,” they said before shutting the door behind them.

This time, Essek only had to wait about ten minutes for his next visitor.

Aunt Leylas stepped over to her desk with a weary slant to her shoulders. She waited a long while to finally speak. 

“I just got off the phone with your mother.”

Essek was immediately glad for the numbness he felt, even though he could still detect a sharp twinge of panic through the fugue.

“She’s come up with an offer she wants me to pass on to you.” Leylas paused as if gathering her thoughts. “Your bail comes out to six thousand gold.”

Essek’s stomach flipped.

“She’s willing to cover all of it…” Leylas paused, her sternness breaking a fraction as she gazed at Essek. “...provided you don’t return home.”

“What?” The question passed his lips without him really meaning to say it out loud, his voice almost inaudibly soft.

It took him a long moment to identify the look on Leylas’ face in the silence that followed, as it was not one he’d ever seen from her before.

It was pity.

“She said she doesn’t want you to come home,” Leylas repeated, soft but blunt, like removing a bandage from a tender wound.

So where, exactly, am I supposed to go?

He’d been avoiding thinking about his mother’s reaction. He’d imagined that, dreadful as her ire was bound to be, his only option was to weather it when it came. It had never occurred to him, even for a second, that he wouldn’t get the chance to. That he would just be cast aside.

He met his aunt’s eyes and, in that moment, he was certain that they were both thinking the same thing. But he wasn’t going to ask, and he knew she wasn’t going to offer.

He would not be finding shelter with family.

Essek slumped gently back in his seat, feeling his ears droop of their own volition. He didn’t say anything more. There was nothing left to say.

Leylas stood up and headed back out of the office, pausing for a moment to place a stiff hand on Essek’s shoulder. He almost jerked away in shock but instead stayed put, trying to leach as much comfort out of her rigid touch as he could. 

“I’ll tell her you agreed,” she said, before continuing out the door.

It took an hour to handle the paperwork and get everything signed. Essek stayed shut in Leylas’ office. An officer came in at one point with the key to the handcuffs, an apologetic grin plastered on her face as she fumbled to unlock them.

Even once free, Essek didn’t try to leave the room until Leylas returned to tell him the transaction was done and his mother was gone again. If Deirta didn’t want to see him, he wasn’t about to force his presence on her. He didn’t have it in him to confront her.

An administrator handed him back his belongings at the door, confiscated when he’d arrived the previous night. His phone and wallet were all he’d had on him when he was arrested, which meant they were all he had to his name, along with the clothes on his back, for the foreseeable future.

It was raining outside, because of course it was. On the scale of Essek’s recent bad luck, the weather hardly registered. He was just grateful that the jacket he’d been wearing happened to have a hood. He pulled it up over his head before stepping out into the mist.

He had a long walk ahead of him.

There was one place—one person—left that he could possibly turn to for solace. Someone who hadn’t yet given up on him, who maybe he hadn’t succeeded in driving away. And that person lived on the other side of town.

When he was ten minutes away and drenched to the bone, Essek finally pulled his phone out of the safety of his pocket and called the number that, thank the Light, his mother hadn’t deleted.

It rang four excruciating times before a familiar voice picked up, groggy with tiredness and confusion.

“ Hallo?”

Essek didn’t bother with a greeting. “Are you home right now?”

Even with a phone call warning, Caleb couldn’t hide his shock at seeing Essek in his doorway, soaking wet and miserable-looking. 

Yesterday, Essek had brushed off his attempt to reach out, and Caleb had all but given up on him. Now, he was here.

Caleb stepped aside to wave him in. Essek entered slowly, like he was waiting for Caleb to change his mind and send him away.

“What the hell happened to you?” Nott asked from her spot on the couch. She was dressed for work, though she wouldn’t have to leave for a few minutes still.

Essek’s whole body sagged even further at the question, head down, shoulders slumped, long ears drooping underneath his hood. 

When he finally looked up, Caleb realized his eyes were bloodshot.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Caleb looked at Nott, eyes wide. Nott looked at Caleb, then at Essek, then back at Caleb, and nodded her head once.

Caleb turned back to Essek. “Of course,” he said. 

Essek let out a sigh of relief, though his body language stayed limp and dejected.

While Caleb was searching desperately for the right thing to say, Nott jumped into action.

“Let’s get you dried off,” she said, and scurried into their shared bedroom to rummage through Caleb’s dresser.

“I can take your coat?” Caleb offered awkwardly. 

Essek nodded, delicately peeling himself out of his waterlogged jacket and handing it to him.

Caleb decided to hang in up in the bathroom, partially so that the excess water could drip into the shower basin instead of on the floor, and partially for the chance to leave Essek’s view and compose himself for a moment.

He had no idea what exactly was going on, but he did know that if he was in a position to help, then by all the gods, he was going to take it. He was going to be the friend that Essek so desperately needed.

When he returned to the main room, Nott was handing Essek a bundle of clothes.

“These should fit. You and Caleb are both skinny,” she said, as Essek examined the assemblage of t-shirt, sweatpants, and the thickest, warmest socks Caleb owned.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, and walked with his head down past Caleb into the bathroom to change.

As soon as the door was shut, Nott turned to Caleb.

“What. The. Fuck?” she whispered, and he could only shrug in response.

“I don’t know. Something must have happened at home.”

Nott turned her head towards the bathroom door with a frown. “Poor kid.”

Caleb’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you didn’t like him?”

“I never said that. I was pissed at him for ditching you, sure. And he’s definitely got some stuff to answer for. But this seems… bad,” she trailed off with another glance at the door, just in time to see Essek emerging.

Caleb ignored the surge of feeling at seeing Essek wearing his clothes. This was not the time for it.

Essek stood hesitantly in the doorway, looking uncertain. He swiped a dripping lock of hair out of his eyes—apparently his hood had offered meager protection from the downpour.

A streak of ruddy orange shot out from the bedroom, darting through the gap in the door to investigate the newcomer.

“Oh, this is Frumkpkin,” Caleb introduced. Essek stared at the cat circling around his legs before tentatively crouching down and extending a hand out. Frumpkin sniffed it once before bumping it with his forehead and rubbing his cheeks over every inch of the skin. When Essek stood back up, a tiny smile had crept over his lips. 

“He likes you,” said Caleb.

A low rumble of thunder echoing abruptly across the sky made all three of them jump. Frumpkin dashed under the couch to hide.

“I should go before it gets any worse out there.” Nott hopped over to where her raincoat lay in a heap on the floor, discarded there at some unknown point in the past. 

“Be safe, Nott,” said Caleb. “Call Fjord if you need a ride home, his shift ends at 5:00.”

“I’m only walking three blocks, Caleb. I’ll be fine.” Despite her protestation, she smiled at him as she left.

She pulled the door shut behind her, the click of the latch seeming to reverberate through the cramped space with a sense of finality.

“Where is she going?” Essek’s voice was so soft, Caleb almost didn’t hear him. 

“Work,” he answered. “She works at the Plexus Post.”

Essek nodded absentmindedly.

“I’ll probably need to get a job. A real one,” he muttered, as if to himself.

“You have a job, don’t you? I mean, technically?”

Essek didn’t answer, but he seemed to deflate even further, somehow.

“Here, sit down.” Caleb guided him onto the couch, sitting beside him. “Tell me what happened.”

“I’m sorry.” Essek’s eyes were wide as he looked at Caleb. “About everything, I… I couldn’t say anything, but I didn’t really want to stop seeing you.”

Hardly an explanation, this only confused Caleb further. He didn’t let his frustration show. “Just tell me what happened.”

Essek sighed, the last vestige of fight leaving his body with the breath. “Adeen turned me in. He, he had threatened to, if… but that doesn’t matter.” Essek shook his head, almost to himself. “The point is, my aunt found my drugs. I got arrested. And my mother kicked me out.”

Well, shit.

A hard stone of anger formed in the pit of Caleb’s stomach, the same sort of feeling he got when Beau ranted about her parents. The Lionett’s and Deirta Thelyss would probably have a lot to talk about, if, gods forbid, they should ever meet.

“I am sorry,” Caleb whispered. The words felt useless, but he had to say them. 

Essek ducked his head again, and Caleb didn’t give any indication that he saw the tears streaking down his face—one, two in quick succession. 

“So, what happens now?” Caleb asked after a few minutes of silence. “You can stay here as long as you need, but…” he trailed off.

“I have a plan. It isn’t perfect, but it is something.” Essek’s eyes were still red, but he looked a little more composed when he lifted his head. “They offered me a deal; this detective wants me to set up an ambush on my… superiors. If I help her catch more heavy-hitting criminals, she’s willing to advocate for a milder sentence.”

“That sounds… good, I suppose?” Dangerous was what Caleb really wanted to say, but he couldn’t imagine that that sort of pessimism would be particularly helpful.

Essek seemed to sense what he was thinking. “I might have a way to appease the detective without putting myself in the line of fire.” For the first time since he’d arrived on their doorstep, Caleb saw a glint of the Essek he knew in those teary, silver eyes.

“I have… something in my posession,” he continued slowly. “An… item… oh, fuck obfuscation. A crime boss asked me to steal a file of evidence from the police, so I did.”

Caleb felt his eyes widen to about double their usual size, but he kept silent, not wanting to interrupt the flow of information now pouring out of Essek, or put voice to the obvious by pointing out that everything Essek was saying was insane.

“The file is something DeRogna—Vess DeRogna, the one who asked me to steal it— really wants to keep out of Detective Dairon’s hands. No one’s told me yet when I’m supposed to hand it over, just to keep it safe for now and they’ll contact me with a time and place. But I think I might be able to use it as leverage with Dairon before they get in touch.”

Detective Dairon? Connections began forming in Caleb’s mind as Essek continued on, puzzle pieces fitting together that he hadn’t even realized were part of the same picture. 

“The papers connect my drug suppliers with the Soltryce Rehabilitation Center, which I imagine would be a big deal for Dairon to be able to prove, possibly enough to—”

Caleb’s blood ran suddenly cold at these words. His brain raced ahead of him, connecting strings to form an even bigger picture. If he was right…

The small part of him that was still angry at Essek flared up like a flint sparking against steel, but he took a deep breath. Another thing that could be dealt with later.

“Essek,” he said, and Essek’s rant stopped in its tracks at the sharpness of his voice. “You need to be careful.”

“Be careful of what?”

“Soltryce.” Saying it sent Caleb’s skin crawling, and he resisted the urge to shudder.

Essek narrowed his eyes at him, a seed of understanding dawning on his face.

“What do you know, Caleb?” he asked, hesitant and wary.

“I’ve been there,” said Caleb, breathing deeply through his nose. He’d told the story before, he could say it again. 

He wasn’t sure it was wise to divulge his history to Essek, but if it could save Essek from getting even deeper in over his head, he would do it.

“I was a patient there for almost a year. And before that, I was an intern. They do… there are some really terrible people working there, Essek.”

“I know.” 

“Do you? Really?” Caleb felt the familiar itch over his forearms, but instead of scratching at them, he gave in to a sudden impulse and began rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows, revealing the mess Ikithon had made of the skin.

Essek gazed at his scars with an almost intellectual interest, which Caleb found he could stomach much better than pity or revulsion, the two reactions he had come to expect.

“May I?” he all but whispered. Caleb extended his right arm for Essek to inspect more closely with only a small amount of reluctance.

Essek’s touch was feather-light as he traced a finger around one of the half-dozen holes in Caleb’s veins, healed over but forever looking like a line of round, pinkish bruises.

“I don’t have much experience with needles,” Essek murmured, still holding Caleb’s arm, but not daring to put a finger directly on the marks themselves. “But from what I’ve read, for scars like this to form, you would need frequent, repeated injections.”

“They did daily rounds,” said Caleb. “Most patient’s prescriptions were designed to mitigate the symptoms of withdrawal. Mine were… well, I still don’t know exactly what I was being given, but it can’t have been medically sanctioned. Or safe.”

He pulled experimentally, and Essek let his arm slip easily out of his grip. Caleb pushed his sleeves back down, spots of cold arising where Essek’s fingers had warmed the skin.

“What were they trying to do to you?”

Caleb shrugged. “I only have theories. It was my former boss who designed my… treatment. I knew things about his work that he could not abide, after I proved myself a liability. I think he might have been trying to mess with my memory, or maybe just discredit anything I said against him as the ravings of an addict.”

“That is… terrible,” said Essek.

“I told you. You don’t want to be getting involved with them. And if you already are, you should get out while you still can.”

“I think it’s probably too late for that,” Essek muttered. He paused, then spoke again. “This might sound strange, but, um…” Essek looked up at him again. Caleb liked to think he’d gotten pretty good at reading Essek’s expressions, but he couldn’t identify the mix of feelings at war on his face. “Do you know the name Ermendrud?”

 A freezing wind stole Caleb’s breath for a moment. When it returned, it was viscous and heavy.

“Why do you ask?”

“You do, don’t you?”

Caleb forced air through his frozen lungs. After all, he’d been honest so far, dangerously so. It was hardly the worst of his secrets that Essek was asking of him.

“After I was released, I needed to, ah, get away from everything. I did not want to risk anyone coming after me, in case they changed their minds about letting me leave. So I changed my name.”

“You’re Bren,” Essek breathed.

“How can you possibly know that?”

“The papers DeRogna had me steal, they mentioned… well, they mentioned a few people, including someone named Bren Ermendrud, who worked on these experiments at Soltryce and was later committed. It was a little vague about exactly what happened, but everything you’ve told me matches the notes I read. I…” he paused. “I am sorry about your parents.” 

Feeling suddenly dizzy, Caleb recoiled. 

Even though he’d made the decision to trust Essek with his history, there was something unnerving and invasive about having him repeat it back with insights Caleb had never given. But underneath the feeling of betrayal, Essek’s words also sent a pleasantly warm rush through him, like he had just downed a cup of hot tea.

Condolences, instead of recriminations, for what he’d done. He wanted to say it was because Essek wasn’t aware it was his fault, but Essek was smart. If he knew Caleb had worked on the experiments and had put the pieces together about his parents' deaths, then he could work out that Caleb had been directly involved.

The pleasant warmth began to turn uncomfortably hot the longer he thought about it. He’d been putting so much energy into keeping the memories at bay, but now his efforts were failing. His eyes went unfocused. That frigid breath became ice in his throat, at odds with the burning nausea in his stomach; he gasped, but nothing was coming in, nothing was going out.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder, followed by the familiar texture of soft fur pushing underneath his hand. He followed these sensations, pulling Frumpkin close to his chest and leaning into the weight of Essek’s grip, concentrating on these physical anchors to push the encroaching panic away.

He lost track of how long he spent bringing himself back to reality, his perfect sense of time failing him. When he finally blinked his vision clear, the pressure on his shoulder released as Essek made to drop his arm.

Almost involuntarily, Caleb’s hand flew up to keep it in place.

“I’m sorry,” said Essek. “I didn’t mean to, to dump it all on you like that. I imagine this isn’t a pleasant subject for you to talk about.”

“I can think of better,” Caleb huffed a laugh, the tension leaking slowly out of him. Essek’s jaw unclenched, his concerned and guilty expression relaxing a fraction.

“That is the second time you have helped me through one of those,” said Caleb, realizing suddenly that it was a month ago, almost to the day, since that portentous party.

“I didn’t do anything,” Essek argued, to which Caleb pressed down on his hand even more firmly.

Essek quirked a smile at that. “It was mostly Frumpkin, really.” He reached his free hand over to pat Frumpkin’s head, eliciting a purr from the cat to rival the thunder still rumbling outside.

“They were good people.” The words came tumbling suddenly out of Caleb, just as they had when he’d told Nott and Beau about his parents, so long ago now. “They had problems, obviously, but they couldn’t get help, where we were. Soltryce is the only place that offers that kind of treatment without charging a fortune, nothing they could afford on a veteran’s pension. They gave up everything they had to move us down here, so that they could get better. I took the internship because I wanted to help people like that. He convinced us that the experiments would help people, in the long run.” He shook his head, familiar hatred coursing through his veins, some spiralling inward to himself and some reaching out towards the man who still haunted his nightmares. Looking up at Essek, he said, “Does your file mention anything about a Trent Ikithon?”

Essek paused before answering, “Yes.”

Caleb hummed in thought. “And you really think this evidence will be enough to prove what Soltryce is doing? And to get you cleared?”

“We don’t have to talk about this, Caleb.”

“Just tell me.”

Essek sighed. “I don’t know for sure. The justice system is not my area of expertise. Ironically.”

“I would think you would have done a fair bit of research on it, considering the kind of circles you run in,” Caleb said. 

Essek inclined his head in a sort of self-deprecating acknowledgement. “You would think. I guess I just thought I did not need to.”

Frumpkin, sensing his job was complete, leapt off of his lap to curl up in the armchair for a nap. Caleb, still a little disoriented, began stroking his thumb absentmindedly over the back of Essek’s hand, continuing the same soothing motion he had been doing with Frumpkin’s velvety ear.

“You really thought you would never get caught?” Caleb drew his eyebrows together in doubt.

Essek nodded. “I really did.”

“Then you are the stupidest genius I have ever met.”

Essek’s ears perked up a degree, and he blinked at Caleb several times, disbelieving. “You think I’m a genius?”

“That was not my point, but… yes, obviously,” said Caleb.

Essek looked like he was about to combust. 

“I think you might be smarter than me, Caleb Widogast,” he whispered reverently. “The idea of not being the best used to terrify me. But you are… incredible.”

Caleb could practically see all the calculations going on in his head, although he had no idea what variable Essek was trying to solve for.

 Perhaps he should have seen it coming when Essek leaned closer, but he didn’t. In fact, it took him a few seconds to realize what the motion even meant.

As soon as understanding clicked in his brain, Caleb found himself surging forward to meet him.

It was nothing like kissing Astrid, those few stolen moments groping each other during their breaks at Soltryce. It was soft, and heedless, and achingly slow, and Essek didn’t stop to complain about Caleb’s chapped lips. 

Caleb slid the hand holding Essek’s down the length of his arm, feeling every individual goosebump on the skin left bare by his borrowed t-shirt. He paused it on Essek’s shoulder, using the leverage to pull himself closer, then continued its journey upward until his palm landed on Essek’s jaw.

Essek responded by placing one hand gently on Caleb’s thigh.

Twice in a day now, Caleb’s perfect internal clock stopped keeping the time. Thoughts of Soltryce, of Ikithon, of Essek’s situation, of anger, of fear, they all melted away.

It was difficult to believe that they passed hours like this, but Caleb was forced to accept it when they were interrupted by the sound of the building’s front door shutting down the hall, announcing Nott’s imminent return.

Essek shot up suddenly, the atmosphere broken in an instant. Caleb nearly fell forward as the supports he had been leaning most of his weight on disappeared.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, regaining his balance. Essek blinked at him, wide-eyed. He didn’t just look startled—he looked flat-out terrified.

The fear faded as Caleb watched, Essek seeming to return to himself.

“Sorry,” he said, long ears twitching like an agitated animal. “It was a, um, gut reaction. I…” he was cut off by the jingle of keys as Nott let herself in.

“Hi,” she greeted, seemingly oblivious to the odd tension in the room. Caleb looked nervously between her and Essek, noting Essek’s mussed hair and rumpled clothes. Caleb no doubt looked in equal disarray, enough that someone as smart as Nott could easily put two and two together.

She passed only a quick glance over the two of them, and Caleb couldn’t read anything in her neutral expression.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she announced, dropping her coat and heading to the bathroom. “Then we can figure out dinner?”

“Sure.” Caleb’s voice came out a little raspy. Was there a knowing glint in the nod Nott gave him before disappearing behind the door, or was he just paranoid?

He waited until he could hear the rush of the shower before turning back to Essek, who was wiping a hand over his pallid face. 

“Are you alright?” Caleb was a little thrown off by the interruption as well, but Essek looked like he’d just had a near-death experience. 

Anxiety curled around him like a constrictor snake, whispering fears into his ear. Essek was clearly bothered by the close call of discovery. Caleb could easily extrapolate from that.

“If you want… I mean,” he stumbled, heart aching just a bit. “We can be discreet about this,” he waved vaguely between the two of them, “if that would make you more comfortable.”

“No, no, that isn’t… shit. ” Essek sat gingerly back down on the couch, leaving several gaping inches of space between himself and Caleb. 

“I just…” he trailed off, struggling to explain. “I am not allowed—I wasn’t allowed—my mother disapproves of romantic… entanglements,” he babbled. “It seems the fear of her retribution is quite deeply ingrained in me.”

“Why?” Caleb frowned. He couldn’t see the logic of such a stipulation. Surely she’d had an ‘entanglement’ herself, given Essek’s existence.

“She bases her rules on a rigid interpretation of scripture—the Luxon puts a lot of emphasis on the wisdom gained through age,” Essek explained. “The older and more mature that you are, the closer to the Light you can rise.” He rolled his eyes. “Which is ridiculous, because age and maturity are not perfectly correlated. Wisdom comes from experience, and there are plenty of young people who have experienced more in a few short years than revered elders have in their entire lives. Like you.” 

When Essek’s eyes met Caleb’s, there was a depth in his gaze that caught Caleb’s breath in his throat.

“The point being, some worshippers take these themes and apply them to great extents in everyday life. My mother believes that a pairing can only be permissible in the eyes of the Light between ‘mature’ participants. She disallowed me or my brother from any sort of relationship so long as we live under her roof. For our own good, she claimed.”

“That seems… extreme.”

“I agree.”

“But,” Caleb placed a hand gently on Essek’s shoulder, “maybe that is the silver lining to all this. You don’t live under her roof anymore.”

A tiny, wry grin split across Essek’s mouth. “I know. But it seems some habits don’t break easily.”

“We can practice.” With greatest hesitance, Caleb leaned across the space between them, delight exploding in his chest when Essek did not pull away. 

This kiss started gentle, but deepened quickly, becoming sloppy and desperate and wonderful in an instant. 

Caleb bit back a grumble of frustration when Essek broke to say, “What about…” and jutted his chin towards the bathroom door. Caleb’s hand shot up to grab it. The skin was smooth as silk, with no trace of stubble to roughen the planes of his jaw.

“She takes long showers,” he said lowly into Essek’s ear. “We have time.”

There was still so much they had to discuss, so many things Caleb needed to think about, but nothing that needed to be dealt with tonight. He was going to let himself have some fun in the meantime, for once.

Chapter Text

Nott and Caleb’s couch was a step up from a jail cell bench, but not by as much as Essek might have hoped. He groaned, muscles creaking, as he rolled over to shut off the alarm on his phone, ringing according to its routine and oblivious to how different the world was this morning from before.

He forced his heavy eyes open, weathering the flood of memories that assaulted him as soon as he shook off the haze of sleep. Unable to meditate in the wake of that emotional rollercoaster of a day, he’d given up on a trance and let his exhausted body lull his mind into full sleep. 

He hadn’t dreamed, which he counted as a blessing. He really didn’t want to know how his subconscious would have processed the swinging pendulum of his emotional state. By far the worst day of his life, one blow after another, capped off by… that.

His lips tingled at the memory, stomach swooping in pleasure for once rather than anxiety. 

It wasn’t until he finally sat up that Essek realized there was something stuck to his forehead.

Reaching up blindly, his fingers found what felt like paper, and he peeled a sticky note from where it was hanging above one eyebrow. Grasping for where he had left his glasses on the makeshift table next to the couch, he read the hurried, spiky letters, blinking hard in groggy confusion.

Left for school, be back around 3. There’s coffee and booze and ice cream, help yourself. 

-Nott & Caleb ☺

Essek knew Caleb’s handwriting well enough from their study sessions to recognize it, which meant that this unfamiliar script was definitely Nott’s. Which also probably explained why the note was left on his face instead of on the table or any other, more reasonable surface.

He’d forgotten that their schools began at different times. While he couldn’t fault them for leaving, there was something eerie and uncomfortable about waking up alone in someone else's home. 

Maybe it was for the best, though. He and Caleb had had a… difficult time behaving normally around Nott once she finished her shower, bumbling and blushing at every turn, almost crumbling to pieces when she’d asked what they’d been up to while she was gone. Essek wasn’t sure he could take another round of that, at least not before he and Caleb could talk privately about what exactly to tell the others. They’d leeched a kiss from every second Nott was gone last night, sacrificing any chance to discuss the parameters of… whatever they were doing.

He read the note again. From the tone of it, Nott and Caleb seemed to expect that he wasn’t going to school that day. The assumption bemused him.

It wasn’t really so unreasonable, given the circumstances. But for some reason, skipping school felt like admitting defeat.

Essek pushed himself off the couch, ignoring his complaining joints as he drudged towards the bathroom to get ready.

No toothbrush, no comb, no nothing, but at least his clothes were near enough dry. He left Caleb’s loaned pajamas folded on the couch before setting off.

The storm had stopped sometime in the night, but the clouds remained, diffusing the morning sun into a bearable grayish glow. The ground was still wet, and smelled of rain. Essek’s shoes, slower to dry than his clothes, squelched as they hit the pavement.

Car-less, he was looking at an almost two hour walk to Zauber. He would miss the morning prayers (still held daily as a vestige of the school’s religious history; participation was optional, but attendance was mandatory), as well as most of first period. Not to mention that he was out of uniform and had no books or supplies with him.

None of these infractions would even be a dent in what Essek knew was surely waiting for him as soon as he stepped foot inside the building. Regardless of the futility, he was determined to at least show up to his execution, rather than attempt to flee. A final act of dignity.

By the time he reached the school, his clothes had dried the rest of the way, and he was beginning to sweat despite the autumn cold.

The halls were deserted when he entered, it being the middle of class, but a few stray students on their way to and from the bathroom stared at him as he passed. Essek Thelyss, late and slovenly, was surely a rare sight to behold. 

Like the dutiful student he was, he headed straight to the front office to collect his late slip.

The secretary on duty stared wide-eyed at him as he approached. He hadn’t bothered checking his reflection before leaving Caleb and Nott’s apartment. Even if it weren’t for the lack of uniform, he must look a terrible mess.

He smiled genially at her in greeting. His world might have turned upside down, but he had not lost his social graces.

“Good morning. My name is Essek Thelyss, I had an unforeseen conflict and was unable to make it to school on time. I’ll need a tardy slip before I can return to class.”

His words seemed to shake her out of her stupor. “Thelyss, you said?”

Essek nodded, knowing full well what was about to happen. 

“One moment please.” She tapped away at her keyboard before saying, “Yes, I thought so. The headmistress would like to see you in her office.” She pointed out to the door across the hallway.

“Of course,” said Essek, flashing one last charming smile at her before following her finger with his chin held high.

He knocked twice on the double oak doors, larger and grander than any of the others in the building. The gold plaque fixed to one side gleamed with polish, proudly displaying the words Headmistress Quana Kryn.

“Enter,” came the familiar voice.

Outside of major holidays, Essek spent very little time with Leylas’ wife. It was her policy that socializing with students was inappropriate, even if they also happened to be relatives. He wasn’t even allowed to refer to her as his aunt.

Warmer than her wife, yet somehow sharper, Quana could be equally as intimidating as Leylas when she wanted to be, sometimes even more so. Now, though, walking among the crumbling ruins of his life, Essek felt no fear. He sat down across from her large desk without waiting for an invitation.

“I imagine you have some idea why I called you in,” she began.

“Because I missed the daily prayers? Or is it because I’m not wearing a tie?” Sarcasm was not Essek’s customary style, but the same recklessness that had compelled him to correct Detective Dairon yesterday now bubbled up in the face of his executioner. 

“It’s not either of those.” The headmistress, likely used to teenage insubordination, was unfazed. “It’s because two days ago, you were arrested with large quantities of several illegal substances, along with a witness claiming that you have been distributing narcotics to the students of this school and others for months.”

Essek bravado faded as she fixed her eyes on him.

“Obviously, we cannot permit illegal behavior from our students, nor allow such a harmful presence as yourself to remain on our roster.”

Essek felt a lump form in his throat. Knowing it would happen and experiencing it were, apparently, two very different things.

“I haven’t been convicted of anything, yet,” he pointed out, knowing it was a futile effort.

“Yes, but personally, I find the evidence against you quite compelling. And as a private institution, the Zauber Academy is within its rights to remove any students as it sees fit, regardless of governmental proceedings. You are hereby expelled.”

 As if to punctuate her statement, the chiming bell rang through the school, signalling the end of the period.

“I guess I’ll be going, then,” said Essek blankly.

Quana merely nodded. Essek rose stiffly and drifted back out into the hallway, now beginning to flood with students rushing to their next class.

It was inevitable, he had known. Zauber had expelled students for far less. Still, he hadn’t expected it to feel like this—like he was a lifeboat cut from a tether, floating in the open water unmoored and unprotected.

A face in the crowd of students, spotted out of the corner of his eye, broke Essek’s stupor of self pity and sharpened his awareness down to a single point of focus. His fear and desolation melted away until only a roiling flame of rage was left, fueling him as he marched over to where Adeen was just shutting his locker.

Adeen, head turned the other way, caught sight of him approaching with just enough time for his eyes to widen in fear before Essek pounced.

Essek had never thrown a punch before in his life. This thought occurred to him in the moment between lifting his fist and making contact, and the consequences of his oversight became apparent the second his fist cracked against Adeen’s hard skull.

“ Fuck!” he screamed, cradling his throbbing fingers in his other hand while Adeen covered his face, moaning in shock and pain. The commotion and noise drew the eyes of every other student in the vicinity. Essek saw several people whip out their phones, just a hair too slow to catch the action.

A wave of gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd as Adeen pulled his hands away from his face, revealing a thick trail of blood streaming out of his nose.

Essek stepped back in surprise. Based on his smarting hand, he had assumed that he took more damage from the punch than Adeen, but apparently Adeen’s nose was even more fragile than Essek’s knuckles.

“You fucking freak!” Adeen cried, voice nasally and cracking, as he stared in horror at the red dripping on his hands.

Essek stared, paralyzed and breathing heavily. The part of his brain that controlled restraint, or forethought, or whatever it was that had abandoned him for the past six seconds suddenly returned, and he could barely think for the ringing in his ears.

He had to get out of there.

So he ran, breaking the ring of people that had formed around him and Adeen and zig-zagging his way back down the hall until he burst through the front doors, almost tripping over the pavement in his haste.

He didn’t know if a schoolyard altercation could merit an assault charge, but he wasn’t waiting around long enough to find out. Something told him that Dairon wouldn’t be inclined to help him out of that one.

Essek set off at a jog, starting the long journey back to the apartment, his last haven. Nott’s offer of alcohol was starting to sound very appealing, and maybe they would have some ice for his hand.

“Ho. Ly. Shit.” 

“Yes, that about sums it up,” said Caleb.

“Poor Essek,” Jester whimpered, hugging her arms close around herself.

Driven inside by the cooling weather, the Mighty Nein were huddled in their secondary lunch spot: Pumat Sol’s classroom. He allowed them to eat there and avoid the bustling cafeteria in exchange for a promise from Nott that she would stop interrupting his class with questions about which reactive compounds made the best explosives.

With Mr. Sol out of the room at a meeting that day, they were able to talk freely about sensitive topics, such as Essek’s situation.

“It was very kind of you both to let him stay with you,” said Fjord, looking between Caleb and Nott.

“I mean, we couldn’t exactly turn him away. Poor thing showed up on our doorstep looking like a drowned kitten,” said Nott. “It was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s usually so, you know.” She puffed out her chest and lifted her chin high in an imitation of Essek’s formal, haughty demeanor.

“Prison changes a man,” said Beau sagely. “Honestly, this could be good for him. I mean, it sucks ,” she hurried to add, “and his mom is a bitch for what she did, but getting out from under her thumb might be better in the long run.” 

A wistful expression fell over her face, and Caleb wondered if she wasn’t a little jealous. She had enough runaway attempts under her belt, only to be dragged back home, that Essek’s circumstances might seem like a blessing from her perspective.

Knowing Beau’s parents, he couldn’t blame her. Having seen the pure defeat in Essek, he knew she was wrong.

“Caleb, you never told us what Essek’s plan was,” said Yasha. “You said he had a plan for trying to get his sentence reduced?”

“Right, yes. Essek has evidence he stole from his aunt—”

“ Badass.”

Caleb continued over Beau, “—and he thinks it might be valuable enough to the police to serve as leverage.”

“What kind of evidence?” Fjord asked.

“Something that connects his drug suppliers with Soltryce’s experiments.”

“Shit!” Beau flailed, almost sending her water bottle flying off the table. “Are you serious?”

“That is what he said.”

“That’s, like, a really big deal!” said Jester. “Does it talk about Icky-thong?”

“He said it does. I do not know the full details, but Essek seems to think it proves enough. Speaking of which,” he turned to Yasha, finally getting to the idea that had been percolating in his mind all morning. “When you were with the Angels of Irons, did you ever hear of someone named Vess DeRogna?”

Yasha frowned, brows drawn together in thought.

“I… yes,” she said hesitantly. “Yes, I think so. She wasn’t a member, but Obann took meetings with her a couple of times. He called her a consultant, or something like that.”

Caleb scratched his arms, deep in thought.

“Who’s Vess DeRogna?” Jester prodded.

“Essek’s boss, sort of,” Caleb answered. “She’s the one who asked him to steal the evidence.”

A beat, and then Beau’s eyes widened as she seemed to catch on, followed closely by Nott.

“You think the people Essek’s mixed up with are the same as Obann’s people?” said Beau, perching up in her chair the way she did when suspense was high.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, how many different criminal organizations can there really be operating in a town this size?”

“So, Essek’s evidence ties this DeRogna person to Soltryce,” Fjord repeated, laying out the facts like a word problem on a test. “DeRogna is involved with the Angels of Irons, somehow. If Essek hands over the evidence, Beau’s detective crush might be able to prove what Soltryce has been doing… and connect them to Obann’s gang?”

“Maybe. We would have to see the evidence to know for sure what it could or could not prove,” said Caleb. “But I highly doubt Essek will let any of us read it. It is something of a lifeline for him, at this point.”

“Oh, I bet he would let one of us read it,” Jester leered, eyeing Caleb mischievously. Caleb kept his best poker face in place, fighting against the vivid memories of those stolen hours the previous afternoon.

“She’s right!” Nott cried in excitement. “He was like a lovestruck puppy around you last night. Just do whatever you did to him while I was gone again; he’ll do anything you ask!”

All eyes swiveled to Caleb.

“What did you do to Essek while Nott was gone, Caleb?” Beau asked, voice excessively casual.

“Nothing,” Caleb gulped, cheeks burning. He’d thought he and Essek had played things off rather well with Nott over dinner, but apparently she had just decided not to comment on their behavior. Until now.

“Huh,” Caduceus muttered, nodding his head with an amused little grin. “I thought so.”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Caleb!” Jester beamed. “Did you guys kiss ?”

“I, ah…”

“You did, didn’t you!” Jester jumped up with excitement, nearly falling out of her chair. She righted herself, still grinning wildly. “So are you guys, like, dating now?”

“Well, it, ah… we have not, ah, discussed…” 

“This is fantastic. ” Jester made to reach over and hug Caleb, but was blocked by the table between them, so she settled for bouncing excitedly in her seat.

“So, what is Essek going to do about his mom?” Yasha asked, saving Caleb from his spiral of embarrassment. “Apart from everything with the evidence and maybe going to jail, I mean. Is he just going to stay with Nott and Caleb from now on?”

“No way,” said Nott. “No matter what this situation is,” she waved a hand towards Caleb, still red in the face, “three people to one bathroom is just not going to work for long.”

Jester gasped. “I have an idea! Hold on, I need to make a phone call!” she exclaimed, before swiftly gathering up her things and running out of the room. None of the others had a chance to call after her before the bell rang, putting an end to lunch.

“I guess we’ll have to reconvene later to plan our next move. See you all after school?” said Fjord, to which the rest of them nodded and collected their bags to disperse to their next classes.

Nott trotted up next to Caleb. “So, library?” she asked. 

Caleb nodded. “I don’t think Mr. Groon will believe my migraine excuse for a third class in a row.”

“Yeah, and I think he’s getting suspicious that I’ve been on my period every week this month,” Nott agreed.

So, instead of going downstairs to where they should be attending gym class, the pair turned left towards the library, their main hiding place for avoiding the indignity of suicide runs and team sports.

Tucked safely into a secluded corner of the stacks, Caleb settled down with a pile of books on the legal system he had pulled from the shelves, while Nott flipped her attention alternatingly between chemistry homework and her phone.

Almost half an hour passed in amiable silence before Nott spoke up.

“So...” she whispered.

Caleb looked up from the third book in his pile, the movement causing his glasses to fall back over his eyes from where he had pushed them up on his head. 

“So, what?”

“Essek.”

Caleb groaned as quietly as he possibly could, sinking down even lower and hiding his face behind the massive book of legislature. “I do not want to talk about it right now.”

“Tough,” said Nott, sitting up straight and fixing him with her most serious face. “Cause we're gonna talk about it.”

Caleb let the book drop into his lap, recognizing what the Mighty Nein sometimes affectionately referred to as Nott’s ‘mom voice,’ and knowing it was useless to protest.

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Essek’s… ok, I guess. I get it, he’s smart, and he likes all the same stuff as you, and gods know he’s hot as hell.”

Caleb wished he’d kept the book up as cover.

“But he’s also not, like, the greatest person, morally?”

“And we are?”

“Obviously not,” she agreed. “But no one’s trying to date any of us. Well, except Jester, but she’s sweet and perfect.”

Caleb drew up in surprise. “Who is trying to date Jester?”

“Shit!” 

Nott covered her mouth. They both waited in tense silence to see if the outburst was going to get them caught. When no librarians appeared to sush them, Nott continued, quieter, “No one. Forget I said anything.”

“Is it Fjord? I thought that whole thing was over with them?”

“It’s not Fjord. Not that I know of, at least. Damn it, no!” Nott slapped a hand over her mouth again, physically barring herself from spilling any more details.

Caleb ran through the possibilities in his head. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Fjord, it probably wasn’t Nott herself, and it couldn’t be Caduceus. Which left Yasha, or… 

“Beau?”

“Ah, shit!” Caleb could still make out the muffled curse through Nott’s hand. She lowered it in defeat. “You can’t tell her I told you, she’ll beat me to a pulp.”

“My lips are sealed,” he promised, storing this information away for future consideration. 

“But anyway, that’s not my point,” Nott resumed. “I’m just worried about you. I know I don’t know him that well, but Essek kind of seems like a throw-anyone-under-the-bus-to-protect-himself kind of guy. He’s selfish, and with all this stuff going on with gangs and Soltryce and the police, I don’t want him to do that to you.”

“I… I am not saying you are wrong,” Caleb began, chewing on his words. “But people can change. I was the same way, when we first met. Remember the first time we went to Keona to haggle together? I tried to sell her your button necklace.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“Because you would not let me. You stamped your foot, and said that it was important to you, and you would not sell it for all the gold in the world. And I said that was stupid, and you asked me how I would feel if you tried to sell Frumpkin, and I said that would be completely different, because Frumpkin is a living being, and you said—”

“Ok,” Nott cut him off. “I think I see your point.” She sighed. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, yeah? I don’t want you to break yourself trying to fix him.”

Caleb huffed a laugh. “There is not much more breaking that can be done to me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Nott’s eyes shone with love as she gazed at him. “I think you’ve worked very hard to put yourself back together, and it would kill me to see you undo all that for someone who isn’t worth it.”

“I am not going to break myself. And I am not trying to ‘fix’ him at all. All I am saying is that… Essek has been alone for a very long time, I think. He deserves a chance to see how things can be different, and to make better decisions.” Caleb dropped his voice even lower than a whisper, barely a breath. “But for the record, I think he is worth it.”

“Alright,” said Nott. “I trust you.” And she leaned into him, tucking her small frame into the crook of his arm.

“I love you, Caleb.”

“I love you too, Nott.”

“And, I mean,” she mumbled into his sweater. “He is really hot.”

“Please stop,” he begged. She giggled good-naturedly.

Caleb felt his phone buzz in his pocket at the same moment Nott’s emitted a short chirp. They both checked the notification in tandem, a text in the group chat:

Jester Lavorre

i’ve got great news!!!! tell you guys after school!!

“Great news about what? Why can’t she just tell us now?”

Caleb shrugged. “Who knows? It’s Jester. She probably wants to see us all react to whatever it is in person.”

“Ugh, this is going to drive me crazy all afternoon.” 

Nott’s dramatic groan was, apparently, the final straw. The tell-tale voice of a librarian preparing to scold called from the other side of the shelves, “Who’s hiding in there? Get to class!”

“Run! We’ve been made!” Nott whisper-screamed, dashing down the row with her bag trailing behind her, clutched in one clawed hand. Caleb scrambled to follow, grabbing as many books as he could hold on the way.

Chapter Text

Ata

I will be out of the house from 3:30-4:30. You can come then.

Essek tossed his phone aside after reading the text and took another long sip of whiskey. 

She still refused to see him.

A faint clinking of keys was the only warning he got before the apartment door opened, and Nott and Caleb returned with the entire Mighty Nein in tow. He hurried to make himself presentable, straightening from his near-horizontal slouch. He didn’t bother to hide the glass of liquor he’d poured for himself, half-finished.

Frumpkin, startled from his comfortable position curled up against Essek’s thigh, jumped down from the couch and went to the door to greet his master.

Caleb crouched down to stroke a hand over the cat’s ears as he smiled at Essek.

“We’re back,” he announced unnecessarily.

“Hello, everyone,” Essek greeted, once again uncomfortably aware of his disheveled state as the Mighty Nein, apart from Caleb and Nott, all gazed at him in fascination.

“Hello,” said Yasha, breaking the spell, and the rest followed suit with greetings. Jester ran to plop herself down next to Essek and wrapped her arms around him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked tenderly.

“We, ah, briefed them on everything,” said Caleb, joining them to sit on the beanbag chair. Nott perched on the edge next to him. “I hope that was ok.”

“It’s fine,” said Essek, ignoring the continued stares of the Mighty Nein. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t appreciate Jester’s comforting hug, even if he tensed against the touch.

Beau shoved herself onto the couch next to Jester, pushing Essek further into the armrest and Jester further into him. Though there were no other chairs, Fjord, Caduceus, and Yasha all assumed spots on the floor like this was a common practice for them. 

“So, Jester, are you finally going to tell us your news?” Nott leaned forward, balancing precariously on her perch.

“Right! So, when we were all talking, Nott said that it would be hard to let you stay here for long, Essek, cause even though you’re a great guest and they love having you, it’s still a really small space. And I thought, you know what’s not a small space? My house!”

“Jester, are you—”

She didn’t let Fjord finish. “So I called my mama and told her all about everything, and she said you could come stay with us for as long you need!”

Essek felt his brain all but short-circuit, unable to accept what he was hearing.

“You told her… everything?” he asked, disbelieving. “What I did, and why I was—”

“Everything,” said Jester, putting uncharacteristic gravity behind the word. She unhooked her arms from around him and gently took one of his hands in hers. “My mama is really nice, Essek. She doesn’t judge people. She said as long as you don’t bring any actual drugs into the house, she doesn’t have a problem giving you a place to stay. She’s said she’s happy to.”

Her smile was painfully genuine, and Essek could barely look at her. It was like staring into the sun at its zenith.

He still couldn’t really reconcile it in his head, that a parent would willingly allow someone such as him to stay in their home. Then again, this was the same woman who let her daughter and friends drink under her roof. Maybe Jester’s mother was just crazy.

And they were right, he couldn’t sleep on this lumpy couch forever—his back would give out. And, though his experience regarding relationships was very limited, proposing that he share Caleb’s bed seemed a little expedient. (Assuming what they had even was a relationship, or the start of one. Another thing to worry over, although it could wait until accommodations were sorted out.)

“That is… extremely kind of you, Jester,” he said, feeling the inadequacy of the words even as he spoke them. “Thank you, very much.”

Her smile widened. “You’re welcome.” Her tone switched lightning-quick from soft and sincere to her usual jubilance. “Oh, you are going to love my mama so much, she’s the best, most beautiful woman in the whole world! Should we go now?” Her eyes widened in excitement. 

“We can soon, but I have something to take care of first.” He picked his phone up again. “I texted my mother to ask if I could retrieve some of my belongings. She’s giving me an hour this afternoon to pack.”

“Just an hour? To pack up all your stuff?” Beau blew air out of her cheeks. “Shit, that’s harsh.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Essek, trying to push down the bubble of hurt at that statement. He’d had the very same thought, but lamenting his circumstances was a waste of time. “I only asked at all so I could have an excuse to get back into my room for the file. An hour is more than enough time.”

“But you're still going to get your stuff, right? You need clothes, and, like, school supplies—”

“Clothes, yes, and I’d like to get some of my books, but I will not need school supplies. I got expelled today.”

A round of gasps emitted from the Mighty Nein, all except Caleb. He made eye contact with Essek, tilting his head in a clear expression of sympathy, but not surprise. Essek nodded back at him appreciatively.

A light weight sprung onto his legs—Frumpkin, stretching and sprawling over his lap. 

The cat had an uncanny knack for intuiting people’s emotions, Essek had discovered. As he had wiled away his solitary day awaiting Nott and Caleb’s return, Frumpkin had seemed to sense the precise right times to demand his attention, offering comfort and distraction in equal measure. He’d been especially cuddly while Essek was working up the courage to text his mother.

Essek placed a hand on the soft fluff of Frumpkin’s exposed belly and rubbed in idle circles, eliciting a satisfied purr.

“That really, really sucks, Essek,” said Jester. “We’ll come with you to your house. You’ll be able to pack more stuff with all of us helping.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to—”

“We are,” said Caleb and Beau at the same time, Caleb with a soft fervency and Beau with blunt determination. 

Essek felt a strange warmth spread through his chest. It would have been painful in its sudden intensity if it weren’t so pleasant, the same sort of sensation as Frumpkin’s soothing body heat warming his lap.

“Alright then. Thank you,” he said again, this time to the group at large. He had expressed more gratitude in the past day than he could remember giving in his life.

“Should we go now?” asked Caduceus. 

“We can.”

“Let’s go, then.” Jester clapped her hands as she stood. “The sooner you can meet my mama, the better.”

The Mighty Nein kept up a constant stream of chatter as they loaded into Fjord’s van and made the journey across town. They left openings for Essek to join the conversation, but did not demand his participation, for which he was enormously grateful. He wasn’t sure he could handle a barrage of questions right then. It was much more comfortable to just listen and sit with his leg unnecessarily close to Caleb’s while dread slowly mounted as they got closer to his house.

Not even a full forty-eight hours since Essek had last been home, and yet in that time the building had taken on an entirely new atmosphere. He had never felt much affection or sentimentality towards the house, but there was at least the comfort of familiarity, a sense of safety within its walls. That illusion had been shattered; the three-story silhouette seemed to loom like a fortress against the dull, gray sky as they approached the front door, promising only pain and danger upon any Esseks who dared to enter.

He had to fight to keep his arm from shaking as he reached for the doorknob.

It was unlocked, as expected, but Essek still moved with great hesitation as he pushed it open. His mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but he still half-expected to find her lurking in a corner like a ghost.

The Mighty Nein didn’t bother hiding their fascination as he guided them through the house, peering curiously down corridors and ogling at the minimalistic decor. On the second floor landing, just short of Essek’s bedroom door, Jester actually stopped to point at a framed photograph on the wall.

“Is that your family, Essek?”

“Yes,” he replied. The picture in question had been taken at a ceremony back in Rosohna, when his father was awarded a medal for distinguished service. The whole family had gathered around him for a professional portrait. Verin was the only one smiling.

“Is that your brother?” Jester turned a smile on him. “You have a little brother?”

“I do. He goes to boarding school.” He wondered if his mother had informed Verin of any of the past few days' events. Almost certainly not.

“And your father?” Fjord, also now looking at the picture, asked hesitantly, as though he had an inkling of the answer. 

“He’s dead.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Essek shrugged off the condolences. “It doesn’t really bother me. Let’s just get this over with,” he said, heading for his room. He wanted to be out of this house as soon as possible.

Sitting just inside his bedroom was a small, open suitcase, no doubt left for him by Deirta. More likely an act of prudence than kindness, but he could appreciate it all the same.

Stepping over this, Essek went straight for his closet, heart beginning to pound. Surely he would have known if the police had searched his room again and found it, but there was a chance…

The file was exactly where he had hidden it. Heaving a sigh of relief, Essek extracted it from its bundle and, locating his backpack under the desk, deposited the papers carefully inside.

Priority task complete, he sort of wished they could just leave now and skip the ordeal of packing his things. However, he would surely regret it if he left without so much as a spare pair of socks.

“Where do you want to start?” asked Caduceus. 

Essek shrugged. “Clothes, probably.”

As it turned out, having the Mighty Nein there didn’t actually make the process go much quicker. Seeing as they didn’t know where anything was, or what Essek wanted to take with him, all any of them could really do was stand around waiting for instructions, which Essek wasn’t much in the mood to give. In the end, Yasha showed him how to roll up his clothes for more efficient packing while the rest meandered uselessly around his room. He didn’t even have the energy to call Beau out for nosing through his desk.

He ended up leaving behind about eighty percent of his wardrobe, disillusioned with all the trappings in which he used to adorn himself. Every garment he owned represented a facet of a persona that no longer existed: Zauber school uniforms, the party costumes he’d used for work, the staid and proper attire he wore daily because it was expected of him. The only clothes he had that were designed for comfort were pajamas, and that was all Essek really wanted at the moment: comfort . So he picked through his drawers looking for t-shirts and sweaters, and threw those in along with the few pairs of jeans he owned, abandoning the rest. 

Reluctantly, he also added one of his church suits, stuffing the pieces vindictively into one corner of the suitcase. He would need something to wear to court.

Despite culling the selection heavily and Yasha’s efficient packing technique, his clothes still took up most of the suitcase. Essek looked between the negligible remaining space and his bookshelf with a sinking heart.

Of course he couldn’t take everything, he knew that. He had hundreds of books. But choosing what to bring and what to leave behind was going to be much harder for this round of packing.

Swallowing determinedly around the lump in his throat, Essek approached the bookshelves and began running his fingers over the spines, pulling out certain favorites to consider before sorting them into one of two stacks.

“Would you mind if I took this?”

Essek hadn’t noticed Caleb come up beside him. He made sure to wipe his eyes before looking at him.

Caleb was holding up a well-worn paperback, a science fiction novel which Essek had just spent a full minute waffling over before dejectedly placing it on the ‘leave’ pile instead of the much smaller ‘take’ pile.

“Um, sure,” he said. 

“And this one?”

Caleb picked up the autobiography of an explorer from the previous century, another difficult choice that had ultimately not made the cut. Essek nodded, and it joined the paperback in Caleb’s arms.

“Can I have this one?” Beau paused her snooping to grab up a piece of historical fiction from the ‘leave’ pile and wave it at Essek.

“Sure,” he said again. 

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Mighty Nein to pick up on gambit. Essek had a harder time believing that Caduceus was interested in essays on metaphysical theory, or that Jester actually wanted that book of Sylvan poetry when she clearly couldn’t read it, but he didn’t deny any of them their requests.

By the time Essek was placing his selected books—he managed to fit ten in total—into the suitcase, each of the Mighty Nein was towing at least four of his reluctant rejects.

He felt much lighter going through the rest of packing after that, collecting up the necessary remaining odds and ends before zipping up the suitcase and declaring himself satisfied.

“Are you sure?” said Jester, gazing around at the still mostly-full closet and the untouched display of trophies and ribbons from years past.

“You should probably take at least some school supplies, man,” said Beau. “Unless you’re planning on fully dropping out.”

“I… suppose I haven’t really thought about it,” Essek admitted. “But, I got expelled. Where can I go?”

The Mighty Nein exchanged nonplussed looks, like he was being obtuse. 

“Wynandir,” Beau answered with a tone of shouldn’t it be obvious?. “With us.”

“Oh. Right.” Somehow, amid the dizzying whirlwind of the past couple of days, Essek hadn’t put together that he had any options regarding school. Aside from planning how to avoid jail, his head was empty of thoughts for the future. 

“It doesn’t have all the fancy classes and clock towers and stuff,” said Nott, “but it’s a good school. The teachers are nice, and the shitty people are all scared of us cause Beau punches anyone who’s mean to any of us.”

“I punched one guy who was mean to you,” Beau corrected, though she looked pleased with herself. “Word spreads fast.”

“And you’re sure it won’t be a problem, all of… everything?” Essek gestured vaguely around himself.

“You wouldn’t be the only one there with a criminal record,” said Fjord. “Not by a long shot. It’s a good place for a second chance.” 

“That—that’s good to know,” said Essek. He reached for his backpack, which carried the precious file and a few extra books, and transferred some notebooks, flash cards, pens, and a graphing calculator from his desk.

“Ok,” he said. “Now let’s get out of here.” His allotted hour was almost up.

Jester clung to Essek’s arm as they made their way back through the house.

“This is going to be so fun!” she gushed. “Like a sleepover every night, or—” her eyes widened in delight. “Or like having a brother!” She squeezed even tighter, grinning up at him. “I’ve always wanted an older brother.”

Essek’s heart clenched. “I’ve been told I don’t make a very good one.”

Jester frowned. “What? No. I bet you’re a great brother.”

He didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

They headed back down the stairs, Yasha carrying his suitcase without even needing to ask.

And ran straight into Deirta Thelyss.

Essek’s whole body went cold. He hadn’t heard her car pull up. He’d thought they had enough time.

To her credit, Deirta only looked surprised for a brief second. He hadn’t said anything to her about bringing other people, but it seemed her obsession with manners kept her from getting outwardly angry at the strangers in her home, or at her son whom she had made clear she did not want to see.

“Hello. And who are these?” she asked, voice clipped as she addressed Essek.

“Friends. They offered to help.” He was, thankfully, able to keep his voice as sure and steady as hers. The last thing he wanted was to appear weak to this woman who had made him so.

She scanned the group, probably trying to guess which among them were Jester and Caleb, the names from his phone.  

Essek had a brief, insane impulse to point Caleb out to her and make clear exactly the nature of their relationship. If he’d actually known what that was, he might have done it, just to see the scandalized look on her face. He’d violated every other tenent of her child-rearing philosophy, a youthful romance would bring the last standing pillar crumbling down.

Better not to tear it down while she was still blocking the exit, though.

“Hi! You must be Essek’s mom.” Jester stepped forward with a dazzling smile and an outstretched hand. “I’m Jester.”

Deirta accepted the handshake, looking rather discomfited behind her placid smile.

“You must be really proud of your son,” Jester continued, still smiling. “He’s a great friend, and, like, so super smart. He’s helped us out so many times, oh my gosh.”

Essek tried to catch Jester’s eye, sending her an expression that said stop, please stop , but she had her gaze fixed on Deirta.

“She’s right,” Beau piped up. Essek turned, surprised to hear her speak. She had her arms crossed, combative as ever. “He’s pretty cool.” She gave Deirta an unconvincing grin that did not reach her eyes in the slightest. 

Only years of exposure allowed Essek to read the tumult going on in his mother’s head. 

“Yes, well,” she hummed, in her most pleasantly cogent voice. “It was nice to meet you. I have quite a lot of work to do, I’m afraid, and I’m sure you all have to be getting home soon.” She avoided looking at Essek as she stepped away, pointedly clearing a path to the door.

“Yeah,” said Jester. “We’re going home.” And she pulled Essek along with her out the door, the Mighty Nein following behind like a security detail.

“Dude.” Now back in the van, Beau placed a hand on Essek’s shoulder. “Your mom fucking sucks.”

A laugh bubbled out of him, all the fear and tension he’d been holding in forcing its way out in the guise of mirth.

“You’re not wrong.”

"She didn't even say anything to you!" Jester cried. "No apology, no nothing!"

"Honestly, I prefer it that way." Essek wasn't sure if this was true, but complaining about his mother wasn't going to fix anything. "Please, let's just leave."

As it turned out, the Lavorre household was not so far from his own. They arrived in minutes, pulling up in front of a house that could arguably qualify for mansion status. 

It was the most colorful house Essek had ever seen. The splashes of red door and blue shutters and the flowerbeds exploding with several rainbows worth of blossoms all somehow managed to form together into a coherent design. It was bright and extravagant, yet also tasteful and deliberate. Behind it, he could see the edge of a smaller structure that was either a guest house or a very fancy shed.

“That’s where Mama hosts her clients,” Jester whispered in his ear, pointing to the building as they exited the van. “We’re not technically allowed in there, but I’ve snuck in a bunch of times.”

Essek nodded, choosing not to comment on her use of the plural pronoun. The speed of Jester’s welcome was making him a little dizzy.

The interior of the house was just as vibrant and stylishly decorated as the outside. Almost every wall had a painting or strange, abstract sculpture hangin on it, far-cry from the bland, off-white walls and generic design that Essek was used to being around. 

His eyes were quickly drawn away from the decor, however, when a figure began descending the spiral staircase, and the most beautiful woman Essek had ever laid eyes on emerged into view.

A tiefling with cherry-red skin and long, curling hair smiled at them all, apparently unfazed to see this crowd of teenagers arriving at her home unannounced. Looking between her and Jester, it was easy to see the family resemblance, though where Jester wore her beauty with an ingenue-like sweetness, her mother possessed a more refined grace in her posture and the faint laugh lines around her eyes. 

“Ah, you must be Essek. Jester’s told me all about you.” Her voice was butter-soft and angelic. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she held out a hand to him, the same inviting smile on her painted lips that he had become used to seeing from Jester.

Essek had never thought himself particularly attracted to women, but perhaps that was a question he ought to revisit, struck dumb and tongue-tied at the sight of this goddess of a woman. He accepted her handshake numbly. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a look of knowing sympathy from Beau.

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Let me show you to your room.”

Finally finding his voice, Essek said, “Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Mrs. Lavorre.”

“Please, call me Marion.” She began leading them back up the staircase.

The decoration continued into the second floor, but rather than framed paintings, one entire wall was covered in a beautiful mural of a seaside view, complete with old-fashioned ships bobbing along the horizon and tiny beachgoers dotting the sand.

“You’ll be staying in the guest bedroom, but I want you to think of it as your own,” said Marion as she opened a door down one hall.

The room inside was a touch more muted than the rest of the house, but still stylishly outfitted with modern furniture and walls painted a calming shade of seafoam green.

Yasha deposited his suitcase next to the bed, and everyone stared at Essek, waiting.

“I’ll let you settle in,” said Marion, extracting herself from the tension that built the longer Essek remained silent and still. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Jester can give you a tour. Or any of them, really.” Marion twinkled a smile at the Mighty Nein. “They’ve all spent enough time here to know their way around.” And with that, she glided back out.

Essek felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward into the room.

“We can help you unpack,” said Caleb.

“So, what do you want to see first?” Jester clasped her hands together in excitement. 

Unpacking had gone much faster than packing, Essek shoving away the few belongings he had brought without much care for organization. There were no bookshelves in the room, so Essek had left his books in the suitcase for now. The Mighty Nein, led by Caleb, deposited all the books they had claimed from his collection as well, not even bothering to keep up the ruse that they would be taking them home.

Within fifteen minutes, it was time for Jester to play tour guide. 

“I could show you my room, or the attic—I keep all my paints and stuff there—or I can introduce you to Nugget and Sprinkle, or—ooh!” she gasped. “The hot tub!”

“Yes, hot tub, absolutely!” cheered Beau, and suddenly there was a flurry of movement as everyone rushed to find bathing suits to borrow and places to change, tour forgotten. 

In the chaos, Caleb felt a soft hand slip into his, holding him back. Once everyone had scattered from the room, Essek shut the door, sequestering the two of them inside.

“What is it?” He had a feeling that Essek’s goal in getting him alone wasn’t so they could make out, though it had, admittedly, been his first thought. 

Instead of answering, Essek swung the backpack off of his shoulders and onto the bed. Unzipping it, he pulled out a plain manilla folder and held it out to Caleb.

“Take it.”

“What?” Caleb didn’t move. “You need that.”

“No, I don’t. You should have it.”

Nothing about this made sense. “This is the evidence, isn’t it? The stuff that you are going to give to Detective Dairon so you can avoid jail without putting yourself in danger with your suppliers?”

“No, this is the evidence that I am giving to you so you can decide what to do with it.”

Curiosity overtaking him, Caleb accepted the file and flipped it open. The names jumped out at him from the page, hitting him with the force of a punch.

“It is you in there. Your family, your history… you should be in charge of what happens to it.”

“Essek—”

“I’ve been thinking about this since we talked yesterday. I have made up my mind. It’s yours. You can give it to Dairon or not, I don’t care.”

Of course he would. This was the key to proving what Ikithon was doing, at last a small hope of stopping his experiments. But…

“Will it have the same leverage, if I give it to her? Could it still help you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“Essek, why are you doing this? Just give it to Dairon.” He held the folder out again. “It’s ok with me. I give you my permission, if that is what you need.”

Essek shook his head, refusing to take it back. “It’s not just that. It’s—” He slumped suddenly onto the bed, like his legs had given out all at once. He rubbed at his eyes, trying in vain to scrub the fatigue out of them.

“I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t hiding something,” he said finally, addressing the wall. “Even before I started dealing, there was always something that I couldn’t be honest about with my parents, and keeping secrets from them became keeping secrets from every single person in my life, just on the off chance that gossip would get back to them that I don’t believe in the Luxon, or that I don’t agree with their politics, or whatever.” He swallowed thickly.

 “I’ve spent years now trying to cover my tracks, and even after I finally got caught for something, all I’ve been thinking about since is how to escape it, how to worm my way out of the consequences. It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted.” Finally, he lifted his eyes to Caleb. “And I’m done.”

He waved a hand at the file in Caleb’s grip. “I am tired of fighting it. I did bad things. I made bad choices, and I got caught. Whatever happens to me happens, and it will be what I deserve.”

“You didn’t—” Caleb stopped himself short of parroting to Essek the same words that had been said to him so many times. 

Instead, he sat down next to him. “Thank you.” He set the file aside. “I appreciate what you are trying to do.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Essek leaned his head onto Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb shifted closer to accommodate him.

“I don’t want you to go to jail,” he whispered.

“That makes two of us,” Essek muttered, eyes closed.

They stayed there long enough for Caleb to work up the courage to take another look at the file. Moving his left side as little as possible so as not to disturb Essek, he skipped over the forms regarding his parents and read the rest of the pages.

His muscles tightened instinctively upon seeing that unmistakable signature, as though preparing for a physical assault. The skin around his scars tingled, but he didn’t scratch at them.

It took him only a minute to read through Ikithon’s notes. Disappointment spread through him in a wave as he closed the folder.

It isn’t enough . 

Perhaps the police had some method of un-redacting the blacked out entries, but as it was, these papers only hinted at Ikithon’s experiments. Without more information to fill in the blanks, Soltryce’s reputation and team of lawyers could easily fend off any accusations based on this file alone.

Which meant that Caleb would have to provide them with more.

Chapter Text

Caleb had expected the police station to look more daunting. If it weren’t for all the squad cars sitting in the parking lot and the lettering stenciled onto the brick, this bland, municipal building would be almost indistinguishable from the post office down the block.

That didn’t stop his legs from trembling slightly as he mounted the stairs leading up to the front entrance. His backpack felt like a lead weight on his shoulders, despite only carrying one item.

The interior was equally disappointing, lacking the intense bustle of crime-solving activity that TV and movies had taught Caleb to expect. A handful of officers sat around the smattering of desks, idly filling out paperwork or staring with glazed eyes at computer screens.

Swallowing his anxiety, Caleb approached the nearest desk, manned by a middle-aged half-orc woman. Based on her civilian clothes, he guessed she was an administrator of some sort, and thus probably the best place to start.

“Excuse me?”

She cast her eyes up at him. “Yes?”

“I am looking for a Detective Dairon? Are they here?” Caleb winced internally at his own timid request. He had no frame of reference for how easy or difficult it was to get a one-on-one conversation with an officer of the law, and he half expected to be tossed out immediately. His plan B was to loiter across the street from the station until he, hopefully, saw someone come outside matching the detective’s description.

The woman furrowed her brow curiously at him. “What’s this in reference to?”

“I, ah, have… information, regarding a case.” He smiled, hoping to offset the vague answer.

“And your name?”

“Ah, Caleb Widogast.”

She nodded. “Alright. The detective is busy at the moment, I think, but that’s their desk.” She pointed to the far right corner of the bullpen. “You can wait on that bench over there, if you like.”

“Thank you.” Caleb rushed to where she was pointing before she could change her mind and tell him to get out. He sat down on the bench she had indicated, jiggling his leg restlessly, bracing to be yelled at or have his presence questioned by every person who walked by. He kept one hand tightly gripping the strap of his bag next to him.

Nine minutes passed before an elf with dark skin and a shaved head appeared out of a back hallway and came towards the desk. They made no acknowledgment of Caleb, engrossed in some papers, and sat down without looking up. 

Stomach somersaulting with nerves, Caleb stood up and approached.

“Ah, hello?” he tried. The detective’s head shot up so fast he almost took a step back.

“Yes?” they said curtly.

“Are you Detective Dairon?”

They nodded. 

“Do you have a minute to talk?”

“That depends on what you have to say.”

It was very easy to be intimidated by this person, but he’d gotten this far and he wasn’t about to waste it.

“I wanted to speak to you about a case you are working on. I am a, ah, friend of Essek Thelyss.” He wasn’t sure exactly how to ease into his pitch. He was walking a delicate tightrope: reveal too little and Dairon would just write him off without taking the bait. Reveal too much, and he might overplay his hand and lose any hope of leverage.

“Essek Thelyss?” They raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes. I might have something to contribute to your investigation. Not related to him directly, but about the, ah, bigger picture.”

Dairon narrowed their eyes. Whether it was a glare or an expression of further curiosity, Caleb had no clue. 

The detective did not speak, so he forged ahead, taking a deep breath to steel himself.

“My name is Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

A flash of recognition passed over Dairon’s face, just as Caleb had hoped it would.

“Any relation to Leofric and Una?”

Caleb nodded. “My parents. I was also a patient at the Soltryce Rehabilitation Center, and before that, I worked as an intern under Trent Ikithon.”

That got Dairon’s attention. They leaned forward intently, expression unchanged but eyes shining with sudden interest.

Caleb cleared his throat and continued, “I believe we may be able to help each other.”

They were letting him do all the talking, which was unexpected and nerve-wracking. Maybe he should have consulted Essek before coming here—surely he’d thought of some kind of plan for how to present the evidence and the trade without it blowing up in his face.

“Since you don’t seem inclined to be a good samaritan and just tell me,” Dairon finally spoke after a long, painful silence, tapping one finger on the desk impatiently, “what exactly do you mean to accomplish, in coming to me?”

“Essek doesn’t deserve to go to jail.”

Dairon sighed the sigh of a beleaguered adult faced with the naïveté of youth. “I have already discussed Essek’s options with him. You can ask him yourself.”

“It isn’t enough. You are going to make him put himself in danger and he still might get an unfair sentence.”

“Justice is justice. What would be unfair is letting a criminal off without punishment. Your friend broke the law.”

“He made a mistake. He’s a kid.”

“Not in the eyes of the law. There have to be consequences.”

“So make him face consequences! Give him community service or whatever, something where he could do good, instead of shoving him away from the world without any chance to make up for his actions.”

Dairon arched an eyebrow. “You seem to have some very strong opinions on the justice system.”

“Maybe,” said Caleb. “Or maybe I just have experience with institutions that are supposed to help people using their power to squash the vulnerable instead.”

It was immensely difficult to read the detective’s poker face, but Caleb thought perhaps he spotted a hint of respect arising through their indifferent annoyance.

Now was the time. Was it? Maybe not, but Caleb had already made an aborted move to open his bag, and Dairon zeroed in on the motion. Too late to change his mind.

Their gaze remained locked on his hands as Caleb lifted the file out of his backpack. Incredibly, his hands remained steady as he slid it across the desk.

Dairon caught it and opened it immediately, piercing focus now moved to the papers inside.

“Where did you get this?”

“A friend gave it to me,” said Caleb. His voice remained flat, a placid sheen of ice over the whorling rapids of terror that he had just made things a thousand times worse for Essek.

“And where did that friend get it?” Dairon asked knowingly.

“From some unsavory persons who asked him to keep it safe. He decided it would be better in your hands instead.” The lie, practiced over and over on the way here, came out smoother than he had expected. 

It was a good lie, he reassured himself under Detective Dairon’s scrutiny. The police must know by now that evidence was stolen, and who would believe a teenager capable of such a ploy? It was much more believable—wasn’t it?—that someone more sinister than Essek had committed the theft, and through Essek’s good conscience it was now being returned.

He bit back the sigh of relief when Dairon’s eyes flicked back down to the file, away from him. He waited with bated breath as the detective read through Ikithon’s notes.

Once finished, they closed the folder. Set it aside on the desk. Steepled their hands under their chin as they looked back to Caleb. Caleb ignored the frantic pounding of his heart as he waited for a reaction.

When none came for several long, aching seconds, his resolve cracked.

“Is that—is it… good?” he stuttered out.

“It could be quite useful in supporting my case. Maybe,” they equivocated.

“Enough to outweigh the mistakes of one measley, misguided teenager?”

“That is not how the justice system works, I’m afraid.”

Caleb waited for what he hoped, prayed, was coming next.

“But…” Dairon spoke again, and the blood roaring in Caleb’s ears reached a crescendo. “It’s probably better evidence than I would get from a sting operation with your friend as the bait. That was always a long shot, to be honest.” 

They fixed Caleb with a look of intense focus. “Which means I could replace my previous offer with a new one: everything in my power to limit his sentence, in exchange for this,” they placed a hand on the file, “his testimony… and yours.”

“Deal.” Caleb didn’t need to think for even a moment. He’d made up his mind before even coming here, and it didn’t matter the numb fear throughout his body at the thought of a courtroom, facing down Ikithon to stand up and tell the world what he had done and what had been done to him. It was worth it.

“There’s one more thing,” he said. He might be one hundred percent sure already, but Dairon didn’t need to know that, not when he still had a hand to play in the name of another friend. “If I am going to submit myself to that ordeal—rehashing the most traumatic period of my life in front of a judge and jury—I want you to promise me something.”

“What else?”

“When you make all your arrests and raze this whole conspiracy to the ground, I need you to make sure you get one specific person in the slaughter.”

“Who?”

“A man named Obann. He is a member of the Angels of Irons gang. If anyone in that whole organization deserves to be in jail, it is him.”

Dairon nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“You had better do more than that.” Caleb couldn’t say for sure where this sudden bravado was coming from—the high of success, or perhaps just pure adrenaline—but he was going to ride it as long as he could manage. “Or who knows, trauma can do funny things to your memory. The pressure of testifying could be enough of a trigger to render me useless on the stand.”

He knew he’d gone too far by Dairon’s glare, but he kept himself upright and poised under the heat of their glower.

“There’ll be no need for that,” they growled. “I know the man you’re talking about. We have enough already to get him on a number of charges.”

“Really?” Caleb’s tough pretense crumbled, overtaken by shock and cautious delight. All of a sudden, he remembered their excursion to the storage unit, spying on Detective Dairon and a team of officers carting away boxes worth of evidence. Yasha had been so sure that nothing would come of it, Caleb had almost forgotten. “What do you have?”

“I can’t tell you that. But I can tell you it’s pretty air-tight.” The ghost of a smile passed over Dairon’s lips. “I promise.”

And Caleb, who was mistrustful to a fault and had learned to expect the worst from authority, believed them.

“Are you sure?” Despite Caleb’s high spirits as he recounted his visit to the station, Essek remained unconvinced. There was nothing stopping Dairon going back on that promise, and no more certainty than before that they would be able to keep him out of jail.

“I know there are still a lot of unknown variables,” said Caleb. “But I really do believe Detective Dairon is being sincere.”

Essek scrunched his nose in skepticism. 

“And,” Caleb continued, speaking more rapidly now, “I did some research. There are a number of precedent cases where the defendant was accused of similar crimes to yours, and did not go to jail. Extenuating circumstances, pleading insanity—”

“Insanity?”

“That was just one example. The point is, as long as Dairon comes through, and you have a half-decent lawyer, I really think this could work out ok.”

“When did you even have time to research all that?”

Caleb shrugged. “I skipped P.E. I always skip P.E.”

“Well, that is still a lot of ifs,” said Essek.

Caleb sighed. “I am trying to be optimistic here, Essek. That does not exactly come naturally to me. I can show you some of the books I was looking at, so you can see for yourself,” he offered.

“I really don’t think that is going to be any help,” Essek snapped.

Caleb squinted at him. “What has got you so grouchy? It’s something other than the obvious, I can tell.”

Essek sighed, though a part of him swooped gleefully. It should be terrifying that Caleb could read him so easily, and it was a little bit, but it was mostly thrilling.

“Boredom,” he admitted with a melodramatic groan, slouching back against the pillows of his new bed. 

Marion, being the saint that Essek was learning she was, had already offered to take care of the paperwork for enrolling him at Wynandir High School, but it wouldn’t happen overnight. He’d only gotten expelled yesterday morning, and already he wasn’t sure how many more empty days he could take.

The bed dipped as Caleb sat down to join him. Goosebumps prickled along Essek’s skin as he scooted closer.

“I can think of some activities, if you are that starved for entertainment.”

The glint in his eye was all the invitation Essek needed, his lips finding Caleb’s like iron drawn to a magnet.

Essek did not have a wealth of experience in this realm; the handful of previous, regrettable hookups to which he could lay claim had all occurred within the span of a few months, and every time, Essek had been under the influence of some heavy substances. 

Kissing Caleb was lightyears better than any of his past experiences. He could probably credit that to being sober, but Essek liked to think that the person he was with had a large part in it as well.

The constant fear and worry of the past few days faded into white noise as Caleb reached a hand up to tangle in his hair. Essek returned the favor, gladly.

They passed what felt like days this way, drinking each other in until the outside world seemed immaterial and unimportant. 

“You know, I was thinking,” Caleb broke them apart just enough to speak. “Assuming neither of us goes to prison anytime soon—”

“‘Neither of us?’” Essek repeated. “What are you going to prison for?”

“Essek.” Caleb’s tone clearly conveyed that he thought it should be obvious. “I helped Ikithon with those experiments. It was all there in the file. I could easily be held liable for my part in all this.”

“You were a kid, manipulated by your boss.”

“I knew exactly what I was doing.”

Essek had to bite down on his tongue to stop from contradicting him fruitlessly. Instead, he said in his best, emotionless debate voice, “Your logic is inconsistent. If you genuinely think the courts will be lenient with me for what I’ve done, which is much more cut and dry according to the law, then you cannot also argue that you would be held responsible, legally speaking, for aiding Ikithon.”

Caleb’s mouth screwed up, looking like he wanted to make a rebuttal but couldn’t find the crack in Essek’s argument.

“Like I saw saying,” Caleb continued, though his eyes said this debate was not over, “assuming we are not imprisoned in the immediate future…” He paused, apprehension now bleeding into his voice. “There is a, ah, a planetarium exhibit at the Natural Science Museum in Zadash opening this weekend. If you, maybe, wanted to go see it with me…?”

Essek blinked. Panic and giddiness and excitement churned up in his stomach. Caleb bit his lip, looking terrified.

“That is the greatest sentence anyone has ever said to me.” 

It wasn’t precisely what Essek had meant to say, but it was accurate. As far as first dates went, this was pretty much his ideal invitation.

“I would love to.”

The worried line of Caleb’s mouth split into a shy grin.

Essek leaned in again, relishing the feeling of that smile against his own.

They were shortly interrupted, however, this time by the sound of a car door slamming outside. Essek pulled away with a jolt, then sighed.

“That’ll be Jester and Marion. They left on an errand right before you got here.” He tried not to sound too disappointed. 

Caleb hefted himself up and went to peer out the window overlooking the driveway. Essek could just see the sliver of a grin curl over the corner of his mouth.

“It isn’t just them. Come on.” With surprising speed, he grabbed Essek by the hand, tugging him off the bed and towards the door. Essek stumbled after him, confused.

Caleb led him all the way downstairs and out the door, ignoring Essek’s fumbled requests to know what was going on.

He got his answer when they burst out into the yard to see not only Jester and Marion exiting Marion’s powder-blue convertible, but the Ball-Eater right behind it, and all of the Mighty Nein unloading several large, cardboard boxes and shopping bags from the interior.

“Hey!” Jester cried upon seeing them emerge. She ran over, abandoning her side of the particularly heavy looking box she was tag-teaming with Fjord. Yasha lunged to pick up the slack before Fjord collapsed under the weight.

“ Caleb, ” Jester whined in a drawn-out singsong. “I’ve been texting you all afternoon, where were you?”

“I had some… business to take care of,” he said, glancing at Essek with a slight frown of guilt.

Jester dropped her chastising face instantly, replacing it with a leering smile. “Well, you can help us now, since you’re already here.” She winked.

“What is all this?” Essek asked, watching Beau lug an armful of what appeared to be several cans of paint into the house. Did Jester have some kind of art project planned?

“It’s for your room! We would have brought you along, but I wanted it to be a surprise,” Jester explained. “We got a bunch of decorations and paint colors for you to choose from, plus bookshelves!” She pointed to the box that she had abandoned, which Fjord and Yasha were now carrying inside. “We still have to put them together, though.”

“You… you bought all this for me?” Essek’s voice came out somewhat strained.

“Of course!”

Something was blocking any further words from exiting his mouth. Caleb squeezed his hand and said to Jester in his stead, “That was very thoughtful of you.”

Jester giggled. “Come on!” She pushed them both towards the door. “I want to start painting as soon as we can!”

Essek stumbled forward, legs a little wobbly. 

First Caleb offering himself and his history to Dairon for Essek’s sake, and now this… it was more kindness than Essek had ever experienced at once in his life, and he was feeling a little dizzy. 

Caleb kept a firm grip on his hand up the stairs, Jester at his back, and the Mighty Nein lining up behind her, all ready to catch him if he fell.

Chapter Text

Cuersaar 4

Essek had assumed, since his car was still being held hostage by his mother (and would likely remain so in perpetuity), that he and Caleb would take the train to Zadash for their date.

He was wrong. He was learning, quickly, that there was very, very little the Mighty Nein did separately.

“Have fun!” Jester flashed them an exaggerated wink from the Balleater before shutting the door. Having dropped Caleb and Essek at the museum, the rest were headed off to spend their own day in the city before meeting back up for the drive home.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Beau called out the open window as Fjord hit the gas, merging back into the clogged urban traffic.

“That isn’t saying much,” Caleb murmured after her. Essek snorted.

“Shall we?” Essek jerked his head towards the entrance, suddenly nervous. Despite his initial annoyance at the intrusion, having the whole group present had lessened the pressure significantly, making this outing feel like any other casual time with friends. Now that it was just the two of them, he felt the ‘date’ label looming over his head like an anvil ready to drop the second he made a wrong move.

Caleb smiled at him, a shaky thing that told Essek quite clearly that he was not alone in his nerves. The anvil’s shadow faded to a distant speck.

If he were a braver man, Essek might have reached out to take Caleb’s hand as they mounted the steps up to the museum. But he had plenty of time, and the dark of the planetarium waiting for them inside. The moment would be better under the glowing projections of the stars they both loved so dearly. 

Cuersaar 11

This was not what Essek had pictured when Jester said they were going to her favorite store.

Their town did not have much in the way of high fashion, but there were several more upscale boutiques that matched Jester’s style of dress. He’d expected to be dragged to one of these, not a hole-in-the-wall thrift shop, which for some reason was even scarier. There were just so many options.

“Come on, Essek,” Jester drawled, pulling him inside by the hand. She’d had to cajole him for days before he agreed to this. He just wasn’t in the mood for a shopping trip.

“You need more clothes,” she repeated for the umpteenth time. “You can’t keep wearing the same four shirts once you start school. Don’t you want to make a good impression?”

It wasn’t something he’d ever had to consider before, attending a school with a uniform, but he was very familiar with the concept of dressing to impress, and despite his reluctance, the instinct hadn’t quite left him. Jester had a point. 

Upon an initial scan, however, nothing in this store’s inventory fit his image of a good impression. The racks were stuffed with mismatched pieces that were a bit… eccentric. He could see someone like Caduceus having a field day in here, but unconventional was not Essek’s comfort zone.

He followed Jester apathetically around a lap of the store as she gathered a pile of options for him. Her level of focus on the task was impressive, and a little alarming. 

Eventually she broke her intense concentration enough to notice that Essek hadn’t picked out anything for himself.

“What’s wrong?” she frowned at him, blatant concern all over her face. He felt simultaneously bad for disappointing her and annoyed at her obliviousness. It reminded him of when he was young, and Verin would beg on hands and knees for Essek to play with him. Why was it his responsibility to mollify others’ desires at his own expense?

But either Essek was kinder now than he had been as a child, or he just didn’t have the energy to disregard Jester the way he used to his little brother.

“It’s just… a lot,” he said, hoping that Jester would understand without needing a detailed explanation in the middle of this public store. 

Jester deflated. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I thought it might cheer you up, once we got here. You’ve been so mopey since…” she trailed off, not needing to specify. They both knew what she was referring to.

The city was evidently not aware of his change of address. Aunt Leylas had been forced to deliver the notice for his official hearing date in person after it was mailed to his old house. His mother, it seemed, was too busy for the errand.

He had less than two weeks until the dreaded day, after which who knew what would happen to him. Dairon had not been in contact with any news.

Maybe that was why shopping seemed so pointless; why buy a new wardrobe when in two weeks he could be behind bars?

However, looking at Jester now, so sincere and heartfelt in her attempts to lift his spirits, some of Essek’s determined gloominess melted away.

He sighed. “I suppose retail therapy could be worth a shot.”

A grin blossomed over Jester’s face.

“Really?”

“Why not?” He held out his arms. Jester transferred her mountainous bundle of clothes, beaming, and pointed him towards the fitting room.

Though far cry from anything he would have ever picked for himself, her selections were surprisingly appealing to him. She’d managed to find the few items hidden in the racks that didn’t have any extraneous sequins or decals. 

 When Essek reemerged, he found Jester in a far corner of the store, admiring a strapless sundress on the overcrowded dress rack.

“I thought we were shopping for me?” he joked, surprising even himself. Jester turned to him with a bashful blush.

“I was just looking,” she muttered. Something about her diffident tone intrigued him. He had never known Jester to be remotely embarrassed by anything.

He examined the dress more closely. The rich blue color, the cut which revealed a decent stripe of midriff… 

“It’s nice,” he said. “You should try it on.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

He pulled it off the rack himself, and waited outside the changing rooms for Jester to emerge. She didn’t complain at all to his proposal that he take a picture, posing dramatically for several shots.

The fuck you Thelyss he recieved after texting the pictures to Beau felt like a badge of honor, and greatly improved his mood.

Cuersaar 13

“Ok, so.” Beau pulled Essek close in a conspiratorial huddle in front of the cement stairs leading up to Wynandir High School’s front entrance. “Public school is a lot like prison. It’s a dog-eat-dog world. What you want to do is: as soon as you get in there, go up to the biggest, toughest looking person you can find, and punch them in the face.”

“Will you stop scaring him?” Fjord tugged Beau away, forcing her to release her grip. “She’s kidding,” he addressed Essek. “Don’t do that.”

“I was not going to,” Essek assured him, adjusting his grip on the straps of his backpack. His palms were clammy with sweat. “Although I will keep the advice in mind. Could be useful if I actually do end up in prison.”

Beau’s smirk fell into a contrite grimace. Essek shook his head at her, precluding an apology.

“It was a joke,” he said.

“You might want to work on that,” said Nott from her mount on Caleb’s shoulders, riding piggyback.

“My attempts at humor may have been thrown off by the horror I experienced on the way here.” He glared an evil eye back at the long, yellow monstrosity of a bus he and Jester had just disembarked. He still had a lingering headache from all the shouting.

Beau barked a laugh at his misfortune. He couldn’t really blame her.

“Come on.” Caleb lay a warm hand on Essek’s forearm, his grip sturdy and reassuring. “We should go in, the bell is going to ring any minute.”

They all walked in together, and Essek couldn’t deny that having a battalion of friends surrounding him made entering unknown territory much less intimidating.

Cuersaar 22

Essek’s hearing was private, but the court building was open to the public, so no one could stop Caleb from pacing anxiously in the hallway outside the chambers, occasionally leaning an ear towards the door while trying not to make it obvious that he was eavesdropping. 

It was no use, though—he couldn’t catch so much as a peep from inside.

How long was this sort of thing supposed to last? At what point should he start to really worry (as if he wasn’t already)? Or was longer a good sign, meaning that the judge was hearing out Essek’s case instead of passing down an instant verdict?

It was a miracle he hadn’t worn a groove into the linoleum with his pacing by now.

When the door finally creaked open, Caleb almost jumped out of his skin. First out was Essek’s lawyer, a halfling man with slicked-back hair, followed by Detective Dairon—when had they gone in?—and, finally, Essek himself. 

Caleb’s eyes went straight to his wrists. No handcuffs. 

He blinked, and suddenly Essek was right in front of him, wrapping his arms around Caleb and pressing his face into the crook of his neck. Caleb reached up automatically to return the embrace. Distantly, he registered that this was the most touching he and Essek had ever done in public in their three weeks of dating.

“What happened?” he whispered.

Essek lifted himself away to answer, arms still held loosely around Caleb’s shoulders. He was smiling. Beaming, in fact.

“Probation,” he spoke breathlessly, giddy with relief. “It’s just probation.”

Then, cocking his head, he added “And also community service. And basically my entire savings in fines… but no jail time.”

Caleb was not the most physically affectionate person, generally speaking, and especially not in public, but he didn’t think anyone could blame him for kissing his boyfriend in the middle of a courthouse at that particular moment.

Duscar 3

“How about Never Have I Ever?” suggested Jester, eliciting a series of groans.

“We played that last week,” said Fjord. “I can’t sit through another Beau and Essek pissing contest over who’s done stupider shit while they were high.”

“I won,” said Essek from the corner, without looking up from his book. The argument over which party game to play usually lasted upwards of thirty minutes, he’d learned by now to tune in and out. 

Beau blew a raspberry at him.

Sleepovers were already a tradition among the Mighty Nein, and had only increased in frequency since Essek moved in with the Lavorre’s. It was rarer now for the others to spend weekend nights in their own homes than the other way around, and occasionally school nights as well.

Jester hugged her unicorn plushie to her chest, humming in thought. “Truth or Dare?”

Another round of groans.

Duscar 14

Obann pleaded guilty. Drug trafficking, two counts of rape, a half-dozen counts of assault, and one count of first degree murder—his charges read like a legal buffet menu.

“I still think they should have let you in to see it,” Beau grouched.

“There wouldn’t have been much to see. Just lawyers in a room,” said Yasha. She took a lick of her raspberry ice cream cone.

This late into the year, Flotket Ice Cream Parlor was completely empty, but the Mighty Nein managed to make it feel full all on their own.

“Yeah, but you still could have spit in his face one last time,” said Nott.

Yasha shrugged. After the sentencing, she had seemed… not lighter, per se, but there was a minute shift in the way she held herself, like an invisible rope had been binding her all this time, and now it was loosened. Not gone, but less restrictive.

“I’m ok with how it worked out,” she said. “I know he’s in jail, I know he’s miserable, I know he’s not going to last very long. If I can’t kill him myself, this is the next best thing, really.”

Caleb caught her eye across the table, remembering another conversation over ice cream from weeks ago, and raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.

She met his gaze with a near-imperceptible nod. It was neither confirmation ( yes, I’m lying, it still hurts ), nor denial ( no, I mean it, I’m ok ), just acknowledgement that she knew what he was thinking, and maybe they could talk about it another time.

“But it’s so… unsatisfying,” Beau whined. “I really thought, you know, that we’d do something.”

“You actually thought that we were going to single handedly take down a man like that?” Fjord raised his eyebrows, broadcasting disbelief in every syllable.

“Not single handedly. But I thought this whole thing would involve us, I don’t know, getting in a fight or a car chase or something. I thought, whatever happened to Obann, we’d have something to do with it. Instead we just dicked around while the cops did their jobs in the background. We could have sat back on our asses this whole time and the same thing would have happened.”

The others all paused, reflecting on the past month in search of the mistake in Beau’s claim, and finding none.

“Essek’s the only one who really got to see any action.” Beau flung a hand over to indicate the newest addition to their group, smacking him in the face in the process. “He broke into a police station, and that wasn’t even about Obann! It was some other shit!” 

“If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t as glamorous as you seem to think,” Essek replied, gently pushing her arm away to a safe distance. “It was mostly stress, and fear.”

“You’re not allowed to be cooler than me, Thelyss! I’m going to commit a better felony, you just watch.”

“Please don’t,” Fjord begged. 

“Well, even if it wasn’t very dramatic, I still appreciated everything you did.” Yasha smiled first at Beau, then to the group at large. “Really. Thank you. You all risked a lot just to get me some closure. It’s more than I could ask for.”

“You didn’t have to ask,” said Caduceus.

“Of course we did, Yasha,” Jester added. “We’d do anything for you, you know that.”

Yasha smiled again; small, and slightly strained, but a smile nonetheless.

Duscar 25

“This is Yudala Fon,” Dairon introduced with a nod. “Federal prosecutor, and a close colleague of mine.”

Caleb shook a clammy hand with the red-haired half-elf. As if the circumstances weren’t nerve-wracking enough on their own, both the people he was meeting with exuded such an aura of poise and authority that he felt a bizarre urge to bow.

He resisted, instead sitting down in the empty third chair at their corner table and trying not to visibly shake. 

It was Dairon who had suggested holding this meeting in a public space, but Caleb suspected it was for his benefit. He couldn’t deny it eased his nerves somewhat, to be surrounded by witnesses. The coffee shop was crowded enough to provide cover, without being so packed and noisy as to overwhelm him.

He picked at the edge of his paper coffee cup, letting the hot steam sear the very tips of his fingers, and waited for someone to speak.

“I thought it best we all meet together, to discuss what’s to come.” Yudala Fon’s voice was pleasantly neutral, like a newscaster delivering dire headlines with a detached calmness. “I imagine you have questions, and I’ll answer to the best of my ability.”

A thousand potential questions to ask surged through Caleb’s head. He grasped out and pinned down the simplest one.

“What happens next?”

“Well,” Yudala began, “there is quite a bit I will be doing in preparation for the trial, but all you need to worry about is your own testimony. You and I will meet, preferably a few times over the next month, to put together a strategy and engage in some mock examination, so that you’ll know what to expect for the real thing.”

Caleb nodded, eyes fixed on the dark contents of his cup. He could just make out a hint of his reflection in the murky surface.

“And after?” The questions came out quiet and raspy.

Yudala tilted their head to the side with an inquisitive look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, after the trial, what’s going to happen to me?” He looked between them and Dairon. “Will there be a hearing, or…?” he trailed off.

Yudala and Dairon exchanged an unreadable look. Neither of their expressions moved one iota from perfect inscrutability, yet they seemed to understand each other.

“The government has no interest in pursuing a criminal case against you, Caleb,” Yudala spoke. “You were an accessory under unique and incredible circumstances. As far as my office is considered, you’re as much a victim as you are liable, and I’m inclined to count your unlawful institutionalization at Soltryce as time served.”

Caleb blinked through the thin wisps of steam still curling up from his drink. His lips parted to speak, but no sound came out. 

He had spent the past two months preparing for the worst. He’d listened to Essek complain repeatedly about his probation and only been able to think about how a similar sentence was the best he could possibly hope for. And now this person was telling him he wouldn’t be facing so much as a slap on the wrist.

He only just stopped himself from saying ‘Are you sure?’ out loud.

“That is… that’s good to know.” he forced out. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a favor,” said Yudala. “It is my professional ruling on the situation.”

Caleb finally took a sip of his coffee. It tasted like relief.

Horisal 1

A tap on the door, accompanied by Marion’s voice, interrupted Essek from his reading. She poked her head inside at his “Come in.”

“Essek? You have a visitor.”

Essek’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?” Any of his friends would have simply waltzed in, without needing to be announced. 

“Why don’t you come downstairs?” He couldn’t read anything in Marion’s face; she was keeping her expression resolutely neutral. That in itself set Essek on guard, she was normally so expressive.

Nevertheless, he set his book aside and followed her down the staircase. She pointed him towards the spacious living room before retreating into the kitchen. Bemused, Essek followed her directions.

Sitting ramrod-straight on the velvet upholstered couch was a drow boy with shaggy white hair, staring at his lap and tapping his foot with nervous energy.

Essek’s stomach dropped.

“Verin?” 

His brother’s head snapped up to look at him, eyes growing round. He was still wearing the pressed shirt and khaki pants which comprised the uniform of Ashkeeper Military Academy.

“Hi,” he said, disbelieving. His eyes roved over Essek, who suddenly became very aware that he was wearing Caleb’s t-shirt. Not that Verin would recognize it, but it still brought a faint blush to Essek’s cheeks.

Like a delayed reaction, Verin shot up to his feet, standing at attention as though Essek were one of his drill sergeants. All that was missing was the salute.

“What are you doing here?” was all Essek could find the words to say.

“I’m on break. I just got in yesterday.”

“No, I mean,” Essek gestured to the room around them, “what are you doing here .” 

“Looking for you. It took some digging,” said Verin, relaxing ever-so-slightly from his perfect soldierly form. “When Ata said you were gone, I texted all my old friends from home to ask if they knew anything, and eventually someone told me they’d heard a rumor that you were staying with a blue girl from Wynandir. So then I asked around if anyone knew who that might be, and eventually someone sent me this address.”

Essek took a moment to be impressed by his brother’s network, then said, “So, I take it Ata didn’t tell you anything?” 

It wasn’t surprising. Of course their mother would want to shield Verin from him, and of course stubborn, foolhardy Verin had sought him out anyway. Despite himself, Essek found he was a little touched to hear that his brother had gone to such lengths to track him down.

Verin shook his head. “She just said that you left. She wouldn’t tell me why.”

Left. Like it was his choice. The word sent a spike of anger through Essek, but he shook it off.

“Sit down,” he told his brother, who obeyed instantly. “This is going to take a while.”

He told him everything, more or less. Some details were less crucial than others—most of his conversations with Caleb, Essek omitted. But the facts of the matter, every unflattering part of the tale, he laid out bare. He had no image of himself to protect; any hero worship Verin might have felt for him as an older brother had died years ago.

Verin, to his credit, seemed to be taking it pretty well. His eyes widened and mouth opened in gaping surprise at appropriate moments of the recounting, but he stayed quiet all the way through, letting Essek finish without a single interruption.

Once he made it up to the results of his hearing, Essek let out a long, bone-deep sigh, forcibly relaxing the tightness in his body. He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning forward as he spoke, shoulders tense and taut.

Verin was quiet for a long time, wringing his hands as he absorbed everything he’d just heard.

Finally, he looked up at Essek, brow creased with confusion.

“But… you’re not cool enough to be a drug dealer.”

“Seriously?” Essek couldn’t keep his voice from rising in incredulity. “That’s your takeaway from all this?” 

Verin just shrugged. “I mean, you’re not. You’re a nerd.”

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?” 

“No, no, I do. It’s just… weird.” He grew quiet again, eyes boring into Essek’s like he was searching for an explanation in the depths of his pupils. It was quite disconcerting.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Verin shook his head slowly. “Why would you do that? Any of it?”

Essek opened his mouth soundlessly, waiting for the words to come. They didn’t.

“I mean, you don’t need the money,” Verin continued. “What was the point of breaking the law? Just to punish Ata ?”

“No,” Essek fumbled to explain, but Verin was still going, the reality of the situation seeping in all at once.

“You broke the law, Essek! You, you stole from the police! Those are felonies, how are you not in jail—?”

“I already told you,” Essek snapped. “I got probation, were you listening or not?”

“I was, I promise. I just don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Essek scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

What did he mean? How could he explain to his puppy dog of a brother the complex machinations that had led him down this path? 

“Just that, you… you and I are very different people,” Essek stumbled. “We see the world very differently. I don’t think I can ever explain myself in a way that would make sense to you.”

Verin pursed his lips. “Like when you tried to tutor me in algebra?” he said.

Essek couldn’t help himself. He laughed, just a little bit. 

“Sure. Something like that. Except I promise I am not going to call you a moron, so long as you don’t throw a pencil at my face.”

“Deal.” One corner of Verin’s mouth twitched upward.

How long had it been since they had sat and talked like this? Essek tried to recall and found himself going back years. At some point early in their adolescence, the two of them had stopped fighting and started ignoring each other completely, with no room for camaraderie in between. 

It wasn’t a distance that could be surmounted in a day, or possibly even in years. But perhaps they could start trying.

Verin bit his lip, thinking hard. “Maybe I can talk to Ata ,” he said. “Maybe I could convince her to let you back—”

“No.” Essek surprised himself with the intensity in his own voice. “I do not want to go back.”

“Why not?”

Essek sighed. Verin’s relationship with their mother, though similarly fraught as Essek’s, was cushioned by his faith in authority and the distance provided by so many years away at boarding school. He wouldn’t understand.

“I have recently learned that things can become better than what they are. I have no interest in going back to complacency.”

“So you’re going to stay here, forever? With these strangers?”

“They’re not strangers,” Essek corrected. “They’re my friends.”

Verin looked skeptical. “You’re Essek. You don’t have friends.”

“I do now.”

An insane impulse struck Essek, and the words were out before he could think better of them.

“Do you… do you want to meet them?”

“Meet your friends?” Verin still sounded hesitant, if not outright disbelieving.

“Yes. I can introduce you to them, if you want. And…” Essek bit his lip. In for a penny. “And my boyfriend.”

If Essek had thought Verin looked shocked before, it was nothing compared to now. A vein bulged in his forehead as he gaped.

“You have a boyfriend?” 

Horisal 12

After a full eight minutes loitering outside the door, pressing the buzzer over and over with dwindling hope, Essek was finally ready to admit defeat; he wasn’t getting into that apartment tonight.

Just as he was about to walk away, a click and a creak stopped him in his tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The screechy voice was music to his ears. Essek whirled around.

“I was just—”

“Where are the flowers?” Nott glared at him, squinty-eyed and reproachful.

“Um, what flowers?”

She rolled her eyes, throwing her head back in melodramatic exasperation. “Haven’t you ever seen a movie? Boyfriends are supposed to bring flowers when they apologize. It’s all part of the groveling.”

Essek had to bite down hard on his tongue to stop from correcting her that he had no intention of groveling. He definitely had things to apologize for, but so did Caleb. He wasn’t here to prostrate himself, he was here to have a conversation.

No need to say so out loud, though, as long as Nott was still barring him entrance. Instead, he fished in his pocket and showed her the olive branch gift he had brought with him.

Nott examined the tiny cat figurine in his hand critically. He thought it a much more appropriate gift than flowers, but she seemed unimpressed.

Still, she pulled the door open wide enough to admit him. 

“Good enough,” she grumbled, and Essek hurried inside before she could change her mind, following her down the hall to the apartment.

The main room was empty. Nott immediately slunk behind the closed bedroom door, and emerged a moment later pushing a reticent-looking Caleb in front of her. 

“Fix it,” she demanded, looking between the both of them. She flashed a final I’m watching you gesture to Essek before shutting herself inside, leaving them in some semblance of privacy.

Caleb stared at the floor. Essek stared at Caleb. It was several excruciating moments before he remembered his olive branch.

“I, um, got this for you,” he mumbled awkwardly, shuffling forward to hand it over. The odd shop didn’t carry a Frumpkin-colored figurine, so he’d settled for tabby.  

Caleb quirked a smile when he saw it, and Essek resisted the urge to cheer.

“Thanks,” he said, reaching out to accept it. 

“You’re welcome.”

The silence stretched out between them once again, stifling tension in the air as they hovered on the edge of apologies, both sure that they were more in the wrong, yet neither willing to offer the first ‘I’m sorry.’ 

It was Caleb who caved first. He stared at the ceramic cat as he spoke, twirling it between his fingers. 

“It has been a stressful few weeks for both of us, I think. With the trial coming up, and everything, we’ve both been on edge. It was bound to boil over at some point. I did not mean to imply that…” he paused, sighed. “I don’t think you are narrow minded,” he echoed the words from their argument in a near-whisper. “I should not have compared you to your mother.”

“I could have been more delicate in my phrasing as well.” Though the seal was broken, Essek still fumbled over his words, stubborn pride sticking them in his throat. “I suppose 

I am still a little… sensitive, when it comes to her.”

“As you have every right to be,” Caleb replied. 

“Still.” You can do this, Essek. You can apologize. “I was unduly harsh in my response. I regret what I said, and… I’m sorry.”

Caleb closed his hand over the statuette, grasping it like an anchor. “Me too.”

“I don’t…” Essek shook his head with a sardonic huff of laughter. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You’re doing great so far.” At last, Caleb looked up at him, peering through the long strands of hair falling in his face. Essek resisted the urge to reach out and push them back, then remembered that he didn’t have to. Two months, and he still had to remind himself that he was allowed to touch Caleb—even after a fight, even when they were mad at each other. One misstep didn’t mean he had lost it all.

Still, he moved slowly, giving Caleb a chance to flinch away from his touch. He didn’t, and Essek carefully tucked one lock of hair behind his ear, fingers tingling with warmth at every point of contact.

Behind Caleb, the bedroom door creaked open again.

“Is everything ok? Did you break up?” Nott asked, pretending like she hadn’t been listening to every word.

“We did not break up,” said Caleb. “Everything is fine.”

“Good. Now move, you’re blocking the door.”

Horisal 21

“Alright. Please be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Yasha assured him, words which could only be so comforting when they came from someone who was wielding a seven-inch hunting knife behind your head.

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. This had to be a mistake.

It started because he’d been telling Yasha about his most recent visit to Yudala Fon’s office up in Zadash. It wasn’t a pleasant meeting; for this round of practice trial, they had played a particularly hostile version of the opposing attorney, a relentless cross-examination that left Caleb a quivering, dissociated mess by the end. This was then followed by a lecture on courtroom etiquette, including a few thinly-veiled comments about how Caleb might improve his outward presentation in order to make a more favorable impression on the jury. 

Consequently, he’d mentioned to Yasha that he was considering getting a haircut before the trial. To which Yasha had said:

“I could do it for you, if you want. I know how.”

And Caleb, who was broke and didn’t like the idea of being touched by strangers, agreed.

Yasha had failed to mention that her cosmetological expertise was limited to using a knife, rather than the much more common scissors.

“I can try?” she’d offered when he’d suggested the more traditional tool. “But I’ve never done it that way before. I don’t know if it will turn out as good.”

Which is how Caleb wound up sitting on the edge of the bathtub in Yasha’s apartment with a towel draped around his shoulders, muscles tensed and bracing for the telltale gush of blood from a fresh wound, and not having the heart to tell her that maybe he’d changed his mind.

“How much do you want me to take off?” she asked.

“Not a lot. Just, like…” Caleb used his thumb and forefinger to indicate a space of about an inch or so. Yasha nodded. Caleb held his breath

She was surprisingly gentle in her work. The feel of her fingers combing through his hair as she split it into sections might actually have been relaxing, if not for the imminent threat of maiming at the first slip up. But, as the minutes ticked by without disaster, and the faint, rhythmic shink of the blade repeated behind Caleb’s ears without being followed by a stabbing pain, he slowly let out his held breath.

“It’s really brave, you know. What you’re doing,” Yasha broke the silence after almost twenty minutes. Careful work meant slow work.

“Most would probably call this stupid, but thank you.”

“No, not this. I meant, with the trial. Testifying. I—” her voice shook, though her hands remained steady. “I don’t know if I could have done the same, if Obann hadn’t pleaded guilty.”

“You would have,” said Caleb. “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

He could hear Yasha shake her head, even if he couldn’t see it. “Not like this. I’m not afraid of fights, or getting hurt. I can hit people or take a hit, but talking, getting up in front of strangers and telling them everything that’s happened to you…” 

The soft pressure on his head disappeared, so Caleb risked turning around to look at her. Yasha had dropped her hands, the knife hanging limply at her side.

“I’m so scared of talking about it,” she whispered.

“You’re allowed to be weak sometimes, Yasha. You don’t have to hide it, not from us.”

“I feel like… like there’s a dam inside me, that’s holding everything back. And I can break it down and let it all out if I want to, but it has to be everything . I wish I could just poke a hole in it, just to let a little bit of the pressure out. But as soon as I try, the whole thing floods. And I drown.”

Caleb bit his lip, searching for advice to offer her and coming up empty. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but he hadn’t yet found an answer for it.

“Well, whenever you do decide to let the dam break, just let us know, ok? We won’t let you drown. Jester just finished her CPR certification, you know.”

That got a laugh out of Yasha, a rare and beautiful sound, like wind chimes blowing in a storm. She hefted her blade again, and this time Caleb wasn’t afraid of its presence. He trusted her to be gentle just as much as he trusted her to be strong. 

“Keep your head still,” she chastised teasingly, repositioning him with a push. “I’m almost finished with the back.”

Horisal 29

The Zadash courthouse had very nice bathrooms. Caleb took a moment to admire the marble backsplash as he rinsed the taste of vomit out of his mouth.

“Caleb? Are you in here?” The sound of worried voices echoed into the room, announcing Nott and Beau as they turned the corner.

As soon as they spotted him, leaning over the sink at the far end of the stalls, they rushed to his side.

“Shit, man, you look like hell.”

“I’m fine.”

Nott placed a comforting hand on his elbow. He lowered his arm so she could entwine their fingers together.

“Like hell you’re fine. Come on.” With a firm push, Beau guided him to sit on the floor against the wall, she and Nott flanking him on either side. Nott didn’t let go of his hand.

“Do you want water? I can go find a vending machine or something,” Beau offered. Caleb shook his head.

“I’m ok. I just needed a minute. Where are the others?”

“Looking for you. Fjord and Caduceus took the other bathroom. Yasha, Jester, and Essek went to check outside.” 

“You did really great up there,” said Nott, an encouraging smile on her lips as she leaned her head on Caleb’s shoulder.

“Fuck yeah, you did! Did you see Ikithon’s face when you took the stand?”

Another wave of nausea twisted through Caleb.

“I was avoiding looking at him, to be honest.”

“Well, he looked fucked up. And when you answered that question about destroying records? I swear I could see him sweating.”

“And how did he look during the cross-examination?” 

He could practically feel his friends tensing on either side of him.

“You did great,” Beau repeated, instead of answering.

“Do you want me to steal the defense attorney’s watch? Cause I’ve been eying it all day.”

Despite himself, Caleb cracked a smile at that.

“I am alright, Nott, but thank you for the offer.”

She shrugged. “I might take it anyway. He’s a douche.”

“His cufflinks look even more expensive, if you can swing it,” said Beau.

Nott rubbed her hands together. “I do love a challenge.”

Misuthar 10

Ikithon’s trial lasted two and a half weeks in total. The articles rolled in faster than anyone could read them.

Cerberus Corp. Chief Medical Officer Trent Ikithon convicted on multiple charges, Federal Prosecutor Yudala Fon says this is ‘just the beginning’

Evidence unearthed connecting Cerberus Pharmaceutical Corporation with organized crime

Pharmaceutical Company Sells Experimental Drug on the Black Market, Gang Ties Uncovered 

Cerberus Pharmaceuticals CEO Ludinus Da’leth under investigation for racketeering

What is residuum? How this Frankenstein drug went from legitimate tests to black market sales 

The Hidden Victims of Cerberus: Inside the Soltryce Rehabilitation Center

Jester made a collage for her art class.

Misuthar 19

“Gods, I can’t fucking take this!” 

Beau’s exclamation was muffled as she buried her head in her hands, one eye still peeking through her fingers to watch Jester on the field. Even from up in the bleachers, Beau could see her biceps bulging as she heaved the shot put across the grass.

Nott patted a consoling hand on Beau’s knee. “Just breathe,” she advised. “It’ll be over soon.”

“I thought you would enjoy watching Jester’s tryouts,” Essek commented. “You talk about her arms so much.”

Maybe he was being insensitive, but he didn’t feel like comforting Beauregard through her crisis. It was cold out and looked moments away from drizzling. If Beau hadn’t near-begged him to come, he would be warm and indoors right now.

Jester had specifically asked Beau to come support her at her track-and-field tryout, since Beau had run distance the previous year and knew the ropes of the sport. But Beau, panicked at the prospect of watching her crush perform physical feats alone with no one to freak out at, had insisted Nott and Essek join as well.

“That’s the whole problem, Thelyss,” Beau hissed.

It was a mystery to Essek, how he and Nott ended up as Beau's support group for Jester-related angst, except for the fact that they were the only two who knew about her crush (or, at least, that Beau knew who knew about her crush). At some point she’d started venting to the both of them, and Essek, who’d received the prickliest welcome out of the group from both Beau and Nott, had latched onto the chance to bond. Now that months had passed and he was certain neither girl hated him, he was beginning to regret it.

“Just ask her out,” he said, for perhaps the hundredth time.

“I am going to punch your fucking lights out.” Beau’s threat lacked the effect it’d had the first dozen times. “Don’t act all superior just cause you’re in a relationship. Not all of us get thrust into a dramatic saga to break the ice with our crush. You didn’t have to do shit to get with Caleb except hit rock bottom.”

“That is… only partially accurate.”

Nott took a loud slurp from her iced coffee. “Oh look, I think Jester hit the coach with that ball thing. Does that mean she won?”

Misuthar 24

Caleb was greeted that morning at school by having a newspaper flung in his face the second he stepped off the bus.

“Did you see?”

The paper, kept in place by a strong breeze, was still covering his face and obscuring his vision, but he could recognize Beauregard’s voice.

“Obviously not,” he muttered, flailing to try and refold the giant, unwieldy paper.

Beau grabbed it from him, crumpling it back into some semblance of a rectangle before shoving it again under his nose.

This time, he could see clearly what she was trying to show him.

Soltryce Rehab Center Purchased by Major Non-Profit Two Months After Shutting Down

Executive Director of the Arcana Pansophical, Allura Vysoren, talks plans to rebuild the disgraced institution “according to its original purpose as a source of beneficence in the community,” and repairing the damages of past misdeeds. Read on page 8.

“Wow.” Nott, standing on tiptoes to read, let out a low whistle.

“This is…” 

“I mean, it’s good news, right?” Beau picked up from Caleb’s trailing off. “The Pansophical is legit.”

“It is very good news.” Caleb looked up from the headline with a hesitant smile. “Would you mind if I kept this?”

“Of course, man!” Beau clapped him on the shoulder. “I stole it from my dad, so no worries.”

Dualahei 10

“Esse—oh! Hi, Caleb! When did you get here?”

The surprise of Jester’s sudden entrance was enough to make Caleb jump. Unfortunately, from the position he and Essek were in, it only took a very small amount of movement for him to roll right off the bed.

“Ow,” he groaned from the floor, and was immediately set upon by the slobbery affections of Jester’s gigantic mutt, who barreled into the room the second the door was opened a crack.

“Jester,” said Essek, propping himself up on one elbow, painfully patient. “I thought we had a conversation about knocking.”

“I did knock!” Jester insisted.

“And did you wait for my response before entering?”

Jester pouted. “You weren’t answering. Nugget wanted to say hi!”

“ Jester.”

“At least you're wearing shirts this time.”

“Yes, Essek. At least we are wearing shirts this time,” said Caleb as he lifted himself up with a wince, fending off Nugget with one arm. “Always good to look on the bright side of things.”

Dualahei 23

“Uh… hi.”

“Hello.”

Despite him having lived at the Lavorre’s home for three and a half months, Beau looked surprised to see Essek open the door. She turned her head to the side to swipe surreptitiously at her eyes before saying, “Is, uh, is Jester here?” 

He shook his head. “She’s at her sculpting class.”

“Shit, right,” Beau cursed. She stuck her hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt, shuffling her feet awkwardly.

“Do you want to come in?” Essek offered.

Beau barely waited for him to finish the sentence before barrelling inside, beelining straight to the sitting room and throwing herself down onto the couch.

“Rough day?” he ventured. Even after so long with the Mighty Nein, he hadn’t spent much one-on-one time with Beau. He wasn’t sure how to act around her in this state.

Rather than answering, Beau said, “Do you have any weed?” which was sort of an answer in itself.

“I’m still on probation,” Essek replied. “If I get within fifty feet of any illegal substance, every cop in the district gets a satellite transmission of my location.”

“You’re hilarious, Thelyss,” Beau groaned.

“Is everything alright? You seem… upset.”

“Everything’s great.” Beau’s smile was unnervingly fake. “My parents are just planning every detail of my future down to the minute without consulting me on any of it. Nothing wrong with that!”

Essek lowered himself down to sit across from her. “I, uh, I know something of what that is like,” he spoke hesitantly. With Beau in such a mood, he couldn’t be sure she would react favorably to commiseration, or comfort, or indeed anything he said.

“Yeah. Your mom sucks.”

“She has high expectations, and little tolerance for those who do not meet them.”

“You think?” Beau raised an eyebrow at him, in what Essek belatedly realized was a challenge. “You know, my dad hired tutors for me in preschool cause he thought I was going to fall behind.”

Not one to be outshone, Essek took the bait. If competition was how Beauregard made herself feel better, he could certainly help with that. “My mother made me study for five hours every night leading up to an exam so I could skip third grade.”

“When I was ten, my dad wanted to enroll me in a program for ‘future business leaders’ or some shit that was meant for high schoolers. When they said they couldn’t accept me, he tried to buy out the program.”

“When I was little, my mother would have me memorize whole chapters of scripture so she could show me off to her colleagues at church.”

“My dad’s threatening to withhold my college funds if I don’t major in business.”

“He’s what?”

Beau faltered, realizing that in their competitive escalation, she had revealed not a past anecdote, but a current woe. One which, Essek surmised, was probably the reason she’d fled here, with no warning and eyes bloodshot.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s obviously bullshit.” She didn’t sound all that sure. “He’s just trying to intimidate me into doing what he wants, but I haven’t been afraid of him in years.”

That was very clearly a lie, but Essek didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he walked over to the liquor cabinet, where Marion kept some of the lavish, rarely-touched gifts bestowed upon her by past clients. 

There were several bottles of Lionett’s vintage among them; it only took Essek a moment of rummaging to locate one. 

Beau watched curiously as he uncorked it. “I thought you were on probation. Isn’t that technically an illegal substance?”

“For you, it is. I’m of age.” 

Rather than pouring a glass, he lifted the whole bottle up in a toast. That felt more like Beauregard’s style.

“To disappointing our parents,” he declared, and took a generous swig before holding it out to Beau.

She snatched it from him gladly. “To disappointing our shitty fucking parents,” she agreed, and began to chug.

Thunsheer 12

“I can’t believe you guys are all going to be gone next year.” Tears welled up in Jester’s eyes as she flopped back against the trunk of their favorite oak tree, hugging her arms around herself.

“We won’t be gone, Jester,” Fjord reassured her. “Yasha and I are both taking gap years to save money, and Caleb’s only going to be a couple hours away. We’ll still see you all the time, even if we’re not in school together.”

Jester sniffed, her pout not diminishing a fraction. “It won’t be the same.”

Essek fidgeted, ducking his head in the hope of avoiding attention. It had the opposite effect, the movement catching Jester’s eye as she fought back her tears.

“You’re probably going far away, aren’t you Essek?” she moaned. “To some really fancy college all the way in Vasselheim or something.”

Essek let out a long, slow puff of air. They were going to have to talk about this eventually. Might as well get it over with now.

 “Actually,” he forced himself to say, “I’ll probably be staying here as well.”

Seven confused faces turned to him.

“You’re not going away for school?” Beau asked, face scrunched up in befuddlement. The only place of higher education in town was the local community college, hardly the expected destination for someone with Essek’s combination of academic achievement and elitism.

 Eyes still downcast, he explained, “I sent in my applications before the arrest, but they’ll probably still run some kind of check. Even if I got accepted anywhere with a felony charge, I can’t afford tuition or living expenses on my own.”

His mother’s financial support had ended with bailing him out of jail. Luckily, Essek had a savings account in his own name where he had built up a sizable fund… which he’d drained almost entirely in order to pay his fines. He’d vowed not to touch what little remained outside of emergencies.

“I’ll have to try and find a job, see if I can save up enough to apply again in another year,” he finished, trying not to sound too sorry for himself.

“Oh, Essek!” Jester redirected her sadness to his behalf, still watery-eyed but now pouring out sympathy.

“That really sucks,” Beau added on, without a hint of sarcasm.

He wished they would stop.

“I could probably get you a job where I work,” Yasha offered. “Have you ever bartended before?”

“Uh… no.”

“Hmm,” she frowned. “That might be hard then.”

The shriek of the bell from inside, signalling the end of their lunch break, saved Essek from any more pity. The group gathered up themselves and their belongings and trekked back inside for their first classes of the afternoon.

Halfway to their shared physics lab, Caleb tugged Essek by the wrist into an alcove off the hallway, away from the swift current of students rushing to and fro.

“Nott and I have been talking,” he began, “about her maybe coming with me to Nicodranas, come the fall. There are plenty of high schools in the city for her to attend, and she’s found a couple of part time job listings online already.”

“Oh. Ok,” Essek replied, not certain how he was expected to respond. They hadn’t really talked about the future yet— their future—and this was not the time or the place that Essek imagined holding such a loaded conversation. 

He also would have thought that Caleb might be a little more contrite when discussing his eventual relocation, instead of talking as though him inevitably leaving Essek behind in a few months was just another fact of life, not worth expressing any emotion over. “That sounds… nice.”

“There would be a lot more job opportunities there. You wouldn’t have to work at Yasha’s bar.”

Essek paused, his brain taking a long minute to review what Caleb had just said and make certain it had heard right.

“Are you saying you want me to come with you?”

Stupid, he should have noticed it earlier: the muscle clenched in Caleb’s jaw, his hands in his pockets so Essek couldn’t see him fidget, staring at a point on Essek’s forehead the way he did when he wanted to make eye contact but couldn’t bring himself to—Caleb wasn’t emotionless, he was overcome feelings and shutting them down so he could make it through this conversation. It was his signature move, and if Essek weren’t so distracted, he would have recognized it in an instant.

Caleb nodded stiffly. “I know it’s more expensive to live in a city, but we would be splitting everything three ways, and you could audit some classes at the university in your spare time.”

Essek’s imagination latched onto the idea before he could stop it. Images flashed through his mind: an apartment, small but clean, the walls covered with Jester’s paintings and pictures of their friends; a lecture hall, the kind of grand stadium he had always dreamed of, taking notes faster than he could think from some of the greatest academic minds on the continent; a magnificent, cavernous library, the smell of old books surrounding them as he and Caleb huddled together over a thick tome, parsing the wisdom of ages.

He schooled his voice to keep the excitement from giving him away. “It is very sunny on the coast,” he said.

Caleb shrugged. “We can get you a hat.”

Essek didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so instead, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was paying them any mind, he pressed a kiss to Caleb’s cheek.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, and they both knew that meant ‘yes.’

Thunsheer 29

Verin

Ata wants you to come home for dinner on Yulisen

Essek

She can’t want it that much if she won’t even invite me herself.

Verin

Please come. You’ll want to hear her out, trust me

Essek gazed at the days-old texts, his phone screen glowing blue in the grayish dusk, reading and re-reading the exchange just so he had something to do other than approach the house.

He hadn’t given Verin a confirmation so as to allow himself the option of bailing at the last second. And that prospect was so very, very tempting. If he were a little less stubborn, and a little less prideful, and a lot less curious, Essek would turn around right now and go back to his new life, his good life, where his mother had no place and he pretended it didn’t bother him at all.

Instead, he shoved his phone in his pocket and crossed the lawn with his head held high.

He’d thought about asking Caleb to come with him for moral support, or Jester, or any of them. The whole Mighty Nein would have shown up at his back if he’d asked, he knew. (And how wonderful it was, that knowledge, that surety.) But some instinct urged him to face this alone. Verin would be there, home again from school, which should provide enough of a buffer to prevent any murders from taking place.

The doorbell rang like the toll of a church bell through the house. Verin opened the door, face melting into relief and delight when he took in Essek on the doorstep.

“You came,” he breathed. Then he cocked his head, squinting slightly. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”

Essek shrugged, fighting off a smirk. Small rebellions were the only way he was going to make it through this evening without eruption.

Verin shook his head in the universal sibling language of My brother is being weird but I don’t feel like unpacking it right now, and ushered Essek into the house.

“Can you please tell me what this is about?” Essek asked in a low hiss. “What does she want from me?”

“She doesn’t want anything! We’re just going to have a nice family dinner together.”

“Right.” Essek didn’t make any attempt to hide his skepticism.

“Please,” Verin begged. “I’ve been working on this for a long time.”

Essek stopped in his tracks. “This was your idea? Not hers?”

Verin winced, but Essek didn’t get a chance to tell his brother off for misleading him. They were at the dining room now, and there, already seated at the head of the table, was Deirta Thelyss.

The reality hadn’t fully hit Essek until now, that this was the first time he was seeing his mother in over six months. 

She looked exactly the same. Essek wondered if she could say as much for him. He liked to think not.

“Hello, Essek,” she said.

“Hello, Ata, ” he said. 

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Are you?”

Verin shot him a pleading look as they both took their seats, and Essek nodded back in acquiescence. He would play nice, for now, if only out of morbid curiosity.

The passing of food and filling of plates went by in total silence, the air thick and soupy with tension. Verin’s head bounced between Essek and Deirta like a spectator at a tennis match, except instead of hitting a ball back and forth, the players were engaged in a game of ‘how long can we go without acknowledging each other?’

Deirta finally spoke when the salad was finished and her glass of wine was half-empty.

“How have you been enjoying your new school, Essek?” she asked.

He could recognize it for the barb that it was, but chose not to retaliate. If there was one thing Essek had learned from his mother, it was how to maintain polite conversation and pretend nothing was going wrong.

“It’s good,” he said primly. 

“I hope it hasn’t been too easy for you. I can’t imagine they have the same advanced enrichment as Zauber does.”

“I’ve managed,” he intoned. What was she getting at? Where was this charade heading?

“Verin’s told me that you’re doing quite well these days, in fact. It’s nice to see you both getting along better, keeping in touch.”

Essek shot a look at Verin, who was staring down at his plate, entranced by his potatoes.

It wasn’t as though he and Verin spoke all that often, just more these days than their previous never. What could he have relayed to her? Something about Caleb? Was this all just an elaborate ruse to give Essek a sermon on the evils of premature relationships?

Deirta set down her fork and knife in the same motion she used when placing notes on  her podium before delivering a speech. Essek straightened his spine, preparing to get his answers.

“I suppose we should address the elephant in the room. Obviously, things have become somewhat fractured between you and I, Essek. I hope you can understand that, while I acted my conscience, I do not wish to see you fail. Your actions were an immense blow to me, and I could not abide the disrespect, but you are still my son. I still want the best for you.”

Essek’s nails dug into his palms as his hands curled into fists, white-knuckled around the cutlery.

Deirta stood up from the table, and Essek thought for a moment that his lack of response had offended her so egregiously that she was ending dinner early. Instead, she crossed to the next room and returned a moment later holding a wide, bulky envelope. 

“This came in the mail for you a few days ago.” She passed it over to Essek, who accepted it and immediately noted that the top edge was neatly sliced open. So she was reading his mail, too.

 Any anger he might have felt at that knowledge disappeared from his mind as soon as he saw the return address. All else forgotten, he hurried to slide a thick packet of papers out from the opening. Sitting at the top was a crisp letter printed on stationary from the University of Nicodranas.

Deirta wouldn’t bother with this whole presentation if it were bad news. Still, Essek read the first line, just to be sure.

This was not at all how he had imagined receiving his first college acceptance. What a sick and twisted farce it was. Elation gave way to thick and viscous despair so fast it made Essek’s head spin. It was an empty promise he held in his hands, all opportunity and no resources.

Deirta was speaking again, in a clipped and falsely-casual tone. “To be candid, I assumed that your impudence last year was the end of your future. I thought all hope for you was lost. But it seems I was mistaken. Your merits outweigh your failings, at least in the eyes of the admissions staff in Nicodranas.” She nodded her head towards the envelope in Essek’s hands. “It’s a very prestigious school. Personally, I had hoped you would attend the Bastion in Rosohna, as I did, but this is nearly as impressive an option. Certainly the best we can hope for, given the circumstances.

“I want to make this happen for you, Essek,” she continued. “I have the money saved. You can still become something great.”

So that was why he was here. Verin might have nudged her in this direction in the hopes of reconciliation, but it was ultimately pride that had made Deirta reopen her home to her eldest son. 

She’d thought him deficient, so she threw him aside. Now he was deemed valuable by a reputable, impartial body, and she wanted back in to snatch up the credit.

Essek looked up at his mother, meeting her eyes square-on for the first time all night.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her in that moment. He wanted to say that she was a terrible mother, that her judgement was flawed and her principles corrupt. He wanted to tell her that she had infected him with her selfishness, and that the only reason Verin was spared it was because he had gotten away from her sooner. He wanted to spit in her face and make her understand that whatever he amounted to in life, it would be in spite of her, not because of her. He wanted to punish her for all the pain she had caused him and more.

But at the end of the day, Essek was cold, and calculating, and practical—just like his mother. He didn’t need catharsis, or revenge; he needed tuition money.

“Thank you, Ata . That is very generous of you.”

It didn’t matter if she learned her lesson or not. She could go on being arrogant and self-righteous; he would be far away on the coast, where her demands couldn’t reach him. He would study at an esteemed institution, and be with Caleb. He would get a job and save money until he had enough to cut off her support. He would go on with his life, on his own terms, and in the meantime he would spend her money to buy textbooks on atheism and the psychology of emotionally abusive parenting.

That was really the best retribution he could ask for.

Unndilar 6

“I still can’t believe you guys didn’t want to go to your prom. That’s like, the whole point of high school,” Jester mused.

“It very much is not,” said Fjord. “And what would be the point? It’s no underclassmen allowed. Wouldn’t have been any fun without all of us there.”

“I much prefer this,” Caleb agreed. He felt light and warm, pleasantly buzzed on champagne (“It’s sparkling wine, technically”) courtesy of Beauregard, and lying on the plush pink of Jester’s bedroom carpet with his head in Essek’s lap.

Right about now, the graduating class of Wynandir High School would be wrapping up their senior prom, but the Mighty Nein’s party was far from over. 

Caleb sighed contentedly, letting his eyes droop closed. The stress of exams and impending graduation melted out of his body, seeping through the floor and disappearing entirely as he listened to Jester, aided by Caduceus, design elaborate finery for each of them to wear to a fancy party, in some hypothetical future where they could afford custom outfits.

Essek began idly combing his fingers through Caleb’s hair, and Caleb had to restrain himself from purring like a pleased cat.

“Ok, I challenge.” He poked one eye open to see Beau pointing an accusing finger at the pair of them. “Pay up, both of you, that has got to count for the PDA jar.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Nott contended with a mischievous, drunken grin. “If that counts as PDA,” she nodded toward Caleb and Essek, “then logically, this should count, too.” She waggled a finger at Beau, who was currently splayed out between Jester’s knees while Jester braided elaborate patterns into her hair.

“No way,” Beau argued. “It’s different, me and Jester aren’t dating.”

“Yet,” Nott muttered under her breath. The wine made Beau just sluggish enough as she lunged across the circle for Nott to dance out of the way.

“Beau,” Jester drawled the name into two syllables, roused from her fashion discussion. “Come back!” She reached out to grab Beau by the trailing cord of her sweatpants and tug her back into her lap, wrapping her arms around her and trapping her in an embrace. Beau, hopeless to struggle and not at all wanting to, shot a withering death glare at Nott from within Jester’s cuddle.

“How much do you want to bet this ends in another black eye before morning?” Fjord leaned over to whisper to Yasha.

“Oh, no question. I’ll put one gold on Nott striking first.”

“Deal.” They shook on it.

The softly rumbling rock song blaring from Jester’s speakers faded out, shuffling into the next song on the group’s collaborative playlist. The unmistakable starting notes of one of Fjord’s sea shanties belted out next. Fjord silently mouthed the words to himself, until Yasha and Caduceus started singing along on either side of him, cajoling him with their butchering of the lyrics into vocalizing with them. Jester and Nott quickly joined in the rendition, stomping out drum beats on the floor with their feet, while Beau spluttered laughing at the raucous display.

Caleb fished in his pocket, pulling out a silver coin and tossing it in the direction of the plastic jug in the corner, hand-labeled PDA Jar (ice cream fund☺). His throw went far wide of joining the small collection of coins inside, but he counted it as dues paid, and pushed himself up to plant a kiss square on Essek’s lips, ignoring the jeers of their friends.

Essek peered down at him curiously. “What was that for?”

Caleb shrugged, settling himself back onto the pillow he had made of Essek’s thigh. “I’m in a good mood.”

Essek didn’t bother fighting the grin that broke out over his face.

“So am I.”