Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Naia trudged just behind Kylan, trailing after Tavra through the Dark Woods, internally grumbling at every twig that snapped under her foot, every root and rock she scuffed over. Her steps were always heavy, but normally were also soft. Still adjusting to shoes and dry ground, Naia felt like a cumbersome stomper, lumbering and crunching her way through the woods.

Besting Naia’s strained efforts, Kylan moved nimbly albeit squirrely; head turning, ears pivoting to every creak, growl, and chirp. Ahead, Tavra was nearly soundless, gliding through the woods; a pale spectre. 

Despite the first Brother rising, it remained night under the trees, everything in Naia’s vicinity cloaked and obscured. With his black cloak and hair, Kylan was only just discernible despite being within arms reach. The Silverling just ahead of him was hardly more perceptible despite her bright hair and garb.

Raising the back of her hand to them, the princess halted, scanning the area. She gestured to Naia and Kylan to stay put as she stepped aside to a clearer patch of earth and, to Naia’s confusion, lay her ear against it. After half a minute Naia would have wondered if the princess had picked a ridiculous time, place, and position for a nap had Kylan had not shown investment. Tavra raised her head, not displaying her thoughts. She nodded to them and continued their awry course.

Kylan quickened his pace a smidge to whisper to Tavra, “What were you listening for?”

Naia pricked her ears to catch the Silverling’s words. “Castle guards. We’re close enough to the Castle that we chance crossing their patrols.” In the dark Naia could make out Kylan giving a small nod of understanding then fall back in pace alongside her. 

Letting Tavra go just a little further without losing sight of her Naia asked, “Is that what the ground thing was – listening?”

Kylan gave a confirming nod. “I suppose the Drenchen don’t do that in Sog, with all the water and mud?”

Naia puckered her face. “We have ways of feeling and hearing things underwater… but no. We don’t have practice with dry ground. Do other gelfling do it?”

Contemplative uncertainty crossed Kylan's face. “I can’t speak for all the clans. I don’t think the Sifa would practice it, living on the sea, and I doubt the Dousan’s desert is suitable for it either. I know it mostly among the Stonewood, since the forest can be obstructive and,” Kylan gesticulated uneasily to the atmosphere about them, “dark. Some podlings back in Sami Thicket are impressive at it, but I’ve heard the Grottans were absolutely incredible. It was like a magic in their own right.”

Naia mulled it over till the sound of snapping twigs whipped her into alert. She heard herself and Kylan gasp when Tavra was abruptly gone – like a shaft of moonlight blotted by a cloud. Enveloped in darkness, she felt Kylan press against her as something heavily shuffled a small way off to their left. Whatever it was snuffled, then gave a low grunt. Heavy footsteps sounded, fading away. Keeping pressed to the shaking Kylan Naia put a hand on her dagger’s hilt. Bending into a ready stance she waited, peering through the dark. The woods lived to its name. Kylan gasped again and Naia nearly drew her dagger out as Tavra abruptly reappeared at their side as if she had always been there, or had stepped out of the aether.

“Just a forest horner,” she reported quietly. “It must have been sleeping and we spooked it.” Tavra’s monotone did not suggest anything but Naia noticed her eyes flickering to her on the word ‘we’ . 

Oh, and you didn’t spook us ? Naia remonstrated in her head. Standing close now, Tavra seemed bright and difficult to miss among all the shades of dark green and black, giving Naia another thing to puzzle over. How did she just disappear like that? She was discreetly reminded of Tavra’s abrupt appearance in the podling pod, not realized till she stabbed the tabletop as an announcement.

“Let’s go. We’re almost there.” Keeping closely in tow, Naia and Kylan peered round uselessly, wondering what else may be lurking in the darkness. Naia additionally redoubled her efforts to not spook anything. A couple more times Tavra paused to listen to the ground. “We’re here,” Tavra lowly announced as they came to a sudden clearing in the trees. Stepping up alongside Kylan, Naia beheld a lake, its surface painted in mauve hues of dawn. Standing in its centre, silhouetted against the pale sky and peppered with lighted windows, daunting and impressive, was the castle.

"Well,” Kylan said around a lump in his throat, ”...there it is.“

It was Naia’s first time beholding it with her own eyes. Perhaps due to all her recent learning of the skeksis, Naia’s first impression was that it had an evil look; how could any benevolent god-figure call that place home?

And now Gurjin is imprisoned there .

Not only it looked cruel, the edifice seemed impossibly secure. Scanning the lake’s perimeter, a distant bridge arcing over the moat was the only deliberate entrance, and every window and balcony was high above the water level.

Her ears pinned back at the prospect that she was lacking a fallback strategy for gaining entrance. Her original agenda was utilizing Rian as both an entry ticket and bargain counter for Gurjin's freedom. The only serendipity in her fortune since letting Rian go was acquiring a second accomplice in her endeavor. She side-glanced at Kylan, sharing a daunted look, then over to the wordless Vapran who kept her steady gaze on the cragged fortress. 

"How do you normally get in?" Naia asked in as even a tone she could muster, bracing herself. She half anticipated the Vapran to upbraid her with a haughty or disdainful air for not having a prepared plan since this was Naia's endeavor in the first place. And Naia had not forgotten the way the princess told her to ' go back to your swamp ’.

Instead, the Silvering looked over to her with a thoughtful countenance, albeit a bit dour. "I have only ever entered through the front gates. I admit I don’t know of any alternative."

“I suppose the front door isn’t open to us,” Naia muttered. 

“Not without concocting a good story for our coming,” Tavra answered coolly, returning her eyes to the castle. “But fortresses usually have a backdoor of some kind.”

"I've heard songs about ways into the castle," Kylan piped up.

Of course he has, Naia wrly thought. She probed him with a raised brow and quirked lip. Tavra appraised him with softly crossed arms.

Eager to share song trivia, Kylan said, “One song speaks of deep cave systems under the castle, branching far under the Dark Wood, almost like a younger sister to the Breath of Thra. From one of the access points in the forest we may find a route into the castle."

"The catacombs," Tavra mused, holding her chin. "They are a labyrinth. Without experience navigating them, it would be too easy to get lost. Plus, they have long been infested with arathim. I think we should consider it as a last resort; for getting in or out." Kylan did not exactly wear a look of dashed hopes, but it was apparent having his first suggestion shut down did not raise his spirits.

"What other castle songs?" Naia asked. She then felt a nibble of guilt for perhaps putting too much expectation on the song-teller.

Kylan hesitated. "Well... besides one about an air shaft in a chamber leading to the fiery bowels of Thra, and a couple about entering through the front gates; elaborations on the artistic architecture, walls adorned with amazing astronomical etches, grandiose of the Lords..."

Adopting a dour appearance, he straightened like a student rehearsing in class.

"Should surface of the moat, reach a flat note

And the lake die from a drouth, you would find a demon's mouth.

Then though the sewer, as hero or wrongdoer

A villain or his counterpart would reach the planet's heart

But if you dare embark on a trail through the dark

and steal though the castle’s bowel, hear out this avowal

A fearsome entrance is only a pastiche to the gruesome frown of the Teeth of Skreesh.”

Unlike Kylan’s normally gentle voice, his recital poured an ominous chill down Naia’s spine. Tavra canted her head apathetically. “Translation?"

Kylan’s song telling poise languished and his ears swerved. "Well, uh. It suggests there is an underwater entrance into the castle's basements. Not under the moat but through it."

Tavra uttered a soft huff. "Well there is no drought. That may be a fine for a Sogling, but what about you or I? How deep and far is this purported entry?"

"The song does not elaborate," Kylan admitted. Fidgeting, he blushed and side-glanced to Naia. "More songs tell of how Drenchen can share their breath with other gelfling. Underwater, I mean." Naia felt her face buzz. Her eyes oscillated between Kylan and Tavra.

" How …?" Tavra asked with a guessing frown. Her eyes also flickered to Naia.

Redder, Kylan muttered, "Mouth to mouth."

Naia forced her face straight, crossing her arms and tilting her chin back. "If snogging you two will save my brother, then pucker u p."

Frown deepening, Tavra's pale face tinged pink. Her eyes intently scanned the moat for a few seconds, then she walked off a couple strides and sat cross-legged under the trees' shade. Removing her leather helmet, she drummed her fingers over her knees in contemplation. Running his palm across his face, Kylan gave Naia a shrug then followed. Naia looked over the deep dark water then joined them, forming a triangle. 

Tavra asked Kylan, "How certain are we of this entrance's existence?"

Still red, Kylan answered, “We’re not. We – or Naia – would have to check for it.”

Tavra remained pensive. From where she sat she studied the castle's high towers gilded in the morning light and then asked Naia, "How good a flier are you?" 

Naia's dark skin mitigated her flush. Trying not to sound evasive – like soft talk – she answered, "Not really a flyer type. Drenchen swim. And our women can glide. If you're considering we fly up there, you’d be by yourself." She omitted about her wings not yet matured for even gliding despite her age. Gazing to the tall towers, she wondered with a tinge of envy if other gelfling actually flew that height.

"Before anyone asks, I'm not much of a climber," Kylan blathered out.

Naia chewed her lip. "What if you fly your way in, Kylan and I find our own way, and then we regroup within the castle?"

"I don't like the idea of us splitting up before we need to," Kylan interjected. "If we're really going to help each other out in this, we need to be doing it together ." Looking at Tavra again, he asked, "Does any authority as daughter of the All-Maudra grant you entrance? Claim you request an audience with the skeksis as an emissary and then steal away to the dungeons once inside?” Kylan gestured to himself and Naia. “Perhaps we could play as your royal retainers!" Naia wrinkled her nose at the last bit. 

The whites of Kylan’s eyes showed as he placatingly said, " OR … representatives of other clans." Kylan straightened again like he was reciting for a story, his hands gesturing. "You are reporting on Rian's evade of capture, and perhaps provide false leads to his whereabouts. Naia has come to appeal for her brother in the stead of Maudra Laesid, and I volunteered to Maudra Fara to formally beg pardon on behalf of the Stonewood clan for Rian's crime and maintain good relations with the Lords."

"But are you not Spriton?" Tavra questioned.

Kylan's small enthusiasm withered, hands dropping like wilted flowers. Addressing the tuff of grass under Tavra’s boot he answered, "I am half; Spriton mother, Stonewood father, though I suppose I'm more recognizable through my mother's side."

Tavra’s head tilted with intrigue, and Kylan hunched his thin shoulders as though under a magnifying glass. "A gelfling of mixed parentage… And from rivaling clans at that. Very little of that is seen beyond the Sifa these days."

"How do you know that about the Sifa? You frequent them?" Naia asked, mostly for the sake of taking attention away from her shying friend, not anticipating the pink tinge to return Tavra's cheeks. 

Straightening as though affronted Tavra coolly replied, "I have been to every gelfling clan, save Drenchen and Grottan." She jumped the topic back. "Kylan's idea of entering through the front door with pretense of report and representation is feasible, and were we to try it before Rian's accusation it probably would have sufficed. But suspicions are high now, of everyone , and this approach risks being unable to shake off an escort to the skeksis, especially if the escort is skeksis. We’d surrender ourselves to chance and give away our presence from the beginning. We are better stealing in without trace." Crossing her arms, Tavra leaned back, pensive again. 

As Kylan despondently dipped his head Naia felt her frustration with the princess rising, even if Tavra was speaking sense. She ran through her own head possible ways in. Would a local – perhaps a Stonewood – know routes within the catacombs? 

May the gate guards be bribed for a quiet entrance? She and Kylan had nothing of notable worth but maybe the princess carried some shiny trinket. 

Could Tavra possibly fly them all into the Castle? Naia had no doubt the princess’s wings could carry Kylan. Would she be too heavy for the princess? Undoubtedly she would slow Tavra’s ascent and mobility, and there were countless windows for watching eyes to spot their ascent. Unless they waited till next nightfall? That would take too long – Gurjin may not have that much time! Besides, the idea of asking for a lift was insufferable. 

"If it exists, I think the Teeth of Skreesh is our best hope for rescuing Gurjin.” Naia and Kylan looked at Tavra in near disbelief but the princess looked serious – and rather dour again. “If Naia agrees, she will scout ahead to confirm it.” She scrutinized Naia. “ Can you share your breath? Can you reliably breathe for all three of us?”

Forcing down her irk and fluster, Naia nodded. Kylan covered his face. Between splayed fingers his quivering eyes asked Are we actually going to do this?  

Contemplating, Naia bit the inside of her cheek, feeling undignified to be led by the princess on Kylan's idea, but then raised to her feet and kicked off her shoes. "I'll go ahead."

Kylan started. "What? Right now ?"

Naia clenched her fists. Her toes curled into the dirt. “Gurjin is in trouble. I will not let him waste any longer in that pit ." Hurling off her cloak, she strided off towards the moat then stopped, stuck by a thought. She rotated to Tavra with a demeanor practiced with her mother in Maudra training. "Before we go any further together, I want to know one thing: why do you volunteer to help save my brother?"

Tavra, annoyingly , remained apathetic under the inquiry. "Rian has shown that the skeksis are keeping secrets from us. Ordon is right that we must rally against them, possibly in full rebellion. We need to know what other secrets and maybe weapons they have been harboring from us."

Naia cocked her head, dreadlocks flicking. "That's it? Infiltration? Tactical knowledge for impending war?" She attempted an air of nonchalance, but felt her voice betray disappointment. "Any other reason?"

"You asked for one thing, and I gave one reason," Tavra replied. Naia huffed through her nostrils.

"I would also like to ask you one thing." Kylan spoke meekly yet had a twinkle in his eye. Tavra hesitated, scrutinizing him, then slowly nodded. Kylan raised a finger. "ONE MORE reason you are helping us." His eyes flickered to Naia and both felt the edges of their lips curl.

Tavra narrowed her eyes. Letting out a deflating breath, her mein unexpectedly softened. Regarding Naia, the veil of ice behind her lavender eyes briefly melted away, though they retained a steely glimmer. "You want to save your brother. Were either of my sisters in his place, I would do anything to save them from torment and death. Even storm the Crystal Castle." 

Naia blinked at the sincerity in Tavra's eyes before they froze over, leaving an aloof Vapran again. With reconsideration and a hint of respect, Naia nodded to the Silvering, and then again more cordially to Kylan and strode down to the moat.

The first Brother climbed higher, the second lighting the horizon. Within the cover of the trees, the soldier and song teller waited for Naia's return. Tavra remained seated with her hands rested on her knees, eyes closed. She was still, but Kylan doubted she was idle. To distract himself, Kylan took out his tablet and began adding new notes and accounts on a scroll – in particular, about the dreamfast with Rian and the dream-etch they had created. He was curious about that symbol and how Tavra's sister came across it. He would have to interview either of them at some point. He froze upon becoming aware of Tavra quietly watching him.

"Are you a scholar?" She sounded neither presumptive or doubtful, though she doubtlessly noted his literacy and scrawny physique.

Half-looking up, Kylan gave a small shrug. "I’m just a song teller. I read whatever I come across and record any precious knowledge and memories I find.” He returned to his notes, pretending to re-read them. He felt Tavra still looking at him.

"I'm sorry if questioning your heritage was insensitive of me."

Kylan halted his act. Keeping his gaze down he replied, "I’m not ashamed of who my mother and father were. It's just..." 

Face straight, Tavra leaned forward, head tilted in attention. Kylan compressed his lips. "The short story is I lost them at a young age. And ever since, I lived in Sami Thicket where despite basically being native, I never quite fit in my own culture. Beyond dream-stitching, I couldn’t live up to what it means to be a Spriton." The admittance made something bitter bleed his heart. He risked looking up again. Tavra looked sympathetic but fortunately not inclined to press the topic, her lavender eyes expressing enough condolences. His own eyes returned to his scroll. He forgot what he just wrote. A little more time passed without exchange. Kylan as usual felt out of place, whereas Tavra exuded a centred aura.

"I think it's my turn to ask something," Tavra said.

"Think you just did, about my ... occupation," Kylan replied, feeling his lips curl though he also thought it bold to risk teasing the Silverling princess again without Naia to back him up (or preferably, him backing Naia up).

Tavra's mouth remained a flat line but her lower eyelids raised in soft cheeriness. "This one would be for Naia, but you can answer for her: how did you two become friends?"

In terms of question-for-a-question, he found hers unexpected, and it warmed him, though it also hollowed a depressive opening in him too. His head hummed, understanding the curiosity: what would a strong Drenchen in line to be Maudra see in him as a worthy companion? He looked anywhere but those steady eyes. "Well, we have not yet known each other for that long... We met when she was passing through Sami Thicket, and then shortly again when we were both heading North to the Dark Wood. Naia was looking for Rian to exchange to the skeksis for her brother. And I was…” Kylan opened and closed his mouth, his tongue woodening as he uttered the rest. “I was running away..." 

Tavra listened with quiet, intense investment. Her query was not quite answered, so he went on. "Naia stood up for me on my way out when other Spritons were teasing me." He let out a small snort. "Though it may be more accurate to say she was putting them in their place – she's an amazing bola thrower," Kylan did a mini motion of throwing an imaginary bola, complimenting it with a small hwooh! sound. The edge of Tavra’s lip quirked.

"She was a bit reluctant at first to have me tag along; didn't want to have to bother protecting me from ruffnaws and fizzgigs." He imitated chomping teeth with his hands. Tava's face remained flat but Kylan could sense her imagination playing behind her eyes – probably depicting a scenario where he was cowering behind the fierce Drenchen, her dagger drawn and fending off a couple ferocious barking balls of fur and teeth. "I convinced her I would not be a hindrance, and maybe could even provide some cooking and entertainment. Got her to laugh at the song of Jarra Jen and the fizzgig king," he finished with a hint of triumph. 

A ghost of a chuckle escaped Tavra and Kylan’s lips tugged. He felt his song telling tongue loosen as he went on. "I originally was only going to accompany her as far as Stone-in-the-Wood – try and find roots in my father’s home clan.” Kylan rubbed the back of his head with a self-mocking chuckle. “So maybe that’s how I got ahead of myself on the idea of playing an emissary.” He stared down at the grass between them again. “But on the way... plans changed.” Kylan’s spirit kindled further. "As a backup, Naia offered that if I did not find what I was looking for in Stone-in-the-Wood... I could come back with her to Great Smerth if I wished. They don't have song tellers there apparently. I could validate the tales of the smells of Smerth!" He gave a dry chuckle.

“I too have only heard of the smells of Sog,” Tavra added in light amusement, leaning back with arms causally crossed. “So, plans changed?”

Kylan nodded. “While trekking through the Dark Wood we crossed a farmer family going the other way. They warned us that they had seen Rian in the woods. Naturally, Naia made for where the family depicted and I tagged along; all the way to Naia tracking Rian to that podling pub."

"For what reason?” Tavra’s little cordiality was supplanted with renewed consideration. “Why accompany her on a business that would likely entail danger?"

Kylan gave a shrug, forgiving the additional question. "Perhaps I was seeking truth, or at least Rian's side of the story. I couldn't help wonder: if Rian was a mad murderer on the run, how did an unarmed family with childling and trading goods escape him neither robbed nor scathed? Why was Rian really such a concern for the skeksis?" Kylan leaned on his knees, cupping his chin in his hands. "Even if Rian did turn out a villain, I had faith in Naia to handle him, but I... wanted to be there for her. Just in case...“

“In case…” Tavra knew a snippet of info was missing, but the press was not forceful, and for that Kylan felt trusting.

He shifted before confiding. “Please don’t tell Naia I told you, but I think she has some trouble controlling her dreamfasting. It’s not a weakness of will or anything,” he added hastily. “I think she’s just extra potent. So even though she’s strong, really strong, for that it would also…”

“It may make her more vulnerable to Rian’s sickness,” Tavra figured out. “ If it had existed.” Kylan nodded. Respect glimmered in Tavra’s countenance, rendering Kylan a little breathless. “Well... it was brave of you to accompany Naia. And to trust Rian.” A curl formed on her lip. “And foolish.”

Kylan hesitantly grinned. “And not you? You were right behind me on risking madness.”

Tavra’s smile persisted. “I have plenty of experience being foolish.” She looked off into the distance wistfully. “Young and foolish…” She hardly seemed old enough to say that, Kylan thought.

He waited in case she had something to add: she seemed to yet simultaneously not inclined to voice her mind. Kylan pursed his lips and let out a cathartic breath. Perhaps, he earned another question...? "So, you make many friends in your travels among the other clans?"

Smile fading, it was Tavra's turn to lower her gaze, though she retained poise. "It’s difficult to consort with non-Vapran's without drawing rebuke in my clan."

Kylan’s lips mouthed a dejected Oh. "I suppose... being maudren then puts particular expectations on you,” he said awkwardly. “And the company you keep." Closing her eyes, Tavra's smooth features tightened in soft grimace, conveying confirmation. Naia’s initial hesitation to his company resurfaced, though her reasons likely differed from Tavra’s. Different clans, different customs.

Perhaps the Silvering would accept him and Naia as allies but nothing further. Kylan found himself sorry to have only that kind of relation. After the shared dreamfast in the tavern, he had hoped for something more; with her as well as Rian and Ordon. The way the father and son embraced awoke an unidentified longing in him. Maybe Naia did not take note, but Tavra displayed real empathy there; showed herself to be someone who cares. Kylan knew he was not just pouring Rian’s tears when he saw how Mira actually died. He dared think the tears streaming Tavra’s face were her own too.

With a daring he had not known before meeting Naia, Kylan offered, "Well, IF you ever wished... you may be able to find a friend in a particular, stubborn Drenchen and a misfit song teller. I promise I won't squeal." He was not sure she heard him, for Tavra reopened her eyes and immediately turned her head to the lake. Kylan then heard it too: sodden tromping and huffing. Naia had just returned, still dripping wet. 

Wide eyed, she was on the border of mystified when she told them, "I found it… the underwater entrance. A demon's mouth."

Chapter Text

Trying to appear as certain as she felt, Naia guided Kylan and Tavra around the lake to where the route from the shore to the submerged entrance would be essentially a straight line; forward and down. They would have to stop short of perfect as otherwise would bring them too close to the bridge over the moat and its watching eyes. Twice on the way Tavra listened to the ground for patrols. With the morning lighting, all three of them now also used their eyes to watch for guards. Another forest horner drinking from the lake was the only thing to bother them, which Tavra heard in advance and Naia shooed away. Kylan stayed between the two for the small trek.

When Naia indicated their diving point, as close as they would dare get to the bridge, the three selected what of their possessions they would take with them into the Castle. Having travelled lightly, Tavra discarded nothing. For the swim she secured her leather helmet at her side, opposite where her sword hung. Naia and Kylan shed their black cloaks and travelling gear and hid them among the shrubs, hoping to retrieve them later. Naia also left behind her shoes – for the swim and figuring she would fare better without them when prowling through the castle. 

Alongside her dagger she armed herself with two bolas, giving a third to Kylan which he accepted half-heartedly. He bore no other weapon.

Stepping to the edge of the lake, Naia linked hands with Kylan. He looked to her and the dark water, his fright wreathed about a small fire of courage. Naia gave Tavra a dubious look before linking hands, trying not to roll her eyes or make a moue. They waded into the water. Kylan shivered at the water’s touch. Naia sympathized, finding the coolness in opposition to her warm swamp blood. Tavra gave no indication of discomfort, even as the water soaked up her cloak and reached her shoulders. 

The three waded as far as they could go without their feet leaving the submerged ground beneath them, their feet getting tangled in algae. Chin tilted up, Kylan shuddered and gasped as the water nipped at his neck. Naia gave his hand a squeeze. Continuing to jitter, the only indication he got it was a returning squeeze. 

"Take a deep breath," Naia said, "And stagger your turns for a breather!"

"S-s-sure thing!" Kylan stuttered.

"Thra protect us," Tavra said with a presentiment head shake, her spare hand clasped against her chest.

The three plunged down into frigid darkness with a plunk . While Naia’s wings were not yet developed for proper gliding, they functioned as flippers – practical since her hands were occupied. Glancing aside she saw Tavra carrying herself competently with experienced strokes – unexpected of a mountain dweller. Kylan appeared to be already drowning, more writhing and thrashing than swimming. Naia was tempted to offer him a chance to stay behind but through their touch she felt his determination.

Naia’s wings propelling them, they quickly descended down to where she had found the Teeth, at the submerged foot of the castle, as rotten luck would have it, within the bottom of an uninviting trench. There it still was; in the likes of a wide-faced gargoyle, it's gaping mouth complete with stone fangs and tusks. The Teeth of Skreesh. Despite her haste, Naia was not eager to see it again, let alone go through. At their depth the lighting was already dim, and the inside of the mouth was pitch black. The three floating before it, Kylan gave an involuntary squirm, exclaiming puffulls of air and startling Naia. With a hasty mental notice to Tavra, Naia unclasped hands to hold Kylan's head and forcibly locked eyes with him. Pupils dilated in terror, his fear threatened to seep into her own resolve. With a short mental notice, she gave him his first allowance of Drenchen breath. 

Breathe. Breathe, she soothed into his head, trying to emulate the steady mien of her mother while exhaling into Kylan’s mouth with paced breaths. Kylan fidgeted at first, but slowly his heart calmed – or at least ceased beating wildly. His arm motions became more fluid and he nodded to her with a fragile spark of courage, then nodded again more urgently towards her shoulder. Naia sharply twisted around, her dreadlocks whipping him in the face.

One hand clapped over her mouth, the other flapping anxiously, Tavra’s face was scrunched and turning pink. With an embarrassed jolt, Naia unclasped her first hand from Kylan, pried Tavra’s hand from her face and hastily pulled her into a mouth lock. Tavra in turn gripped the sides of Naia’s head, taking gasping lungfuls of air, adding to Naia’s chagrin. This rescue was already going “ great”.

Despite her earnest respire, Tavra’s nose wrinkled and every breath she took was almost coughed back into Naia’s mouth. Hmmm, Naia actually found Tavra’s breath rather fragrant.

Air needs sated, Tavra parted mouths and reclasped hands. Tavra seemed to be gagging. Her voice resonated in Naia’s head, groaning. When was the last time you brushed your teeth? 

Naia let out a bubbling laugh despite herself. Kylan too exhaled a few bubbles in an involuntary chuckle. Before the enheartment expired, Naia wafted them into the stone throat. It was a tight fit, Tavra and Kylan clung closely to Naia as she fluttered them through with her wings.

Into the belly of the beast, Kylan’s thoughts echoed. His clinging tightened as darkness swallowed them. Passing into somewhere pitch black but with more space Naia felt Tavra unclasp from her save by one hand. Kylan apparently had no intention of unwrapping himself from her. Can you see anything? he thought to her, his presence soaked in trepidation.

No, she admitted, starting to feel foolish and at a loss. Before she could muse on how they would navigate the dark she heard Tavra's calmly answer.

I got it. 

Silvery white light began seeping from Tavra like moonlight through parting clouds. Predominantly from her hands light also emitted from her skin, through her clothes in pale luminescence. Naia gazed in awe. 

Kylan's voice echoed in her head. Vapran vliyaya . Now visible, he too stared in awe, a pocket of air escaping his open mouth.

Before any of them took in their illuminated surroundings, Naia got two simultaneous notifications of ‘ I need another breath .’

Of course they do, Naia groused to herself, jaw clenched. At the SAME TIME. 

Hey…, Kylan's voice whined. He looked like he'd let out a reproachful huff, starting to fidget from want of air.

Oops, Naia thought.

Tavra only scowled, an unnerving pair of icy beams gleaming from her leer. Levitating in the dark, her glowing braids hovering behind her head, she carried the apparition of some sort of moon spirit or winter ghost. Naia first provided Kylan another breath, which he managed to accept with fewer fidgeting, and then Tavra. Naia had to shut her eyes when oxygenating the Silverling lest her eyes get sore from the brightness. Tavra too accepted the next breath better, though it was still apparent she was resisting hacking it out.

Tavra’s luminescence revealed the tunnel they were in was about twice as wide and high as they were tall. It mostly appeared hollowed out from natural forces, though the demon's face certainly was not. With the princess as their living lantern, the three began the endeavour of navigating through the water-lodged tunnel. 

It consistently inclined upwards with several small routes and conduits branching out, only sizable for small aquatic critters. Naia warily watched whenever an inhabitant glided into Tavra’s light – some with bulbous eyes, others without eyes – before they scurried back into some deep crevice. Nothing resembled the aquatic life in Sog or felt familiar, not even the algae at the tunnel floor waving upwards to them like finger-vine tendrils. Kylan cringed from everything that moved, clinging close to her. Naia fluttered the three of them along, repeatedly providing breathers. Further in, the tunnel bulged and forked. Tavra extended one of her palms towards the path nearer to her. By means defying natural laws the tunnel alighted several yards down from an unapparent source. In its wake several aquatic critters scurried from the brightness, a few blind specimens ignoring it. Only more tunnel and darkness lay beyond Tavra's illuminating reach. Casting light in the same fashion down the alternative, the second path curved to the left before darkness prevailed.

Any votes? Naia thought dryly.

Turns and corners scare me, Kylan answered

Since when? Naia retorted, twisting her head to him, her dreadlocks drifting about her like seaweed. 

Since we came here and saw this one…. He was curling in on himself, his fright palpable, osmosing through their dreamfast like a toxin. She knew he did not intend it, but she needed him calm if she was going to preserve her own wits.

We can double back if we must , Tavra offered. From the hand holding the Silvering Naia felt an anchoring steadiness but it also a trace of Kylan’s trepidation, seeping from herself like diffusion in a solvent. 

Naia willed some walls between her emotions and her companions, trying to remain sturdy. My gut says to try the turn . Tavra gave no argument. Kylan internally groaned.

Before they drifted down the curved tunnel, Kylan thought, Wait, and willed them to swim to the cave wall. Kylan then ran his slim fingers over a smoother section of the rock. When he withdrew his hand a glowing sigil was scorched into the rock. 

In case we do need to retrace our steps, he reasoned. Or strokes.  

Smirking proudly, Naia paid him another puff of air, earning another fidget from him. The three wafted to the bend, Tavra's light illuminating around the rock in a matter normal light should not be able to, like it was flexible or incapable of casting shadows. More tunnel awaited them around the turn, still ascending. Tavra accepted another breath from Naia before Kylan pulled them aside to make another etch mark. 

What's that?  

Naia and Tavra looked to where Kylan was gesturing, Tavra’s line of sight a silvery beam. On the cave wall a few paces from where he had been etching his trace mark something glowed – not reflecting Tavra's light but illuminated from it's own purple radiance, minuscule yet piercing. They hovered in on it. After another allowance of oxygen to Kylan, Naia gave a closer inspection. It was like some sort of crystalized vein in the rock. Something was familiar about it's colour.

Instinctive caution overcame Naia’s curiosity, hooking her away from it. I think we should leave it alone. It feels wrong. Whether from herself or one her companions, recollection of the darkened Crystal of Truth in Rian's memory circulated through them in a ghastly shudder. Tavra’s light flickered.

Without warning a small fish shot out from a conduit near where Kylan had dream-etched and buried its tiny teeth into his hand. 

“Auuggbgbgbgbgbb!!??” Screaming bubbles, Kylan flung his hand wildly as the small fish hung on. It was merely half the size of his hand but bore the savagery of a dominant predator. 

His terror flooding over her mental walls like a breached dam, Naia cried out her own stream of bubbles. Synced with Naia’s palpitating heart, Tavra’s light flashed in fulgurating flickers and bursts, casting the three in epileptogenic black and silver. Kylan only ceased screaming because his lungs had expired. From Naia’s swatting the fish released him to send her a snarl before disappearing back among the grooves. Tavra broke contact with Naia and her light went utterly out. In its wake only the purple vein in the rock was visible, brethren veins rooted all about the cave, bleeding a network of violet. Naia held Kylan to her, both of them invisible to each other but their fear palpable, intermingling. This rescue was already going great…

She yipped when something gripped her ankle. Before she kicked it off Tavra’s flickering light returned, the source being what grabbed her. Tavra had sunk and was looking wane, her shining eyes strained as she looked up to Naia. Breath, she urged. Breath . Kylan first… Naia looked to the friend in her arms and saw in horror Kylan’s head was tilted, eyes rolled back, mouth opening on its own accord. Naia breathed into him before he drowned. His starved lungs rasp underneath her hands as he came to from the edge of fainting. 

Hold on to me , she ordered, as she turned, bent to her ankle and hauled Tavra up. 

Kylan’s heartbeat rapped against her back as he fastened his arms about her shoulders. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I panicked!  

Again Tavra grasped the sides of Naia’s head, taking heaving gasps. Naia was light-headed from breathing for the three of them. As her migrainous brain re-centered Naia came conscious Tavra’s respiration had slowed and was practically guiding her on pacing breaths, the Silvering becoming an anchoring calmness again. 

It’s alright, Kylan, Tavra's response came, remarkably patient, though her pulse carried an undercurrent of fluster as she retook Naia’s hand. Naia did not want to look either of them in the eye, her own shame flooding her for being so transmissible. Tavra’s waning light snapped her out of it. 

Checking her over, Tavra’s glowing eyes half hooded and her swim movements languish. You ok? How much longer can you keep it up? 

I can hold a little longer. At worst I'll need a short rest in the dark.  

Kylan squeezed Naia tighter. No. Not in the dark. Not in the dark! His plea resonated in uncharacteristic shouts. 

As Naia delicately pried Kylan’s cling to free her wings for propulsion she spotted and smelt red wisps from his hand. Kylan, your bleeding .

Look at it later. Just get us out of here. Please! Unlike Tavra’s shining eyes, his were almost black with dilation. They traced the cavern about them.

The veins; they were everywhere. This whole place was wrong . Turned out Tavra's light had been drowning out the glow of all but the crystal vein Kylan had pointed out. Eager to leave the terror scene behind, Naia spurred them on, the lesser veins becoming obvious again as they put on distance, the violet cracks seemingly pursuing them. After another bend of the tunnel they were blissfully gone. 

Drifting just a little more up the incline Tavra’s light reached a wall of rock in their path. The tunnel seemed to abruptly end, but when Naia looked side to side, down and up, she recognized the perfectly flat, mirror-like roof above them. Not that of flattened or carved rock, but the under view of water's still surface. There was a new source beyond it, dim but assuring, orange instead of purple.

Silverling, dim your light.  

Tavra complied, her light vanishing like a snuffed candle. As blackness enveloped, Naia let out a bubbling yip when Kylan clamped himself about her again. From the hand holding Tavra to her mind’s eye, Naia and perhaps Kylan felt a subtle light of assurance; valor.

Ascending to the corporeal light, Naia pried herself from Kylan and gave him and Tavra one more dose of air before breaking the surface to avoid coughs or gasps announcing their arrival. Naia broke the surface first with Sog hunting stealth. At a mental all clear Tavra and Kylan surfaced, smothering their huffs and suppressing coughs. They were in a modest cavern, torch and lantern light emanating from a solitary exit rimmed with a sculpted door frame. Listening for any footsteps, the three waded out of the water and clambered onto the dry granite ground. Stifling a shiver, Kylan huffed in relief in the warm indoor air. He palmed over his eyes, huffing as the episode in the tunnel dissipated from him.

Stooped and head hanging, Tavra supported herself on the cave wall, her fair skin slightly ashen. Granting Tavra a minute to assemble herself, Naia tended to Kylan’s hand bite. It was nothing severe but still horribly unprovoked on the fish’s part. With a huff and exertion of will, blue vliya kindled from Naia’s hand, and she gently applied it over the bitemark, again trying to recover her mother’s Maudra-like persona. Kylan stifled under the touch, then sighed. Drawing her hand away only a mild lining remained on Kylan’s skin.

“That’s impressive.” Without being heard Tavra had stepped over to them, weariness mostly recovered. “Drenchen vliyaya? I have never witnessed it myself.” Naia nodded guardedly, not quite meeting Tavra’s eyes. Had she, she may have noticed Tavra giving Kylan a covert glance then look back to the tunnel they came through. Her tone turned conciliatory. “What happened down there is behind us.” She gave Naia a nod dosed in approval. “You got us through. Focus on that victory.” 

Naia knew it was not Kylan’s self-consciousness seeping through her face as she suffered a glimpse at the Vapran through her curtain of dreadlocks. “Thanks…,” she replied in a low voice.

“Should we perhaps…?,” Kylan trailed off, looking over to the carved doorway. Tavra nodded in concurrence, stealing over to edge. Naia and Kylan followed in tow, Kylan giving her a pat on the shoulder. Beyond the doorway were corridors lit with torches and adorned with tapestries. Naia and Tavra scanned for occupants. Momentarily pleased that no one was around, Naia and Kylan shared a victorious sigh and even Tavra smiled. They had made it into the castle.

“Awww, I was right to keep you,” Naia cheeked to Kylan, a jest greatly needed. Kylan shrugged sheepishly. “How do we navigate from here? Any idea where we are?”

Resuming her erect posture Tavra whispered back, "I expect we are close, if not already on the same level as the dungeons. Maybe just a little ways up.” She gave herself a look-over and extended her wings in a stretch-like manner, then gave them a flutter, liberating a small shower. Caught in it Kylan yelped quietly.

"We need to dry before we go on. Can't be leaving trails in our wake," Tavra said, wringing water from  her braids. She pulled her leather helmet from her belt, shaking it of water. She resumed fluttering her wings, making a small draft about herself.

Naia saw the wisdom in this and gave her head of dreadlocks a shake like a wet fizzgig, liberating another sprinkle on Kylan. 

" Oi!" he exclaimed, indignant but still quiet, scampering from her. No longer in dark confinement, his spark had returned.

Tavra donned her helmet. Damp but no longer leaving drips or footprints, the three stole through the corridors, Tavra in the lead. As she had anticipated, Naia found herself managing the castle floors  comfortably barefooted, prowling with the caution of prey but intent of a predator, and silence of both.

Replacing her typically proud posture, Tavra too was stooped and advancing with silent litheness. Practiced in stealth, Naia knew she was observing no amateur. "Are you certain you’ve never done this before?"

"This is my first time going through the castle like this." Tavra whispered, eyes kept ahead.

"How about other places?" Naia pressed. Tavra did not answer as they stopped at a corridor intersection. Naia half expected to see guards or skeksis emerging from either aisle with murderous intent, but so far no soul was in sight beyond themselves.

"I've heard that Vapra vliyaya not only can produce light but manipulate it, for camouflage and even invisibility," Kylan commented. After a moment without correction from Tavra he asked, “Could you do something like that for the three of us?” 

Tavra kept focusing on the corridors ahead, her ears pinning back. "The latter is an advanced technique, even for me, and I’m rather spent from our excursion through the tunnels.” She spared them a glance. “And I’ve never done it for three before.” She finally chose one of the passageways. Naia and Kylan followed, the pounding of their hearts louder than the patter of their heels.

They paused at a successive intersection: three choices where to go. Considering each one Tavra then retreated into the long shadow of a buttress and beckoned Naia and Kylan to follow. Her countenance was grim yet not despairing. "I admit this part of the Castle remains unfamiliar to me. I cannot discern any pattern or landmark to guide us. I’m not sure how to navigate through."

"What if we cannot find our way back, or the exit gets blocked off?" Kylan asked in mortification. "Or if we get separated? Naia and I have never been in the castle before. We could easily get as lost as if we were in the catacombs." Kylan despairingly turned his head this way and that, ears pivoting for danger.

"Gurjin admitted even he found the interior confusing at times," Naia groused. “And I doubt we can ask for directions.” This rescue plan was continued feeling all the more foolhardy, but she refused to consider backtracking now. Not when she was so close to Gurjin.

"We may be better off getting out through a different route," Tavra reasoned, unruffled by their distress, yet keeping wary. "Getting in called for discretion. Upon freeing Gurjin it will be just a matter of time, possibly minutes, before the skeksis find their prisoner is missing. Escape may lean on speed." Her eyes flashed steely. "And conflict."

"What are you thinking?" Despite her earlier frustration with the princess, Naia was compliant to having a safety net of fallback plans. Not that she would admit it, of course. 

"I still don’t like the idea of the catacombs. We’d be asking for a chase from a horde of spitters. Should the water tunnel be unreachable after finding Gurjin, or we get isolated from each other, we leave the same way Rian did: through the windows and into the lake."

"You think that would work a second time?" Naia challenged. Rian’s escape appeared hazardous and ludicrous even by her standards.

"Even without wings, Rian made it. I can't envision the skeksis plunging in after us, and the water would suit Gurjin better than most of the guard here."

Naia nodded in consideration, biting back the comment of Tavra being the only air-worthy one of them. "But what about navigation now , till we find Gurjin?" she pressed. She thought of what Kylan did in the tunnels. "Could we leave dream-etch checkpoints to notify us if we are going in circles?" She immediately chastised herself before Tavra reasoned why not.

"We cannot leave marks that others will see."

"Perhaps we should follow the draft." Kylan had broken off from the discussion and was holding up his hands to the air like he was trying to read it.

Once she gave heed Naia felt it too: a warm, subtle breeze drifting through the corridors. "What do we follow it for?" Tavra asked, intrigue filling her tone.

 A portion of his song telling poise returning, Kylan gulped before answering. "There are songs, older ones, about the Crystal of Truth hanging above a shaft of air and fire... I think it's producing this draft and why the air has been so arid as soon as we left the caves. I'm almost dry from our dip."

Maybe it was just Kylan's storytelling skill, but Naia felt his apprehension. And the dryness. Kylan's words repainted Rian's memory of the Crystal, bathed in fiery light, hanging over some heated abyss. "How do we know it will lead us to Gurjin?" The three paused to listen for any incoming patrols before Kylan answered.

"We don't. But if the skeksis are secretly imprisoning and draining gelfling, it's plausible they are keeping Gurjin close to where they…," Kylan trailed off and gulped again. At the unthinkable, Naia's lips trembled and warm teardrops pooled before she could contain herself. 

Tavra’s hand steadied her shoulder. "It's as good a plan as any. I’m all for it.”

"The heat and dryness would not do well for Gurjin," Naia cursed through clenched teeth.

"He'll make it,” Kylan assured, his hands balled like he was pleading. “If he's anything like you, he'll pull through." Naia knuckled her unshed tears then nodded.

Now following the small steady air current, the three resumed creeping through the eerily vacant hallways. They climbed a flight of stairs, coming to a level with dull shafts of sunlight prodding into the dim corridors from the curved ceiling. It hardly felt they were not already in the catacombs.

"Where are the guards? We’ve met no one in here yet," Kylan whispered.

"We may be in an area only the skeksis access and would find gelfling on higher levels," Tavra answered. Her fingers flickered close to her sword hilt all the same. "There may be secrets down here…"

"And where are the skeksis?" Naia whispered.

Tavra halted and raised a silencing arm. Naia and Kylan stilled and heard it too. Awfully, at last: footsteps, accented by the jingle of beads and jewelry . " Here ," Tavra hissed, and stole to one side of a corridor buttress, Naia and Kylan ducking behind the other.

The Emperor, alone and in seeming haste, prowled through a passage almost right by their hiding place, and then turned down another path. Peering around the buttress, the three spied the Emperor stalk down the hall with obvious purpose and familiarity in his destination. Seeing Kylan leaning out too far for risk of exposure, Tavra whispered across to him, "Get back!"

The Emperor leered behind himself, just too late to see the three withdraw behind the buttress. Kylan almost gave them away with a frightened gasp. Huffing lowly to himself, the Emperor dismissed whatever he may have heard with an impatient, "Meh!" and continued stalking away.

When they were sure he was out of hearing range, Tavra sighed to herself and crossed the hall to Naia and Kylan. She considered the two a moment then said, "You and Kylan find Gurjin and make for Ha'rar. My mother will grant you safe harbour."

Kylan leaned past Naia and glanced over to where the Emperor disappeared to, then looked back to Tavra. "What about you?" Tavra's first reason for joining them in this dangerous endeavor rang in Naia’s head and she dared hope she was wrong to guess what Tavra was doing.

"I want to know what the skeksis are up to." Her austere countenance was marked only by a visage of determination.

Naia hardly liked this aloof and now apparently reckless Vapran, yet she was dispirited and curiously disappointed by her abrupt departure. Naia was unsure how to respond beyond falling on Drenchen hard talk. "Try not to get yourself killed, Vapran ." Naia realized she meant it more than her tone suggested.

Tavra, surprisingly, almost smiled. "Until our paths meet again, Drenchen ," she replied, more endearment than barbs in her voice. She promptly left without another word, following where the Emperor disappeared to. Kylan and Naia watched her off. 

Kylan gave Naia a worried look, betraying that he likewise was sorry for the separation. “What if something happens to her? I don’t want to end up trading one friend for another.”

Naia shifted on her feet, certain Tavra was adamant about finding out whatever she could of the skeksis schemes. Naia may have too if Gurjin was not her priority. “Let’s hope she understands the risk. I doubt she intends to go on a suicide mission.” She fixed Kylan with a resolute gaze. “I know I’m not. Let’s go.” Casting where Tavra disappeared one last glance, they then quietly continued to follow the air draft to where, hopefully, Gurjin awaited.

Author’s note:

I take some creative liberty as to what Gelfling vliyaya enables in this story and acknowledge not all abilities in this story are necessarily portrayed in the novels, comics, or Dark Crystal website.

Chapter Text

"Hmmm… spying eyes…ahhhh…"

Tavra's eyes widened at the acknowledgment and she cursed. Crouching behind the stalagmite, she pressed a hand over her palpitating heart, paced her breath, and slowed her mind. Should she flee, or should she stand her ground – against the Emperor? If she fled now, he would immediately alert the castle, and Naia and Kylan may not have yet reached Gurjin. Staying was obviously perilous, but in addition to delaying the alarm, she had caught the Emperor fiddling with - something . 

Rebellion was coming; Rian and Ordon would make sure of it. Tavra bowed her head in austere resolve. Naia and Kylan needed time, and the rebellion needed to know what it was up against.

As her hand left her chest, her fingers caressed where a Sifan luck charm was tucked under her tunic. Palm resting on her sword's hilt, she steeled herself and awaited skekSo's approach… if that was what he was doing. Over the strange abysmal sounds from the glowing chasm he had been leaning over, Tavra heard nothing else and warily frowned. Tapping into her taxed vliya, she willed the light rebounding off her frame to mimic that from her surroundings, emulating the beige hue of the rock and dank lighting. 

Face stern, she crept to the edge of the stalagmite. Finally, her ears pricked at something: quiet sniffing followed by a soft wheeze. She stifled a gasp when skekSo snaked around the stalagmite, making a blind grab. 

Damn he could walk quietly !* 

Tavra weaved and backtracked from the ensnaring talons, taking care to not unsettle any more loose rocks. skekSo jerked back in perplexity, searching eyes widening in their sunken sockets as Tavra silently circled round him. Inspecting the air with his beak he took another sniff and his uncertainty ebbed. "Ahh, Vapran ." 

Tavra internally cursed again as his hooked beak turned to her. Hunching over he began prowling towards her, eyes still searching. Casting her scrim of vliya aside like a cloak, Tavra straightened and stepped forward. Gripping her sword hilt warningly, she demanded, "What is this? Who or what were you summoning?"

"Hm. Showering your true colours now Silverling?" skekSo taunted, also straightening to his full, much higher height. His eyes now bore into her, like his will alone could snap her. "Have you turned traitorous too? Disappointing."

" What Were You Summoning?" Tavra demanded again, knees bent, back straight. She glanced to the head of his sceptre, still emanating a strange purple light.

Noticing her attention on it, the Emperor considered it himself before intoning a menacing offer. "You can see for yourself." He swung the sceptre at her.

Seeing him telegraph, Tavra expertly weaved under it, drawing her sword in the same motion and met his reverse swipe. Upon clash between weapons there was a flare of purple and a thundering crackle. Tavra was blown across the cavern like a shooting star. 

Clipping off a stalactite, she struck the cave wall and collapsed to the floor, her garb smoldering. Her helmet prevented the splitting of her skull but not a searing jolt that coursed through her flesh and buzzed within her bones. Dazed, Tavra fought to keep conscious as skekSo's surprised laugh lanced through the caves and rung in her ears. Rolling to her side amongst broken rock, she made out his blurred image close in, a small purple light still accompanying him. Impossibly unharmed, skekSo paused a few feet from her with arms swept out as if exalting his magnum opus. 

Sword – where was her sword? Eyes coming into focus, she found its hilt lying tantalizing inches from her grasp as a taloned hand gripped her head and lifted her like a doll. Eyes squeezed shut, arms holding on to his wrist to support her strained neck, Tavra whined through gritted teeth as skekSo held her aloft like a fisherman admiring his catch. Forcing herself to lock eyes, the two exchanged glares, his menacing and victorious, hers pained and defiant – then bright silver. A lance a vliya light shot from Tavra's eyes into skekSo's. He blinked and his grip faltered.

In said blink she unfastened her helmet. Head slipping out of his hold she fell to the ground with lack of her usual grace. Snatching her sword reflexively, Tavra braced herself on the tunnel wall and found unsteady footing as skekSo wiped at his eyes and cast aside her helmet. She knew she was outmatched; she had already lost this engagement.

Considering her for another moment, skekSo’s overeagerness telegraphed his intent again. Tavra turned tail, the sceptre narrowly missing her braids. The Emperor uttered an unintelligible growl; whether in anger, excitement, or pain, she couldn't tell. A surging crackle filled the cavern. As Tavra stumbled through the twisting cavern something purple bolted past her – some distant unloved cousin of lightning – and obliterated a stalagmite and part of the cave wall, nearly blasting her off her feet. Forearms crossed over her face, ears ringing anew, she stumbled through a barrage of rock and cloud of dust.

As she fled the cavern skekSo gasped and panted, staring dumbstruck at the devastation he had wrought. Momentarily forgetting his quarry, forgetting everything else, he distantly murmured, "Behold..."

* Author note: Thought of when skekSo surprised skekTek in his lab in ep. 4

BOOM……… The floor quaked and the air trembled. Naia and Kylan halted in the corridor, staring at each other.

“What was that?” Kylan whispered, ears raised in alarm.

“Don’t know.” Naia whispered back, hands braced out in case of aftershock. “Know any songs of underground thunderstorms?” 

Kylan shook his head. “Nope…”

“Maybe it was a really big ruffnaw,” Naia bleakley jested. Joking aside, Naia had become more and conscious of something; akin to the sensation of an imminent storm, like a static tingle but in her bones rather than on her skin.

“Naia, do you feel that?” Kylan had his hands out as if trying to read something – something that was not air movement. 

So it’s not just me. “Ya.”

“It’s like… singing,” Kylan said, dreamlike but not quite peaceful. His words hung somewhere between bliss and despair. “It’s beautiful but… out of harmony…”

Naia’s mind went to that dark vein in the water tunnel. Shaking her head she ushered, “Please, let’s go. We’re wasting time – for us and for Gurjin.”

BOOM………

Huh!? What… what was that?

Jostled awake by an unexplained rumble, Gurjin turned over in his prison cell half, eyes searching for any sort of explanation or cause. Nothing notable occurring in its wake, he rolled over, hoping to slip back into blissful unconsciousness. It proved difficult, as every breath seared his throat. He was so parched, if anyone besides the Chamberlain, Scientist, or General were to offer him even a glass of dishwater he'd shake their hand. Whichever way he was oriented on the floor of his cell he made sure he was facing away from the door to the Crystal's hot air shaft. The dumb Scientist should install some kind of wall between it and the lab . 

A throat tearing cough escaped him. He licked his mouth, anticipating the taste of copper.** Was he going to die down here? Was he going to shrivel up like a piece of dried algae, or would he eventually be drained like poor Mira?

Poor Mira . Gurjin sniffled, dried up of all tears but not his misery.

He lost track of time in the dungeons but dared hope Rian had reached Stone-in-the-Wood. Had Rian received any support? Did anyone believe him? He had Mira's essence as proof after all. 

Gurjin weakly pounded the cell floor. If only he were with Rian to vouch for him. He felt wretched about making Rian leave him behind but it seemed like the only thing to do once the Chamberlain snatched him. It was cruel to both of them. He was stuck here awaiting his demise while his best friend was out on his own. Or maybe not - how much was left of Mira in that vial? Would it give Rian solace, or burden him further with grief?

Gurjin mopily rolled again in his cell, more forlorn and wretched than he had ever known. Why could he not have been more diligent when the three of them were spitter hunting? Maybe they then would have caught the creature before following it into the catacombs. Or if he had gone down with Rian the two of them could have rescued Mira before she was… Damn it! Damn himself! DAMN SKEKSIS! The way they laughed after drinking her! He hoped his own essence would be so sour and foul that they would spew him out and be inflicted with rotten swamp aftertaste for life. Eat Sog indeed!

His ears pricked at the whisper of footsteps. Was one of the skeksis sneaking in to torment him further? The General had supposedly left for Ha'rar; maybe the Chamberlain returned? Despair and stubbornness overcoming his curiosity, Gurjin lay where he was as the footsteps crept closer, closer, and stopped before the bars of his cell.

"Gurjin?"

He gaped at the voice and turned over a third time. 

He would have sooner believed the skeksis left a mirror behind the cell bars as a bad joke than that he was seeing his twin stare back at him. But her eyes were streaming tears whereas his own eyes had dried up, plus his face was not scrunched against the bars like he was trying to squeeze through them. "Gurjin!" the face cried in Naia's voice. For a while longer Gurjin's hazy mind could only continue to gap at her. Then rolling onto his front, he hauled himself to her.

"Naia?" he croaked. She reached out through the bars to him. He kept crawling till he could meet her grasp. All doubt finally left him. It was really her. "Naia!"

"Gurjin!" Unabashed, the twins wept in rejoice, Naia pulling him closer to the bars where she could half hug him. Returning it as best he feeble strength allowed, he then noticed an unfamiliar gelfling - Spriton by the looks of him - standing behind Naia with watering eyes.

"Naia...?" he trailed off, clumsily gesturing behind her.

Wiping her eyes and nose with a sniff, Naia answered, "This is Kylan. He helped me get in here and he is helping us get out. Kylan, find the keys." The Spriton nodded and began poking around the instruments and tools hanging off the walls and oversized tables. Gurjin felt Naia inspecting his condition. " What. Did. They. Do. To. You?" 

"It wasn't really that bad," Gurjin croaked lamely in imitation of their father, shielding off any dream-fasting lest what she would see break her heart. Naia was obviously not humored. A jingling of metal announced Kylan's return and a pinch of freedom.

Once Kylan unlocked the door with a rusty click, the twins separated briefly so that Kylan could haul open the cell door. Naia then rushed to him like a magnet. Despite how gently Naia lifted him to his feet, his whole body complained at the exertion. "How did you guys get in? Do the skeksis know you’re here?"

“It's a long story -" Kylan started.

"What's the short version? Gurjin interrupted exasperatedly, pain straining his patience.

Kylan paused, mouth open, looked to Naia, then Gurjin again and traced a U-shape with his hand. "Down and under."

"...?" Gurjin cocked his head, lids still heavy. "And how are we going to get out?"

Kylan pointed up. "... Up. Then take a swim."

"The same way Rian did," Naia clarified, supporting him as he stumbled out of his cell. Gurjin's spirits spiked at the implication and he looked to Naia and Kylan wildly, a sob bubbling.

"Rian!? He's alive?! You saw him?!"

"In a podling pub." Kylan answered with a sniff. "He dreamfasted with us and showed everything. His father saw too. They are making for Ha'rar to give the All-Maudra the truth about... Mira's…-" Kylan faltered for choice of words, eyes watering anew. 

Mira’s name tainted Gurjin’s relief with renewed grief and guilt. His bloodshot eyes drifted through the small hall to the draining chair and the currently empty shaft beyond it.

"Gurjin?" Naia asked. Her voice seemed far away.

Kylan followed his gaze and asked in a quivering voice, "Is that where...?"

Gurjin could only nod and grimace, lips rolling inward. His vision blackened as his eyes scrunched shut. Mira… He felt Naia's arms wrap around him, trying to be gentle but wanting to squeeze tighter.

** Author's note. I got no idea what gelfling blood may taste like. The All-Maudra's blood looked like Pepto Bismol to me...

Tavra staggered on as the catacombs passed into castle corridors, the floor seeming to angle and dip under her feet like a rocking ship. Her sword arm hung at her side like a broken branch, hilt clutched in clammy fingers. Her off hand held her side as the crash in the catacombs caught up with her, bruise blossoming all along her flank. Checking over her shoulder she saw no signs of pursuit but did not breath freely yet. 

Feeling an incipient swoon, Tavra teetered to the wall, vision swimming, hearing dulled. Turmoil throbbing in her ears, she breathed in fragile pants, eyes scrunched against a toxic tingling tearing her flesh and bursting her veins. She gripped her wrist as though to stunt a bleeding. Sweating profusely and puffing through clenched teeth, she squinted at it, seeing nothing amiss despite the anguish. The sword dangling in her fingers was another story.

Half the blade was gone, the cut off jagged and blackened like a mouth of lightning chomped it off. Nonplussed, Tavra's mouth hung as she took in what the Emperor had wrought to her weapon. What was the Emperor meddling with? What if he unleashes this on the gelfling? The power; it was not just overwhelming, it felt wrong . The violet crystal veins she saw with Naia and Kylan in the water filled tunnels flickered into memory. 

They need to know. The gelfling need to know this. I must show mother.

Lingering a little longer, focused on meditative breaths and mantras, the swoon passed in subsiding waves, becoming bearable. Still pained but no longer subdued, Tavra pressed on through the corridors, u rgency overriding her furtiveness and injury, then cursed. Thanks to her blunder the skeksis now knew there was at least one infiltrator in the castle and were surely mobilizing their forces. Tavra had faith Naia could have led Kylan and Gurjin out, had they had a greater head start, but now security would be searching for any anomaly. With the skeksis prowling too Tavra was skeptical that even Naia could avoid being seen – or smelt, given her Soggy scent. A new bead of sweat snaked down her temple. If they had not reached Gurin yet, they were doomed.

Tavra tucked herself in the nook of a buttress to collect her bearings and gather her marbles. Clapping her forehead, she weighed the importance of her escape and discovered knowledge against protecting Naia, Kylan, and Gurjin. The former would almost be a cinch if she moved now . 

But Naia and Kylan ... To abandon them now felt like betrayal. She would never live it down, not if she lived to be as ancient as Aughra then was reincarnated into a bug. 

All three of them understood the risk of coming here. Naia’s motives were basic and Tavra sympathized through and through. Kylan’s was surprisingly honorable for someone of his grain. Tavra mulled over her unstated third reason for helping them. Not as private as her second explanation, but also not as well-founded.

The symbol. What happenstance could it be that the same symbol they dream-etched with Rian is the one Brea showed her? Brea was young but not stupid, and she thought the symbol was significant, and apparently so did Onica . That was persuasion enough for Tavra to believe likewise, and for Kylan and Naia to have contributed in its reappearance was reason to ponder perhaps they were important. They had to survive.

Tavra clasped her Sifa charm. Onica. What do I do?

A thin warm breeze answered, brushing her face and provoking reminiscences of enchanting nights at Cera Na… Oh, how the Sifa read the wind. Tavra partly wished otherwise but she bore no doubt where this wind would lead her. Heart softened, will hardened, Tavra sheathed her blade and emerged from her nook.

I'll try not to get killed, Naia. I already have a promise to keep.

Tracing the arid breeze, Tavra rushed up a corridor, this one ascending in a curved inclined rather than stairs. Speed was of the essence now. Tavra prayed the two had already located Gurjin. If she discovered the prison cells empty, she would then focus on tracking them up – somehow. But she would have to look out for more skeksis. For now at least, she seemed to have eluded the Emperor. And that glowing sceptre.

"Who goes there?!" 

Tavra skidded to a halt in an intersection. A pair of castle guards hastened in on her, stern expressions painted with suspicion. Tavra blinked in surprise and mentally kicked herself. Did gelfling guards patrol down here after all? Were they dispatched down for anomalous circumstances? Or did she ascend further than she estimated?

She contemplated playing the daughter-of-the-All-Maudra card, but cast it aside. Rushing through the halls coated with dust and rock fragments in disheveled garment – it was evident she was not permitted. She wanted to avoid entangling her family while it was still possible. She raised her palms and eyed the guards' poised swords with wariness and a hint of envy.

"What's your purpose down here, Vapran?" the second guard questioned with distaste.

Tavra clucked her tongue. She tossed her hair and squared her shoulders, ignoring the bruise blossoming along her shoulder and flank. With a steady voice and levelled eye she answered, "I am an emissary from Ha’rar. I have been consulting the Lords on the rumoured blight plaguing all regional farmers and must report my investigations to the All-Maudra."

The two guards raised a brow to each other doubtfully before the second guard replied, "I'm afraid we'll have to verify your purpose here with the Lords."

"Indeed," came a grating tone from where Tavra had just come. The three gelfling turned to see the Emperor stalking into the hall intersection, his sceptre rapping on the stone floor. "She has not quite received the message in full detail." He handled his sceptre in arcane emphasis, it's purple glow absent. A phantom tingle coursed through Tavra’s arm, provoking a half-blink. Keeping her chin up, she turned back to the guards who looked disbelieving of her. Slowly to avoid provocation, she fingered a rock fragment from her hair, testing her returning dexterity with it. Turning it in her fingers, she attuned to skekSo’s advancing wheeze while weighing a decision far harder and heavier than the little rock. She rested her elbow on her other arm in a half-hug, bringing her second hand near the hilt at her belt, appraising the brave but deceived gelfling before her.

"I did not want things to come to this," she said repentantly. Both guards' frowns deepened in scowls, their eyes hardening and shoulders tensed. Tavra smartly flicked the rock piece into the first guard's face***, provoking a flinch. In a blink, the same guard dropped her sword with a pained gasp and bleeding wrist. The dropped sword was in Tavra's grasp before it met the floor, her other hand wielding the guilty blade. Tavra was literally flying down the aisle into the next corridor before the second guard could either aid his comrade or give chase.

"After her!" skekSo rasped, kicking them aside in his pursuit.

Author note: 

*** Headcanon: Tavra has lots of experience skipping stones off the coast in friendly competition with her girlfriend. Tavra is great at it, but Onica always wins.

Chapter Text

CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG

skekSo’s sceptre rapped the castle floor with every second step. He could not recall needing it as a walking aid nor it feeling so heavy, his limbs so leaden. Perhaps he was just weary from the excitement in the catacombs.

CLANG CLANG CLANG…

He studied the now dull crystal in the sceptre’s head with a hint of doubt then scanned the intersection he now stood in, trying to guess where the Vapran had fled. The two guards from a small ways back had not followed as he  ordered. Useless, useless gelfling.

He should have immediately pursued the Vapran himself. He had delayed too long in the catacombs. But he could not blame himself. His discovery was world-turning. He looked to the sceptre again with naked glorification. He just now needed to keep this revelation private at least a little longer, till he mastered harnessing it.

He sniffed in attempt to pick up a whiff of the spy but found his nostrils unexplainably stuffy. He snorted then tasted coppery phlegm in the back of his throat.  A coughing fit arose and his ancient knees wobbled. Clinging to the sceptre for support, he was excessively aware of the missing fingertip on his left hand. 

Hurry with those volunteers, General!!

His gasps stabilized and his legs retook his weight. With the metallic clang of his sceptre, skekSo waded on until at last he espied something remotely useful. “Scroll-Keeper!!”

The addressed skeksis crossing the intersection ahead stopped in his tracks, bathing robe and bath hat in hand. “Oh, Emperor. I was just on my way for another soak in the bathing chambers. If it suits you to past the time till the volunteers arrive –”

skekSo’s breath abruptly forsook him again, his throat coated with ash. Perturbed, skekOk shuffled back a step, not finishing his sentence. As soon as his flesh would permit skekSo rasped, “We have a spy among us!!”

skekOk dropped his bathrobe, beak hanging open. “S-sire? W-what do you mean we have spies?” He glanced side to side, hushing his tone forebodingly. “Has... has another guard seen something?”

skekSo forewent pretense of patience, shorted out from pain. “No, you idiot! An infiltrator! Ha’rar paladin likely. She is snooping through the castle as we speak!” He leaned on his sceptre gasping, swallowing another gulp of metallic phlegm. 

skekOk shuffled again. “Sire…? Are you alright?”

Spine cracking as he straightened, skekSo bore into him with gimlet eyes. “What has happened... to the security in this castle? We might as well staff the patrols with podlings for all the good these gelfling are!”

skekOk trembled at the outburst, eyeing skekSo’s trembling frame with uncertainty. “W-where was she seen?”

“In the catacombs”, skekSo rasped, “trying to spy on me. I pursued her into the Northern corridors where a pair of guards failed to subdue her.”

skekOk tilted his long beak. “What was our Emperor doing in the catacombs that must not be seen?”

Were his balance not so precarious, skekSo would have lashed out. “Your nosey spectacles nevermind that! Secure the spy!”

skekOk flinched as though struck. “Yes, yes, my Emperor! Right away! I will gather the other Lords. If the guards fail again, we won’t.” Bowing, picking up his bathrobe while at it, skekOk shuffled out of the corridor as quickly as dignity would permit. “Oh ohhhhhh. My joints… .” On the last syllable his voice raised to a high pitched whine.

As soon as skekOk vanished from sight, skekSo clutched at his chest, his rotting heart oozing between rusting ribs. He hacked and hissed through his teeth. This pain; it reminded him too much of Aughra’s complaints of heartache. Is this how Thra feels? 

Now we are Thra.

skekSo dragged his mind to the now. 

The scenario of this infiltration was concerning. Only six skeksis were presently in the castle, one of which the weak Scientist; already a failure at securing a mere veil. skekEkt was probably primping up and would want another hour to attire for gelfling hunting. skekAyuk and skekLach were neither quick of mind or foot, and if he had been any later, he would have dragged a dripping naked Scroll-Keeper to work too. 

Trembling, he continued leaning on his sceptre. It was so heavy in his hands, weighing him down more than supporting him, yet he clung to it with all (remaining) claws. It was his new source, his new treasure, his new fate.

He did not let go of it.

The stillness was broken, the entire castle on alert, its passageways alight with eyes. Threading through the corridors, Tavra diligently attuned to any oncoming sound and shadow, her clandestine tactics on overdrive. Vliyaya curtained her when she needed to melt into corners or behind buttresses and tapestries as quartets of guards passed. Twice she lept to the ceiling and perched atop the supporting arc when patrollers coincided from ahead and behind. Descending fluidly as an autumn leaf when they were gone, her colours shifted like one too. 

She was close, she could sense it. Air draft aside, she felt rather than heard a wordless singing: an invisible, wounded siren drawing her soul as a magnet would a compass needle. A doorway on her right brought her to a segmented, angular chamber. She was very close. Fingering her charm for any further blessing it could bestow, she slunk to where the breeze and fractured serenade ushered her. 

The sole thing overpowering the spiritual call was the stench; rancid and acrid. Cages populated the walls and dangled from the ceiling, some containing specimens Tavra could identify from remote regions, the rests’ origins she could only speculate. The creatures roused in a chorus of screeches, croaks, and growls, thickening the atmosphere with their exotic pheromones as Tavra threaded in. Nose wrinkling, ears pinning back, Tavra slunk further in. 

Walls equipped with jail cells came to her line of sight. Tables occupied the remaining spaces, fitted with an assortment of equipment for analysis, measurement, dissection, and alchemy. The place appeared a hybridization of veterinarian and apothecary lab and dungeon – undoubtedly for skeksis use: all the instruments and tables were sized so and of the black, intricate, nearly skeletal design they favoured.

There was no sign of Kylan or Naia. Over the din of the caged creatures whining in their miniature prisons Tavra discerned muffles of incomprehensible converse. Conserving her vliya while she still could, she slinked along the walls and large shelves, hand on hilt. 

Turning through the angled chamber she espied what at first glance may have been the twins but  dismissed the prospect quickly as blinking. The two figures were too large and broad to be gelfling even by Drenchen standards. They stood with their rounded backs to Tavra before an open and vacant cell, gesturing and muffling to each other fervently. Seeming sentient, the closest thing Tavra could compare them to was oversized podlings. Were they results of mad skeksis experiments? Despite her travels amongst the Dousan and their sign-language, Tavra could not discern any pattern or meaning from the characters’ hand gestures.

From her new vantage point she still saw no sign of her friends, or Gurjin. Only one more entryway led further in, emitting a red light though a short hallway.

They couldn’t have been drained since we parted, Tavra reasoned. They COULDN’T have. The Emperor would have been up here for that, for the first taste... 

Releasing a noiseless sigh, Tavra dared guess what the two figures were arguing about. Keeping close to the wall, Tavra’s gaze returned to the red-lit doorway; the draft’s source. The ethereal wail beckoned her still, siphoning something from her heart through an invisible vessel. Tavra clasped her hand over her heart as if that could stem it. The same hand ignited with toxic tingles and Tavra’s vision wavered a blink. She grasped the wall for support.

An oily grumble sounded at the chamber entrance Tavra came in. “Silence you animals!” As her ear’s flickered to the grotesque voice the two broad beings spun with startling alertness. Tavra withdrew from their line of sight, not certain they saw her. They did not cry out or give chase.

The approaching grumbles appropriated Tavra’s concern. Her eyes swept the angular room for concealment. Springing off the floor with a jump and wing flap she landed atop one of the hanging cages, swung herself round and hooked off the back. The creature within squawked all the louder. Tavra softly hushed it, practicing different animal words to sooth it. She found success with doyle, doyle .*

Darkening her shade to match the surrounding materials, she withdrew her elbows and knees like a spider making herself as small as possible as the Scientist stalked in.

[Author note: * I just looked up words Kira uses with animals in the Dark Crystal movie script. If anyone knows what these words mean leave them in the comments.]

* * *

“Silence you animals!” skekTek snapped as he shambled into the lab. Most of the creatures obeyed with miserable subordination. He could now hear the gruenaks pathetically whimpering among themselves. What did they do this time?

Turning about into the next area of the chamber he saw them before Gurjin’s cell. Gurjin’s empty cell. His feeting rooting to the spot, skekTek balked, organic eye bulging, twitching. “..... WHERE IS THE DRENCHEN THIEF!?” he exploded.

The gruenaks responded with fervent whimpers, on the brink of grovelling. Wretched heart pounding his eardrums skekTek seethed at them accusingly. “What have you two idiots done!?” The gruenaks of course did not answer beyond more muffled whines.

Panting, skekTek prowled about in frantic indecision between rendering the gruenaks apart there and then, and holding them for scapegoats. Erstwhile he tried to hypothesize where the Drenchen could have gotten to and whether there was any chance to recapture him before the other skeksis found out. 

The Drenchen couldn’t have yet left the Castle. He was here less than an hour ago and non-ambulant. 

Wringing his hands, he cursed to prevent himself from wailing in terror. “Not good… Not gooood…” Could Rian have slipped in again; for him? Unlikely, but not impossible. 

One of the caged animals whined, disrupting his already roiling mind, interfering with his cerebrations. “I said BE SILENT!!” he snapped to the nuisance. With a much needed excuse to maim something he prowled to it, talons itching. At the same time a known but unsuitable scent struck him through the odorous din. Had it not been for recent incidents he would have been incredulous to detect it in the Chamber of Life. Now, he was spurred into caustic suspicion.

His mismatching eyes cursored over the chamber for anomalies. Observing nothing awry but still smelling it, he zeroed in on the animal that whined. It silenced without known causation. His nose now diverted him to the adjacent cage. Did he just catch it sway? – the inhabitant seemed idle.

He scrutinized it raptorially. The occupant was identifiable: a riddit. It obscured something hanging on the far side. Even with light from his augmented eye beaming on it he could not visually distinguish it. But his nose could, and that explained everything.

“GELFLING!!!” 

With desperation of cornered prey and rage of a hungry predator he lashed, ripping the cage from the ceiling and flinging it to the centre of the chamber. Something dark grey detached itself in a somersaulting leap as the cage crashed and clattered about the floor, the jumbled riddit within howling. The gruenaks jumped as a Vapran soldier – now silvery and lavender–  landed lithely in a stoop. Its eyes turned to him, a hand on the hilt at its hip.

skekTek reigned his urge to lunge for the armed gelfling and instead barred himself between his quarry and it’s escape. A quick look over informed him this was not of the castle guard; more presumably a Ha’rar product. 

The two gruenaks had stupidly stayed where he had admonished them, still holding each other like frightened podlings. He dared not leave open the gelfling’s only escape root any sooner than see another peeper beetle. “Gruenakes! Seize it!!”

Evincing unfamiliarity at the addressal for his subordinates, the Vapran turned its head between him and the gruenaks, hand still on hilt.

The gruenaks looked at each other in quivering hesitation, then lumbered forward. Bending its knees in a combative ready pose, turned so it half faced both skekTek and the gruenakes, the Vapran drew out an oddly jagged blade, handling it dagger fashion and flashed it warningly. The gruenaks halted, the leader backtracking into the other's arms, and held each other. Beady eyes pleaded to her and skekTek with more muffled whimpers. 

Face trained on the gruenaks, the Vapran’s visage was unseeable. Before skekTek’s anger with the slaves abated or he could consider snatching her from behind, she turned to him. Something scintillating in its diamond-hard glare made him forget about being angry. His mind hitched; he was not accustomed to specimens regarding him like that, at least before it was caged – like that spitter before it got loose. Directing her jagged blade to him made him take an uncertain step back. 

“How, how dare you turn a weapon on a Lord?!” He was not accustomed to gelfling doing that either. 

The austere Vapran advanced an audacious step, looking peculiarly menacing even though he towered over it. “I dare turn a weapon on a tyrant, traitor, and murderer!” Her stentorian voice stung his ears like frostbite. The chemistry steeping his blood crystallized precipitates of fear and comprehension. 

She knows. Not good. Rian showed her. She knows. 

skekTek’s mismatched eyes bounced back to the silent gruenaks behind her, watching the engagement with unjustifiable investment, their beady eyes bright. The indignation somehow rekindled his wrath like a bunsen burner. “Gruenaks,” he quaverly growled. “Don’t you dare get ideas!”

An annoying voice sounded from outside the chamber. “Scientist? Scientist!” The Scroll-Keeper let himself in, his usual imitation of eloquence forsaken in haste. “The Emperor is wanting all Lords on the alert for an infiltrato - WHAAAHH?” His triple-lensed eyes settled on the Vapran who halted her advances. skekOk stuttered incredulously, “P...princess?!”

* * *

Paling as her plight worsened, Tavra otherwise kept her face lax, and gravely acknowledged him with courtly equanimity. “Scroll-Keeper.” She kept her blade up, a sweat bead snaking down her temple. She slanted an ear to the gruenaks.

Hopes snuffed and extinguished, the gruenaks grovelled and wept as the second Lord looked over them. Passing his surprise, the Scroll-Keeper hummed. “Vapran paladin...spying...” Becoming patronizing, he lectured with a pointed finger, “Well, you’ve got some explaining to do, Princess Katavra.” The royal addressal punctured Tavra like a poisoned dart. It was not just Naia and Kylan she had now endangered.

skekOk turned his beak and finger to the Scientist. “And you.” He jabbed at skekTek. “I thought Chamberlain was talking to General when he spoke of being so weak to be scared of a single gelfling.”

skekTek jerked back indignantly. “I am not weak ! I’m not scared! I’m...I’m…”

skekOk scoffed. “You’re hardly a lord.”

Tavra too late registered an unhappy muffle over the aberrant exchange, just behind her. Spinning round, her sword wrist turned right into the blur of a large palm – the gruenak’s fast arm motion belied its waddle. It looked sorry for what it was doing. Taming her alarm, Tavra attempted wrenching out of it’s hold to no result beyond provoking a singe in her arm. The gruenak proved frightfully strong.

“Hoo hoo! The Emperor will be pleased with us!” skekOk chirped, practically clapping his hands. 

Still upset skekTek retorted, “What did you do? It was MY slaves who got her!”

Engaging her legs Tavra again tried wrenching free, only succeeding in making the gruenak stumble a step and hurting herself further, stars sparking in her vision. Both gruenaks seemed repentantive. With competitive snarls the skeksis lunged with greedy talons. 

With a desperate grunt Tavra heaved herself aside in an audacious arc. The gruenak’s little eyes widened as it was forced to pivot, positioned now between the skeksis and their quarry. Their claws raked the gruenak’s back and shoulders. It moaned pitifully, its grip slacked.

“Get out of the way weakling!” skekOk shouted.

“Yes, out of the way, slave,” skekTek growled.

“I was talking to you!” skekOk gave skekTek an unneeded shove.

Unimpeded, the second gruenak hesitantly reached for Tavra. Grasping her trapped forearm and angling herself, Tavra side-kicked the second gruenak in it’s stitched mouth. It jerked back, clapping its hands over its face with a trapped squeal. 

Still gripping her trapped arm, Tavra lept into an aerial cartwheel, winding the first gruenak’s wrist to an awkward angle. Leverage and angular momentum overcame its thumb, prying Tavra’s wrist free. Kicking off again as she landed, Tavra took to the wing in the confined space. 

The competitive skeksis lunged again. Overreaching and not taking care to sidestep the distressed gruenaks, both Lords tumbled over in a squawking heap. Hovering above, Tavra cursorily looked them over then the exit. She had a window to flee yet Tavra hesitated, the siren’s sick serenade luring her towards the fiery door. 

skekOk propped himself up using skekTek as a support. He waved his hand vaguely in front of his beak. “Oh….My glasses… where are my glasses?”

“Get off me you blind book-keeper!! Your specks are superfluous gimcracks!” 

Too immersed in far-dreamers’ way of heeding the spiritual voices of Thra to overlook the nonsensical course – it faithfully led her so far – Tavra shot through the short hall. The room where Rian witnessed Mira’s demise was grimly recognizable; the chair before the shaft the only altered feature. The call ushered her on, and she heard furious skeksis pursuing. 

“I fool I be,” she chastised in presentiment. She dove into the air shaft. 

Hot fiery air filling her wings, Tavra shot up like when riding the natural geysers circling Ha’rar, then reflexively wove aside to avoid piercing her skull on a sharp obtrusion like in Raunip’s Pass. No – not an obtrusion.

Tavra shot passed it a hair-width away. Time slowed, expanded, suspending her before it. Gazing into its faceted surface, her reflection gazed back at her – through her. The suspension passed, and she landed unsteadily and the lip of the shaft within a triangular chamber with a floor ornamented with runes. Morbidly captivated, bathed but not cleansed by its light, Tavra beheld the corrupted beauty of the heart of Thra.

In its full presence gravity seemed to elevate nine-fold, the atmosphere humming with psychic weight. Its ethereal wail, both quiet and deafening, saturated her bones and bled her spirit. Her sword arm was struck aflame and Tavra nearly swooned again, collapsing to one knee as though kneeling to the Dark Crystal. 

Feeling her veins about to burst, Tavra gripped her arm to stunt a disembodied bleeding and felt a wraith puncture her heart with a sharp proboscis, sucking her dry. Did Rian or Gurjin feel such extramundaen haemorrhage in the Crystal’s presence? Ominous echoes sang and screeched across the chamber from beyond. Perhaps someone of greater clairaudience could have interpreted them.

Onica, is this why Thra is dying? What were you and Brea on to? 

She felt more importance in ensuring her return home, promise aside. A final thought gave purpose to her coming here; she was guided after all. “Crystal of Truth, where are Naia, Kylan, and Gurjin? Have they escaped the castle?” 

She was unsure whether the Crystal could be called upon so simply, even when it was healthy. 

Upon questioning she felt her attention and thoughts pull from her, magnetized to the poisoned radiance. She sensed danger in looking into it for too long. This would have to be brief; no other questions.

Within the bright darkness, the multi-faceted face revealed.

“Coast clear?”, Naia’s image asked. She had Gurjin hanging off her shoulder in a shadowed corner of a corridor. 

A little ways off, looking round an intersection, Kylan’s image scampered back to her. “All clear.” 

At the speed of thought Tavra witnessed the playout of a gaolbreak. Two playouts. Three. Maybe more.

Chapter Text

"Coast clear?" Naia whispered to Kylan, Gurjin arm wrapped about her shoulder. The twins were crouching behind a corridor buttress as Kylan scouted ahead.

Peeping around the turn, ears pivoting, Kylan then silently scampered back to them and whispered, "All clear."

Naia hefted Gurjin up as gently as she was capable. He stifled his groans and held his side tenderly. The three slunk through the hall, threading from one shadow or crevice to the next, occasionally stopping to listen and let Kylan scout the next hall or staircase. The poor song teller was getting evermore squirrely as they rounded junction after junction, stair after stair, seeming to know their luck would run out. 

Without Tavra as a light source, Naia and Kylan did not dare try navigating their way back through the underwater tunnels with its aggressive critters and darkened veins. They were unsure whether they could even retrace their steps to them, as the draft would not lead them back. Gurjin could not help either; he did not know of any such tunnels nor the name Teeth of Skreesh . At the mention of trying to navigate the catacombs, Gurjin shook his head, something haunting him behind his eyelids. Whether due to the reasons Tavra advised against it or something else, Naia could not get out of him; he only grimaced as he was unwilling to look into the Chamber of Life. So as Tavra had suggested, they had begun making for where they could drop into the moat surrounding the castle as Rian did. 

There was daylight coming from the junction ahead and Naia’s heart soared; this may actually be easy. Naia again allowed Kylan to scout ahead as she gently hauled Gurjin behind by a tapestry that hung to just above the floor. 

Kylan scampered back to them, eyes wide, lips curled inward, hands waving in warning. “ Not clear! Not clear!”

“ Are they coming !?” Naia hushed back.

Palming over his eyes and forcibly breathing, Kylan then whispered, “No, but the way is watched. We’re not getting out that way without a fight…”

Naia considered it – if there were only a handful of gelfling blocking them… Naia bit her lip. She was a seasoned hunter and fighter, but limited in actual battle experience – engaging armed, trained soldiers. Plus, Naia was practically carrying Gurjin and would only too happily avoid confrontation for his sake, and while she could not express gratitude enough for Kylan’s dedication and aid, he had the combative prowess of a wingless unamoth. He’d surely get harmed. 

Gurjin gave her a pat. “There are more windows and balconies above,” he whispered, then covered a cough with his fist. “There’s no way the guards can watch them all at once. Tavra’s idea may still work.” He then gave an empty chuckle. “If Rian’s done it that’s good enough for me.”

Naia huffed to herself. “Alright. Let’s go.“ They turned back a little ways and began a new route.

Unfortunately, the next set of windows and balconies were also occupied, security seeming to have guessed what they would try. The skeksis may have learned from their incident with Rian afterall. Gurjin directed them to the stairs, which proved terribly tedious and Naia internally groaned at remembering how far above the water level most of the windows and balconies were. 

Coming atop the set of stairs they stilled and Kylan trembled as many distant clattering footsteps permeated the castle like an awakening ant hill. Originally quiet and almost barren, the castle was becoming rife with activity. Thrice more since getting out of the dungeons they had to hide in any nook they could find at the approach of patrolling guards, like prey hiding from Sog predators. The three were particularly angsty when at last another skeksis lurked passed, puss oozing off its face. Naia suspected the only reason it did not hear Kylan whimper was because the skeksis continuously made disgusting wet coughs, spits, sniffs, and grunts. In Kylan’s defence, Naia was surprised her own heartbeat wasn't echoing through the corridors. Gujin's heart nervously beat in sync with hers. Till recent events, Naia thought that was just a twin thing.

“Does it normally get this crazy?” she whispered once skekLach was out of earshot. Gurjin looked back at her, ears back and jaws slack.

“Never, not even when everyone was searching for Rian. The skeksis must be bringing everyone on duty. Usually we rotate shifts.” Jaw clenching, Naia hoped Tavra had stayed inconspicuous, and silently cursed the princess for her absence. If not Tavra, the skeksis must have noticed Gurjin's empty cell. Either way the Silverling was right; secrecy was quick to expire.

Moving on again, Gurjin’s feet were nearly dragging on the floor. Naia made the softest heft she could manage to hoist him higher on her shoulder yet he had to bite down on his knuckle to stifle himself. With most of her attention directed to Gurjin’s poor state, it was Kylan who heard the next incoming footsteps. 

"Quick!" he whispered, tugging Naia’s elbow towards one of the large vents* where the wall met the floor. Slipping in, the crouching three held their breath as at least four pairs of feet rushed towards the direction they came from.

As the footsteps faded Gurjin whispered, "I don't like this. We’re not going to make it with so many close calls."

"How much further?" Naia asked.

"Almost close enough to make a run for it if we have to," Gurjin panted. “Aughra’s Eye, let this be the end of stairs.”

“Naia…,” Kylan pressed, stifling a quiver. “What about Tavra?”

Naia’s ears pinned back, weighed down with culpable incompetence atop Gurjins slack frame. “We just have to trust she will take care of herself.” Kylan looked pleading. She reached out to him. “Kylan, please. I need you to stay focused. Tavra is a soldier, and she certainly knows how to keep  inconspicuous.” Kylan palmed his eyes, puffing through pursed lips, then looked to Naia and nodded, his spark wavering yet enduring.

 Letting him climb out first to do a quick sweep of the area, Naia and Gurjin then clambered out. They barely made the next hall when the tense atmosphere was pierced by shouting and an awful cackle echoing from ahead, from where Gurjin was directing them, followed by metallic clashes, yells, and then a piercing bestial scream.

"Let's go!" Naia said, heart in her mouth. Kylan didn’t need telling twice. 

Gurjin pointed down an alternative route. “ That way! ” Rushing off their new path, the besital scream was succeeded in harrowing sobs, the vibrations seeming to chase after them, puncturing their eardrums.

“Traitor!” Someone yelled.

“Get the Lord to the healers!” another cried.

"After her!"

“How far are out of our way,” Naia huffed, sweating now from fright as well as exertion. Sounds of skirmish now permeated the corridors as though by acoustic design, the source seeming to enclose despite their haste. 

“Not too much,” Gurjin seethed, face twisting in pain. “It’s worth avoiding whatever that was!” Fingering the pointless bola on his belt, Kylan whimpered as he pattered alongside the twins. Guards were still yelling.

"Don't let her get away!"

“Close her off dammit!”

"Ahhh!"

Rounding another menacing corner Kylan let out a high-pitched yelp as someone sprinted and nearly toppled into him. Naia recognized the silver hair and Vapra attire despite the coat of dust.

Breathing hard, the princess-soldier flashed two castle swords at the twins and Kylan before registering them. Slashes marked her armour and a trio of raking claw marks marred the left chest and shoulder of her tunic. One of her castle swords had tasted blood. Her own sword was sheathed at her belt.

"Well, you found your brother," Tavra panted flatley in guarded relief.

"Well, you found the guards and skeksis,” Naia spat back, her relief eclipsed by surprise and spleen. “What an amazing find!"

Unmoved by Naia’s sarcasm Tavra ushered, "And more. We have to g–."

A platoon of five guards rounded the corridor Tavra came from. Registering Tavra and three accomplices, the tall Spriton leader barked, "Halt! All of you!" Naia shot Tavra a horrified glare.

"Down that way!" Gurjin rasped, pointing down an adjacent hall.

Tavra sure-footedly led, Kylan racing alongside Naia, Gurjin still draped over her shoulder. The guards were hot on their heels.

"I'm sorry Gurjin, I'm sorry!" Naia wept. Gurjin was now wailing from the exertion. 

Seemingly out of nowhere a Vapran-spearmen materialized in Kylan’s path with a brandished spear to which Kylan shuffled to a gasping stop. Without missing a beat Tavra swatted the spear aside and butted the second sword’s pommel into the owner's temple. Tavra weaved under a swipe from an emerging Stonewood comrade in the adjacent corridor, turning the same drop into a reverse ankle sweep, taking his feet from under him. Visibly about to kip-up to his feat, Tavra drove an angled stomp onto his knee. Something popped and the Stonewood gave a gnarled wail.

Two of the five guards behind passed and circled Naia, barring her way with crossed spears. A Sifan and Drenchen comrade in tow, the Spriton leader advanced her and Gurjin. With a mute gasp Kylan braced himself between Naia and the lead guard, arms open, palms out.

The taller Spriton halted, staring down Kylan, exhibiting a hybrid of scorn and incredulity. Kylan gulped. With a grunt of contempt the castle Spriton hefted Kylan off his feet and pitched him aside like a sack of grain.

"Kylan!" Naia shouted. 

"Whoa!" Gurjin exclaimed at the same moment.

Luminescent wings splayed, Tavra arced over the twins and spearmen, foot extending to the Spriton guard's face. He deftly evaded it, and Tavra's boot connected with the Drenchen comrade behind him. The large Drenchen soldier stumbled back before collapsing heavily to the floor. Somersaulting and landing behind them with aggressive grace, Tavra engaged the Spriton guard and two comrades; a curly haired Vapra and the Sifan. The remainder - a Stonewood female - pursued the twins. 

Shielding Gurjin behind herself, Naia shuffled away fumbling at her belt – did she dare draw her dagger, or try ensnaring her with the bola? Back on his feet clutching his side, Kylan intercepted the Stonewood with his other palm defensively out. "Please, wait!” He panted. “Hear us out!" The Stonewood faltered but then her features hardened.

"Stand down," she said warningly, angling her spear at his heart. "And stay down."

* * *

Against three Tavra was steeped and dancing amidst the clash and rasping of blades, holding her own but also cut off. Maneuvering again and again to situate herself where the guards would be in each other’s way, the preventative Castle gelfling counter-maneuvered as a three part unit, ultimately forcing her to spin and jouk within their deadly triangle. Tavra made an attempt to fly out only to be cut off by a winged leap and spear strike from the other Vapran, and then almost tripped by the Spriton’s follow up on Tavra’s unsteady touchdown. She converted the tumble into a roll, rising-striking at the other Vapran’s landing but stymied by the Sifa’s covering defense. Tavra was then thwarted from a narrow chance to escape their enclosure as the Spriton sealed her off with a four-part jab and stab combo, allowing the Sifa to retake his corner. The curly haired Vapran’s next lunge snaked around Tavra’s parry, sliced through her armour, and licked her flesh. 

Her arm burned, the claw wounds on her shoulder wept into her garment, her legs and lungs burned from running, jumping, and shoving gruenaks; yet her disciplined upbringing and strict breeding held her fast, her mien placid as in meditation. The Sifa fell for one of her feints and she fell a rolling kick to his exposed rib. Both other comrades moved to cover him.

At last one of her ripostes cut and disarmed the curly-haired Vapran, and Tavra followed through, forcibly kicking down one of the triangle’s corners. With a new window for maneuverability she enclosed a scissor lock with the Sifan, forcibly pivoting them so the tall Spriton was impeded by his comrade. Unlocking in close quarters Tavra backfisted at the Sifan’s temple which he blocked with his wrist, halting her knuckles an inch from his brow. Tavra followed through with a sharp flash of vliyaya light from her opisthenar, provoking a cringe, then reaped his foot with her heel.

The Spriton doubled down on her, every blow from his spear fast and heavy but strategically intentioned. First giving ground, weaving under two wider swings then hopping over a low follow-up, Tavra closed in to disadvantage his longer weapon. He beautifully transitioned to quarterstaff technique, whirling and parrying with the shaft, occasionally ramming it at her. Falling for one of his feints, Tavra received a blunt face blow. Head knocked back and seeing stars, something dribbled down her chin.

The Sifan and other Vapran regained their feet, grimacing but picking up their weapons. To the latter the tall Spriton shouted, "Secure the prisoner! Penga and I got this." The Sifan nodded dutifully and broke off from the fight, racing to the twins.

* * *

[Omniscient POV]

"No! Please listen!" Kylan barred the way again, trying to appeal to the additional guard. Without exchanging a word the Sifan hammerfisted Kylan across the cheek, sending him spinning into a sprawl. Before either guard could act further, Naia's bola wove itself around the Stonewood's knees, toppling her back. Lips drawn into a snarl, Naia barreled the startled Sifan into the wall with the force of a horner. Weapon dropped, he gasped as he tried to wrestle her off.

From Naia's opposite shoulder Gurjin feebly yanked his hair, earning a cry. "Sorry, Hahn," Gurjin grunted.

Untangling herself from the bola, the tripped Stonewood was returning to her feet and reaching for her spear. Pulling himself up, cupping his cheek and teetering, Kylan clumsily tackled her back to the floor. Before he realized it he was engaged in a floor wrestle, his cries mingled with Hahn’s. As Gurjin continued tugging Hahn's Hair, Naia delivered a headbutt. Head rocketing off the wall Hahn silenced and slumped to the floor.

“Ooff! No!” Two cries emitted through the corridor, one anguished, the other enraged. Tavra returned, bereft of one of her swords, the tall Spriton’s spear in its place. The spear’s owner knelt over his felled comrade, hastily wrapping a cloth from his attire around her wound. “Penga…”

Trapped in the Stonewood’s choke hold, Kylan writhed and kicked languishly. Naia hastened for them, huffing and sweating under Gurjin’s persistent weight. Reached by Tavra first, the Stonewood’s eyes widened before Tavra delivered a calculated head whack with the spear shaft. The Stonewood  collapsed on Kylan, then was hulled off by Naia with a grunt. 

The face-kicked Drenchen guard clambered to his heavy feet, wiping a bloody nose and growed darkly at Tavra. Not quite as tall as Gurjin but just as broad, he did not bother for a weapon. In a single bound defying his bulk he was upon her, his pounce overwhelming Tavra’s raised guard and pinning her to the floor. Wind knocked out of her, backside echoing pangs from her crash in the catacombs, Tavra planted her heels against his lower abdomen before his momentum expired and jerked her hips upward, sending him head over heels off her. Supple as a whirlpool, the Drenchen landed in a recovering roll, twisting and coming to his feet while Tavra was still splayed on her back. Helmet fallen off, hair wild, he bounded for her.

Naia whirled her last bola with perfect accuracy to his neck. With stunning reflexes the Drenchen soldier caught it with an out-turned palm and hurled it back at Naia with drilling precision, peppering her in the gut. Retching, Naia folded in half, Gurjin falling alongside her with a rasp. Kylan was crawling from the knocked out Stonewood, coughing and massaging his throat.

Abandoning her spear, Tavra kip-upped to her feet, swinging the guard sword at her assailant while mid-air. The Drenchen repelled the blade with the vambrace of his already raised arm, probably cut but undeterred, his other fist in motion towards her jaw.

Tavra turned her torso, suffering the blow on the shoulder. Grabbing her sword wrist he next tried to knee her in the gut, which Tavra buffeted with her other arm. The Drenchen caught her second wrist, squeezing them both with audible bone-straining tension, and tried to pull her into a head-butting knock-out. Tavra turned and pulled enough to only suffer a dazing impact, then wedged her knee against his sternum, holding him at bay. Wincing, other knee quivering, Tavra appeared an ivory statue about to crack and crumble. She met the Drenchen’s heated glare through squinted lids and gritted teeth. Her cold eyes flashed, silvery vliyaya lancing into the Drechen’s, making him flinch.

Tavra jump scissor-kneed him in his already abused nose, whipping his head back, slackening his grip. Twisting her hands free she flicked her sword wrist, swatting the Drechen’s temple with the flat of her blade. Not unconscious but thoroughly dazed, he did not get back up.

Like a puppet’s strings gone slack, Tavra sagged, breath unsteady and propping herself on one knee. She cradled her punched shoulder. 

Holding her gut, Naia was pulling herself up, tasting bile. 

Finishing his quick first-aid, the tall Spriton stood from Penga, drawing a sword that flashed with angry keenness. He charged towards the stooped Tavra. Achingly, Tavra drew herself to a ready stance – too slowly . Naia instinctively drew her dagger, closing the distance between herself and Tavra in a blur. The Spriton’s battle cry became a stunned gasp as he fell flat on his face, a bola wrapped around his ankles. 

Kneeling a little ways from Gurin, Kylan's arm was still out in a throwing pose, mouth dangling open in a dumb whoop. Cradling her stomach again, Naia coughed a tired chuckle that came out more as a retch. Sheathing her dagger she clasped Kylan's still extended hand, hefting him to his feet. Gurjin tried to chuckle too but it came out pained and wheezy.

Arms falling to her sides, head lolling, Tavra sighed, and acknowledged Kylan with a small, red smile. Kylan blushed, eyes downcast, and brushed back one of his braids, then took a double take. Blood dribbled down Tavra’s chin from a split lip, her mouth painted in grisly make up. A great blotch had blossomed over her trio of claw marks, plus new cuts on her forearms and legs. Sweat mingled into the dirt and dust coating her face yet she was pallid, and her normally impeccable posture swayed. She was clutching her shoulder again.

"We have to move. There are more to come," Tavra monotoned. Perhaps noticing Kylan staring she then squared her shoulders. Huffing and wiping sweaty dreadlocks from her brow, Naia heaved Gurjin over her shoulder again, retrieving her back-fired bola as well. The tripped Spriton guard groaned, trying to push himself to his feet.

"Tolyn...," Gurjin rasped. "You're fighting for the wrong side. Please listen to us."

"Rian betrayed his oath. Betrayed us .” Tolyn grunted. “I know what he did to Mira. And to you . He has infected all of you, hasn't he?" He glared at them with seething anger, though for the Vapran paladin his eyes flickered a grudging respect. Her steady eyes reflected the courtesy. In an undertone of sadness he said, "I must not fail Captain Ordon. I must not fail the Lords."  From his tunic he fumbled out a wooden whistle strung around his neck.

“Tolyn –,” Gurjin interjected pleadingly.  

Tolyn’s whistle produced a deceptively soft shrill with minimal echo yet pervasive carry. From multiple directions and distances came answering footsteps and a few menacing screeches and squawks. Evidently countering the Castle’s acoustic structure, the whistle provided a traceable pinpoint.

"Run," Naia gasped. The four fled to where Gurjin directed, leaving Tolyn where he lay. Tavra lagged at the rear, head stooped, her eyes trailing after Gurjin’s dragging feet.

Rushing around into another corridor the company startled five confused podling servants who scattered in their wake.

"Tompee! Tompee!"

"Apopiapodpo aslamo!"

"Caamaalayaaas!"

"Dzonla temar!" Kylan hoarsely called over his shoulder.

"We're almost there. We're almost there," Gurjin rasped, almost in prayer. Daylight illuminated the intersection ahead, promising escape. 

Someone was keen to break that promise, however. As they rounded into the last junction, the window practically before them, Kylan cried out as a large figure grabbed him by the collar of his jerkin and plucked him from the floor.

"Kylan!" Naia shouted. She and Tavra rounded on his assailant.

"Bhehhhhh. This one’s on the scrawny side." Kylan was held aloft tauntingly by the Gourmet. Kylan flailed in his grasp. Accompanying the Gourmet were six castle guards. Newly applied bandages and ointments suggested two of them had already encountered Tavra. 

A company of eight more – three wearing similar first-aids – arrived from the opposite side of the junction, led by the Collector who was now armed with a pair of gleaming scimitars. A circle of swords and spears was forming around Tavra and the twins in the centre of the junction as four more arrived from the hall they just came through.

Among them was Tolyn, both grim and triumphant. "You, Gurjin. YOU are on the wrong side." Tavra and the twins backed against each other as spear tips closed in. Tavra tried keeping themselves some quarter, fanning the guard sword and drawing out her own fragmented one. Kylan stopped struggling and watched in horror from the sidelines as the Gourmet cackled and held him aloft like a lantern basking everyone in the skeksis's victory.

Holding Gurjin tightly and pressed back to back with Tavra, Naia whispered, "What now?" The princess did not answer. Closing her eyes, Tavra’s broken lips moved in mute prayer.

Gurjin desperately tried one last appeal. "Everyone, listen to us! Rian did not kill Mira! The skeksis did! I saw it in his memories."

"Dreamfasting with Rian has infected your mind!" Tolyn intoned harshly, getting nods of regretful agreement from his peers.

"That's another lie from the skeksis to hide the truth! I’ve seen the Crystal and how they've corrupted it! I can show what they do with it now!" He held a hand out to which all the guards flinched. "They tortured me!" 

Naia fought down ragged breaths, hot tears streaming. “ Gurjin...”

"Preposterous! The Crystal only heals and gives life and truth!" a whiny voice with an educated tone preached out. The Scroll Keeper had arrived with the Scientist in tow. "So sad how this sickness deceives its victims. They really believe what they say, thinking they have been revealed to an enlightening truth, and will kill to prove it!" He swept a condescending finger. "That's what happens when lower minds fiddle with a power they cannot begin to fathom, and why us Lords must protect all: the power itself and weaklings who are unable to handle it. So sad." Behind him the Scientist growled with barely contained annoyance, not necessarily at the gelfling.

"Did they dreamfast with Rian too?" one of the wounded soldiers asked, spear directed at Tavra and Naia and then Kylan. "Have they been infected?" The tone was certain, cold, and tinged in fear. Naia glared at the speaker. Tavra did not respond and went on praying silently.

"I'm afraid so," the Scroll-Keeper sighed dramatically. All the guards trembled and some whimpered. The Scientist rolled his organic eye.

"No!" Gurjin roared through his parched throat.

"Actually, yes," Kylan corrected light-heartedly from the Gourmet's grip. All heads except Tavra's turned to the song teller in disbelief.

"Eh?" the Scroll-Keeper uttered. The Scientist cocked his head in puzzlement, synthetic eye clinking.

What? It's true? and the like echoed throughout the apprehensive guards. "It's spreading!"

The ones nearest the Gourmet gave him a greater berth. Nonplussed, Naia stared up at her song teller friend, trying to figure out his game. Eyes still closed, Tavra’s ears angled to him.

Kylan coughed into his fist. "We are mad," he resumed happily in the mesmerizing voice he had when song telling. One hand gestured theatrically to the crowd, his other fumbling behind his head onto the Gourmet's wrist. "It's the most wonderful thing and we want…,” Kylan’s face scrunched with focus, “everyone… to see… the beautiful…TRUTH!" On the final word Kylan applied the dream-etching technique to sizzle the Gourmet's hand . With a guttural exclamation the Gourmet dropped Kylan who fell with a small Umff ! Guards backpedaled as Kylan picked himself up, brushing off his jerkin, and donned an exaggerated smile. He lumbered towards the nearest guards, arms extended for an embrace. "Come! See what Rian has gifted us! Let yourselves be baptized by a new truth!" Kylan sang on like a crazed saint with a smile to match as the nearest guards forgot their weapons altogether and hastily shoved and tripped over each other to escape his obvious madness. 

Naia could have sang for Kylan. She channeled her enheartened spirit into a similar performance. "Let me show you!" she proffered to guards on the opposite side of the circle, reaching out and getting similar results.

"Come and - get it!?" Gurjin clumsily played along, reaching from Naia's shoulder. Most guards retained the sense to merely use their spears to keep the infected at bay but others were losing their wits, shoving past each other to flee the pervading impurity, sending cascades of trips and ripples of panic.

"Keep in line you cowards! Bar them in!" the Scroll-Keeper crowed to little effect. Tolyn went mute, jaw slack, eyes unable to blink.

Tavra opened her eyes, tired but purposeful. Twirling each sword once in her hands, she tried to wade her way towards the window. The remaining guards walled the way but notably quivered. Testing Kylan's example, Tavra rotated the blades down, holding the hilts by her thumbs. Masking her uncertainty, she splayed her fingers out. One more guard dropped her weapon and fled, the rest shivering and backpedalled a step. Eyes alighting, heart thrumming, Tavra stepped again and so did they. One arm holding Gurjin, the other held out in faux threat, Naia shuffled alongside Tavra while Kylan skipped behind them. The song teller's face was beet red as he continued dancing around, pretending to reach for the frightened guards, running out of preaching madness to sing.

"Enough! We are not susceptible to this infection," the Scientist crowed, shoving through the disheartened gelfling.

"Uh. Yes! Right!" the Scroll-Keeper said in late agreement and followed. The remaining guards gasped and sighed with relief and shame as the skeksis took over.

"We'll take care of it, useless gelfling!" the Gourmet gurgled.

"We'll purge them!" the Collector sputtered, pustule pulsing. The broken circle was replaced with an enclosed quadrilateral. Kylan yipped and skipped back into the twins when skekTek lashed out for him, and yelped again when the Scroll-Keeper plucked him off the floor. Gurjin twisted and reached out from Naia's shoulder, trying to pull him back but Kylan's arm slipped through his weakened fingers.

"No!" Naia hoarsely yelled as Kylan was stolen away again.

"Careful with that one. He burns!" Gourmet groused.

"I can handle the runt," skekOk retorted, shaking Kylan cruelly. "Speaking of which, Scientist, you're still in the way!"

skekTek crowed indignantly as he was shoved back. "Who's in who's way!?"

Tavra’s ears pricked at Kylan's distress then expelled a strained breath through her split lips, uprighting her blades as the Collector lumbered before her, baring the way forward.

"Achk!" skekLach’s little eyes lingered on Tavra's clawed shoulder. "You're who hurt skekEkt, didn't you!? Nasty Silverling!" skekLach wildly brought down one of her scimitars.

Tavra answered with both swords in a cross block, impeding the blow but forced to one knee. Wrists bent out of alignment, she was almost cut on her own blades. Spitting blood, Tavra heaved back to her feet, immediately committing against skekLach’s second swing. Nearly derailed, agony rocketed through her skeleton, her own sword arced from her hand. Eyes grimaced shut, Tavra let out a hiss.

"Ha ha -OW !" skekLach's gloat was cut short from Naia’s bola wrapping itself about her fleshy beak and bursting one of her pustules. Dropping one of her scimitars, her hand went to her forehead. 

"How dare you?!" skekOk squawked at Naia, who answered him with a rude finger gesture.

“Get off!” Gurjin yelled from her shoulder. The Gourmet was reaching for them.

Turning round but having nowhere to back away, Naia and Gurjin swiped, batted, and cursed as the Gourmet lay clawed-claim on them, lifting them like two roasts from their platter. His pleased guffaws transformed into a sneering hiss as Naia bit into his arm with a throaty growl. Gurjin reached into Naia’s belt and drew out her dagger. Upon the flashing sing of metal skekAyuk dumped them with a frightened croak. The twins landed in a heap,Gurjin letting out an anguished roar muted by dehydration and lethargy. Scrambling to pick up the dropped dagger, Naia stood guardedly over him, swiping as skekTek stooped for him. Kylan continued getting jostled in skekOk’s grip as he and skekTek squabled, the two skeksis alternating between lashing at Naia and each other. skekAyuk knelt for skekLach’s dropped weapon.

Driven ballistic, skekLach wildly swung her remaining scimitar. F ocusing her remaining energy into the Castle sword, Tavra w hirled it overhead towards skekLach’s downward swing. Metal rasped as she diverted skekLach’s scimitar from herself to the floor in a falling crescent. skekLach’s blade still down, Tavra traced the arc in reverse, whirling her sword to its full reach and opened the front of skekLach’s oily robes. Pale belly exposed, a liquid curtain of dark red was draping down over it. skekLach made an unintelligible noise of gags and whined gurgles, dropping the second scimitar to stem her opened belly.

skekLach’s first scimitar now in hand, skekAyuk almost dropped it dismay for skekLach, who was lurching away reeling. “Ack. No, no.”

skekOk too was distracted in dismay. “Collector!”

One of skekTek’s undiscriminating swipes raked across both Kylan and the hand holding him. skekOk’s shriek eclipsed Kylan’s cry as the song teller fell to the floor. Tucking his knees into himself and wrapping his arms about his head, Kylan was forgotten and nearly trampled by the two skeksis now warring with each other.

“You’ll pay!” skekAyuk groused, hacking down on Tavra with skekLach’s scimitar. Repelling the first two blows, cringing with each metallic shriek, the third clubbed the guard sword from Tavra's grip. Frame contorting, Tavra drew back to back with Naia, her sword arm swaying like a broken pendulum. skekAyuk momentarily expired his breath, panting as he hefted the scimatar. Dripping sweat and blood, Tavra cursorily sweeped the scenario about them, one hand clasping the fabric over her heart. She reached for Naia.

Flinching upon the Silverling's cold touch on her cheek, Naia tore her eyes from Kylan and the hissing skeksis to Tavra. Before her eyes, Tavra’s lavender ones brightened into a silvery blue and her pale skin turned translucent, her flesh seemingly ethereal, her hair like liquid light.

Shield your eyes. Get ready to help Kylan.  

Hefting his scimitar overhead, skekAyuk’s voice raised for a deathblow. Breaking connection with Tavra, Naia threw herself over Gurjin and scrunching her eyes, mentally yelling Gurjin to do likewise. Tilting her head up, Tavra splayed her wings which now looked like stained glass filling with light from the Three Brothers. 

A soundless supernova of brilliant white and silvery blue flooded the junction and inflamed the halls. The remaining skeksis let out dumbfounded shrieks and toppled back, Kylan's panicked voice inaudible among them. Despite the skeksis’ overshadowing bulk none of the remaining castle guards were shielded from the ubiquitous radiance.

As quickly as it came the light died, leaving discombobulated groans and cries in its wake.

The twins uncovered their sore eyes, blinking and squinting. The skeksis and remaining guards were stumbling around sightlessly like blind toddlers. "Get Kylan," Tavra slurred. Collapsed to her knees like a broken down machine, her bloodied chin rested on her chest, soiling it further with red. Her face became pallid, skin unhealthily translucent, her draped wings now opaque and dull. Mind racing, head reeling, Naia lept from where she and Gurjin lay and stringed through and around the stumbling crowd towards Kylan, who was sightlessly crawling among them uttering small sounds of fright.

Among the chaos Tolyn barked in all directions, "Don't let them get away!"

Somewhere else in the frenzy another guard cried out frantically, "Don't let them touch you!" The Scroll-Keeper, and Gourmet lumbered about complaining about their seared eyes. skekOk insisted he felt blood running down his face. skekLach bubbled and sobbed, oozing across the floor. One of the guards slipped in her fluids and began to shriek.

Kylan jerked as Naia gripped his shoulder, but eased upon recognizing her dream-fasting touch. Let me help , she soothed, applying illuminated fingertips over his left eye. Kylan blinked confusedly, but then his left eye flickered with clarity. 

Still lying by Tavra, Gurjin yelled out to them in wordless fear. Naia and Kylan looked up, aghast to see the Scientist approaching like a ship rocking through a frenzied sea. Organic eye scrunched shut, his bright synthetic one unmistakably lingered on them. Shoving the stumbling Scroll-Keeper aside, he pulled a curved bladed tool from the front of his robes.

"No one gets away this time!"

Jumping to her feet, Naia hauled Kylan along by the hand. "Get Tavra and make for the window! Move!" The Scientist crowed after them. Naia and Kylan broke apart to collect Gurjin and Tavra respectively.

Stumbling, tripping, and colliding amid the chaos, Kylan reached Tavra. Eyes closed behind dark lids, she was cold and limp in his arms as he tried to hoist her up. For a heartbeat he feared she was dead. Sensing her alive but not ambulant he started pulling her onto his shoulder. 

"My swor-. My swor….," Tavra slurred. Swiveling his head left and right, Kylan's functional eye found the broken weapon and he clumsily slipped it through his belt, then hefted Tavra onto his shoulder and back. She was not heavy, but skinny as he was, Kylan struggled still.

Next to them Naia was hefting Gurjin up, but Gurjin hauled her down as skekTek’s blade swung for her nape. Sheared of some locks, Naia hastily shuffled across the floor, towing Gurjin by the shoulder of his tunic through the forest of bodies. Pursuing the two pairs of fleeing gelfling, skekTek shrieked as the bobbling Gourmet blindsided him.

All pretense of happy madness long gone, Kylan paled and whimpered as he bore Tavra around the stumbling Collector who left a foul trail of blood and puss like a grotesque gastropod. Now ten paces from the window, the morning light was comparatively dim after Tavra's trick. In his limited peripheral vision, he made out Naia catch up with him, leading a stumbling Gurjin like a pet by its collar. The four reached and clambered over the window ledge. Peering down at the vast drop below Kylan swooned. 

Think of Jarra Jen! ...Think of Jarra Je–

He let out an eep! as Naia inertly leaned over the edge and towed him off balance, teetering into emptiness.

From the hall, an arriving skeksis voice, raspy with decaying age roared "NO!" The four passed over the window ledge and fell from skekSo's sight.

Kylan's breath caught in his throat from the rushing air, his braids whipping about his ears. Falling next to him Naia clung to Gurjin who hardly moved, falling like a stone. Just behind on Kylan’s other side Tavra spun bonelessly through the air. 

The moat rose up to meet them.

SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH

Author Notes: 

* Not sure what that thing was one of the gelfling guards hid in during the failed taking of the Castle in episode 6.

** In the show, gelfling appear to have Pepto Bismol for blood. I am keeping gelfling blood red in my fanfic since:

One: gelfling blood is depicted red in the YAN

Two: it is easier to write this way and avoid contradicting myself later

Three: pink blood is not scary enough.

Other note: I am trying to keep the POV to one character at a time but settled omniscient for the final section in this chapter. So much happening at once with so many characters. 

Chapter Text

The moat rose up to meet them

SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH

Hardly a cushion to his fall, the water smacked Kylan’s skin and hammered his bones. Abused by the impact and stunned by the stinging cold, Kylan gasped a mouthful of water, only catching himself and shutting his airway as it began running down his throat.

Panic clutching him, Kylan tried to recover his orientation in the deafening darkness, his braids waving about his own head and neck as he jittered, twisted, and peered round himself. His eye right remained blinded, amplifying the darkness. Squinting through the murky water he spotted Naia tending to Gurjin, her hands applied to him with a blue glow. Gurjin appeared a fish coming back to life, slowly gaining vigor and seemingly size. Relief poured through him when they intently swam his direction, agile as eels. His relief hitched.

Where’s Tavra?

An answering air bubble floated up past him. Beneath him he espied the supine Vapra soldier, eyes closed, and sinking into the darkness below. Another air bubble escaped from Tavra's mouth along with wisps of red. A hand gently clasped his and he twisted to Naia floating before him. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, then dove down to Tavra. Gurjin then glided over, gently taking Kylan in his big, suddenly much stronger arms and kicked to the surface. Not a moment too soon for Kylan they broke the surface. Kylan coughed, sputtered, and gasped, clinging tightly to Gurjin. The Drenchen seemed so much bigger now that he was rehydrated.

"You don't need to cling that tightly, do you?" he croaked.

"Sorry," Kylan choked and eased his grip as much as he dared, scared of the terrors below, within the Teeth of Skreesh.

"Ouch! And mind that sword in your pocket!"

"Sorry!" Kylan squeaked and adjusted himself again. Breathing heavily, Gurjin gave him a nod and breast-stroked towards the lakeside, Kylan holding on. Naia and Tavra had not surfaced yet.

What's taking them? Naia can breathe for Tavra if need be. Is something else wrong?

Perhaps hearing his thoughts, Gurjin panted, "It's all right Kylan, we're all going to get out of this."

Wading onto the lakeside, Gurjin moved with restored vigor, albeit limping. Hugging himself, Kylan was dripping and shivering. Both their heads snapped round at the splash of Naia breaking the surface. She rushed towards them, one arm wrapped about Tavra's torso, her other keeping Tavra's arm draped over her neck and shoulder. Kylan's initial relief ebbed as he saw Tavra was not supporting herself, her limp frame wholly borne by Naia.

Mouth drawing into a severe line, Gurjin rushed over. Head lolling, eyes closed, Tavra was unresponsive as Naia and Gurjin carried her onto the grass. The bedraggled Vapra was convulsing  without sound. She was still pallid, skin translucent, with dark patches under her eyes. 

"W-w-what's wrong with her?" Kylan sputtered.

Naia kneeled by Tavra, voice quaking. "I, I'm not sure. I think she overspent herself with the vliyaya light, and I tried to give her some breath but I think she inhaled water before I reached her."

Knees caving, Kylan collapsed opposite Naia as she tried to resuscitate Tavra. Gurjin kneeled, placing a supportive hand over his shoulder. Tavra had stopped moving.

 On the cusp of crying, Naia was shaking her by the shoulders. "No. Tavra! Tavra, don't go!" Tavra didn’t respond. Kylan feared the brave Silverling was already hearing the beckoning song of Thra to call her home. Gurjin reached out to Naia, not in consolation, but hard-support.

Shaking her shoulder he growled, "Come on Naia, you can help her. Whine all you want while at it, but do what mom taught you and heal her!"

Had Kylan not been acquainted with Drenchen hard-talk he may have considered Gurjin calloused and out of his wits. Instead he perceived an alternative to what Tavra was about: a pragmatic soldier. Not as mature or refined, but it had an effect on the twin sister. Naia looked him and Kylan in the face.

“But, it’s not just a wound. It’s… “

“Naia,” Kylan intervened, for once feeling a tiny bit steadier than Naia. “...you can do it.” Try.

Naia stared back at him. Though still scared, her eyes kindled with the familiar ferocity and stubborn courage he admired.

Breath intensifying, Naia's hands erupted with blazing blue vliya and she applied them over Tavra's chest, wreathing her in blue fire. Tavra’s head turned a fraction. Naia clenched her fingers with a shove motion and Tavra's chest heaved, a spitfull of water spouting from her mouth. Tavra resumed convulsing, lungs trying to inhale. Watery chokes sounded instead.

Kylan swooned, his own head suffocating from the sight. Tavra's eyes remained closed and her lips became deathly blue. Naia cursed in frustration and defiant rage, "Oh For Sog's Sake! DON'T DIE ON US!"

Narrowing her eyes to slits, Naia clasped her flaming hands in front of her own mouth and inhaled deeply through her nose, illuminating her face like she had ingested a bounty of glow moss. She tilted Tavra's head back and pressed their mouths together, reapplying her hands to Tavra's upper chest. Naia blew, inflaming Tavra’s throat and lungs. Kylan cringed as Naia then made a horrible sucking noise and Tavra's convulsions intensified. Naia lifted her head, turned her face aside and spat out a spitfull of water, and then exhaled back into Tavra's mouth, her vliya illuminating Tavra's lungs and sinuses. Tavra's lids flickered and her fingers twitched. Gurjin kept his hand on Naia's shoulder as she repeated the process, inhaling and exhaling with her, his eyes intense.

After the third cycle, Naia drew no more water. After a fifth cycle of Naia blowing in vliya-aflamed air, Tavra opened her eyes a sliver and then took in a great gasp, followed by coughs and independent gulps of air. Kylan let out a watery laugh of relief.

A blue-fire afterglow residing throughout her sinuses and throat, Tavra's lids fluttered like hatching unumoths and she groggily turned her head side to side. "Naia? Kylan? What..."

"Gurjin's here too in case you were wondering," Gurjin added in mock hurt. He proudly patted Naia and Kylan on the shoulders gave a relieved sniff.

The blue glow in Naia’s own face was subsiding, her mien burnt out – then infuriated anew. Having just revived Tavra, she suddenly looked like she wanted to punch her. "I told you not to get yourself killed, Vapran !" Naia roared, starting to bawl. Kylan became aware his watery laugh had dissolved into weeping.

The normally stoic Vapran winced at Naia's outburst, eyes betraying repentance. She weakly gazed at the sky. "We made it out?" She sounded slightly incredulous. Probably courtesy of Naia, her voice came stronger than her bedraggled appearance suggested.

Still quivering, Kylan nodded, his lips curling in a weak smile. "All of us." He nearly buckled as Gurjin gave him and Naia another congratulatory pat.

Thin lips mended, Tavra smiled though she still looked repentinent. She lay her hand on her chest, grasping the fabric near her heart. "Good," she breathed. More life returned to her face with each breath, though the dark patches under her eyes lingered. Regaining a hold on herself and wiping under her nose, Naia hastily began tending to the still bleeding claw lacerations on Tavra's shoulder. Tavra’s face tightened with sharp intake of air at Naia’s first touch, then eased as the blue fire washed over her.

* * *

Satisfied for now, Gurjin stood and appraised the castle which loomed dauntingly, seeming displeased at losing a battle with the mere four of them. Gurjin sighed to himself, hurt to think this place was his home away from home. He made two best friends here, and lost one of them. Everyone left was now against him. 

He wished he had more time to feel grateful for his rescue, but they weren’t out of the woods yet – literally and metaphorically. He figured the skeksis were giving a severe scolding to the guards and arranging all forces available for a hunting party. Gurjin pondered who was being harder on Tolyn: the skeksis, or himself.

* * *

"We can’t linger here. The skeksis will surely try’n recapture us while we’re still close to the castle," Gurjin said drearily. "Any idea where we’ll go?"

"We're meeting Rian and Ordon in Ha'rar," Kylan muttered wearily. He rubbed his right eye, trying to get vision back into it. It resumed seeing shades and blurred shapes so far.

"Uh Oh…," Gurjin muttered.  

Kylan looked over and gasped, left eye widening. Figures could be distantly seen zipping from the castle like bees from a giant hive. 

Vliya faded from Naia’s hands as she exchanged anxious glances with Kylan and Gurjin. "We have to go. Now." Tentative yet urgent she asked, "Tavra, can you stand?"

With an effort Tavra barely managed to lift her head and then collapsed, hissing in pain. 

"Guys,” Gurjin said in an undertone. “I think they've spotted us…." Several of the flying guards were zeroing in on them, alerting their peers with whistles. “Geez. I think they’re sending every pair of wings they’ve got left. Probably sending hurt troopers too,” he added bitterly.

Naia looked to Kylan. "Kylan, can you help me lift her?" Kylan staggered to his feet, taking one of Tavra's arms. It was cold under his fingers. He then noticed Naia's complexion had paled though not to the same extent as Tavra's. Naia looked a bit gaunt too.

"Oh no, now your vliya's spent..."

Naia waved dismissively, getting to her feet and taking Tavra's other arm. "I'm alright. Come on."

Gurjin lumbered over, gesturing to himself and Tavra. "Naia, you sure you don't want me to? You've done enough already."

Naia waved him off too. "I'm fine! You're still hurt. Kylan and I got this. Come on!"

Securing Tavra between them, her arm chilled his neck and shoulder, yet her shoulder and side felt warm against his. Naia and Kylan followed Gurjin into the trees just as the Castle guards reached the bank.

Worn, battered, high-strung, Kylan struggled to help Tavra keep up with the twins through the thick population of trees, even with Naia bearing the bulk of her. It was even tougher to thread through the overgrowth without adequate depth perception. Kylan blinked, squinted, and scrunched his right eye as he tussled through the plants. 

Should have asked Naia to fix that. Kylan yipped when a bird burst through a bush he disturbed in his rush, squawking in alarm and disappearing amidst the trees.

Pale as ever, Tavra otherwise had recovered some strength and began taking her own weight in their strides, her head no longer lolling.

Twigs and grass snapped and crunched uncomfortably close behind. Castle guards audibly pursued, some of them on foot while others fluttered above the trees.

"We need to lose them!" Kylan cried. "And not get lost."

Now fit to run on his own, albeit at low speed, Gurin called over his shoulder, "Don't worry, I've done patrols through here. I know my way well enough to get us out."

"Does that mean the guards also know their way around?" Naia huffed back.

"…" Gurjin swore loudly.

One of the on-foot guards behind them sounded a whistle. Above the trees a couple more answered. The flying guards evidently could not adequately see through the thick canopy of trees, so the on-foot comrades kept a visual of the escapees and informed their air support through sound signals. Naia cursed when a fizzgig snapped at her heel from a hidden burrow, apparently spooked by her stomping. Somewhere behind a Castle gelfling yelped and cursed as some other forest inhabitant decided to be a bother.

Kylan's foot clipped a tree root he meant to vault over, bringing him, Naia, and Tavra into a rolling tumble. Sprawled prone and spitting grass from his mouth, Kylan heard Naia cursing. Either she or Tavra lay over one of his legs. The guards sounded almost upon them. Kylan heard heavy feet lumber over him. 

"Alright, I've been dead weight long enough! Time to repay the favour!" Stooping over, Gurjin hefted Tavra onto his shoulder and then gruffly yanked Kylan to his feet by the scruff of his jerkin. Still dazed, Kylan was then towed along by Naia as Gurjin led them on through the woods, Tavra's limp form draped over his shoulder.

Kylan shrieked when a spear whizzed between him and Naia. A bola followed, clipping Gurjin's ear. Gurjin swore but kept running. 

"We can't go on like this!" Kylan cried.

* * *

Tortured body protesting, Gurjin pushed on. His ear still stung as more whistles blew, gradually spreading from behind to beside, ahead, and above. 

Leading Kylan and Naia through the woods while carrying a princess over his shoulder, Gurjin couldn’t help but feel a little heroic. 

I'll remember this as long as I live. Hopefully long.

Swerving left to avoid company approaching sharply from the right, they stumbled into a clearing, the bright blue sky juxtaposing with the dark clad figures fluttering above. A horn sounded and the flying guards landed in a half-circle, barring the way forward. Still holding Tavra, Gurjin halted. Naia and Kylan stopped behind him.

They steered us like blindfish in a net, Gurjin thought, aghast and infuriated. 

A second later the on-foot guards caught up and completed the snare. Evidently still wary of infection, the guards bore ranged weapons – lethal weapons. Javelins, throwable hatchets, daggers – they may not have been under orders to recapture live prisoners.

Kylan clutched onto Naia, shivering not from cold. She lay her own hand over his and stepped protectively in front of him and grasped Gurjin's hand in her other. Gurjin squeezed back, his mouth dry again.

It was so twisted, bizarre to be hunted by his own former comrades. Throughout the whole escape he recognized faces and recalled names – even now. There was Jun, the cute Spriton lass holding a javelin. Yue, a good looking Sifan armed with a pair of daggers. And then there was that Stonewood axe-girl whose name he wanted to know for the past four unum. 

Focus Gurjin!

He felt pity for Hahn, the Sifan he and Naia knocked out, and the many Tavra wounded (he’d like to congratulate Kylan on tripping Tolyn). How many more innocents had to be harmed by gelfling hand before the skeksis were figured out? Was someone finally going to have to die?

He thought of Mira.

All the prospective executioners were hesitant. A dozen sharp and reluctant projectiles were raised and poised. 

Then –

Chapter Text

Then-

- WHOOSH- something shot out from above the trees striking down one of the guards. Two of her comrades cried out, as did Kylan. Jolted into alarm, everyone stared at the fallen soldier, a long wooden shaft ended with feathers sticking out from her. An arrow, large by gelfling standards; it was almost like a spear.

Appalled, Gurjin’s mouth fell open. That was Yue!

With a groan, Yue stirred, drawing a few gasps. Unlike normal arrows, this one had a head of rounded clay rather than sharpened stone and was coated in a sticky substance. Her nearest comrade, the Stonewood axe girl, rushed to her side and tried to pry off the unusual projectile. Gurjin moaned in relief.

WHOOSH!

Everyone jumped when another guard – Jun! – was pinned. Guards and fugitive alike switched their attention to the surrounding trees. Who was attacking them?

WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH -

Arrows began raining down in quick succession, pelting gelfling after gelfling. Keeping Tavra secure on his shoulder, Gurjin pulled Naia and Kylan to him as though his larger frame may shield them. 

Snare breaking down rapidly, the guards still standing turned on the spot, trying to see their attacker through the trees or at least the next incoming projectile. Gurjin did the same but espied no one within the wild growth.

One of the remaining guards called, "Take cover!" The comrades responded quickly, abandoning the fugitives, but hauling away their pelted peers. Even as castle gelfling nimbly ran to cover, the nerfed arrows failed to miss. Three taking flight were inevitably shot down. Gurjin’s breath hitched every time an arrow found its mark, anticipating his turn. Soon all the guards had either taken hit or taken cover. Only the fugitives stood in the open.

The arrows ceased. The fours' fugitives breathing and the grunting and groaning soldiers came heavy and loud in Gurjin’s ears, his senses on alert. None were killed or even wounded – to their credit and Gurjin’s relief, all were either getting to their feet or trying to and removing the sticky arrows. From the trees the others warily came out, aiding their peers and starting to reform their circle. Everyone was looking out for another volley. Gurjin and Naia shared lost, nonplussed looks. Between them, hands over his face, Kylan watched everything through his fingers.

WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH – The process began repeating itself. Guards frantically scattered to the trees again. The escapees were still untouched. 

"Someone is helping us," Naia realized.

"Do we go to them?" Kylan whimpered, ears pinned back.

"Do we have a better idea!?" Naia shouted hysterically. 

Following Naia’s eyes, Gurjin finally espied that the arrows came only from the South-East side of the clearing. Keeping Naia and Kylan huddled under his arms and Tavra still draped over his shoulder, Gurjin made for the edge of the clearing, picking up speed once among the trees. The diligent guards pursued in a resuming chase, most impeded by the large arrows sticking off them like oversized antennae. 

Even through the cover of trees an arrow impossibly found a route to its mark, pestering the castle gelfling. Some arrows flew from lower angles, seemingly bending around the tree trunks, whereas others came from tall arcs that would have required precognitive timing on the shooter’s part. The Castle gelfling did not give up on their own projectiles, even if they were confined to natural laws. Gurjin grunted and Kylan cried out when a dagger spun just passed them and then a spear overhead. In retaliation Naia broke off, hurling rocks and branches back at their pursuers along with a few choice curses.

“Naia, get back here!” Gurjin called, holding Kylan close lest he try something rash too. He hitched Tavra higher on his shoulder with a pain moan, his strength running out faster than anyone’s projectiles. Then Kylan did do something unexpected: he hefted Gurjin’s arm – the side bearing Tavra – over his thin shoulders, taking on some of the weight. One wrapped about each other, the boys bore Tavra off, Naia following while finding projectiles from the forest floor to fling back at the guards. Her persistence was hardly needed: without means of retaliation to the anomalous arrows, the Castle gelfling yielded their quarry and withdrew, quickly disappearing in the forest. 

The arrows abruptly ceased again. When all sounds of pursuit faded, Gurjin and Kylan allowed themselves to fall to a dragging pace. Naia trotted up alongside, still bearing a ready rock.

"Who do you think helped us?" Gurjin muttered, wiping a cascade of sweat off his cheek.

"No idea," Naia panted, brushing her dreadlocks from her face. "I take it you never saw something like that in your patrols?"

Gurjin racked his brain for any sort of recollection. “Never. Whoever did back there bested a whole squad without any casualties. Even Ordon would tip his hat to that.” 

"I hope they’re truly on our side," Kylan mumbled, rubbing and squinting his eye. His ears swiveled nervously.

Tavra finally spoke. "Gurjin... Could you let me down?"

"Oh, uh... you sure?" Despite his pain and exhaustion, Gurjin wanted to keep feeling useful. And heroic.

Tavra grunted, "Absolutely." She indeed looked displeased with her current position.

Convinced that they were in the clear for now Gurjin gently stooped and settled her down on her feet. "There you are…," he mumbled uncertainly. Should he bow? Tavra’s hard gaze somehow suggested she'd prefer he didn't.

Without a word Tavra turned on her heel and began walking; a little unsteady but her erect posture returned. Sharing bemused looks, the other three followed.

* * *

"So, are we going back to Ha'rar now?" Kylan asked. “Or are we seeking our mysterious helper first?”

Keeping ahead, Tavra hesitated before answering. "We may not be able to go to Ha’rar." 

Puzzled, Naia stared sharply at the back of the Silvering's head. "Why not? What happened to your mother granting us safe harbor?"

Tavra still did not face them. Her head bowed. "It may not be that simple anymore."

Kylan tried to maintain gentle optimistism, an unsure smile slanted on his face. "Why? What's changed?"

Tavra ceased walking and turned to them, her pale face stern. The dark patches under her eyes were reduced and her skin was regaining opaqueness but she still looked far from well – she looked upset . "We were witnessed breaking an accused from the Crystal Castle." Gurjin shifted on his feet. Naia frowned. Tavra turned her hard gaze to Kylan. "Kylan, your sickness trick was brilliant and it saved us, but now we have all but confirmed for the Castle guard that Rian truly had gone mad and that we are sick carriers ourselves!" She bowed her head bitterly. “And the skeksis identified me.”

Kylan’s mouth hung open. He cupped his hands over and paled as the implications sunk in.

In attempt-helpfulness Gurjin asked, "Does being a daughter of the All-Maudra help in any way? Like, maybe you could be given access to pretend treatment or something and then show it's just a ruse?"

Tavra's countenance shifted from sternly upset to outright angry. "It does NOT help! The news and lies will spread to Ha’rar. Unless the skeksis are found out, I will have shamed and disgraced my family!" 

Gurjin blinked in surprise. Naia and Kylan stared stunned. Kylan took a step, voice hoarse, words watery. "Tavra, I'm so sorry !" Surprised, bitter defensiveness overcame Naia, prompting her to shield Kylan and Gurjin from Tavra’s unexpected wrath. Did the damn Silvering not catch how relieved they all were when she came-to at the lake?

Just as Naia opened her mouth Tavra's countenance dissolved to realization, and then abashed pink. Her brow remained cinched and ears pinned back but her voice softened. "Kylan, you don’t need forgiving. My own choices got my name and title defamed." Tavra crossed her arms and studied the ground before appraising the three like a tired adult. "Until Rian is vindicated, I am a fugitive with the rest of you."

Face tight, fingers curled, Naia stepped past Kylan to the solemn Silverling. Tavra’s admission eased her spite somewhat, but she still needed to follow through on her feelings, lest they eat her from the inside out. “You didn’t have to come back for us. Just as you never had to join me in the first place.” Tavra appeared unperturbed by Naia’s rant, like she was either too tired to disagree or care, and that spurred Naia’s indignance. “Why did you bother to come back for us? We were doing just fine till you led us into a skirmish. Maybe that’s noble for a high Vapran soldier, but it’s not helpful. Or did mere chance lead to us after you were found out ?” Naia crossed her arms, feeling inside herself some of her mother when calling someone out.

“Besides it being the right thing to do?” Tavra clarified. Her calm words itched Naia’s ire the way only condescendence could, but something in the Vapran yielded. “Yes, Naia, it was my fault you were found. I was correcting for something worse.” Repentance settled in Tavra’s tired eyes yet she did not waver. “It was necessary to come save you,” she affirmed, “but... That. Was. My. Fault.”

“What do you mean?” Gurjin asked from behind Naia. He was half bracing himself in front of Kylan.

Tavra hesitated, then offered Naia her palm. Naia scrutinized it, wondering she may get more than she bargained for; an ugly but sound explanation. Tavra had been a recourse in getting into the castle, after all, and Naia was fed up with anything less than straightforward. She met Tavra’s palm with her own and closed her eyes.

*

Tavra stood before the Dark Crystal – Naia was already blown away by what Tavra got herself into, wise or not. “Crystal of Truth, where are Naia, Kylan, and Gurjin? Have they escaped the castle?” The Crystal answered, with more than one possible yes – and no. Naia saw one of the latter.

Not in Tavra’s memory but a vision, Naia witnessed herself sneaking with Gurjin and Kylan through the castle corridors. “How much further?”

“"Almost close enough to make a run for it if we have to," Gurjin panted. “Aughra’s Eye, let this be the end of stairs.”

The memory flashed ahead to Kylan clamoring out to scout little ways ahead. Naia and Gurjin followed suit, proceeding the way Gurjin directed, only no bestial scream sounded to redirect them – unlike what happened in reality. 

Naia’s gut froze over, foredooming how things were about to play out.  

The vision flashed ahead again, Naia, Gurjin, and Kylan hidden in another nook within the floor, Naia’s hand on Kylan’s shaking shoulder as the Ornamentalist prowled about, sniffing. Sniffing, and drawing closer to the twins and song teller. 

Naia shut out the visuals, not needing to see what happened next. She still heard vision-Kylans blood-curdling cry and the Ornamentalist’s raptorial cackle resonate in the blackness, reverberating in Naia’s mind like a nightmare, before the vision faded to silence.

We would have died? Naia asked aghast in the fog of dreamfast. Her heart pounded like a drum. Kylan and Gurjin too?

The Ornamentalist was there because I was found out in the catacombs, Tavra’s mind answered. Your blood would have been on my hands as much as the skeksis’, if not worse.

*

Whether the next part was a vision from the Crystal or a memory, Naia was not sure. It may have been both, a vision come real.

Tavra was hidden about a corner in a junction, statuesque with a castle sword poised in her hands. The Ornamentalist prowled closer, eyes and nose sweeping about, humming to himself, unaware of the paladin. Tavra closed her eyes in a moment of resoluteness, then turned round the junction just as a quartet of guards rounded into the same area.

The memory/vision flashed again, sounds and tactility more manifest than sights: the Ornamentalist cackled, Tavra fended off a taloned swiped then a guards grapple. Tavra knocked him down and wounded another. A horrible pain rendered through her left shoulder and pectoral, her flesh opened and marred. Tavra was lifted from the floor, face towards the ceiling, in the Ornamentalist’s bloodied grasp. Face gritted, Tavra freed her sword hand and slashed. Falling, her ears rang with the Ornamentalist’s scream; terrible enough to make every orifice bleed. Tavra fled, more guards pursuing, Tolyn among them.

“Traitor!”

“Get the Lord to the healers!”

"After her!"

*

Naia fell out of the dreamfast, her palm still connected with Tavra’s, feeling each other's pulses. The soldier looked neither vain nor proud of her deed. If anything she still looked repentinet. “I’m sorry your friend and brother had to get hurt.” Tavra’s voice sounded barbed within her own throat. “I’m sorry you and Kylan are now also fugitives.” 

Naia sullenly frowned, reconsidering the partly healed claw wounds on Tavra’s shoulder – wounds Tavra knew she would get? Her own turn for abashment settled and festered. She was still figuring this soldier out, yet she couldn't take back the feelings she expressed when Tavra almost did not wake up at the lakeside, and maybe there was no need to. The frustrating confusion and way Tavra could overcome hard-talk with yielding tempted Naia to punch her again.

Very lightly on her spare arm, Naia did so to which again the normally stoic Vapran winced. "Welcome to the club?" Naia jested with an uncertain, lopsided smile.

Still repetent, uncharacteristic worry blooming, Tavra offered her hand again. With a small consideration Naia grasped it for a shake, then taken by surprise by the sensation of another incipient dreamfasting, Tavra’s mind halting at the boundaries on her own. Her head in limbo between material space and mind, Naia almost pulled back but Tavra held on. 

Please…

Unaccustomed to hearing the Vapran plead, Naia hesitated, then conveyed her consent and opened her mind again.

* 

Tavra stood in a royal chamber with three other Vaprans, all dressed in resplendent robes of royalty.

Beside Tavra was a slightly older woman. Behind on her right was a throne, occupied by who could only be the All-Maudra. Standing before the three with her head lowered like she were at a sentencing was a younger Vapran.

Naia was reminded of what she and her little sisters went through when getting disciplined by their mother, except the setting was far too… Naia couldn’t find the word. 

The Vapran girl looked simultaneously glum and scared stiff. The queen courtly addressed the middle daughter. "Tavra, attend to the Sifan caravan. I will join you shortly."

Tavra bowed her head, replying with the courtly formality Naia associated her with. "As you wish, mother."

Walking from the throne and passing the younger Vapran Tavra whispered with sharply contrasting care and softness, "Be strong."

As Tavra left the chamber the queen could be heard tsk-tsking. "Brea, what will I do with you?"

* 

Now only Tavra and the slightly older woman stood in the royal chamber. The latter was ranting about Brea and her lack of devotion to her role as a princess. Tavra listened while tending to her sword till Seladon called Tavra out for her opinion. “You don’t agree?”

Tavra paused with an innocent expression. “I didn’t say anything.”

Seladon narrowed her eyes. “I know you. I know what your silence means. Come on, out with it.” Naia felt a pinch of gratification to hear someone else say that.

Laying her sword aside, memory Tavra again behaved uncharacteristically soft and gentle compared to the Tavra Naia knew . “I don’t think it’s Brea you’re angry with.”

“No! It is!” Seladon protested, insistent yet disarmed by Tavra’s soft strength.

“Pretend all you want Seladon but I see you. I see all the responsibilities you take on. The meetings, the ceremonies, the rituals. You work harder than all of us. Even harder than mother.”

Sounding pleading, almost as upset as Kylan was now, Seladon asked, “Then why doesn’t mother see that?”

* 

Tavra and Brea were in the woods somewhere. Tavra wore the same attire as she did now, only it was clean and unmarred. Tavra seemed concerned, almost alarmed. “If anyone catches you -”

Brea cut her off. “Mother’s too busy to notice anything. It’s Seladon that’s the problem.”

Tavra allowed exasperation to show, actually rolling her head – Naia did not think Tavra could actually express like that without breaking something. “ Brea, I know Seladon can be – “

“Colder than the Claw Mountains?” Brea interjected snidely. She covertly eyed Tavra from an angled face. “... I don’t like it when you do that.” She turned towards Tavra again.

Tavra gave a shrug and head tilt. “What?”

“Being quiet when you clearly have something to say.” Brea gave Tavra a prompting shove. “Out with it.”  Naia rather liked the straightforward sass of this princess. 

Tentative, Tavra said, “Well, I was just thinking you and Seladon are more alike than you realize.” She looked like she knew she just spoke taboo.

Brea widened her eyes and scoffed with insulted disbelief. “THAT’S a very mean thing to say.” Ya. Naia liked this one. 

Tavra helplessly inclined her head side to side. “Well you’re both very stubborn –”

Brea shouted back, “SHE’S THE MOST STUBBORN!”

*

Tavra was tiptoeing through the Vapran Citadel wearing a dark, hooded cloak beaded with light rain. It was night time and Memory Tavra appeared to be a few trine younger than present Tavra.

Moving much like how Tavra did through the Castle, it was obvious younger Tavra did not want to be heard. Passing a closed door she paused, her ears pricking. Naia heard it too – someone was crying . Hesitating, Tavra then slowly turned the knob and pushed the door with expert softness, peering inside.

Inside was a bedroom, the bed not occupied despite the hour. The sobbing continued, more audible inside the room.

Sorrowful but unsurprised, Tavra turned to where a desk was situated, illuminated by a lamp. Seated before it, cradling her head on the desktop, sobbed Seladon.

Quietly shedding her damp cloak and surreptitiously brushing it aside with her foot, Tavra timidly approached her older sister. “Seladon?” 

Seladon whipped her head around. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was pink from crying. “Tavra? Wh- ? What are you doing up?”

Tavra stiffened a second, then stepped over and leaned against Seladon’s desk, crossing her arms. “I have the same question for you. You should be in bed now. You have a speech for the city council tomorrow.”

Propping her elbows on the desk, Seladon cupped her forehead in her palms. “I. Can’t. Do this! None of the words I come up with fit, every rehearsal ends up with mix ups or mispronunciations or….” Her quaking augured an avalanche. “Rrrrgghhhh! I CAN’T DO THIS!”

Tavra’s eyes crinkled and for some reason a knibble of guilt crossed her face. Kneeling by the desk, she shifted the lamp over to where she could better see what Seladon had written, adopting a studious look. Her eyes scanned the parchment over and over. Naia could see the words but not read them. 

The memory fast-forwarded, apparently sparring Naia a lengthy conversation. Still pink around the eyes, Seladon looked in a slightly better place. Tavra was still kneeling by the desk and presumably had just said something.

Wiping under her nose, Seladon snickered. “I can try…”

Smiling softly now, Tavra put the paper in Seladon’s hand. “Here. Rehearse the first half with me. I can even act like Brea for you to be annoyed with.” Still teary, Seladon snickered again before straightening in her chair, looking all the more vulnerable yet brave for it.

*

Younger Tavra was in a stone courtyard among other paladins, all of them armed with sparring sticks. They also bore sparring armor. Tavra didn’t. Naia viewed an abridged run-through of one of Tavra’s training sessions, a gruelling festival of getting whacked from every direction, relief coming only in the form of successful doges and parries. Fast forwarding to her sweating and covered in bruises, Tavra was now sparring against – ? – her mother . August and pristine as she parried off Tavra’s slackening blows, she clearly had not gone through the same gruelling exercise and beating Tavra had just endured. The queen looked every bit her title while fending off Tavra’s assault, seeming hardly challenged despite Tavra’s obvious skill. Tavra collapsed for what was at least the fourth time.

“Again.” The queen was hardly out of breath, as though she had merely given a lengthy speech.

The skin around Tavra’s eyes were cinched and pink, tears of frustration welling as she committed to one last desperate pseudo-assault, her sparring stick whirling like the cords on a bola. The queen’s poise swayed like a tall tree in high wind but never faltered or overbalanced as she parried off Tavra’s expiring onslaught. At an opening Naia did not see but the queen did, she riposted and struck Tavra squarely in the chest. Tavra opened her mouth in muted yowl and teetered onto her backside. The queen advanced on Tavra’s given ground, words sterner than her weapon. “Keep your blade up. No yielding yet.” Tavra’s face pleaded as her austere mother raised her sparring stick for a finisher. Mayrin delayed the blow for a heartbeat, her eyes flashing for Tavra to act. Shedding a tear Tavra took the granted window and clashed Mayrin’s stick aside in an awry arc while sweeping herself from the floor to an offensive stance angular to Mayrin’s line of offence. Sliding her stick up along her mothers, Tavra fake-disarmed her mother, her imaginary blade severing Mayrin’s wrists. Eyes hinting a slightest surprise, Mayrin dropped her sparring stick accordingly, her intact hands raised in cooperative surrender as Tava’s sword poised at her neck. “Master yourself…”, she instructed nonchalantly as Tavra’s stick quivered just beneath her chin. Tavra huffed, her face still pink and wet with tears and perspiration while her mother appeared as aloof as a mountain peak. Tavra’s breathing slowed and deepened, her poise shifting closer to that of her mother – the one Naia saw regularly in Tavra now. Mayrin nodded in approval. “Well done.”

Tavra slowly – slowly– lowered her sparring stick then stood to attention and bowed. When she stood to attention again, her mother stepped closer and extended an upturned hand. Tavra proffered her own jittering hand, palm upwards, atop Mayrin’s. Blisters scoured across Tavra’s hand. Mayrin held out her other hand likewise, and Tavra sheathed her wooden sword before doing the same. Inspecting both Tavra’s hands, Mayrin’s features softened, displaying first signs of empathy. Her thumbs brushed Tavra’s palms. Tavra winced but did not pull away, nor looked like she wanted to. Mayrin looked Tavra in the eye again. “You did very well.” 

Gratification washed over Tavra’s teary face, her mien pleading for more. Mayrin caressed Tavra’s hands a while longer before a servant stepped into the courtyard, bowing and saying, ”All-maudra, there seems to be some… mishap between princesses Brea and Seladon…” the servant trailed off, his silence muttering ‘again.’ Mayrin’s brows frowned, then looked back to Tavra. A small considerate pause.

Becoming business-like she said, “I love you. Get these tended and then go through your cool down exercises. I will join you in meditation.” Without another word Mayrin turned off to where her attention was called for – more loudly at least. Rooted where she stood with her hands still out, Tavra’s head bowed, her fingers parted and curling. Mayrin hesitated at the doorway back into the Citadel, her regal countenance melting as she glanced back, then disappeared from Tavra’s view. Tavra’s features tightened and she closed her eyes, tearing like a person dying of thirst granted a sip of water then denied the rest of the cup. Bereft hands falling to her sides, she clenched them into tight, shaking fists despite her torn and blistered skin

*

Present Tavra and Seladon were in the Citadel throne room again. Naia got a partial replay of memory. From what she just witnessed, Naia was hard pressed to believe the first bit of exchange but Tavra exuded only honesty. “You work harder than any of us. Even harder than mother.”

“Then why doesn't she see that?” Seladon pleaded.

Tavra sighed. "Mother is toughest on you because you have the hardest path ahead. You will be All-Maudra one day.” A small sincere smile formed. “Good thing you're also the strongest."

The older sister sighed, turning her head with self-doubt unbefitting a princess, a future All-Maudra. "I don't feel strong." 

Tavra hesitated. “I would have run away with the Sifa long trine past if I had to be at half the meetings you attend in a single day.”

Seladon huffed before confiding to Tavra with amused exasperation, “They really are so BORING.” The sisters shared a quiet but earnest laugh.

Naia needed a cognitive double-take. Tavra was laughing ? The Tavra Naia (thought she) knew was about as ready to laugh as a waterfall was ready to flow upwards.

*

A teen Brea and Tavra were walking together through the Citadel, Brea holding a bundle of leaflets and chatting animatedly while Tavra wore a face of endearing exasperation. As they neared the front doors to the Citadel, the All-Maudra entered, a couple of paladins escorting her till she dismissed them with a wave of her hand. Said hand began rubbing Mayrin’s temple, her head bowed. Tavra’s back ironed out the slight slack in her spine. Brea had more to correct for yet did less as the two approached their mother.

Mayrin looked worn out and in need of an evening of quiet, even before Brea’s mouth started jutting a stream of questions like a geyser. “Mother, how was the trip to the Castle? Did you meet all the skeksis? Did you actually speak with the Emperor? How many other Lords were there? Was it in their throne chamber? Did you happen a chance to see their lab or library? Do you ever think we could join you? Do they have guest rooms for diplomats? Does the Scroll Keeper ever take apprentices? How do their soldiers compare to our paladins? Do they keep podling staff? Do any other races serve there? Do -” 

“Brea, give me a moment to think and yourself to breathe!” Mayrin palmed her temple to steady her brain from reverberations Brea had set off in her skull. Brea curled her lips inward to halt herself, looking more childish than noble. 

Tavra’s face masked over, eyes oscillating between the two. She raised a brow at Brea with a half-suppressed smirk, then addressed their mother with a courtly paced tone, “Was your meeting with the Lords able to settle the petitions?”

Mayrin took in a breath, eyes closing something out, then answered in likewise formality, “Things are complicated, and I need to mull the Lords’ suggestions over.” She looked her daughters over, which made Brea straighten herself out more, matching her sister. Mayrin did not seem to be searching anything in particular; just looking at them, seeing them. It ended with a subte, hard to read expression: sentimental, and for some reason saddened. The expression froze under an apathetic mask, and Mayrin then said, “I need to go discuss it with Seladon.” 

Tavra betrayed a troubled frown as Mayrin began her way down the hall, before Brea cut in her path, advertising the leaflets she was handling. “Perhaps before you go we could discuss some ideas I’ve had for future tithing ceremonies, and inter-clan policies on trade and infrastructure. If we had regularized –” 

Mayrin cut her off, eyes shutting out a migraine nailing through her cranium that her mask couldn’t block out. “Brea, I really don’t have time for this now –”

Brea persisted, eyes bright but knowing her chance was slipping like ice down a ramp. “But just hear this out. If we got this started next trine, by the time Seladon is All-Maudra –” 

“Brea,” Mayrin looked at her with weary, faintly bloodshot eyes. “this has to wait, the Lords’ priorities have to be my and Seladon’s priorities.”

“Well, if you brought this up with the Lords, maybe they'd like this to be a priority for Seladon,” Brea pressed in earnest. “Could I discuss this with the Lords? Does Seladon ever get to see them? Could I go with?”

“Brea, enough .” Mayrins forefinger and thumb pinched her temples, like her forehead was fracturing in two.

“Maybe if you just heard out one of Brea’s propositions…” Tavra proferred in a low tone. She had a tame tithe of Brea’s brightness and enthusiasm, but that still amounted to a genuine effort. Her eyes then traced over Mayrin’s slumping shoulders and her cheeks raised. 

“I don’t have the reserves for any of it today. Maybe –”

“You only have reserves for Seladon, no matter the day,” Brea whined.

“I barely have enough for myself these days,” Mayrin replied, eyes again shutting out the overload while probably trying to retain whatever she needed to discuss with her oldest daughter. “Seladon, trust me, Brea does not get the attention she wants either.”

“You know I’m Brea, right?” Brea asked with a checking brow. She motioned her papers. ”Soooo, yes to this maybe?”

“Oh- Yes, Brea,” Mayrin corrected herself, shaking her head.

“Yes to this?”

“No, Seladon!” 

“Seladon?” Brea asked again in raised voice and irk.

Mayrin grimaced. “I mean, Brea!” Both daughters flinched at Mayrin’s rising voice and pinkening face.

Tavra’s eyes widened a fraction and put her hands on Brea’s shoulder, easing her away. “It can wait another day, mother. Please, we understand that the Lords’ concerns take precedence.”

Brea’s eyes draped over with disappointment, Mayrin’s betraying hints of despair rather than relief before she nodded to Tavra. Straightening her posture, Mayrin gave them a curt nod, then turned down the hall. Her eyes gave Tavra and Brea another passing glance over, sadness more evident this time, though only Tavra took notice; Brea was dejectedly staring at the papers in her hands. 

Naia was afforded a glance to see the forms could very well have all been done in Brea’s hand. She may have spent hours thinking them out, writing them, planning how to present them.  

“I love you,” Mayrin finally said, then left them in the entrance hall.

The sisters’ animation replaced with forlornness, Tavra watched Mayrin’s retreating figure before she disappeared down a corridor. Mayrin didn’t look back but she hesitated just before the bend, one of her hands raising to her hidden face. Tavra’s ears twitched at what may have been a tiny sob before Mayrin resumed her regal pace, disappearing about the corner. 

Tavra’s own mask of passiveness began crumbling before she simply pulled it off and sighed. Her hands were still on Brea’s shoulders. She gave them a reassuring squeeze and shake. “Come on, Brea. There will be another chance. This may have just been a bad time for mother.”

Eyes still on her papers, Brea’s face scrunched with a headshake. “She never has time for us! Unless it’s some sort of duty, or reprimand…” Brea’s poise slouched, defeated. Tavra began guiding her out of the hall, Brea still staring at her rejected papers. Their steps echoed in the quiet hall; clean, bright, and empty as the sky. “She only makes time for us whenever we do something wrong.” 

Tavra’s eyes flickered, tracing something along memory lane. Melancholy slipping into mischief, her lips pulled into an unsuccessfully suppressed smirk. She looked at Brea out of the corner of her eye. “Is that why you once set your room on fire?”

Brea rounded on Tavra, eyes and cheeks flared, mouth scrunching into an infuriated pout. “I told you…” she hissed through clenched teeth, about as intimidating as a teething fizzgig pup, “I was camping in my room!”

Tavra’s countenance cracked further, laughter seeping through like a gas leak. Brea’s face began to crack too, though she clearly tried to stay angry. “I still can’t imagine how you managed to accidentally ignite your bed, desk, drapes, and carpet. If your camping strategies could be applied to military tactics… that would be a way to get noticed by the Lords– ”

Brea’s collection of leaflets flew up in the air as Brea threw them aside to chase Tavra down the hall, the adolescents sprinting like children. Tavra was grinning as she dove out the first available window, taking to the wing. Brea followed suit, her shouting strangled out by laughter as she chased Tavra around the rooftops.

*

Tavra and Brea were back in the forest, Tavra in her travel garb, about to embark on a deadly errand.

“If she and I are so similar, then why is it so much easier to talk to you?”

“That’s simple.” Besides a small smile Tavra was employing a phlegmatic mein – Naia rarely saw otherwise from her till now. Her voice was monotone as she answered with a shrug, “I’m fun.” A small chuckle passed between them. Tavra opened her arms invitingly. “Come here, little one.” Brea readily snuggled in. Naia was reminded of when Gurjin long ago comforted Pemma like that when her pet eel passed, but it was so different – unfitting yet right – seeing such tenderness in these supposedly cold-blooded Vapra. “Remember, the bonds of sisterhood can be tested. But never broken.”

Brea turned into Tavra for a hug, the last one they would share till Tavra returned – could have been their last of all. “I love you, Tavra.”

“I love you, Brea.”

*

No memory came this time, just Tavra’s voice, in the now, speaking through fog. “My family has always been incomplete, fractured, like a piece of it is missing. The rest of us have been held together by cord and stitches, hurting us all when strained, prompting new cracks, and festering wounds. If they ever thought I turned against them…” Tavra’s voice failed, the fog dissipating with the dreamfast.

* * *

The dreamfast ended with Tavra keeping a gentle hold on Naia’s wrist. Tavra leaned in, regal voice quavering. "I'm worried for them..." Her eyes glistened like melting ice. "I forgo what is most precious to me for them..."

Naia looked Tavra over like she was properly seeing her for the first time, Tavra’s second reason for helping rescue Gurjin resonating louder than ever. Aching empathy enveloped Naia’s heart like freezing water, choking her insides. She looked back at Gurjin and Kylan; her brother, and best friend. Both looking unsure, the boys apparently understood some exchange had occurred, Kylan no longer braced behind Gurjin. Facing Tavra again, Naia clasped her other hand over the Silvering's. "Thank you, for looking after me, my friend, and my brother. We'll help you and your family."

"In any way we can," Kylan chimed in. 

Hand raised, Gurjin opened and closed his mouth, trying to find something to contribute. "Ya..."

Tavra’s lips tightened and she blinked hard, then blinked again. She then laid her second hand over Naia's, forming a cross double shake – Tavra’s right hand felt oddly cold compared to the left. “And thank you ,” she nodded, “for saving me.” The acknowledgement there, the deep appreciation of sparring her kin a loss, spurred forgiveness in Naia’s heart. She at last understood this Vapran a bit better. Taking a deep breath, Tavra unlinked her hands, straightened, and acknowledged her fellow outlaws with a formal but still appreciative nod. Tavra was a soldier again.

Naia clasped her hands together in rekindled spirits, though her worn mind and body ached and whined for sustenance and sleep. "Alright. So, where do we go now?" she asked the group. Before any answer came she started staring at Kylan’s leg. 

Gurjin automatically followed his sister’s gaze and then gave the puzzled Spriton a tap on the shoulder. “Kylan, you’re bleeding.”

Kylan looked down to his leg and made a startled uh!? Tavra’s broken sword still hanging at his belt, it clearly nicked him at some point during their flight from the guards.

Without further ado Naia knelt by Kylan and began summoning her healing vliya. Kylan made another small yip as Naia applied her hands to his outer thigh. 

“She’s quite a hands-on one, isn’t she?” Tavra said to Kylan. “And apologies for that.”

Kylan tried to casually wave it off. “Just a cut….right, Naia?” 

Still kneeling by Kylan, Naia’s face was scrunched with difficulty, the normally strong blue flames from her hands only a tired flicker, ready to be snuffed out by a slight breeze. She let out a huff and said, “Sorry, Kylan. I can do more later but I’m…”

“Spent,” Gurjin said. Naia wrinkled her nose at him. 

Kylan limped over, handing the broken weapon over to its owner. “What happened to it anyway?”

Tavra gingerly took it back, surveying it like a creature that had just passed. “When we find a secure place I will tell you. My mother needs to know as well. All the gelfling need to know.” With her ruined garb and assortment of wounds, she and her maimed weapon grimly matched each other. She sheathed it.

Eyes drifting into space, Gurjin’s brows knitted. “Wait,” he said, looking at Naia and Kylan. “Didn’t you say Rian’s father saw the truth too, in a dreamfast at a podling pub?”

Naia stood. Her and Kylan’s tired faces lit up.

"Yes. He’s the captain of the guard, right?" Kylan asked.

Gurjin nodded, eyes alighting. “And didn’t you say he was going to tell the All-Maudra? She would have to believe him.”

Naia almost lept off the ground. "Yes! He saw everything with the rest of us before we split up. He and Rian set off to Ha'rar while we came to fetch you !" She gave him a playful shove.

“Ouch!” Gurjin muttered, though he looked as inspirited as when he learned Rian was alive. "Then maybe we can go to Ha'rar after all! Rejoin!" The three looked at Tavra for concurrence.

Tavra lifted her hand to her chin thoughtfully, mind's eye turning inward. Naia exasperatedly rolled her head to the sky and double face-palmed. Kylan stood akimbo with a humoured huff.

Of course she has to think it over.

"All should be good... so long as we can assume Rian and Captain Ordon make it to Ha'rar," Tavra answered.

"Why shouldn't they?" Gurjin asked in mild challenge. “They’re the most capable soldiers I know. Not that I don’t think you’re amazing too!” he added hastily.

Tavra was apparently deaf to the last remark, eyes fixated on a mental plane. "The All-Maudra sent me to find Rian. The skeksis sent the Captain. Rian’s own clan tried to capture him. As had other clans." Naia became sheepish as Tavra gave her a side glance. "We don't know who else may have been seeking Rian. Until confirmation otherwise, we should assume Rian and Ordon have not yet made it to Ha'rar. We risk walking into a trap otherwise." She tiredly looked at them, eyes conveying I don’t want to do that again.

"How can we know whether Ha'rar is open to us?" Kylan asked. "Where else could we go if we’re being persecuted?” Shoulders slumping, he sighed, “Naia and I left most of our things by the castle lake. Our cooking gear, our tinderboxes, our cloaks, my map,” he mouthed in dismay, my scrolls. “Gurjin has only the clothes on his back. We’re not prepared to make any camp.”

Tavra’s lips tightened and her eyes shifted before answering. "I know someone. Someone who can give us shelter, information, and won't give us away. I have her trust. And she's close to Ha'rar, the journey won't take us out of our way."

“You’re sure we can find and trust her?” Naia asked.

Tavra answered with smooth certainty, “Yes. If we set out she’ll be expecting us by the time we arrive.” 

Gurjin spoke up. "It's still quite a journey. We’re tired, wounded,” he put his hand on his stomach, “hungry, and our healer is spent .” Naia gave him another shove, though it still bore a cub-like playfulness. “And what about the skeksis coming after us?"

Tavra answered, "We'll ride."

*

Several summoning calls later, three landstriders emerged through the trees. Clearly wild ones, they were sometimes complacent depending on the prospective rider.

Tavra approached them first, Kylan in tow. The wild landstriders were a bit wary, as to be expected.

"Stanyee tamar, stanyee tamar,” Tavra soothed as she approached the nearest one.

Kylan softly followed. “Dobah. Dobah.”

The twins hung back, watching. Gurjin whispered to Naia, “You’ve made some amazing friends.”

Naia softly beamed to herself, considering that; she and Kylan no doubt, and Kylan was great , but the idea of Tavra as a friend – strange, but within reach and appealing. Her smile dropped when noticing Gurjin’s face turn crestfallen, like he had just set himself up for a cruel joke. It hurt to see her normally cheery, sometimes grumpy brother so forlorn. She was not accustomed to it anymore than the idea of a goofy Tavra, an aggressive Kylan, or a fun skeksis. She gently took his wrist. “You and Rian did everything you could.” Gurjin pressed his lips together and bobbed his head, his eyes unconvinced.

Tavra had found luck in one of the landstriders and began climbing up its leg with obvious experience, though falters in her climb exposed she was still hurting.

The twins approached the landstriders, just behind Kylan. Sniffing once and rubbing something from his eye, Gurjin then asked, "So, uhh. You have experience riding landstriders back home?"

Kylan half-turned with a meagre smile. "Minimal. I'm not looking forward to more of it. Long way to fall. And they know when their rider is nervous." He looked to Naia. “Like I said, I’m not much of a climber.”

"Don't worry, Kylan. I will handle the steering," Tavra said from atop the steed, gentle and assuring. 

* * *

Kylan's appreciation was overshadowed by the sense of everyone, even the beasts, watching him as he shuffled over to Tavra's landstrider and gulped uneasily before precariously hauling himself up. By the time he reached Tavra, Naia and Gurjin had gotten up onto a landstrider themselves and were ready to ride off. "It's alright. Not everyone has to fancy riding," Tavra assured him, offering him her hand. Kylan adjusted himself behind her. "Hold on tight." He suddenly felt sheepish about where was most appropriate to put his arms about her; both for the sake of her injuries and –

Another landstrider call emitted through the trees. It did not sound as though from a gelfling's throat. The landstriders responded eagerly and reared up before making for it.

"Whoa!" the twins yelled in unison.

Kylan yelped and gripped Tavra to avoid falling off. She hissed through clenched teeth and growled, "You don't need to cling that tightly."

"Sorry!" Kylan squeaked.

Chapter Text

"I thought you said you would steer!" Kylan whined, swinging side to side behind Tavra. Both landstriders were making a fit, wanting to go where they were being summoned yet being steered otherwise by Tavra and Gurjin.

"Doye, Doye," Tavra soothed and pleaded. It pacified the gurgling cries and protests of the beasts but they quivered under their riders, wishing to heed the mysterious caller's beckoning.

Tavra and Gurjin continued trying to override it until an arrow came into the ground between the two steeds, this one armed with a proper head. The Gelfling and landstriders all stopped fussing among themselves as the loudly quivering arrow oscillated warningly. Consecutive arrows fell, each further from them and closer to where the landstrider call emitted, forming an apparent trail. After witnessing the impeccable aim earlier on the castle guards, it was apparent that the shooter(s) was not intending to strike them, but was certainly capable should they not cooperate.

"Guess our mysterious helper wants to meet us afterall," Gurjin said, mouth hanging.

"And won't take no for an answer," Kylan added, curling behind Tavra.

"Guess we don't have much choice...," Naia grunted.

Tavra let out a rare groan of frustration as she and Gurjin relinquished control, allowing the steeds to go as they wished and rode to their mysterious helper.

Passing into an area with sparse but broader trees, the topography lumped by many a large moss-covered boulder that seamlessly moulded with the ground and tree roots, the riders came across a tiny campsite with a single occupant. None of the four had seen his kind before in the flesh, though Tavra and Kylan recognized his sort through drawings, paintings, and descriptions in literature. Soul eater. urRu. Mystic.

The mystic acknowledged them with a slow wave of one of his four hands, two more of them tending to a metal pan he had suspended over his fire. Different containers and packs were laid round the fire in subtlety artistic circles and triangles. One was a bowl of woven leaves which the mystic picked up and ambled towards the gelfling with. The landstriders whined and gurgled in anticipation. When the mystic lay the bowl down, the gelfling could see a pale blue substance inside. The landstriders approached on their own accord and extended long, red proboscises, and began eagerly lapping the contents. Seeming pleased, the mystic lumbered back to the small campfire, his long spine and tail undulating in a slither-like motion. He settled himself down in a manner laborious and languid and angled his long face up to them expectantly. No one had said anything yet.

Kylan leaned over from behind Tavra and hailed awkwardly, "Hello there."

The mystic turned his snout towards Kylan and waved again. "Why don't you all come down here?" he offered in a resonating drawl. "I expect you are weary from your little adventure. Time is short as well. Your friend will need you soon." It was not apparent who the last bit was referring. The four gelfling looked among themselves, came to a silent agreement, and dismounted. The landstriders gave the gelfling no further heed, still eagerly lapping up the thick blue substance. Once on ground Naia and Tavra shared a dubious glance, fingered the hilts of their blades before proceeding.

Kylan, of all of them, approached the mystic first, bowing and asked in a steadier voice, "Are you the archer who aided us?" He could already see a quiver with more feathered shafts sticking from behind the mystic's head but felt lost for ice breakers. The mystic made a hmm sound and nodded almost sleepily. "What may we call you, friend, and how can we thank you?" Kylan offered.

"You may call me urVa. And two words would suffice," the mystic replied. As he did so he fiddled with some items from a large (by gelfling standards) pack wrapped about his frame, taking out clay mugs and a leaf packet that smelled of spices. His arm movements were slow yet dexterous and coordinated. One of his hands gestured for them to sit around the fire while his others prepared a drink from the packs he took out and the water he had heated above the fire. Glancing at his friends Kylan did so, Naia following his example albeit warily. After further hesitation Gurjin and Tavra did the same, both settling themselves gingerly. urVa was not visibly watching yet commented, "I see you need some treatment." He fetched another couple packets – one of wrapped yellow leaves, the other turquoise – from his large sack all while ladling hot water into the mugs he had already pulled out. The yellow packet's contents were sprinkled into one of the mugs, the turquoise another. Starting with Kylan and Naia he handed out two of the mugs, then gave the ones with a different addition each to Tavra and Gurjin. "Ta," he said. He cradled a fifth mug between two of his long hands.

"Uh, you said time was short," Gurjin said, uncertain. No one took a drink yet. 

"Yes. I expect you have questions before you go help your friend," urVa replied, appearing anything but rushed. Kylan gave his ta a sniff. He was unsure about accepting a drink from a stranger, yet his heart held no forbidding – much like with the supposedly mad murderer Rian.

Kylan decided to take further initiative and sipped from his mug, finding the spicy drink revitalizing and wonderfully warming after his chilling dunk in the lake. "We all thank you for helping us, but also wonder why you do so and how you knew where to find us.” He looked to his companions again. “And which friend of ours you say needs our help." 

UrVa took a long swig from his mug before answering. In the time he did so everyone else chanced a drink and found it refreshing in a similar way as Kylan did. Looks of agonized relief washed over Tavra and Gurjin’s faces. "Thra sang to me," urVa said, "and sent me on Aughra's behalf to assist you in her stead."

Everyone, Kylan in particular, stirred at the name. "Aughra, as in Mother Aughra , the Helix Horned? She's back? Did she send you?" he asked in rising wonder. urVa took another sip of his ta. Suspicion abating, the gelfling did the same. Kylan sighed in warm relief and Naia wiggled her toes gleefully. 

"No…Thra sent me. I sent Aughra… " urVa indistinctly corrected.

"Sent Aughra where?" Naia asked, her ears perked.

"To an old friend. She needs to find the song of Thra. Vliste-Staba should be patient enough to help her. I am acting on her behalf in the time being."

"Thra sang to you – that's how you knew where to find us?" Tavra confirmed, then gave her head a small shake. Whereas Kylan and the twins were getting perked up by their ta, her eyelids were starting to droop.

urVA made another Hmm sound, nodding. "And Thra preludes where you will find your friend." He turned his long head to Gurjin.

Gurjin's mouth hung. Understanding dawned on his face. "…Rian. He needs our help? What happened to him!? Where is he now?!" Gurjin appeared half ready to jump to his feet.

UrVa sighed with something akin to shame, guilt. "He was captured by the Hunter last night, and surrendered to the Chamberlain this morning. He is being taken back to the Castle."

Kylan pulled his knees to his chest at mention of the Hunter.

"What about Captain Ordon?" Tavra asked. "Where is he?" Her eyelids began drooping again till she forced them to snap open. Her ears hung low as well.

urVa made a burdened hmmmm. "I no longer hear his song," was his only answer.

A defeating silence befell the camp for the lost fragment of hope. Gurjin bowed his head. "Please, tell us where to find Rian," he choked.

UrVa hefted his staff. "I will guide you to where to intercept him and Chamberlain," he said heavily and hefted to his feet.

"Alright, let's go!" Gurjin pounded to his feet, determination alighting him. Naia followed suit. The two landstriders they had ridden were still lapping at the bowl urVa had left them. urVa gave a chirping whistle which the landstriders dutifully responded to, stepping towards the camp. Tavra had begun to nod.

"Uh… Tavra?" Kylan asked. He tapped her on the shoulder. Eyes reduced to slivers, she only made a small Hmm ? and nodded again, falling into a doze. "Did. Did you add something to her ta?" Kylan asked, taking care to not sound accusing.

"Of course. Weren’t you watching?" urVa answered unconcernedly as he rounded the fire towards the landstriders. "She needs rest and recovery."

"But….! Uh…?!" Kylan looked back and forth between the dozing Tavra and the others. Halfway to the landstriders, Naia’s eyes oscillated likewise. 

"You may watch over her,” urVa assured Kylan, seeming obtuse to his half-expressed protests. “The twins will rescue Rian and come back to you both." 

Naia looked at the nervous Kylan and sleeping Tavra then eyed urVa with scrutiny. The mystic chuckled. “I trust you to take my head if any mishap befalls them. They will be here waiting for your return.” He extended a hand in a gesture of assurance. With a shoulder check to Gurjin and the landstriders, Naia backpedalled from urVa, giving him a firmed-eyed double-nod and a warning finger, then turned and ran to the second landstrider.

Moving with much more vigour than when they first arrived at the camp, the twins quickly mounted the landstriders. "All right. We're ready!" Gurjin said.

"Good…" urVa replied. He had stopped walking halfway between them and the fireplace and began fiddling with his staff. No one else moved.

"Uhh. We're ready…," Naia echoed, watching the mystics movements closely.

"Go then…," Archer pointed with two of his index fingers to what the twins appeared to be a random direction while he fixed a cord from one end of his staff to the other.

"….Are you….going to lead them….?" Kylan asked from the fire. Tavra had fallen to her side, fast asleep now.

"Yes….from here ," urVa said as he adjusted his formed bow, and drew an arrow. Understanding dawned on the awake gelfling as urVa fired his first arrow into a distant tree in the direction he had pointed, which made an audible quiver. "GO!" he said with the first edge of command and urgency in his voice.

"Hiya!" the twins said together and the landstriders streaked off. Naia turned her head and torso to urVa, gesturing a final warning to him as they rode into the trees. Gurjin too spared a final glance to the camp.

urVa fired off a second arrow as the twins passed the first. They were lost to Kylan's line of sight among the trees before urVa had even fired off his third arrow.

Chapter Text

Kylan watched with raising incredulity as urVa continued firing off arrows with calm certainty, ceasing after the twenty-first arrow and making a hmmm sound of satisfaction. He then ambled to the leaf-bowl he left for the landstriders, returning to the fire with it and settling it among his other items around the camp in their artistic arrangement. 

For a stricken moment Kylan thought maybe urVa had shot down Naia and Gurjin while they were riding off, but if urVa’s plan was to isolate a helpless song teller and drugged princess he could have gone about it in a quicker, more efficient manner. 

So far, beyond him being a stranger there had been little reason to distrust him. If urVa was a trickster, he was an excessive and impractical one. He had plenty of opportunity to harm them on their way to his camp, or could have tried to drug all four of them instead of just Tavra. 

Kylan kept alert anyway – including comparing the remainder of his ta to Tavra’s. Her mug remained fuller than his yet he felt no incoming sleepiness or the like. Then again, urVa had in plain sight added whatever medicine that put her to sleep and did not deny doing so.

It was reassuring when urVa poured Naia and Gurjin’s remaining ta into his own mug and took a sip, and understandable when he poured out Tavra’s, which he did in a small ceremonial fashion as though drawing a symbol onto the grass. 

More nervous and protective than forbidding, Kylan checked on Tavra who appeared fine, then stood and looked round the camp in case there were any clues to urVa’s intentions while the twins were away.

Among the items about the fire were carved shafts and spherical lumps of clay – the makings for his non-lethal arrows, Kylan mused. Seeing urVa gathering the mugs - perfectly harmless - Kylan decided to appease his rising curiosity. "urVa?" The mystic stopped in his gathering of the ta mugs and looked to Kylan. 

"Hmmm?"

Kylan gestured to one of the shafts in asking for permission to handle one. urVa nodded. Kylan delicately picked one of the shafts and studied it's craftwork. He had limited application in woodwork despite it being a common practice among both the Stonewood and Spriton, but he could tell he was handling a fine sample. Small etchings and ornamentations had been engraved  which ought to have taken hours of tender care. Curious, Kylan checked on whether he had happened on a particular, special arrow in the making but all the shafts had their own unique, equally detailed markings. Kylan wondered if each of the arrows urVa used on the Castle gelfling were as unique and intricate, and if the markings bestowed any sort of blessing or enchantment. Covertly glancing at Tavra and urVa again, he next examined the clay balls that constituted the merciful arrow heads. 

"Where did you get these?" He handled one and could see large finger prints marking its surface.

urVa was taking another sip of his ta. " I made them… Dug up the clay along the Black River. Lots of clay, when you dig and sing deep enough for it." He spoke as if it were no significant chore, yet Kylan doubted most gelfling would agree. He checked on Tavra again. 

She continued sleeping, her breathing free and easy. She always had a quiet, equanimous persona, but now she truly looked peaceful since Kylan met her, and free of pain. Feeling more at ease, Kylan stepped off to now study the leaf bowl of the pale blue substance. It had a very sweet smell. "And this?" He guessed it may not have been just for bribing landstriders.

Setting his mug down, urVa now ambled to Tavra. "Bluemouth nectar. Very tasty. The landstriders have a hard time getting it.” He gently rolled Tavra onto her back. Kylan paid heed, readying to intervene if need be though he doubted a standoff with the large mystic would go any better than his standoff with Tolyn. urVa’s four hands hovered over Tavra in some sort of aura-inspection and he rocked his head lightly side to side like he had caught a catchy tune.

Kylan studied the hand motions. “Are you a healer?” He could see no vliya like with Naia but understood not all healers used, or could use, Naia’s technique – Naia had a rare power.

Head still rocking, urVa answered, “Hardly, though I try. My abilities pale to those of urLii and urIm. I am better for preventing harm than undoing it.” urVa continued his perusal.

Neither seeing nor feeling signs of trickery, Kylan returned his attention to the leaf bowl. "How did you get this much of such a sticky, viscous substance? Did you have to drain it, or …?" 

"Needed to collect from a few bluemouths for that much,” urVa replied. “Costly for any one to give up too much. Just like gelfling. No draining. Ask them nicely and they'll usually give you some. They’re always proffering to their next meal. I just don’t let myself get eaten after accepting their generous offer.” 

"Hold on, what ?" Kylan piped. "Get eaten? " He was doubting urVa to be a liar but considered the hermit may be a little out to lunch. Speaking of which, he felt his stomach growl and laid a silencing hand over it. In the context of talking about getting eaten his hunger made him queasy. He put the bowl down and distanced himself from its intoxicatingly sugary aura.

urVa kept his eyes closed, hands still in motion. One of urVa's other hands lingered over Tavra's chest as though the air had become tangible, same with a second hand over one of her arms. urVa tilted his head in possible curiosity and leaned in as though for closer inspection despite his eyes remaining closed. He made another hmmm sound, then lifted his head and turned away. "She's a strong one. Someone watches over her too. But she’ll benefit from your friendly healer. She requires the healing hand of a gelfling . And you'll all benefit from some lunch when your friends return. Gelfling like to eat when they come together."

While urVa began fetching a few more ingredients from his packs Kylan stood from his spot to again check on Tavra himself. He could not see what about Tavra’s arm could have concerned urVa. At least Naia had taken care of the most urgent wounds, and her skin had regained more opaqueness. The maroon stains on her rent attire were still disconcerting.

Kylan gave himself a look over. Besides the cut on his leg which had coagulated, there was no particular tear or cut on him, but the beating he suffered was starting to catch up on him. His ribs and elbow ached from when Tolyn threw him and he figured his face had a developing bruise from when the Sifan clobbered him. He tentatively touched his throat where the Stonewood choked him and winced. He also became aware of pinprick sensations from skekOk’s claws under his jerkin. 

Maybe Naia can tend to those. At least his right eye was almost back to normal.

Scanning the remaining items about the camp, something familiar caught his good eye: a pair of dark cloaks folded by a couple of small packs. Inspecting them closer Kylan recognized his and Naia’s travelling packs. “Where did you get these?” Kylan laughed in bafflement.

urVa turned his head up from his rummaging. “Right where you left them. Thought you would want them back.” By his tone he may had merely returned a borrowed library book. He resumed laying leaf packets about the fire, similar to those that contained the powder for his ta.

Rummaging through his own sack, Kylan found everything accounted for; most importantly his firca and his scrolls. With a grateful nod to urVa, he set himself down by Tavra and occupied himself with his tablet and scrolls, soon absorbed in his repainting of the prison rescue in an accurate but poetic light.

When he got to the point of recording of reaching the landstriders, he froze at a soft, very close hmmm by his ear. "Good. You're a smart one." Kylan nearly jumped out of his skin when he found urVa's nose hovering over his shoulder. urVa appeared either obtuse or unconcerned that he had nearly given Kylan a heart attack. "A musician, and a writer. Very fine occupations." His snout shaped into a warm smile. 

"Well, uh…" Still flustered, Kylan tried not to gulp. "With Naia and Tavra’s deeds, and probably Rian’s, others deserve to know of it, and so someone needs to record it." 

What’s wrong with me? he chastised himself. He still sensed nothing dark about urVa, yet something about him – four arms, long snout and tail, cloak, size, ability to move so silently... 

“Um, about how you know that Rian had been captured by the Hunter…” He resisted shuffling away from urVa who was still proximate. “Is everything you know about the Hunter sung by Thra, or do you have your own knowledge about him?” 

No anger rose in urVa’s wrinkled countenance but something in the question apparently bothered him. “I know he dwells mostly within these woods but sometimes wanders beyond. I try to keep an eye on him. But he is quick. Tireless. Hungry.”

Kylan pondered this, picking his next words delicately. “Try to keep an eye on him. Like, you try to stop him sometimes?”

urVa eyed Kylan with something between sternness and resignation. “That would be dangerous of me, for me.”

Kylan dipped his chin. “Apologies if I am pressing or being nosy…. I just want to know more…. He killed so many.” Kylan forcibly blinked a few times, his heart sodden with grief and loss; lost chapters of what could have been, forever re-written in stone.

There it was again, like when urVa mentioned Rian’s capture: behind urVa’s eyes rippled shame, regret, and guilt. “My condolences.”

Kylan felt evermore sorry for questioning without understanding why. With a quiet huff he redirected the topic. “So… how long were you reading over my shoulder?

urVa ran a square fingertip over the scroll. "Since you got to the part about ‘Into the Belly of the Beast.'"

Kylan looked back to his scroll. "That's almost the entire time I was writing," he exclaimed. 

"And it was a good time – good read. You provide excellent stories. And excellent wisdom."

Kylan fidgeted. "Such as…"

urVa pointed to a part a little ways down the scroll . "Always trust a Drenchen's gut," he chuckled. He traced Kylan's writing further. "You have brave friends indeed. But… I think their song teller is needing more attention in this tale."

"Well…," Kylan scratched the back of his head. "It’s poor taste for a song teller to insert himself as a hero in his own song. Besides, once inside the castle I mostly just tried to stay out of the way. Or get in the way, in a useful sense. And I made one good bola throw which was more dumb luck than anything else."

"Then include it," urVa softly insisted. “You need not be a warrior to be worthy. For example,” urVa pointed to a lower point in the scroll, “you seem to glide over a clever infection act."

Kylan’s face burned. "Alas, perhaps one of my finest moments as a team player is also my most indignant." 

"Poor skekLi may relate," urVa mused aloud.

"skekLi… is he another - ?" Kylan looked over his shoulder but found urVa not there. urVa now stood on the opposite side of the little fire, nose pointed up to the sky, with his lower pair of hands pressed to the earth, his upper pair resting on his walking stick.

"How – when did you...?!" Kylan pointed to where urVa just was and where he stood now.

urVa did not answer, apparently listening to something else. "It is time I am off. My part of the chorus has ended for now."

"You…. You're leaving? But what about Naia, Gurjin, and Rian? What about Tavra and…," he noticed urVa had collected all his possessions save for the goods wrapped in leaves, the pan over the fire, a wooden bowl, and a ladle. "… your spoon?"

urVa paused in what almost looked like serious consideration. Almost. "Ah, the spoon. Very handy tool. You can cook?"

Kylan suppressed a frown. "Er, yes. I can cook a decent meal when I have the ingredients, but I’m no gatherer or hunter like Naia -" As he spoke he reconsidered the leaf-wrapped goods and all the foresights urVa had already demonstrated. urVa smiled warmly at him again despite the difficult questions earlier.

"A cook as well. Who would have known? I am glad to know I am leaving my trusty spoon in competent hands. May you fend off hunger and feisty critters till your friends return."

Kylan felt he may have been missing on some sort of joke. "What about you? Are you leaving yourself anything?"

urVa was ambling off now, his long back and tail waving in an undulating slither. "I'll gather myself something. Fancying some nuts and Dyillorkin seeds. Will sup tonight." 

Kylan looked over the camp, mulling over all that urVa had done for them. "Will we see you again, urVa?" he called out.

"We may. Even be it in a different form. Aughra may soon know." urVa then called over his shoulder, "Include in your tale how a song teller used wisdom where strength failed. A friend truer than any arrow or crystal, who provides good food for thought and just good food."

Kylan was befuddled by the insistence – urVa could rival Drenchen hard talk if he was less equivocal. He searched for a reciprocating courtesy. "And what songs may I tell of urVa?"

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooOOOOOOSH! 

Kylan yelped as an arrow planted itself a little ways from him from a tall arc. The arrow quivered with a reverberating hum. Kylan looked back to the archer in mixed awe and annoyance but urVa disappeared, like the forest had swallowed him with a soundless gulp. 

Scanning round himself in case of any last second trick, Kylan then sighed to himself. Carefully prying the arrow from the ground he lay it on his lap, turning it in his fingers, admiring the memento. Maybe, just maybe, this one really was a special arrow. It was smaller than the others, almost gelfling appropriate. Any of the blue feathers at the end could make a fine pen, and the etches along the shaft were reminiscent of the beautiful dream stitched fabrics Maudra Mera wove back in Sami Thicket. 

Mera ... A pang akin to homesickness struck him.

Kylan sighed to himself again, wondering what Maudra Mera would think if she knew what her foster son had gotten himself into.

He then stood and checked again that Tavra was still alright. Rolled onto her side there was a subtle happiness on her face. It was hard not to admire her too. He slapped himself on the head when he caught himself thinking that. 

His stomach growling again, Kylan checked on the spoils urVa left: mostly dried leaves, ground or chopped roots, one of which he recognized as merkeep, more spices, and some precious salts. Kylan considered how much time it must have taken urVa to collect these, and then the hot water left for him in the metal pan over the fire. Kylan whispered a final thanks to urVa. "Guess I'll make some broth."

Chapter Text

WHOOSH… WHOOSH….WHOOSH… –

Alongside Gurjin Naia rode her landstrider, following arrow after arrow through the woods. She remained hesitant about leaving Kylan and Tavra behind, but her gut told her urVa was sincere. If not, she would use all her hunting merit to call his bluff, just as she promised with Rian back at the podling pub. She side-glanced to Gurjin occasionally, watching for signs of weariness or sleep but he rode on strong, his eyes almost aflame. 

WHOOSH… WHOOSH…. The arrows ceased. 

“Whoah…” Naia and Gurjin rode to a halt.

“Dobah, dobah,” Gurjin soothed to the landstriders, then turned his head to and fro, his dreadlocks swinging round his head as he scanned the area. They had come to a long narrow stretch of treeless ground, almost a ravine. Nothing else stood out to Naia. Time passed. There were still no more arrows. Naia could not see any sign of Rian or skeksis. Just a little, she began to worry they had been duped. 

“Ahhhhhh….” Gurjin seemed to have figured something out, his eyes taking a final sweep of the area then became focused on the ground. Dismounting, Gurjin began to study it, his methods akin to traditional Drenchen tracking and something else. Dismounting her landstrider, Naia tried to figure out what Gurjin was studying. While not as experienced with tracts in dry earth, Naia guessed something large passed through here on occasion, like a pathway trodden by giants. Gurjin confirmed her guesswork.

“This is a route the skeksis use. They ride their carriages through here.” He scratched his cheek thoughtfully then lay himself on the ground. Dreadlocks pooling around his head, he pressed one of his ears to the earth and stayed quiet and still, eyes closed. Naia recognized what Tavra had done when leading her and Kylan through the Dark Woods to the Castle. Holding back questions, she allowed Gurjin to listen.

Before long he picked himself up, saying, “A carriage is coming. It’ll be here in moments!” Looking round the area again, he pointed to where a few tree branches arced over the path. “Whadda say?” 

Naia nodded her agreement and without further word the twins raced for the indicated tree and nimbly hulled themselves up. Still feeling urVa’s ta coursing through her, she felt more trusting of him now. Gurjin sounded a small ouch as he climbed but did not falter. Seconds before they were in position Naia heard it: a great rumbling rapidly approaching. Alarmed by the ruckus, the two landstriders streaked off, their purpose served till the next time they could be bribed. Naia had no doubt the carriage coming into view was a skeksis one: not even the All-Maudra could have required such a massive transport. The design was a giveaway too.

Sharing a wordless countdown, Naia and Gurjin dropped from their perch onto the carriage as it raced under them. 

Thump. Thump .

From within Naia heard a non-gelfling voice. “What was that? ” 

Gurjin leaned over the edge of the carriage looking in. “Hello there!”

Naia recognized the next voice which came from closer on her side. “Gurjin!”

Vindicated for trusting urVa (and her gut) and pleased with her brother’s levity, Naia played along.

Leaning over the roof, looking in, she saw the surprised Stonewood seated across from the just as surprised Chamberlain, both of them looking at Gurjin’s upside down face. “Rian…!” she said in a sing-song tone.

Rian turned round. “Naia!”

She extended her arms to him. “It’s time to go!” Rian reached out and met them, letting himself get hauled out.

“So long, Chamberlain!”

Tolyn limped–marched to the double doors of the throne room, self-conscious of his bandages and bruises. His eyes remained sore as well from the Vapran’s light attack, leaving him bereft of his usual glare.

All the castle’s healers were occupied with the more urgent casualties, like Penga, so Tolyn only received a simple first aid – which would be enough for him. He was strong. He was the acting-captain . 

Pausing before the doors, Tolyn forced himself again to straighten his posture, letting out a small groan. His ribs ached from his humiliating tumble from that bola trip. His fingers clenched about his spear like it were the throat of whoever denied him final standoff with that Vapran paladin and repaying the harm done to Penga, and the other comrades under his charge. 

Huffing to himself, he passed through the double doors.

Awaiting him, the Emperor sat upon the throne, sided by the Scroll-Keeper and Gourmet. Tolyn’s understanding was that the Collector and Ornamentalist were also getting treated for wounds inflicted by the traitors. Traitors who escaped on his watch. Before the remaining Lords his anger was quickly dissipating into anxiety.

"I answer your summons, my emperor." Tolyn bowed, hoping to not break out in a sweat nor his voice crack. 

"Ah, acting-Captain Tolyn, yes," skekSo acknowledged almost cordially. "I have need of assistance. Assistance only a gelfling can offer."

Tolyn straightened, resisting to fidget. Was he not going to be admonished after all? "How can I be of service?" he asked stiffly.

The Emperor tilted his head, idly fiddling with his sceptre while he fixated on the gelfling. "You are Spriton. Spritons typically master the craft of dream-stitching; imprinting their memories into an object or surface. Am I correct?"

Tolyn puffed his chest out even though it hurt. "Yes my lord, on both accounts. I devote myself to every craft within my clan, be it dream-stitching, spear combat, bola throwing, landstrider riding, agriculture - "

"Yes, yes, that will do," the Emperor cut him off. He momentarily seemed to have something caught in his throat, drawing curious stares from the Scroll-Keeper and Gourmet. Tolyn shivered in his uniform when the two skeksis eyed him as if daring him to notice.

The Emperor’s episode passed and his tone smoothed over, friendly again. "As you know, it is regrettable and worrisome that Rian's mind sickness has begun to spread, and that his new accomplices have broken out the infected traitor Drenchen." Tolyn’s gut clenched as he bent – pardon, bowed – in understanding and agreement, appreciating a courteous means to break eye-contact. 

"We must take this as a sign that Captain Ordon has failed in his mission to capture Rian, and has either perished or become infected himself." 

In his bow Tolyn nearly doubled over. For all the disdain he felt towards Rian, he revered Ordon the Spitter Slayer despite him being Stonewood. Ordon was deserving of a grand memorial if the worst had happened. The Emperor's next words recaptured Tolyn's focus and he straightened to attention.

"Another concern is that one of the newly infected is princess Katavra of Ha’rar." Tolyn blinked, then nodded. That paladin was the All-Maudra’s daughter? 

"By unfortunate timing,” the Emperor continued, “the General and Ritual Master have just departed for Ha'rar on separate business and do not bear the news of the princess's corruption. I expect the tainted daughter will soon make for Ha'rar herself, and risks spreading her corruption among the royal family."

Tolyn took a step forward. "Sire, if you wish it, I will ride to Ha'rar immediately to warn the All-Maudra. As I said, I am proficient in landstrider riding-"

The Emperor raised a silencing hand. "No, no, the soldier-princess has too great a head start. We need a quicker method to be sure the All-Maudra is informed well beforehand and takes appropriate precautions. Only a message on the wing can reliably overtake the princess." The Emperor leaned forward, his tone becoming ever softer, sympathetic. "And we must be considerate . The queen would likely need some time to accept her own daughter has sadly turned against the Lords of Thra."

"Yes. I suppose that makes sense," Tolyn mused aloud, recalling Ordon’s moroseness when he extended his position as Acting-Captain to go find Rian. Tolyn caught himself sagging again and straightened with a wince. "What of the Drenchen clan? I understand both the Drenchen traitors to be children of Maudra Laesid, one of them her heir as successor to Great Smerth. And that Sprit-… other lad?" 

The Emperor dragged his sceptre through the air in hypnotizing figure eights. "To all those questions: I will personally prepare a letter for each maudra to explain the grieving news, and send them by wind sifter. Here is where I need you. To spare the Maudras of all doubt, I would like you to dream-stitch your own accounts of the prison break into the letters. Show the infallible truth .” The Emperor leaned forward with a pointed smile. “Dream-stitches never lie after all.”

Understanding and pride welled up within the Spriton guard. "I would be honored to assist the Lords of the Crystal and the Maudras in these dark times." 

The Emperor's tone was grinning as he exclaimed, "Excellent. I will prepare the first letter and we will have it flying to Ha'rar before the third Brother's zenith. You will be summoned when ready. You are dismissed…, Captain Tolyn."

Promise me, someday we'll sail away. To a place where no one can find us. Where there are no Sifa… no Vapra…Where doesn't matter. Where we can just be… one.

"Tavra…Tavra…Wake up! Tavra!!" Tavra was roused from slumbering bliss and longing to a ruckus of excited chatter. Blinking sleepiness and afternoon light from her eyes, she made out Kylan and Naia kneeling over her. Naia kept jostling her till Tavra finally slapped her off. Sitting up she propped herself on her elbows, trying to remember when she decided to nap and internally frowned. A cursory look around her showed they were still at urVa's campsite. By the current position of the Brothers Tavra could tell some time had passed since ta with urVa. 

Naia and Kylan were not looking their best. Kylan had a mostly healed bruise on his cheek and looked in need of some shut-eye. Disheveled dreadlocks and dark bags forming under her eyes, Naia looked like an insomniac.

Over Kylan's shoulder Tavra spotted Gurjin in the background, and – "Rian," Tavra remarked, sitting upright.  

"Ahh, her highness awakens," Rian quipped, smiling yet misty eyed. He appeared in both enheartened and wounded spirits. Tavra could not help notice Captain Ordon was absent.

"Done with your beauty sleep?" Gurjin asked, looking rather like he needed some. He and Rian were securing a few packs, and large saddle looking things; too big for landstriders.

Tavra's ears tilted back, embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. Had she been the only one to doze off? As sleepiness receded further, Tavra noted a great sense of relief throughout her body. She was admittingly famished and in great need of a wash and change of clothes but otherwise sound. "What happened?" she asked, trying to keep her voice dignified as nothing else was keeping that way. She looked round the campsite again for another occupant. "Where is urVa?"

"Uh, where to start?!" Gurjin exclaimed. "We've rescued Rian, liberated a few armaligs and totalled a skeksis carriage while at it, had an uber dreamfast, met Aughra, and are now about to make for Ha'rar!"

"And everyone got a title, except Gurjin," Naia added with a grin. "Maybe you could have gotten one were you awake for it," she teased. 

Tavra blinked, rubbing her temple and trying to wrap her waking head around the whirlwind of news. "You all did what without waking me?" Heat and bother continued to climb her cheeks.

Kylan looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. You seemed really peaceful when everyone got back, and then Rian was just going to show us...” Kylan faltered, his countenance becoming disturbed. He brushed it aside. “Well, he was going to show us something in dreamfast, then… we all got pulled into dreamspace .” His brow wrinkled in contemplation. He shared a shrug with Naia. “We didn’t see it coming.”

Tavra blinked at the term. Dreamspace…. she’s heard plenty about it. Tavra absently fingered at her luck charm, pining to return to the dream she was just having. “What then? You said something about Aughra?”

Rian walked over and said, a bit impatient but not unkindly, “We can explain on the way. We really need to move.” 

Naia nodded to him though she contradicted it with a dismissive wave. “We’ll be going soon, keep your pants on. Gurjin tells me you were never an early riser, and he already has poor standards.”

Rian and Gurjin shared a pouted look and a shrug at Naia that shouted What the heck?

Flashing an amused smile to them, Kylan then sheepishly admitted to Tavra, "Waking you just now was difficult. urVa added something to your ta to help you sleep."

“I was gonna spit on my finger and stick it in your ear,” Naia added.

Trying to feel more angry than embarrassed, Tavra pushed down her indignation at being drugged, even if to medical effect. Mother would not approve of her getting hoodwinked like that. Her feelings turned sentimental upon recalling Brea sneakily drugging Elder Cadia.

Brea… Seladon… How were they faring? Had they received any news yet? If not from Rian and Ordon...

"How are you feeling?" Naia asked, voice and face caring and slightly concerned. “I gave some more tending to your wounds. Your arm in particular." Her brow creased. "urVa apparently wanted me to look at. Something about it did feel off ,” Naia bit her lower lip, "and difficult to get rid of."

From where she sat Tavra did another self assessment and found indeed, while her attire was still half in tatters, the skin underneath was mostly mended, though skekEkt’s claw marks may become a new scar set and she sensed her flank was still bruised. Turning and flexing her sword arm, she found it notably free of a toxic tingle that had plagued her since her encounter with the Emperor. Lying nearby, her sword sadly remained impaired. 

"Much better. Thank you." She inclined her head to Naia. 

Naia returned the gesture, then covertly glanced to her brother. "Least I could do after your help at the castle." Naia’s mien turned softer, sentimental. She side-glanced at Kylan. 

"Tavra…," Kylan spoke, his words weighted. Tavra sat up further, attentive and slightly trepidatious. 

"We saw your mother and sisters in dreamspace," Naia said. Tavra's heart quaked. 

"Your family knows the truth,” Kylan carefully explained. “What the skeksis, Rian, and you have really done. They’re waiting for us in Ha'rar. Your mother has lit the first fire of Resistance against the skeksis."

Tavra's gaze drifted inward, breath taken away as the words sank in. So long she disagreed on her mother’s way of government - clan integration in particular - and methods for preparing Seladon. Now... she felt an unfamiliar, indescribable hope and pride in her mother’s brave stance.

In afterthought Kylan anticlimactically added, "Oh, and if you're hungry, I set aside some broth."

Author’s note: Here concludes my (partial) AU for episode 5 of Age of Resistance . Episodes 6 through 10 are either in early draft or at least thought through in my head.