Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Meeting Caleb felt exactly like everything that Essek had wished for when he had fled his home. Essek wasn’t prone to romanticism the way Jester was, but there was something about Caleb from the moment Essek met him that captured his attention.

It had taken a lot of work, pulling strings through Beau’s Cobalt Soul connections and leveraging the King’s favor after their defeat of The Laughing Hand in the church of the Dawnfather, but eventually they managed to gain access to the library at the Soltryce Academy. The first time he stepped through the door, Essek had nearly felt giddy. 

It was beautiful, with white marble floors and dark wooden bookshelves that seemed to tower all the way to the top of high vaulted ceilings. Tall windows lined the wall letting in the red afternoon sun, casting everything in a pink light and throwing long shadows. It was nothing like the Marble Tomes, which while marble too, had been complimented with obsidian, and crystal, and precious gems. Here it was warm woods and accents of gold. 

“Do you need anything?” Essek hadn’t heard the man approach, and it startled him more than it ought to. He had to remind himself to keep the feet of his illusory self firmly on the ground as he turned on his heel. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you, you just looked a little lost.” 

The man held up his hands, an amused smile curling the edges of his mouth. His hair was the first thing Essek noticed; the color was so particular, such a bright shade of red, like nothing Essek had ever seen back home before, it was worn long and tied by a ribbon at the nape of the man’s neck. More in keeping with Xhorhasian style than imperial from what Essek had seen. His eyes were the beautifully painful blue of a clear sky and his brow was lined and pensive.   

“Ah, no apologies necessary. I was simply taking it in.” Essek motioned to the library around him.

“It is something, isn’t it?” His accent was thick as he reached out to stroke a reverent hand over the spines of the books on the nearest shelf. He gazed around the library with a kind of wonder that spoke of familiarity and love. “There’s no library quite like it anywhere on the continent.” 

Essek thought for a moment of the Marble Tomes again. He had spent hours tucked away in its stacks. He would never see it again. “It’s-, it’s certainly something special.” Essek returned a tight smile, trying to banish the melancholy homesickness. 

“Are you a new student? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.”

“No, no, I’m simply here to use your library. You?” 

“I attended once, I am just a humble researcher now.” He gave Essek a calculating look, cocking his head to the side taking in Essek’s illusory, elven form. “If you don’t mind my asking, your accent is particular. Where are you from?” 

“Ah, I’m from Gwardan.” The stranger regarded him with a critical eye, and Essek was beginning to worry before he nodded. 

“That’s far to travel for a library.”

“But as you said, there’s nothing else quite like it on the continent. Where else was I to go?” Essek gave his new acquaintance a cheeky smirk and was rewarded with a winsome, bright smile. 

“Touche. You have me there.” He extended a hand, “Caleb Widogast.” 

“Essek,” he reached out to shake his hand, distantly perturbed, as he ever was, to see brown skin where he was still accustomed to purple. Caleb's hands were warm and calloused. They practically swallowed Essek’s small, finely boned elven hands.

“Just Essek, no last name?”

“Just Essek.” 

“Well, Just Essek, should you need any help finding anything let me know. I’m here most days, and the library can be overwhelming if you are not accustomed to it.” 

Caleb gave him a gentlemanly little nod before he turned. Essek couldn’t really say what motivated him; maybe it was the easy way they had fallen into bantering, the clever spark behind his eyes, or maybe Essek truly felt in over his head in a library in the heart of the empire and thus had latched onto this stranger’s display of kindness. Either way, Essek reached out, catching Caleb’s sleeve before he could leave. The man startled a little, pulling his arm out of reach, but his face was open and questioning when he looked back at Essek. 

“Actually, I, ah, I could really use that help. I confess this is laid out differently than I am used to. I’m looking for books on transmutation, the manipulation of matter, the bending of reality.”

There was a hungry spark in Caleb’s eyes that seemed to swallow Essek.

“Well, lucky for you, transmutation is something of my specialty.” Caleb took a step back, crooking a finger at him to follow along as he turned and disappeared between the shelves, and what else could Essek do but follow, as surely as if Caleb had grabbed him and pulled him along.

Caleb hadn’t been joking when he said he spent most of his time in the library, it seemed he was there almost every time Essek went. He was always sitting in the same corner, curled in a chair, little amber globes of light bobbing gently around his head. He always seemed to notice when Essek was there, always made a point of greeting him with a little wave. Sometimes there was a large cat curled on his lap or over the back of the chair that Essek suspected was no ordinary creature, if just because he doubted it would be allowed in the library otherwise. 

They didn’t talk every time Essek came in, and he did come in often. The Mighty Nine rarely stayed in one place too long, so Essek was going to take advantage of their current downtime and his library access as much as he could. He spent as much time as he could manage on the Soltryce campus. He read books on time, on cults, the Divergence, transmutation, anything that caught his eye. 

He was so close to completing his entry for the temporal shunt spell. Recovering his dunamancy spells without his notes had been frustrating to say the least. The loss of his spellbook had been demoralizing, and the hard trek through the Ashkeeper Peaks had left Essek ill and weak for weeks afterward. It had been a while after that that he had finally gotten his hands on good paper and ink. He had started with only the most basic spells then. Still, it had been like flexing a muscle that had atrophied with disuse, casting again. 

It had been a humbling experience, or at least he thought so now. At the time it had been gutting, a nauseating fear in his stomach that threatened to turn him inside out at the thought that he may never cast dunamancy again. It had been hard, with his bundled together papers of a spellbook, until Nott had stolen him a proper one, always hungry, always sore, always scared of being discovered. 

But, Essek was not considered a dunamancy prodigy for nothing. He remembered his theories and his fundamentals, and while it hadn’t been easy, and he had wasted much coin through trial and error, he had reworked the formulas, and runes, and arithmetics to recreate his spell book. 

“I wasn’t aware you were a spell crafter.” The voice startled Essek. He half turned to look, knocking his ink over with a curse. Before he could move a hand out to attempt to catch it it was already righting itself moving into the air. Essek glanced back at a sheepish looking Caleb, hand raised in casting. “Meine apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

He lowered the ink back down to the table outside of the small puddle that was spreading over the wood towards the corner of Essek’s book. He waved his hand in a quick prestidigitation, cleaning the spill. 

“No, it’s fine, no harm done. I was rather absorbed in my work.” 

“I noticed,” Caleb nodded, taking the seat next to him, the cat on his shoulders smoothly standing and stepping down onto the table. Caleb didn’t react, didn’t shift, though the cat couldn’t have weighed less than ten pounds.

The creature nosed at the spot where the ink spill had been, a little too close to his spellbook for Essek’s liking. Essek closed his book, sliding it further away and vanishing it away, into his wristpocket with a flick. He tried not to make it look too pointed. He liked Caleb after all, but he still did not know the man, and dunamancy was a very particular magic unlike anything studied here. It was a secret Essek guarded jealously and one that could expose his true identity to anyone with knowledge of the school of magic. From the look on Caleb’s face he had noticed though he didn’t seem to take it as a slight. 

“I don’t mean to pry. It’s just not often they open the library to those who are not students or alumni here. You are a bit of a curiosity, Herr ‘Just Essek’.” There was a wry grin pulling at the corners of his lips that Essek couldn’t help but mirror. 

“To be honest it took a lot of strings being pulled with the Cobalt Soul and with the Assembly.” 

That seemed to raise eyebrows, “the Cobalt Soul and the Assembly? They do not often play well together. Those are some very interesting connections.”

“It isn’t so interesting as it seems.” Essek responded obliquely. 

Caleb made a curious little hum but let the subject go. “You weren’t transcribing, was that a spell of your own make?” 

“It was, it isn’t quite finished yet.” Essek answered carefully, gauging Caleb’s reaction. There was a spark in his eyes, a sharpness to his look that Essek didn’t quite know what to make of. 

“Fascinating, have you crafted many of your own spells?”

“A few.” There was an easy kind of smugness to Essek’s response. Essek may have faced setbacks, he may still not be as powerful as he once was, but he was still a powerful mage and an expert in his field. “You?” 

“I have created my fair share.” Caleb fell silent for a moment as they both stared, waiting things out, waiting to see what the other may say next. “You know, there is a lot you can learn about a person from their magic in my opinion.”

“Like your familiar?” Essek’s eyes darted to the cat that had made itself comfortable on the table top, all his legs tucked under its body. 

“You are sharp. Yes, Frumpkin is my familiar. He’s a handy little creature.” Caleb reached out scratching the top of his head, the cat turned around leaning into the touch. He made a rumble that reminded Essek of a moorbound kitten only pitched higher. When the cat seemed to have enough of the attention, it stretched and got  to his feet only to climb onto the stack of books Essek had left on the table. He was faintly surprised it didn’t send them tumbling. 

“I imagine he must be, an extra set of eyes. I never had cause to learn the spell myself.” 

“I could show it to you if you like. Perhaps a spell for a spell.” Essek thought that over for a moment. He was curious about Caleb, his spells, his interest in Essek. “It doesn’t have to be anything of your own make. I understand how jealously us wizards can hoard our own work.”

Find familiar was a relatively rudimentary spell. There were simple spells that Essek could show him in exchange; things Caleb likely didn’t know, but that wouldn’t give himself away as a drow. 

“Alright.” Essek nodded, summoning his spellbook into his hand. “Do you know the spell immovable object?” 

“Nein,” Caleb shook his head. 

“This version is slightly different, I understand, than the usual transmutation version.” Essek said, finding the page in his book and sliding it over to Caleb who frowned down at the page with pinched brows. 

Without looking away he reached under his coat, his hands going to his side. There were leather straps on his chest and shoulders that Essek hadn’t noticed before. He pulled what Essek assumed to be his spellbook free from a holster. An interesting little set up. 

“This is,” Caleb broke off shaking his head, he muttered under his breath as his finger hovered over one of the runes. “This is different. Transmutation focuses on changing the object's molecular density, but this-” Caleb trailed off again. 

Essek reached into his component’s pouch on his belt, drawing out a little pouch of gold dust. “It’s not about changing that material object, but the way the world interacts with that object.” Essek dipped a finger into the gold dust glancing at the table around them for a moment. He reached out to Frumpkin; the cat didn’t move as Essek traced a glyph on the top of his little head. The cat blinked against the rain of glitter from the gold dust on Essek’s hand, but like iron filament to a magnet all the dust was drawn up to the glyph as the magic activated. The familiar's eyes seemed to go impossibly large, and it let out a planative little whine, it’s eyes on it’s master. “He is a fixed gravitational point in space.” Essek finished sliding one of the books out from under the cat, but his body remained there. 

There was that spark again in Caleb’s eyes, a fire, an interest, as he ran a hand over Frumpkin’s back before he sat back in his chair, his eyes turning a strange glassy white. Frumpkin’s eyes had turned a very telling shade of blue for a moment before Caleb was back in himself, his eyes on Essek now as he released the spell. Frumpkin made an affronted little noise jumping down into Caleb’s lap but he paid him no mind except to pet a soothing hand down the creature’s back.

“That is brilliant.” The weight of his gaze was intense, maybe a little intoxicating. “Is that your own personal reworking of the spell?” Oh. He should have accounted for this. As Beauregard would say, oh fuck. 

“Ah, no. This is not my own invention actually. Merely just a regional difference I discovered once I left home.”

“I did not realize there was so much difference in the arcane practices of Gwardan.” 

“Oh, just little things.” Essek shrugged. He slid his inkwell across the table, hoping, a little desperately, to change the subject. “Here, feel free to use my ink to copy it.”

“I can use my own,” Caleb protested, thankfully taking the opening. “I already made you spill enough of it.”

“I’m offering. It’s almost empty anyways.” 

“Thank you then.” Caleb relented, turning his attention to their spellbooks. 

Caleb’s was a beautiful dark brown leather, well oiled and taken care of, though it showed signs of wear at the corners and spine. The spine was stretched to its limit to contain all the pages in a way that made Essek’s fingers itch to know their contents. He watched Caleb as he began transcribing, careful that he never peaked at more than the pages he was shown. While he didn’t assume malice in Caleb the man was still a wizard, and they were usually of a curious, ambitious type. There was always the urge to look where you were not supposed to, and Essek, after losing his previous spellbook, was more jumpy about his than most. 

Essek’s own spellbook was shabby by comparison, an old suede thing that had been worn smooth and had been stitched in some places. It was travel worn and a little stained, nothing like his old one. His old spellbook had been made with exquisite, deep plum leather, embossed with silver runes, and a symbol of the beacon. It had been extravagant, and expensive, and everything his current one was not, but Essek didn’t think he would trade that book for anything. He could more than afford a replacement now, but he had every intention of mending and caring for the one he had as long as he could manage. 

Nott had stolen it for him about a month after they’d begun traveling together. They had almost been thrown in jail for it, and had had to make a break for it, but she had pressed it in his hands later, and told him she knew he would do great things. Essek remembered the way the truth had welled up in him, sticking in his throat. He already had been great. He didn’t tell her then though. Instead he’d just nodded, let her fold his hands around the soft suede, and press a sharp mouthed little kiss to his cheek. 

Caleb proved himself to be trustworthy, and brilliant too. He finished transcribing quickly, and he never moved to peak at any other page. He also never made a comment about the state of Essek’s book; which was appreciated. He blotted his page and capped the ink before sliding Essek’s spellbook back to him. 

“Do you have fresh paper for transcribing yourself?” 

“Yes,” Essek flipped to the back where he had already stitched in the newest batch of paper he’d purchased, well, Beauregard had. The first time she had watched him do it himself she’d called it an insult to books everywhere. She was right. They had been ugly. Essek had always paid someone else to do it before he came west. Beau had promptly cut out all his stitches and redone the thing herself. 

That had been a long time ago. When he thought her crass and abrasive, and she thought him to be suspicious and hiding something. In fairness, she had been right. It had been some time after that that Essek had come clean about his race and his past. Looking back he thought it was the first sign that she might have seen him as anything approaching a friend, considering it was a habit she kept up to this day. 

Caleb blew on the fresh ink one last time to make sure it had dried before flipping back almost to the beginning of the book. He smoothed out the pages with loving hands. They were rumpled and old, but obviously well cared for. He pushed the book closer to Essek, who found himself frowning down at the page. It took him a moment to understand the words on the page, or rather to realize he couldn’t, most of the notation was in the old language of the empire. What had been the name of it, again?

“I apologize, most of my notes are in Zemnian,” Ah, Zemnian, right. “I think better in my mother tongue, but I will walk you through the shorthand and translate if needed.” 

Essek understood that. Most of his first spellbook had been exclusively in undercommon. His spellbook was mostly in common now. Especially the early parts. The simpler spells were easier to remember and reconstruct, and the paranoid fear of being discovered had been worse then. He didn’t know how anyone would have discovered him from a couple notes in undercommon in his private spellbook, but his fears were rarely entirely rational. 

“There’s no need,” Essek dipped a hand back into his component pouch for a pinch of soot and salt to cast comprehend languages. As the words on the page twisted and settled into something he could read Essek realized that didn’t make them understandable. Caleb was certainly being honest when he said he wrote in shorthand. “Ah, I might need that translation anyway, Zemnian notwithstanding.”

“Ja, I thought you might. Apologies again. It makes for efficient documentation, but isn’t the easiest if you mean to share it.”

Essek opened his mouth to respond, to give platitudes, he wasn’t sure. Caleb quickly stopped his mouth though, grabbing the edge of his chair and sliding over until their shoulders were near touching and the thoughts were gone from Essek’s mind. He wanted to move away, but he didn’t know how he could without giving offense. How did you tell someone, ‘sorry, I think you’re everything I’ve been dreaming of my adult life, desperate for an intellectual peer, but I also find you deeply intimidating and am inherently suspicious of your kindness and interest in me, so I need you to perhaps not sit so closely’? 

Caleb didn’t seem to notice Essek’s discomfort, sliding the inkwell over to him and passing him the quill he had borrowed. It was slow going this time to transcribe the spell, but it was quickly apparent that Caleb was a brilliant wizard. His notes were unconventional and creative, Essek would even call them innovative. This was clearly a spell that Caleb had known for a very long time; it made Essek wonder just how much more impressive his more recent work would be. 

Once he was finished copying, Essek assumed that would be it. After all, it was an involved spell. The ritual was long and it required components that Essek lacked. The last thing he was expecting was for Caleb to pull out a small brass brazier from a bag and a bundle of herbs and incense. 

“You, you just carry that thing with you?” Essek stared at the man, puzzled. Caleb glanced down at the brazier in his hand before laying everything out on the table with a shrug. 

“My, uh, my cat gets kicked to shit a lot.” He sunk a hand into the fur of Frumpkin’s back, giving him a little tousle. “He is not very sturdy, and there are guards in this city that won’t hesitate to kick a cat that is in their way, so you watch out, ja?” 

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Essek nodded somewhere between bewildered and bemused. “Will we be fine burning all this in here?”

Caleb waved him off. “Ja, don’t worry. Fire will be little of problem, and if anyone has a problem they can speak to me.” The smile he gave Essek was a little sharper than normal. “Here,” he motioned Essek over closer. 

Essek moved in, obligingly allowing Caleb to guide him through the ritual. Following his instructions he lit the incense and lined the braiser with small pieces of charcoal. Getting the fire going took a bit of time, and in the end Caleb was the one to light it for him. The heady smell of incense and the burning herbs tickled his nose and scratched at the back of his throat. 

“Now, you can focus on the animal you want to appear, but personally my opinion is you should let it happen naturally the first time. Close your eyes.” Essek’s eyes fell shut. Caleb’s voice was a low, steady thing in his ear. “Clear your mind, imagine the material plane, the other planes surrounding it, touching it, the veil that separates them. I want you to imagine reaching out, reach out with your magic, feel for something to pull back. Do you feel anything?” 

Essek’s brow pinched, he was trying, trying to spread out his magic thin like Caleb told him, but he couldn’t feel anything. He shook his head, “I don’t-”

“Focus.” Caleb insisted. But it was hard, the smoke and the herbs were making his head spin a bit. 

“Do you feel it, Essek?” a warm, heavy hand came down on his shoulder. It was grounding. It felt a little less like he might float away, or that the world might spin out from under him. 

This was frustrating. The instructions were too vague, just reach out, how was he supposed to do that? Essek wanted to open his eyes. Perhaps there was no familiar that wanted to come for him. That would be just his luck. 

But, no. There, there was a tug at the edge of his senses. Impossible to explain. It was like being wrapped up in a strong wind. “I, I feel it. I think.”

“Gut, now pull it back, pull it here, into this plane. You can’t do it.” 

Essek felt for the strange little tug, following it back to the source to grab hold of it and pull. After the struggle of trying to find that tug he thought it would be harder to pull, but it came easily, willingly, he supposed. 

“There you go. You can open your eyes now, Essek. You did it.” Caleb’s voice was soft in his ear as Essek’s eyes fluttered open. His vision swam briefly and Essek had to blink against the sense of vertigo. 

For a moment, Essek was perplexed. There was nothing. Had it not worked? He had felt something though, and Caleb said it worked. It took a moment for Essek to notice it. The small dark thing resting on the table in front of him. 

The laugh that burst out of Essek was unchecked and a little frantic, and much too loud for a library. It seemed to startle Caleb; he leaned away from where he had been near pressed to Essek’s side. He covered a quick hand over his mouth to smother the sound. 

A spider, his familiar was a spider. Oh, if only his mother could see him now. Essek was sure she would feel extremely vindicated, horrified and embarrassed too, of course. Here was proof of the heretical little traitor that Essek was. A selfish, evil thing who would steal away the hope of his people, condemn many to death, and for what? A beacon that he had kept hidden away in his wrist pocket for months with hardly the chance or facility to study it. Deirta Thelyss, eat your heart out. 

“Are you alright?” Right, Caleb. 

Essek shook his head, waving Caleb off with a hand as he composed himself. “Yes, sorry. I was simply, ah, surprised. That is all. A spider was not what I expected. The whole ritual was rather not what I expected to be honest.” 

“You seem someone more used to more structured magic. I imagine a ritual like this might be something different for you, or at least my approach to it.” 

“You are certainly not wrong.” Essek hesitated a moment before reaching out to the spider. He held his hand out flat, resisting the urge to jump at the tickle of fuzzy little legs against his palm. It was a little smaller than his palm, a soft black thing, with white joints and spots, and rather beautiful green mandibles. 

“He is quite striking.” They both watched the spider shift on his hand, pushing its front legs up directing those large, forward eyes up at Essek. It truly was striking. 

Verin had spent years trying to talk their mother into allowing him a pet spider when they were children. Though, his own spider didn’t quite compare to the kind usually sold as pets back home. His was significantly smaller for one. Still, the Umavi had never allowed it. Pets were messy after all, and Verin had other things he needed to do that weren’t doting on a pet that would live maybe twenty years, if that.  

He wondered if Verin would have been jealous of his new companion. He likely wouldn’t have assumed Essek an evil spawn of Lolth, at the very least. Or, maybe he would. Who was he to guess at his brother’s thoughts of him now, especially after their last meeting. Light only knew what public knowledge about his disappearance was, or what the Umavi would have told him. 

Perhaps sensing the melancholy turn of his thoughts the creature sprung up from his hand, legs outstretched to land on Essek’s shoulder. He only just resisted from startling. It’s great, big eyes were still focused on Essek as he seemed to settle down and make himself comfortable. Essek stroked a tentative, careful finger over his abdomen. He was surprisingly soft. 

“Thank you for this. Truly.” Essek dropped the charm for a moment, trying to put as much sincerity into the words as he could manage. The honesty seemed to take Caleb aback for a moment. The smile he gave Essek was softer, lacking the kind of easy charm that he had come to associate with the human. 

“Of course. You seemed like someone who could use a study partner. They are, they’re more than tools. They make for very good friends, ja?” Caleb clutched Frumpkin a little closer. The cat just purred and settled in. 

“Yes, I think I understand what you mean.” 

“You’ll have to tell me what you’ve named him the next time we meet. For now though, I should be going. It’s about a quarter past five now, and as much as I would enjoy whiling away the rest of the afternoon in the library with you I should get going.”

“I look forward to running into you again, and Frumpkin too.” Essek gave the cat a little scratch on the head before Caleb snapped him away only to reappear him draped across his shoulders.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

“I hope so.”

“Oh, Essek, you’ve got.” Yasha held out a hand to stop him. Her hand reached for his shoulder and Essek remembered his new little companion just in time to stop her hand from coming down on the poor thing. 

“Wait, no, Yasha. It’s fine. She is a familiar.”

“Wait, Essek!” Jester’s head peaked around the corner, as if summoned. “You got a pet? Oh my gosh.” 

“She is not exactly a pet, Jester. She is familiar.” Essek corrected. Jester blew a dismissive raspberry. 

“A magic pet is still a pet, Essek.” She leaned down eye level with the spider making a little cooing noise as she held out a finger. The spider obligingly reached out with her forelegs to meet her in, an admittedly rather sweet imitation of hand holding. “I bet her and Sprinkle will be, like, BEST friends.”

Essek took a generous step back from Jester. He could see Sprinkle’s little red head peeking out from the curtain of Jester’s hair in her hood. “I am almost certain Sprinkle would eat her.”

“Sprinkle would never!” Jester gasped in affront reaching up to scratch his little nose only for the monstrous little thing to bite down on her finger. 

“Aww, isn’t she just the sweetest.” Yasha leaned down to eye level with the spider. “You just look so delicious, don’t you? I could just eat you up! You’re just bite sized, aren’t you?” Yasha scratched two fingers along the spider's sides. “What is her name?”

“Ah, her name is Da’rex.” 

“Wait a minute, Da’rex?” Beau set down her book frowning. “Essek, did you name your fucking spider arms ?” 

“I, well, yes. I think it’s a cute name. It was that or Hosse.” Beau gave him a long, assessing stare. 

“Come here.”

“No,” Essek regarded her with the wary certainty of someone with a younger brother. “You’re going to try to hit me.”

“You got a spider and decided your name options were Arms and Army. You deserve to get hit.”

Chapter Text

“We can’t just hang around here forever. We need to decide on something.” 

“I know that Beau, we just have to agree on something first.” Jester locked her arm with Fjord dragging him along. He’d begun to drag at the back of the party, bogged down with most of their shopping bags looking thoroughly done with their trip out to town. 

“I think we should take that job with DeRogna up north.” Fjord shifted the box under his arms that kept slipping. He used his knee to tuck it back under his arm. 

“I would rather keep our distance from the Assembly as much as possible. The only thing keeping them from exposing me as a drow in the empire is the trouble I could cause for them. I would rather not push them.” 

“But if Ludinus is the one that contacted you about the beacons, do you really think Vess would know too?” Yasha asked, reaching over to grab the heavy package from under Fjord’s arm in spite of his protests that he ‘had it’. 

“Truthfully, I do not know. I don’t know how much the members of the Assembly talk to one another. I know that the Martinet knows, and Archmage Ickithon as well, both spoke to me about sending them the beacons.” 

Not for the first time Essek found himself wondering what would have happened if he had handed the stolen beacons over to the Cerberus Assembly, instead of keeping them for himself. Maybe it would have been better if he had. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been caught, wouldn’t have lost his spellbook, been set so far back. At the very least the beacons would have been properly studied in a lab instead of wasting away in Essek’s bags, to be taken out in the back of a cart, or whenever he had the time to look at them with whatever he had on hand. 

Could he still be living in his towers, still the youngest Shadowhand in the history of the Kryn Dynasty? Maybe, but Essek didn’t know if he would have been able to handle the guilt if he stayed. It was hard enough without having to see the consequences of his actions every time he left his door. Then again, maybe the guilt wouldn’t have touched him. After all the Mighty Nine had made him a much better person, a softer person. Whatever the answer, it was pointless to wonder about it now. 

“You think they would really expose you? Knowing that you can implicate them in the crime as well?” 

“I’m more worried they’d want to get him out of the picture altogether, if you know what I mean.” Nott frowned down at her flask fiddling with the lid. 

“I just think it would be good to keep our enemies close.” Beau argued with a shrug. 

“I think we should go north to Greying Wildlands, that’s where you wanted to go, isn’t it Caduceus? For both your family and to look into repairing that sword.” Essek watched the firbolg shrug, a hint of reluctance in his face. 

“Yes, but I’m not in too much of a rush.” Not for the first time Essek got the distinct feeling that Caduceus was putting off his search for his family. He could understand that. Family was a complicated thing, especially when you didn’t know what had become of them. 

“Still, we’ve been doing jobs for the empire. I think we’ve earned ourselves enough good will to take some time off.” 

“Yeah, and how exactly are we gonna get there? Think about that one, wizard boy?” 

Essek’s lips curled. Wizard boy? He opened his mouth, ready to tell Beau where she could stuff it, but Caduceus held up a hand drawing their party to a halt. “Looks like we’ve got company.” 

Essek looked to their house where he pointed to three figures crowded outside of their gifted estate. One, the taller, broader figure, had a hand pointing up to the tower that was enveloped in the familiar black dome of darkness. He leaned down to whisper to his shorter companions. As he tilted his head Essek was able to catch a glimpse of bright copper hair that caught the sunlight like an open flame. 

“Caleb,” Essek called out, testing. There was a moment's delay, like the figure didn’t quite realize someone was calling to him, before his head came up, eyes locking on Essek. 

“Essek, I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.” He gave Essek that practiced, charming smile. His companions moved as he moved, flanking him on either side. They seemed to operate with an easy awareness of one another, though where Caleb was smiling the other two looked uneasy. 

“I could say the same.” 

“There a reason you’re hanging around outside here?” Beau asked, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Beauregard,” Essek hissed, her hostility was unwarranted. “You don’t need to be rude. This is Caleb Widogast. I mentioned him before. Caleb, these are my companions,” Essek motioned to the party introducing them down the line. 

“Oh, you’re the wizard that taught Essek to summon Da’rex. He didn’t say you were so handsome.” Jester gave a dramatic eyebrow waggle that Essek did his best to ignore. Caleb looked the closest to truly thrown off as Essek had ever seen him. 

“I assume that would be your spider then?” Caleb seemed to brush off Jester’s compliment, turning his attention back to Essek. 

“Ah, yes.” Essek reached up for where Da’rex had settled in among the spokes of his parasol. She obligingly climbed into his hand, scitering up his arm to cling to the wool of his coat. “She has become a good companion.”

The smile that garnered from Caleb was small, more in his eyes than his mouth, but it felt very genuine from a man that always seemed to have the perfect thing to say. “I am glad to hear it. She seems a good egg. But, I am being rude, these are my friends Astrid and Eadwulf,” he motioned to the man and woman with him who gave nods of acknowledgement. There was something about the two that set Essek’s teeth on edge. 

Once, on a trip to Bazzoxan as a boy with his father, Essek had watched a soldier feed one of the moorbounders. They had tied a large hare to a post by its neck and slowly lengthened the mount’s lead. Moorbounders preferred to kill what they ate; there were even some finicky enough to refuse meat that was already dead altogether. Essek remembered watching the hare tug at the end of it’s line, trying to run as the Moorbounder crouched low, moving in on it before his father had turned him away, telling him it was no sight for a boy like him. 

Essek wasn’t sure if these two were the moorbounder or the hare. They watched the Mighty Nine with such sharp, observant eyes, but there was also the sense of fear. There was a desire in their eye to be anywhere but here, like they were tugging on the end of their own lines on the inside. 

“I really like your hair, it’s very pretty.” Jester, all sunny sincerity, leaned in with a smile to Astrid. 

“Thank you.” The woman moved, and Caleb and Eadwulf moved with her. Like they were one person instead of three. It reminded him a little of watching the Umavis together. The familiarity like a well worn path. 

“We were just admiring the work of arcana,” Caleb motioned back to Essek’s tower.

“Ah, thank you, that was rather a feat to put together on my own.” 

“That is your work?” Caleb cocked his head regarding the party, “you are the group that put a stop to the attack at the Dawnfather’s temple then?”

“We did what we could.” Fjord added diplomatically. Essek took a step in front of Yasha in an attempt to draw any attention off her. 

“I wasn’t aware you were such an acclaimed adventurer.” Caleb’s eyes were on Essek now. He offered the man a wry smile and a shrug. 

“You never asked.”

“I suppose you have me there.”

“Would you like to come in or something then? Caduceus is probably going to cook something delicious and vegan.” Fjord elbowed Beau sharply in the side motioning to his face, prompting her to repeat herself but with a rather forced, unsettling smile.

Caleb regarded her strangely for a long moment. “I shouldn’t, I do have to get going.” 

“I could show you the tower, if you would like.” Essek offered. It was a bit desperate maybe, but the way Caleb’s eyes lit up told Essek it had been the right thing to say. 

He shared a look with his companions over his shoulder, a loaded look, that hinted at words unspoken. Yes, very like the Umavis. The man just shrugged while Astrid asked Caleb a question in a language Essek didn’t know. Zemnian, he realized, as they exchanged a quick back and forth. 

“I'd love to look briefly, but I’m afraid my friends must go.” 

“We’ll inform him you’ll be along shortly.” Caleb’s friends spared one last glance over their shoulders before they started off down the street. 

Essek gave a low dramatic bow at the door, opening it with a mage hand. It was silly, and immature, and blatantly flirtatious enough to maybe be just a little gauche, and most certainly would have earned a younger Essek a cuff on the ear from his tutors for the indiscretion, but it drew a delighted little chuckle from Caleb and an exaggerated bow in response as he stepped inside. Just for that Essek considered it worth it.  

The Mighty Nine’s estate was rather eclectic. It had been furnished for them when they arrived, but of course they had each added their individual touches: there were Caduceus’s chimes hanging in the doorway, Jester’s murals on the walls, the hole Beau had accidentally put in the wall in the stairwell. Caleb gave the hole a curious glance, but said nothing as he and Essek split from the rest of the group to go up the stairs.  

The trap door to the tower roof was just in front of the door to Essek’s room. It was a little set apart from the rest of the rooms, higher up in the rounded tower of the estate. It afforded Essek a kind of peace that was rare traveling with his friends. 

“Your room I take it.” Caleb was smiling at the art painted on the door, an hourglass painted over the workings of a clock all in dynasty colors. It was all bordered in what was meant to seem like arcane runes, but was mostly dicks when you looked closely. Essek had counted seven so far. He expected there were still more to be found.

“Ah, yes. That would be Jester’s work. She is quite the skilled painter,” and she knew that Essek was prone to bouts of homesickness, especially when they had first settled here and the reality of making a permanent home in the heart of the Dwendalian Empire sank in. Jester had been quick to find ways to cheer him up. 

Essek opened the trap door with a quick mage hand, climbing the ladder and beckoning Caleb to follow after him out to the tower’s roof. He stepped aside to keep an eye on Caleb as he climbed up through the door, the wide eyed look of wonder on his face had Essek grinning back in response. 

Caleb took a few steps further onto the roof, his head craned to stare up. The stars that painted the inside of the dome cast enough light to watch the way Caleb’s eyes lit up. 

“Wunderbar,” Caleb shook his head, “it even moves. The clouds are shifting.”

It was a wonder if Essek did say so himself, a dome of night that covered the tower roof. It had taken a bit of work. The magic wasn’t new, but he had done quite a bit to modify it. Looking out you could still see the Rexxentrum skyline, but the stars above them were the ones from home. It had taken a lot of work recreating the Rosohna star scape. Fjord had helped, and with hours pouring over star charts they finally had something that Essek would guess was at least marginally accurate. It felt right though, and that was what really mattered. A little piece of home in this foreign city. His old home and his new one, meeting in the middle. 

“This is marvelous.” Caleb had his head tipped back staring up at the ceiling. He stepped around the piles of blankets and pillows Jester and Caduceus had piled into a little sitting area. 

“I promise you, it’s not as impressive as it seems.”

Caleb spared him a wry glance. “Such false modesty? A rare thing to see amongst us wizard types.” He looked back to the sky, one hand half raised tracing constellations as he went. “These stars, they’re different. The constellations are the same, but in different places in the sky.”

A cold, nervous thrill shot through Essek. “Ah, I didn’t know you were so well versed in astronomy.” 

“Oh, I am not. I simply have a mind for remembering things.” 

“It is the star scape of my home.” Essek answered, better to be honest and vague than to fumble for some lie, he decided. 

“Gwardan?” Caleb asked, there was that sharp look in his eyes again, the one that Essek had never been able to pin down. 

“Yes, Gwardan.” Caleb regarded him a moment longer before nodding, his head turning back to the illusion. 

“Is it some kind of projection?” 

“Yes,” Essek answered, glad to be back on neutral territory. “I took my inspiration from elsewhere, I can’t say the idea was wholly my own, standing on giants and all that, but I did find my own way to go about it. It’s a protective dome as well, the wards are enchanted into the sconces,” Essek pointed out the sconces holding torches along the edge of the tower. “Then it was a relatively simple matter of putting a looping illusion along the inside.”

“Blending it with the true surroundings must have been complicated.” 

“Ah, yes, that was something of the more complicated part. It took some doing, but in the end,” Essek made a gesture at the cozy little tower around them with it’s pillow and blanket pile, the little set up for tea that Caduceus had left up here, the stack of Essek’s books that was beginning to get a little precarious. 

Caleb closed the distance between them, coming back over to stand in front of Essek. “You are quite the wizard, I hope you realize that.” There was an intensity there in Caleb’s eyes that Essek didn’t quite know what to make of. 

Essek gave a weak little nervous laugh that had his ears flicking back under his illusion. “Ah, but-, but you haven’t even heard the best part. It goes a long way to keeping out your terrible empire weather, mostly just all that foul rain.” That seemed to break the spell, Caleb glancing away with a little chuckle. 

“That will be nice once it gets colder and the snows comes.”

“Wait,” Essek gave Caleb a bewildered, harried look. “You mean it’s supposed to get colder ?” 

The laugh that got out of Caleb was louder, a little looser. “It is only Quen’pillar, mein Freund. Winter has not yet even begun.” 

“That’s just disgusting.” Essek wrinkled his nose. He was already wearing his thickest robe under his coat. 

“Well, sounds like you’ll just have to figure out a way to heat this place then. Until then, why don’t we go back inside before your delicate constitution gets a chill, hmm?” 

Essek huffed a laugh, but dutifully led them back down into the tower. 

As they neared the front room the sound of raised voices became apparent. Essek supposed that that answered why no one had come to harass them in all this time. The rest of the Mighty Nine were clustered around the table, Fjord had the map laid out, while Beau seemed to be pointing and yelling about something. 

“We can’t just disappear for months. We just got here, we just got an in. We can’t just bail.”

Essek wrinkled his nose in frustration, stepping away from Caleb to his friends. “We don’t have to walk, for light’s sake.”

“Then horses? If we got horses do you think that would help?” Jester frowned, she seemed to be holding her pinched fingers in front of her face. With a fond sigh Essek realized she was trying to judge the distance on the map. 

“I mean, it’d help a bit, but even then we’re still looking at maybe two months, and that’s just to get there and back. We don’t know how long we’d be up there.” Fjord shrugged. “Beau isn’t wrong, much as I want to look into that sword and get things squared away for you, Caddy…” he trailed off.

Caduceus waved him away with a hand. “No worries. It’s not something we need to do right now.”  

“If there’s any Cobalt Soul locations between us and there I could cut down the journey if Beau could get us access to a circle.” Essek took a step forward to crane his head over Jester’s shoulder. 

“Are you all looking to travel somewhere?” Caleb asked curious, if a bit tentative. He was still standing by the bottom of the stairs where Essek had left him when he’d been drawn into the Nine’s argument. The poor man seemed slightly cowed to have all heads turned to him. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this now.” Beau frowned. 

“Beauregard,” Essek warned before turning his attention back to Caleb. “We’re trying to figure out our next steps, is all.”

“Does he really need to know this?” Beau hissed. Essek sent her a challenging stare.

“I see no reason why he shouldn’t. It isn’t particularly sensitive information.” Essek turned his attention back to Caleb. “We’re looking to head north towards the Greying Wildlands, but there is the matter of it being a long journey.”

Caleb made a pensive noise as he stepped over to the table. Even levitating as he was, Caleb still had a few inches on him and easily slotted in behind him to look at the map. Essek felt a steadying hand settle on the middle of his back, and he resolutely avoided looking at Jester. 

“I could get you there, if you wished.” Essek was so focused on keeping his ears from twitching at the proximity that he almost missed it when Caleb spoke. He stared over his shoulder at the man more than a little stunned. 

“What do you mean you could get us there?” Beau leaned in over the table. 

“I could teleport you there. There is of course a level of risk. I’ve never been there myself, but I would certainly save you some time.” 

“You would do that? Just teleport us there? You don’t even know what we’re going there for.” Essek shook his head perplexed. 

“You are Heroes of the Empire, are you not? Helping you is helping the empire. I would be remiss not to help you out.” Caleb’s eyes were so very intense. 

“That is a powerful spell to waste on us.” Essek didn’t know what he was doing. They needed help; they needed a way to get there. Essek shouldn’t be, how did the phrase go, looking at the gift horse’s teeth. But the idea that Caleb would spend so much energy on them, well, it went against everything Essek knew.

Caleb shook his head. “I do not see it as a waste.” 

“I-, thank you. We will owe you for this kindness.” 

“You owe me no such thing,” Caleb waved him off. “After all, what is a little magic between friends, ja?” The look Caleb gave him was long and significant. Essek couldn’t look away. Caleb’s gaze finally broke, darting to the rest of the Nine, freeing Essek. “But I really should be going. I’m running late already, but it was lovely to meet you all. Do you have means of sending to me if you decide to take my offer?”

“Oh yeah, I can definitely send to you, Cayleb.” Jester’s grin was wide and a little shark like, Caleb looked a little perplexed. 

“Good, then I hope I will be seeing all of you.” His eyes lingered on Essek more than perhaps necessary. “It’s been a pleasure.” Just like that Caleb was stepping away. Essek felt too frazzled watching him go to insist on seeing him out. Instead he just listened to the chime of the front door heralding Caleb’s departure. 

“Oh! My! Gosh! Essek!” Jester’s voice was loud in his ear as her arms circled around him hauling him into a hug. 

“What the hell was that man?” Beau frowned, arms still crossed on her chest. 

“He is very attractive.” Yasha added. Essek didn’t know why that was what finally got him. He ducked his face against Jester, his ears pressed back flat against his head. 

“I will admit he seems rather interested in me.” Essek conceded into Jester’s hair.

“Hmm, I don’t think I trust him.” Nott pulled herself up onto the edge of the table. 

“Me neither. No wizard is just that nice without an ulterior motive.” 

“Excuse you.” Essek stepped away from Jester to send Beau an insulted look. 

“You don’t count.” She shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I think he had a pretty obvious ulterior motive.” Yasha nodded to Essek. 

“To the point,” Fjord cut in, “are we gonna take Caleb up on this offer?” Essek gave Fjord a grateful look. “It’s our best option isn’t it?”

“It would solve a lot of problems.” Beau conceded. 

“What do you think, Duces? It’s your call.” Fjord asked.  

“I don’t know how I feel about Mr. Caleb yet. He seems a little too smooth to me, but I don’t think he means us any harm. I’m always interested in cultivating new friends.” 

“Then it’s settled, we’ll contact Caleb once we’re prepared to go.” Thankfully that seemed to end the conversation for a while. 

Surprising exactly no one, preparing to set out for the north became a bit of a process. It was two days later that Essek ran into Caleb again at the Soltryce library and informed him that the Mighty Nine intended to leave at the end of the week. When Essek had sheepishly explained the reason for the delay was that Essek had decided to commission a new cloak and robes, which of course meant that Jester wanted a new outfit, and Nott was not one to be left out, until it was snowballing out of control and most of the Nine had commissioned new clothing for the trip, Caleb had laughed loud enough to draw the ire of one of the librarians at the front desk. 

“I suppose that would be for the best, ja. You’ll need to be prepared, what with your delicate city boy constitution.” 

Essek puffed up at that, all exaggerated bluster. “Oh, and I suppose you, living in the largest city in the empire, are so rugged?” 

Caleb just shrugged, “You can take the boy off the farm I suppose.” That earned a raised eyebrow. 

“You grew up on a farm?” Essek asked, skeptical and maybe more than a little surprised. “My apologies. I just have a hard time picturing it. You seem like such a scholar.”

Caleb reached out a hand motioning for Essek to do the same. Somehow Essek hadn’t quite expected Caleb to take his hand in his. He cupped Essek’s hand between his own. Caleb was not large by human standards. He was tall, yes, but he was no warrior. Still, he was broad in the way that elves simply were not, tall in the way no drow was. He was taller than Verin, easily. Watching the way Caleb’s broad palms swallowed his own was an… odd feeling. One Essek didn’t quite know how to name. 

“Feel that,” Caleb asked, snapping Essek’s attention back to their conversation. As he dragged his hands over Essek’s he could feel the rough scrap of calloused palms. “That is the mark of a life of work.”

Essek, tactfully as he could, pulled his hand back. The thought of being caught practically holding hands in a public library was mortifying enough that Essek was willing to sacrifice the warmth that Caleb always seemed to give off. 

“Surely you don’t do much physical labor now, a wizard of your caliber.” 

Caleb just shrugged. “Sometimes I enjoy working with my hands. It calms the mind.” 

“You are a very curious man, Widogast.” 

“You are not the first to tell me so.” Caleb said with a coy, smug look. 

All too soon the week seemed to pass and the Mighty Nine had their new clothes. They were a little warmer, a little more imperial fashioned, a little hardier, not to mention significantly nicer than what most of them had been wearing. Up until recently their collective coin purses had been depressingly low, even more so for Essek with the cost of components and paper. He and Jester had commiserated plenty about the rationing of resources in their early journeys. Now Essek was able to afford an actually nice set of robes, perhaps not what he would have once worn, but leagues better than what he had been wearing the last couple of years.  

 As much as Essek was glad to get a move on, a part of him was sad to see their little break come to an end. The last few weeks they had spent in the empire had been exciting and interesting. He enjoyed walking the streets with Yasha and Beau, marveling at the strangeness of it all while Beau explained things. Being able to pass his days in libraries like the Cobalt Soul and the Soltryce Academy was something Essek hadn’t been able to do since he had frequented the Marble Tomes. But, there were other things to do, adventures to seek. 

“Wait, you’re going where, exactly?” Caleb stared down at the map laid out in front of him incredulously. 

Everything had been loaded into packs, gear purchased, provisions made, and now they stood around the table once again, this time with Caleb, planning their trip. 

“Well, it’s-,” Fjord started, but Caleb cut him off with a raised hand. 

“Nein, no, I heard what you said. You want to teleport to an active volcano?” He raised his eyes glancing over the rest of the Nine. 

“It’s perfectly safe, well, I suppose as safe as anything is, really.” Cad shrugged. Caleb seemed to give him a perplexed look. 

“You said it was an active volcano.” 

“Well, I mean, we’re not like, trying to teleport into the volcano.” Jester explained with a shake of her head. “It’s, you know, next to it, outside of it. If you’re worried we could teleport by that lake thing that Beau mentioned or the fortress thingy.” 

“You’re all a bit insane, aren’t you?” Caleb’s brow was still pinched and concerned, but there was a bemused twist to the corners of his mouth.

“It has definitely been said before, yes.” Essek put a tentative hand on Caleb’s arm, unsure how much he should push this. Caleb tensed, but he didn’t pull away. “I understand if it is too much. You’re not an adventurer. It is unfair of us to ask you to take on unnecessary risk, but we would appreciate it a great deal.” 

Caleb seemed to consider that for a moment before he glanced back to the map with a long sigh and looked to Fjord. “Tell me precisely where you want to go. You’ll need to be specific.” 

“Uhh, Kravaraad then. If you can do that.” Beau tapped a finger against the map. 

“Very well,” Caleb let out a drawn out breath. “Then we shall teleport to the active volcano.” 

Essek watched, fascinated, as Caleb began tracing runes in the air that glowed a soft amber. It was slightly different from the way Essek had seen the spell cast in the dynasty. It was different from the way Essek himself had once cast the spell. Caleb had once said there was a lot you could learn about a person from the way they cast their magic, and Essek could understand that sentiment. 

Caleb moved with a beautiful kind of fluidity. The way his hands moved through the air was with the familiar ease of long practice. There was something very imperial about it too. No unnecessary flourishes, his movements were economical and precise while still being soft and easy. There was a beauty to watching him cast.

Then the light was expanding from the runes until it engulfed them all, and Essek could sense the ground going out from under him. His gravitational field no longer having something to repel him off of, and for a moment he was truly floating, truly weightless and then he wasn’t. 

Essek felt his body pressed on all sides, the force excruciating. The light cleared and Essek found himself on his ass in the grass gasping to get the air back in his lungs. He felt like he’d been hit with a gravity well. Yasha helped pull him to his feet and with a quick glance to be sure that Caleb wasn’t watching, Essek rose back off the ground. Caleb had dropped to a knee to catch himself, he had a hand cradling his head as he pushed himself back to his feet. 

The day was overcast at the moment, grey clouds covering most of the sky, but the light was enough to sting his eyes. Essek pulled his parasol off his belt, popping it open as everyone righted themselves. 

“Oh, that really fucking hurt.” Beau groaned, stretching her arms over her head, her back making a concerningly loud pop. 

“Yes, well, I got you to your destination.” Caleb scowled, brushing some of the dirt off his trousers. “That was a bit bumpier than I hoped.”

“You did very well getting us here at all, considering this is a place neither of us had ever been to.” Essek offered. The sharp rise of Kravaraad jutted up towards the sky beside them. Essek was genuinely impressed Caleb had been able to get them so close. 

Caleb’s eyes fell on him and Essek could feel the confused glance he gave the little black parasol, which he carried despite it being cloudy. “Oh, uh, I tend to burn easily in the sun.” Essek quickly lied before Caleb could ask. Caleb’s expression remained quietly befuddled though even as he nodded his understanding. Essek glanced down at the warm brown of his own hands. Right, hadn’t Beauregard said that only humans of certain colors tended to burn? Damn.

He was relieved when Jester cut in, “yeah, that was really good, Cayleb. It was so much fun.” Her voice was a bit strained as she dusted off his skirt. 

“Powerful magic tends to have its dangers. Now, I should be getting back to Rexxentrum.” Caleb stepped away from their little cluster to begin drawing an unfamiliar teleportation circle in the dirt. 

“Thank you again, Caleb.” That seemed to soften the man and he looked up at Essek with a soft smile. 

“I’m just glad I could help.” Caleb finished the circle with a small flourish and just like that he was gone.

Chapter Text

“I think we should rent horses or goats and make the trip like that, for whatever that is worth.”

Jester gave Essek a cheeky look, “I think you’re just embarrassed to see Cayleb again.” He scowled back at her. 

“I am just conscious of the fact that we are asking a lot of someone who has no obligation to us, and he’s already done so much just out of kindness.” 

“You really want to waste two weeks going after this dragon?” Beau snapped waspishly. She was getting more short with him the longer this conversation went on. Understandable, he supposed, the argument was getting rather circular.  

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” Essek grumbled. Da’rex was occupying herself running across Essek’s fingers as he wiggled them. She attached a stabilizing string, jumping from his hand to the table, skittering in a happy little circle before jumping right back. 

“Essie, you know I hate to agree with Fjord on anything,” Nott looked pained to even say it, “but if we’re in a hurry shouldn’t we try asking your wizard friend? If we’re worried about Uk’otoa then we should get this sword fixed quickly. I mean, look at him,” she gestured a hand to Fjord. “He’s not gonna stand a chance in a fight otherwise.”

Fjord gave her the flattest look possible. “Thank you, Nott.” 

“Of course.” She gave a patronizing little pat to his shoulder. 

The table was quick to devolve into another argument about Uk’otoa: what they should do about him, the threat he posed, whether to find his third temple to release and kill him, or simply destroy it entirely. Essek listened, ideally thinking what, if anything, they could do instead of contacting Caleb. What about Yussa? Maybe they could ask him? No, that would almost be worse. At least Caleb would be likely to say yes. 

“Do you not actually like Caleb then?” Yasha leaned over into his space to quietly ask. Essek wasn’t expecting the question from her. 

“What do you mean?” Yasha just shrugged. 

“He seemed to really like you when he was teleporting us out here. Do you like him too, or are you just,” she paused thinking. “Not manipulating, but getting what you can out of this?” 

Essek stared down at the blackmoss cupcake Jester had insistently pressed into his hands, picking little pieces off it as it crumbled onto his plate. “I don’t know. Caleb is handsome, sure, but so are many people. He’s intelligent though, and more inclined to sharing that than most other wizards I have known. I think he is intense, and curious. I don’t know that I feel the way he does, but I do like him.

“I feel so drawn to him. I would think it magic if I didn’t know better. If I were more poetically inclined I might compare him to a star: beautiful, so very bright, but in the end not something to be touched. He likes me. He’s made it pretty clear, but do I like him back, or am I intoxicated with the idea that someone like him could want me? I don’t know. I don’t know! Do you think that makes me a bad person? Am I just using him?” Essek shook his head with a bitter chuckle. “Yes, because that would be what makes me a bad person.” 

Yasha laid a hand over his, stopping his fidgeting, forcing him to look at her. Her face was kind, but firm. “Hey, no one talks about my friends like that, not even you, got it?” 

Essek nodded, bitting down on his lower lip to keep it from doing something as stupid and juvenile as wobbling. 

“Maybe you’re overthinking this. Feelings aren’t all that complicated in the end. You only think they are. Maybe you’re focusing too much on what you think you should feel, and what you want to feel, and not how you actually are feeling.” 

“I just want to like him in the right way. Which, I know, makes very little sense. He’s been so kind. It’s why I don’t want to keep asking for his help. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea if in the end I’m not-,” Essek made a vague gesture to himself. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to convey at this point. 

Yasha nodded sagely. “If he really cares about you I don’t think he would mind helping out, no matter what. Because that’s what you do when you care about someone, you help them out.”

“Thank you, Yasha.” 

“Of course, and if he does cause any trouble about it I’ll kill him.” That had Essek laughing loud enough to bring the table’s attention back to them both. 

“Alright,” this time Essek spoke to the whole of the party. “We message Caleb, and we ask for his help. But we may still have to ride up there. There’s no guarantee he’ll say yes.”

“Oh, come on Essek,” Jester blew a raspberry. “He’s totally going to yes, even if just so that he can see you again.” She gave a dramatic eyebrow waggle. There was a sudden spark in her eye that didn’t bode well. “Oh, my, gosh! Essek!” She leaned in, slamming her hands down on the table. “It’s like that smutty book we got in Zadash! The rugged, handsome Dwendalian Empire wizard, to sweep you off your feet.” 

Essek wrinkled his nose, “I certainly hope not. That book ended rather tragically, if you’ll remember. Not to mention being racist garbage.” Jester just shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I never actually finished it.” She pursed her lips, considering. “It was kinda boring.” Essek tilted his head in acknowledgment. 

“It was rather dry.” 

“So, is this guy, like, your boyfriend then?” Reani asked, confused.

Essek shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“He wishes though.” Beau added with a snort.

“Can we just message him already?” Essek asked, cutting across the start of the cross talk. Jester gave him an understanding smile, and Fjord held up his hands dutifully. 

“So, update. Oh, it’s Jester by the way. So, things got kinda urgent, and we need to travel reeeally far. We were hoping,” she paused thinking out her last two words, “for help.” 

She was silent for a long minute, listening. Her hand waved, casting sending again. “No, no, no, no, no.” Essek burst out laughing, watching Fjord scramble to keep up. “We appreciate you so much! You’re so cool, Caleb. And I know Essek especially is really grateful. Do dadoo do.” Essek shot her a contemptuous look, but she just sent him back an unphased grin. 

Another moment of silence while they waited. 

“Oh, my gosh, he’s going to help up.” She singsonged. “We just have to get to Rexxentrum.” 

Beau stood from the table leaning back with a crack of her back. “Then it sounds like we should be heading out then. We got a meeting to make.” 

They teleported from Uthodurn to the Colbalt Soul in Rexxentrum, of course forgetting to give proper notification, but the guards seemed oddly used to the surprises by now. 

While Jester messaged Caleb again once they reached the estate, Essek retreated back to his little lab, both for the moment's peace and also so he didn’t have to hear Jester’s message. He didn’t think his heart could handle listening to her ask their powerful mage ally if he was pooping right now. 

Instead he turned his attention to his latest experiments he’d set up with the beacon. He had rigged the laboratory with a rather rudimentary anti-scrying spell that was half enchantment and half copious amounts of lead sheeting that he had spent a small fortune on when they set up the lab here. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the thunderous knock at the door startled him enough to send one of Nott’s alchemy bottles smashing to the floor. Essek cursed, jumping back as it instantly began sizzling through the floor. Light be damned, Nott was going to be cross with him for that.

“Essek! Caleb is here!” 

“Just a minute, Jester.” Essek quickly thumbed through Veth’s shelf grabbing a bottle of baking soda they kept at the back for these exact incidents to pour over the spill. It bubbled and fizzed until settling into the new pockmark in the wood floor. Essek sincerely hoped the empire did not expect this estate back in the condition they had lent it at some point. 

“Jester, how many times have I told you, you can’t shout like that while I’m in the lab.” Essek pulled open the door in a huff, only Jester wasn’t there, instead it was a bemused Caleb. 

“Sorry, she told me I should wait here to say hi. Is this a bad time?” 

Essek deflated a little at that. He cast a quick prestidigitation setting his hair and robes to rights, not that it mattered much since his illusion still looked as put together as always, but it was a habit. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m glad you could come. I’m afraid I just put another new hole in the floor is all, and wasted one of Nott’s acid vials.”

“Are you alright?” Caleb asked, eyebrows raised in concern.

Essek waved him off. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you again for helping us like this. I don’t know if anyone thought to say as much to you yet, but we do appreciate it.” Essek led them towards the main room where he could hear the rest of the Nine chattering. “Oh, and we have a guest. She’s aiding us. We met her in Uthordurn.” 

Reani stood from where she had sat on the edge of the table. “Oh, hi, you must be their wizard friend.”

“That would be me, yes. A pleasure to meet you. Caleb Widogast, and you are?” 

“I’m Reani.” 

“Reani, a pleasure.” She gave Essek a raised eyebrow look over Caleb's shoulder mouthing the word ‘nice’. 

Maybe Essek had been right in the beginning. Maybe he would be better off without friends. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what turned this trip so urgent?” 

“Evil sea snake.” Beau offered from the head of the table.

Caleb blinked a moment, “pardon?” 

“Well, you see, Fjord was like, tied to this evil sea snake monster, and it made him throw up sea water, and swallow balls and stuff. But he told it to fuck off, and he threw his sword in a volcano.” 

“He lost his powers for a bit, so he was even more helpless than usual.” Nott cut in, interjecting on Jester’s explanation. 

“Yeah, and now he talks different too. So, two of his temples have already been unlocked, but there’s still one more. We don’t know if we need to unlock them and kill him or, I don’t know, just destroy it, so now we need to get this cool sword reforged, cause the Wildmother said so. Hopefully it’ll help us defeat Uk’otoa though.” 

Caleb’s face was pinched and concerned. “I’m not sure how much of that I actually understood. So, you’re going to fight a sea monster?” 

“Well, he’s kinda like a weird evil snake god thing. I don’t really know.”

“Wait,” Caleb rounded on Essek. “You’re not talking about releasing and fighting a betrayer god, are you?” 

“No, Uk’otoa is not a betrayer god. We know better than that. He is more of a pseudo-god.” 

Caleb stared at him a long moment before he seemed to deflate burying his face in his hands. “That is still very, very bad, you realize this, ja?” Caleb scanned an eye around the room, seeming to despair at the group's apparent nonchalance to the whole affair. 

“We know. All joking aside, do not let our levity fool you. We know what we are getting into. Besides, facing down the sea snake is something we will worry about eventually, for now we want to be sure he will not send his minions to hunt us.” Essek’s assurance seemed to settle Caleb a little bit. 

“Well, I’m glad to know you won’t be walking into any suicidal fights any time soon at least. Now,” Caleb turned back to the room. “Where was it you were needing to go?” 

“It’s called Mythburrow, have you heard of it?” 

Caleb shook his head, “I haven’t.”

“Here,” Fjord gestured Caleb over to the table as he laid out the map. “Right around there.” 

“I was thinking, like, what if I scryed on the dragon. Would that work? Would that make it easier for you, Caleb?” Jester asked turning in her chair to follow Caleb as he moved around the table to stand to the side of Fjord. 

“Ja, a description helps a little bit. If you bring me something from the place that would help too, but a description is a good start. But, uh, you did say dragon, ja?”

“Ohhh, yeah. We have to fight Gelidon, the Nightmare in Ivory. We need it to blow on a piece of mithril so we can fix the sword Caduceus found.”

Caleb’s brow was pinched as he stared down Jester for a long moment. “Sometimes I think you are purposefully this confusing.”

“She is not, it is simply a gift.” Essek said with a smile. 

“Well, if you’re going to be fighting a dragon then I think you would benefit from a few spells maybe.” His eyes were solely on Essek now, and he felt himself straighten under the attention.

“I am always glad to learn.” 

Caleb nodded. “While we do that, the rest of you can get yourself ready to travel.” 

Essek escorted Caleb to their little laboratory and library, holding the door open as he motioned him inside. He watched Caleb’s eyes take in the rather meager collection of books on the shelves, the chaotic alchemy spread, the improvised arcane lab. His eyes lingered on the table in the corner that contained Essek’s beacon experiments hidden beneath a sheet, but if he was curious he didn’t ask.

“I see why you spend so much time in the library.” Caleb gestured to the books. Once Essek might have taken offense, but he could see the humor in Caleb’s eyes.

“The life of an adventurer. Sadly, it isn’t exactly conducive to collecting a sizable library.” 

“I meant it as no insult. Circumstances are what they are. When I was growing up I would have given anything for this many books.” 

Essek tucked that knowledge away, but he didn’t press. Something told him now wasn’t the time. That particular melancholy look was back on Caleb’s face once again that prompted Essek to change the subject. 

“I believe you offered me some spells.” Essek asked coyly, pulling out a chair at the desk, motioning for Caleb to have a seat. It did the job of bringing a smile to Caleb’s face as he took his seat. 

“Ja, but first, you’ve never actually told me your magic school. Where do your studies lie, Essek?” 

That froze Essek half in the process of sitting down before he collected himself. How had he not considered this before? What was closest to dunamancy? Transmutation perhaps, but Caleb was already well aware it was not Essek’s specialty. Most of the time he did act as support on the battlefield though. Perhaps that was a place to start. 

“Abjuration.” 

Caleb raised a brow. “Abjuration, hmm? Good, perhaps you will be able to help keep all your companions safe. Still, I think with going into a fight like this it might be good for you to have a bit more evocation at your disposal, ja?” 

He unholstered his spellbook from his side flipping through the pages. He lingered on a page, his fingers tracing over the writing that Essek couldn’t quite make out from here. He seemed to be deliberating, but whatever it was he seemed to reach a decision, setting the book down. “Here, this will do. It is a spell of my own creation.” That certainly got Essek’s attention. 

“You specialize in transmutation, don’t you? I didn’t realize you were so well versed in evocation as well.”

Caleb cocked his head with a hum, carefully weighing his words. “I am not an evocation specialist, but I have always had something of… a knack for fire.” 

Essek cast a quick comprehend language on himself, already expecting the Zemnian in the notes. “ Ermendrud’s Web of Fire. ” Essek read aloud. “It certainly sounds interesting.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“An interesting name.”

Caleb shrugged. “A dedication of sorts. Let's get started, shall we?”

Caleb’s spell was impressive to say the least. Hadn’t Caleb spoken himself about one's magic being a look into their soul? There was no greater example for that than a spell of someone's own making. Caleb’s spell was powerful, versatile, and uniquely creative. As Caleb explained the runic structure Essek was forced to acknowledge the man’s unorthodox genius. His magic seemed to be feeling and intuition as much as analysis and calculation. It certainly explained what Essek now realized was his rather creative casting of Find Familiar . 

Light caught in the corner of his eye pulling Essek’s attention away from his transcribing. An amulet had come free of Caleb’s shirt to hang loose as he hunched over his book. It was particular, a simple string of amber pieces along a leather cord. Simple, but there was something undeniably arcane about it. It caught the light strangely and contained the oddest imperfections at the center.

Essek set down his quill absently. “Your necklace, it’s quite peculiar. Is there something fossilized within the amber?” 

Caleb’s hand went to the piece rolling the smooth center piece between his two fingers. “Ah, this? No, it is actually another spell of my own making.” 

That caught Essek attention. Caleb slipped the necklace over his head holding out for Essek’s inspection. Looking closely he could see the indistinct shapes, shadowed and half hidden, in the amber. 

“It is a containment spell. It can hold quite a bit, and the contents do not need to be able to fit through the opening of a bag of holding.”

“That’s fascinating. You were not joking when you said you had created your fair share of spells. Is it an extraplanar storage?”

“No, it is a bit different. Sadly that does make it more susceptible to something like a Dispel Magic , but to do that someone would need to know it was there,” Caleb said with a wry smile as he slipped the amulet back over his head, tucking it back into his shirt. 

“You are a very clever wizard.” Essek propped his chin on his hand. 

“I’m flattered that you think so.” Caleb’s smile turned a little smug, obviously pleased at the praise. 

The moment seemed to stretch on. As always with Caleb the air around them seemed tense and heavy. It reminded Essek of the feeling he got when someone cast powerful magic, the way it raised the hair on his neck and made his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“Hey,” Beau slammed the door open, startling Essek enough to knock his elbow against the table's edge. Essek grit his teeth against the tingling pain shot up his arm. “I hope you two are decent. We’re ready to go whenever.” At least Jester was nice enough to knock, Essek thought to himself as Beau made a show over having a hand covering her eyes. 

“Beauregard, we’re only transcribing spells, you know that.” Essek bundled away his ink, quills, and blotting paper, storing them and his spellbook away with the flick of his wrist. 

“Yeah, but that’s basically wizard foreplay.”

Essek stared dumbly at his friend, feeling acutely horrified. Caleb made a strangled noise, his face going red up to his ears. Essek hadn’t even been aware humans could change colors like that. It took him a moment to realize Caleb was laughing. 

“What can I say, I like to learn while being titillated.” Caleb choked out between gauffing laughs, which in turn got a laugh out of Beau. 

Essek wanted to die. He wanted to open a gravity fissure in the floor here and allow it to swallow him, then he would never have to deal with awful friends and empire wizards making raunchy jokes ever again. Maybe he would finally know peace. 

“I am going to go… check on Yasha.” At least she would be the least inclined to mock him. 

“Aww, I think we embarrassed him.” Beau called at his back. If Caleb said anything Essek didn’t wait to hear it. 

He collected his new, heavier winter cloak from the rack near the door. He was careful to arrange it so that it would not clip into his illusion. Essek took great care to keep his illusion as closely resembling his own shape as possible to reduce the risk of physical interference giving him away. Clothes could still be tricky at times though. 

Soon the Might Nine were all gathered together in the main hall, Beau and Caleb joined shortly after Essek, still chuckling between themselves. Caleb grew serious then, regarding them all, his eyes running down them in a line. Essek could see him mentally calculating for the jump. 

“Let’s do this then. Hang on tight.”

Once again, the rush of the teleport, the light, the feeling of weightlessness, the sensation of magic coursing around them. There was no mishap this time. Essek had braced himself, but the pain didn’t come. There was the odd sensation of his feet sinking into the ground without ever making solid contact. Once their vision cleared, and reality settled in around them, the cold biting wind tearing at their clothes, Essek realized he had sunk about an inch or two into the thick snow. 

Essek pulled his cloak tighter around him, already shivering. He was glad he had the forethought to purchase a small, enchanted micro habitat for Da’rex that he could store in his pocket to keep her close and warm. She would hate this. Essek hated this. He had never felt so cold in his life. The rest of the Mighty Nine seemed similarly miserable at least, except an infuriatingly unfazed Jester. 

Caleb had his hands tucked under his arms holding his coat closed. The wind had pulled some of his hair free of its ribbon and whipped wildly around his head. It looked all the more vibrant against the white snow. 

“You’re all insane, you know that?” Caleb shouted over the wind with a laugh. 

“Thank you so much for taking us again Cayleb! We super, really appreciate it.” 

“Ja, of course.” Caleb inclined a gratuitous head to Jester. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay, and hang out, and help us fight a super cool white dragon?” Jester stuck out her bottom lips in what Essek thought was supposed to look pleading, but really just looked comical. 

Caleb cocked his head considering the tiefling, and for a moment Essek thought he might really consider it. “Nein. Thank you though.”

His eyes darted around the little tundra, Essek assumed looking for somewhere to set up a circle, but his eyes landed on him instead and lingered there. He was surprised when Caleb made his way over to him. The snow came up to his shins and he had to step high to get through it. 

“Here, you need it more than I do.” The last thing Essek expected Caleb to do was unwind his scarf and drape it over Essek’s own shoulders. It was still warm, and it smelled of old parchment, and hearth, and the sharp smell of components. “Do try to stay warm out here. It’s a bit colder than the empire. You can return that to me later.” Caleb’s smile was sweet and charming as he stepped back. 

“Thank you.” Essek found himself stuttering out, oddly at a loss for words. 

“I like the crown by the way.” Then he was stepping away, slogging through the snow toward a rocky outcrop where he began to draw out his circle. 

Essek raised a confused hand to his head, oh. Reani’s flower crown. He hadn’t even realized he was still wearing it. From across their little circle Jester looked like she was going to burst. 

“Essek!”

“Don’t.” Essek pleaded, unheeded. 

“Oh my gosh!” It was somewhere between a hushed shout and a shriek. Essek was sure the only reason Caleb didn’t hear was due to the wind. 

“Careful Jester, if you hit any higher an octave you’ll deafen Sprinkle.” That set Fjord, Veth and Jester off on an argument on whether Sprinkle wasn’t deaf already, thankfully allowing Essek to make a temporary retreat. 

“Well, that was certainly something.” Yasha said, sliding up beside him. 

“Like I said. He is kind.” Essek just shrugged, pulling Caleb’s scarf tighter around him as the man disappeared in a flash. 

Chapter Text

There was a chill to the air tonight, not anything new or surprising with Rexxentrum, but Essek did find that he didn’t mind it as much as he might once have. So long as he was bundled up in his cloak at least. The cold night air almost seemed refreshing then. 

Da’rex didn’t seem to agree. She had buried herself in Essek’s hair, and he could feel the tickle of her little feet as she tried to hide from the cold. Essek waved a hand, summoning her into his hand, before carefully tucking her into the collar of his cloak where she could burrow into the fur lining. 

Essek had grown fond of his late night walks. It was a habit he had started not long after taking up with the Mighty Nine. When it had just been him and Nott, he had been reluctant to leave her alone when something could happen. But, four hours was a long time to wait for his friends to wake. 

It had been worse when they were sharing inn rooms, or staying in the hut. There was a tension that hung in the air around Essek, surrounded by his sleeping friends, careful not to make a sound. He hated it a little. It reminded him of the quiet of the Den Thelyss estate, too silent and too stately, albeit in a different way.

So he had taken to leaving. Exploring where he didn’t have to worry about silencing himself. It was a good way to explore the city, when it was empty and quiet. There was always a haunting kind of stillness to cities at an hour like this that was so foreign to Essek. In Rosohna the city rarely slept. Too many species that ran on all together different clocks. 

Meandering through the Shimmer ward was Essek’s favorite. The strange contrast it made to Roshona, the way these two places were different but yet so similar. Sometimes, if he was out early enough, he could catch the tail end of Rexxentrum’s nightlife too. He could walk through the streets and listen to the music filtering out of taverns, the shouts of the drunken and merry. 

It wasn’t a habit Essek ever thought would appeal to him. If anything it was something he wouldn’t be surprised to see Verin doing, but Essek was not the man he was when he left his homeland. 

The last thing Essek expected to see on his lonely little walk was Caleb, leaning against the outside of a little bar, a pint in hand and Frumpkin weaving around his feet. The music from inside was a jaunty little dancing tune that was painfully Zemnian. For a moment Essek just watched Caleb tap his foot to the beat and lean his head back against the stone wall, to stare up at the sky. 

“You won’t see too much of the sky out here. Too much light I’m afraid.” Essek couldn’t resist smiling at the way Caleb startled, near spilling his ale much to Frumpkin’s displeasure. 

“Essek? I-, I didn’t expect to see you here.” He blinked surprised eyes at Essek, as he straightened from his slouch against the wall. 

“No, I suspect not.”

“There a reason you’re wandering the streets so late?” Caleb raised an eyebrow, eyes raking over Essek in a way that felt unsubtle, even for him. 

“I don’t need as much rest as my companions. Sometimes I like to take walks while I wait for the world to wake up.” 

“Yes, I imagine it’s strange when you’re used to an elven city that wakes earlier than us humans.”

“And you? Am I interrupting your night out? No company I am keeping you from?” It was fishing maybe, a little telling maybe, but it brought a smile to Caleb’s lips that Essek couldn’t regret. Maybe a little emotional transparency could be worth it if it earned him a smile like that. 

“Why, Herr Essek? Curious?”

“About you? Endlessly.” 

Caleb’s lips pressed into a thin line fighting his amusement. He sat his pint on a covered rain barrel behind him, dusting off his long coat. “Would I be allowed to accompany you for the rest of your walk perhaps?” Caleb held out an arm for Essek to take. 

Essek considered the man for a moment, his ears flicking. Was he really going to take such a blatant offer as this? Perhaps he was making a bigger deal of it than was warranted. After all he had walked arm in arm like this with Jester before, and with Yasha, and even Mollymauk on one rather memorable occasion. So why did it feel like such a large step with Caleb? 

“My, aren’t you forward.” Essek forced a laugh.

Caleb cocked his head looking bemused again. “I assure you, I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” 

And who was Essek to deny that? It was the easiest thing to lock his arm with Caleb and start again down the street. 

“I hope I’m not bringing your night to an early end.” Essek ventured once they reached the end of the block. Frumpkin raced ahead to explore a crumpled paper that he kicked around the gutter until he grew bored and waited for them to catch up. 

“It’s no worry. I think I am all danced out anyway, and this seems like a much nicer way to end the night.”

“You dance?” Essek hadn’t realized it had been a dance hall. He wondered at that, if Caleb had been there with someone, if Caleb was as graceful a dancer as he was a spellcaster. 

“A bit, nothing very special I’m afraid. What about you? Maybe I should invite you, and your friends, out for dancing and drink sometime.” Essek didn’t know why the way he hesitated after saying ‘you’ tickled him so much. 

“I would warn you, you would be in for a chaotic night.” 

Caleb hummed in agreement. “Something tells me that comes with the territory of your friends. Besides, I think it would be worth it to see if you have the grace you elves are so acclaimed for.” 

“You,” Essek shook his head. “You are very smooth, Widogast.”

“Is that a complaint?” 

Essek was quiet for a moment. “No, not necessarily. But sometimes these words seem to come so easily to you that I wonder how much you really mean them.” It was more of a challenge than Essek had meant it to be. Caleb gave his arm a little tug, pulling them both to a stop outside of some closed down haberdashery. Frumpkin had moved to weave himself between Caleb’s legs once again. 

“You know I consider you a friend, right?” There was that pinched, sad look of concern that seemed almost Caleb’s default when he wasn’t being charming. “You are not who I expected you to be when I meet you. I expected brilliant and charming, certainly, but you are also kind. Your friends are,” Caleb shook his head. “Well, they are sort of a chaotic nightmare, but they have also been more welcoming of me than I would have thought. I’m grateful for that, for you. I don’t want you to think that just because words come easy for me sometimes, I mean them less. I don’t want you to think that I don’t care for you.” 

Essek was caught again staring up into Caleb’s eyes, not able to look away. He was too caught in Caleb to even notice Frumpkin, as the cat turned his attention from Caleb to Essek. The cat moved to wind his way around Essek’s legs only to pass right through the illusion, right under Essek’s feet. 

Essek didn’t have time to get off a counterspell, before Caleb was ripping his illusory self away with a lightning quick dispel and Essek was dropped back onto his feet, stumbling back a step. Caleb seemed to loom over him now with his feet firmly on the ground. The human looked stunned, his eyes traveling over Essek in a way that left him feeling so very exposed. There was a beat where all they could do was stand there and stare, the fear and realization welling up in Essek’s throat threatening to choke him. 

“Caleb, wait, please, I can explain.” For a horrifying moment Essek wondered what he would do if Caleb ran for the crownsguard. He didn’t think there was anything he could do to stop him. Caleb was significantly more powerful than him, and a fight between wizards was always a mess with counterspells. If Jester was here there could be the chance of casting modify memory, but she was halfway across the district asleep. 

“You were floating.” Caleb blinked at him, still looking stunned. That caught Essek by surprise. 

“Caleb, I-,” Essek broke off with a shake of his head unsure how to continue. Caleb’s eyes seemed to focus back on him, before he cast a worried glance down the street. 

“Scheisse, I shouldn’t have done that.” Essek watched Caleb strip out of his long coat. “Here, come here. I shouldn’t have done that.” Caleb draped his coat over Essek’s head ushering him into the alley, away from any prying eyes. Essek felt too stunned to do anything but follow where Caleb led him. 

“But, I, I’m a drow.” Essek could only stare up at the man perplexed. 

Caleb’s attention turned away from the mouth of the alley to Essek, the thin hard line of his mouth softening. “I know, I had an idea of it for a while.” Essek’s shock must have shown on his face, judging by the little huff of laughter Caleb gave. “Essek, you curse in, what I assume is, undercommon when you’re frustrated. You named your spider Da’rex, I don’t have to know what the means to know that it isn’t elvish. You carry your parasol with you wherever you go, even when it is overcast, and your enchanted starscape wouldn’t be of the south, it would be east. I already had an idea you were lying about who you were. I trusted that your reasons were your own.” 

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

The look Caleb gave him was long and significant. “Should it?”

“The empire doesn’t usually have the kindest view of my people.” 

“In my experience people are people, no matter where you go.” Essek stared up at Caleb looking desperately for some kind of lie. 

“I do not understand you.” 

Everything about Caleb was so very strange. How could the man at once seem so achingly genuine, and sweet, and passionate, and at the same time be so blatantly manufactured, so meretricious, so cloyingly smooth. Sometimes Caleb would flash that perfectly charming smile that Essek couldn’t see as anything except a mask, and it always left a bad taste in Essek’s mouth. It was a bit like those cupcakes Jester was so fond of, pretty and sweet, but the sugar made your teeth ache when you bit down past the surface. Essek wondered if he had been the same once. He had once been so carefully charming and inoffensive himself. 

Standing here with Caleb’s coat heavy around his shoulder, it was hard to think the worst of him. Caleb had gone out of his way to aid them time and time and again. Essek just didn’t know what it would take to do away with that mask Caleb insisted on wearing. There had been more and more glimpses, and it just made him hungrier to know this strange imperial man, who kept a fey cat, and loved magic, and was so kind to a drow far from home. 

Caleb’s face grew sad and melancholy again, and how sad was it that he was easier to believe like this than he was with a smile? “Du bist so schön. Ich wünschte, ich könnte das sein, was du verdienst.”

Essek shook his head, confused, but Caleb waved him off. “Nein, just, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dispelled your disguise like that. I was concerned you might have been an illusion. I wasn’t anticipating you would be floating.” Caleb's face turned wry, “though, I think I can understand why you would.” 

Essek gave an affronted huff that was mostly for affectation. “Short jokes, really? Is that where you are going?” That got a small chuckle out of the man.

“You're right. It’s beneath me. I should not sink so low.” There was an unabashed smile from Caleb now, a genuine one. 

He leveled the man with a hard look, slightly diminished by the fact that he had to look so far up at him, with how closely Caleb was standing to block Essek from the view of the street should anyone pass. “Watch yourself, Widogast.” 

Caleb held up his hands in faux surrender. “I assume we have a bit of time before your enchantment reactivates. Can I ask how you ended up here, and with your friends?” 

“Ah, politics. I got myself into a bit of trouble back home. I’m afraid I’m not really welcome back anymore.” Essek tugged Caleb’s coat tighter around him. It was warm and a pleasant weight on his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No,” Essek shook his head. “It is for the best. I never fit in much there. It was… hard, but I found a family with the Mighty Nine that I never would have thought I would ever have.”

“Then, I’m glad you have found them. I’m also glad that it gave us the opportunity to meet.” He reached out to brush a bit of hair back behind Essek’s ear where Da’rex’s scuttling had mused it. It sent a shiver through Essek, the way he could feel the brief heat of Caleb’s hands on his ear. He had to swallow hard to find his words again. 

“It doesn’t bother you? That I lied, that I am not who, how you thought I was?” 

Caleb shook his head. “As I see it, nothing important has changed.” 

He was so close. All Essek would have to do was lean forward and they would be touching. For the first time since he had been in Rexxentrum Essek felt hot, pressed in by the weight of Caleb’s coat and the heat of his body. He watched Caleb’s eyes dart down to his lips, and felt a private little thrill. He could close the distance. Just go for it. 

Essek had agonized over his own feelings for so long, but perhaps Yasha was right, maybe he was simply overthinking things. He felt something for Caleb, this indescribable pull. So why not? Caleb had spent the last few months flirting with him after all? Essek had been flirting back in his own way, hadn’t he? It was so rare for someone to turn Essek’s stomach into knots the way Caleb did. So what really was stopping him? It was just inevitable, wasn’t it? 

A bead of sweat tickled its way down Essek’s spine as he pressed up onto his toes. He could feel the ghost of a hand hover at his waist, but not quite touching. Caleb had a slightly scruffy layer of stubble, and Essek wondered how it would feel to kiss. He’d never kissed someone that could grow facial hair. He admittedly found it rather charming. 

They were so very close, and then suddenly they weren’t as Caleb took an abrupt step back leaving Essek bereft and cold. He stumbled back onto his heels watching Caleb step back one hand rubbing at his forearms, his shoulders slumping as he seemed to curl into himself. 

“Ja, well, we shouldn’t linger too long. Come, I’ll walk you home.” His eyes were locked on the ground. Essek was still blinking through his surprise, swallowing the heavy lump of rejection welling in his throat, as Caleb waved a hand, renewing Essek’s elven disguise. 

“Ah, yes, of course.” Essek lifted himself back off the ground hurrying to catch up with Caleb, already at the mouth of the alley. 

There were no linked arms this time. The foot of distance between them seemed impassable, and the silence hung heavy and tense. Essek didn’t understand. He hadn’t expected Caleb to pull away, why would he? Caleb had always seemed a little enamored with Essek from the start. Had finding out he was a drow really changed so much? Essek didn’t think so. The way Caleb had been looking at him didn’t lead Essek to think he didn’t find him attractive anymore. He couldn’t make sense of it. 

Either Caleb didn’t notice, or was ignoring Essek’s confused and questioning glances, but they remained silent the whole walk back. At some point Caleb snapped his fingers to summon Frumpkin into his arms, burying his fingers into his soft fur. 

The Nine’s Rexxentrum estate seemed both too close and not far enough. Essek at once loathed to part with Caleb on this note, but he needed to get away from this awful oppressive silence that lingered between them. With the sky lightening and the sun beginning to crest it was probably for the best Essek got home. He paused at the door, waiting, hoping that Caleb might say something, but Caleb was still determinedly staring at his feet. 

It was half frustration, half a lingering hope of salvaging whatever had happened between them tonight, that had Essek speaking again as he stepped up to the door. “For whatever it is worth, I had a lovely time walking with you.” 

Caleb looked dishearteningly surprised, but still didn’t say anything, just nodded. That was that, Essek supposed, letting himself into the house and shutting the door after him with an air of finality. 

He peeked through the gaps in the shutters to watch as Caleb set Frumpkin on the ground and seemed to glance up towards Essek’s tower before he finally turned and left. 

“Ahem,” Essek startled, hands coming up at the ready to cast, but it was just Beau and Fjord with their arms crossed and hands on their hips respectively, looking smug. Right, morning workouts. “Sneaking out with your wizard friend in the middle of the night, huh?” 

“I was on a walk, and I just so happened to run into him.” Essek shot them both a glare.

“Really? Cause you’re wearing his coat.” That froze Essek, he hadn’t realized. He’d completely forgotten to give it back. “Between that and his scarf you’re gonna have a whole fuckin outfit soon.”

Essek pulled off Caleb’s coat, to hang it up on the hook by the door, before thinking better of it and draping it over an arm. Better not to leave it where everyone would see it. Beau and Fjord would tell everyone anyway, but at least he could maintain some dignity, or at least try. 

“No, no, Beau, I believe him. If he says nothing happened then nothing happened.” Fjord shook his head dramatically. 

“Is this, what do you call it, good guard, bad guard? Is that what you’re doing?” The only response he got was two shit eating grins. Essek rolled his eyes as he made for the study. “You’re both assholes, you know that?” 

“Yup.” Came Beau’s chipper reply over the sound of Fjord’s laughter, as Essek shut the door after him. 

Chapter Text

Essek didn’t see Caleb for a long time after that. His coat still hung on a hook just inside of the door to Essek’s room, his scarf tucked in the pocket. Maybe his absence just stung so much more acutely knowing that, for as long as it felt for Essek, after the time they had lost in the Happy Fun Ball trying to free Yussa, it had been even longer for Caleb. 

It felt like so much had happened. He wanted to be able to show Caleb the notes he had taken from Halas’s lab, tell him about the golems that had hunted them, about meeting another member of the Pansophical, and how excited Essek was about the connections to be made there. 

With Caleb’s transmutation knowledge and skill at spell crafting, maybe Essek could finally get somewhere on the spell he was trying to finish for Nott, no, Veth. He wasn’t sure. With an end to her predicament in sight it made that question more complicated now. 

But Essek hadn’t seen him anywhere. They had been in Rexxentrum a few days now, and nothing. Essek had even spent the last two days at the Soltryce library, though he hadn’t gotten much work done. He’d been too preoccupied looking for Caleb. He’d even inquired after him with the librarian, and all he had gotten was a confused shake of the head. Essek was beginning to worry he had well and truly scared him off the moment Essek had decided to commit himself to this thing there was between them. 

He was almost disappointed with himself, for how much he had let one man ruin his mood. The Nine were putting together a valiant effort to cheer him up though. Beau had decided it was a travesty that they had a wine cellar, but no wine stored, and had thoroughly fleeced a merchant out of good wares by talking circles around him and a white lie about getting him in with the Cobalt Soul. So while Caduceus made dinner the rest of the Nine passed around a bottle of middling grade alcohol. 

Essek was trying to explain that his levitation spell could only be cast on himself and could only support his own weight. He had learned that lesson in the early testings of the spell, with a much younger Verin trying to balance on his toes. Of course Jester had accepted that explanation with her usual dignity and grace, which was to say she was currently standing on a chair steadying herself to climb on Essek’s back. There was a soft knock at the door, and Beau departed to get it, while Essek held himself as steady as he could. 

Jester’s weight hit his back with more force than was probably strictly necessary, and predictably Essek’s spell gave a valiant little bob, trying to support their weight before it gave out, sending both of them to the floor in a puddle. Jester was in a giggling fit, and Essek wasn’t far off himself, laughing in between gasps for breath. 

“Yeah, sure. Come on Caleb, they’re just through here.” Beau’s loud voice rose over the den of the Mighty Nine’s chatter. 

“Oh no, Essek, quick, your spell.” Jester poked a finger at his ribs, which only served to make him jerk and fall into a renewed fit of laughter.

“It’s, it’s fine, Jester. He knows.” Essek waved her off, as Caleb and Beau turned the corner. 

He watched Caleb’s eyebrows rise, as he took in the scene. Essek was sure he looked suitably ridiculous, splayed out on the floor, flushed with laughter and Jester still half laying on his chest. Essek was just tipsy enough to not care.  

“Am I interrupting something? I can come back another time.”

“Simply some, ah, arcane experimentation.” Essek pulled himself out from under Jester, climbing to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage. 

“Wait, he knows? Since when does he know about you?” Beau glanced between the two of them.

“Since our walk,” Essek straightened his robe, carefully avoiding Caleb’s eye. He didn’t think he wanted to see Caleb’s face when he mentioned their last, rather fateful, meeting. “It turns out his cat is quite well versed in espionage. He passed through my illusion.” Essek shrugged. He reached down to lend a hand to help Jester up. “I told you it wouldn’t work. The spell can’t handle your weight.” 

Jester made a noise of affront, her hand falling to her hip. “Essek! Are you calling me fat?” 

“Oh no,” Essek wagged a finger in her face. “That is entrapment.” 

Predictably Jester’s face spread into a wide grin. “Yeah. Still, it was kinda fun.” 

“I, uh, I was just hoping to pick up my coat.” Caleb cleared his throat awkwardly.

“You could always stay for dinner.” Jester invited, before Essek could respond. 

“Thank you, but I really should be getting back home.” 

“Of course. I have your things in my room, if you’ll just give me a moment.” Essek gave a little nod, before quickly excusing himself from the room.

Once Essek left he realized it might have been a worse idea leaving Caleb alone with the Nine, and he might have been better off just bringing the man along and baring the awkwardness. Quickly he fetched the coat from his room, double checking that the scarf was indeed still in the pocket before heading back to the dining room. 

Caleb was sitting down at the table, and he seemed to have relaxed a bit in the time it had taken Essek to return. That was relieving, but a bit insulting at the same time. 

He stood to meet Essek, as he held out the little bundle. “Here. Your scarf is there as well. Thank you again for lending them to me. I’m sorry I didn’t get them back to you sooner.” 

“No, no, it’s no worry. I’m glad as ever I could help. In whatever way.” The small smile on Caleb’s lips seemed a little thin.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? We have wine.” Beau held up a bottle. 

“I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition, really.” Fjord assured. 

Caleb’s eyes went to Essek. There was a sad look of hesitancy there. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.” Essek held back a melancholy smile of his own.

“It would be lovely to have you, Caleb.” 

“Well, I suppose if you’re all going to insist I can’t, in good conscience, refuse.”

“Cayleb! Oh, I’m so glad you decided to join us! Come on, come on, sit.” Jester bullied Caleb into a chair, which he took with admirable grace. She leaned across the table, her hands steepled under her chin. “You know, you should really tell us more about you. I realized that we, like, don’t know anything about you. Like, are you single, do you have kids, what do you do for fun?” 

“Jester, at least let me get him a drink before you start interrogating him.” Nott said, patting a hand on her shoulder passing a drink to a very overwhelmed looking Caleb. “Oh, you know, I should heat up the hot tub for later.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on that. Instead he took a healthy sip of wine, settling back into his chair. Essek took the chair next to him. 

“The company might be lacking, but Caduceus is a good cook. You’re in for a treat.” Beau flipped him off before turning her attention back to Caleb. 

“So, where you from?” 

“Ach, I am from Blumenthal. It’s a small town in the Zemni Fields.” He grew up a farmer, Essek remembered. 

“How’d you end up here then?” 

“Luck. I showed magical talent, and I was lucky enough to be noticed, and I was recruited.” Caleb responded with a frank shrug.

“You married?” Beau asked without pause. She gave an unsubtle point to Essek. 

For a brief moment Essek fantasized about launching himself across the table at her, or ripping the chair out from under her. Instead he took a long drink of wine and stared down into the table. Essek didn’t know why he ever bothered to miss Verin when he had Beau around. Though, she was arguably worse. 

“Nein, no, I’m not married.”

Staring at the table Essek didn’t anticipate Frumpkin stepping down from Caleb’s shoulders to jump in his lap. “Oh, hello.” Essek put a hesitant hand on the creature’s head. He was softer than Essek had expected. He could feel Frumpkin purr under his hands, it was a novel feeling. 

He glanced over, but Caleb wasn’t watching him. His eyes were on Beau and the conversation in a direction that felt decidedly deliberate. “So, you said you were a researcher, what does that entail exactly?”

“I would think you of all people would have an idea what that would mean, Beauregard. I work under the purview of a member of the Assembly, and when they ask for information I find it for them.”

“Any member in particular?” 

Caleb paused at that, considering. He took a drink, assumedly to give himself time to respond. “Mostly under the Archmage of Civil Influence.” 

That certainly caught Essek’s attention. Jester wrinkled her nose. “We’ve met Ickython. He’s kinda gross, isn’t he though? That guy has, like, major weirdo vibes.”

Caleb chuckled, but there was a nervous edge to it. “I- I suppose he is not to everyone’s taste, no. He is not the most personable man, but he is doing important work for the empire.”

“Is he though?” Beau leaned forward in her chair. “As someone working with the Assembly, can you really say they aren’t corrupt?” 

“A bold accusation, but I understand why you would be on alert for such a thing, being a member of the Soul.” There was a tightness around his eyes. 

“Come on, he’s a pretty shady dude-,” 

“Stop,” Caleb held out a hand, his tone hard. “You are a powerful group, but there are people more powerful than yourself out there. You would do well to remember that.” He leveled the table with a heavy look. Beau looked affronted, like she might argue, but Essek cut her off. 

“Fjord, would you mind.” He made a gesture to the room around them. 

“What? Oh, yes.” With a gesture Fjord summoned the Star Razor into his hand. To his credit, Caleb didn’t startle beyond the tensing of his shoulders. Essek watched Fjord’s eyes go bright. “We got, uh, a spider in the corner. Think you could get it, Essek?” Fjord gave a nod to the corner of the room. 

Without a word Essek stood moving to the corner. His necklace would dispel any scrying orb that might linger there. After a moment Fjord gave him a thumbs up. 

“There, we’re clear. We can say whatever we want here now.” Caleb was casting cautious glances around the table at the Nine, while Essek retook his seat. 

“I, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” 

“Just- What’s your honest opinion of Trent.” Beau shrugged. 

“He is,” Caleb swallowed hard. “He is a bastard.” 

Essek reached out a hesitant hand to rest on Caleb’s arm. He startled, but relaxed after a moment, with a grateful smile in Essek’s direction. 

“Is he mean to you?” Jester asked, real concern in her eyes. 

“We could kill him for you, if you want,” Yasha offered. That startled a laugh out of Caleb, but Essek knew she was only half joking. 

“No, no, don’t do that. Just be careful around him, even better, don’t go near him. 

Beau and Essek exchanged a look, “trust me, we’re doing our best.”

“Good.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Caduceus came out of the kitchen, a large platter of food balanced on his hand, easily cutting through the tension. “Cheese and veggie plate. I got more coming,” he said, laying everything out on the table, before disappearing back into the kitchen.  

“Well, you’ve asked me questions, perhaps I could ask a few in return. I’d like to get to know you all as well. So what about you? What are your goals? What is in store for you? I don’t think you intended to become so involved in the empire.” Caleb seemed grateful for the break in tension Caduceus had provided, a chance to redirect Beau’s interrogation off of him. Essek understood that. She could be… intense. 

“In all honesty, for the most part we avoided the empire for a long time, or at least the places that were too populated like this.” Fjord shook his head. “A good few of us aren’t usually all that welcome in parts like this.” 

Nott and Essek raised their glasses in a sardonic little toast.

“We all have our own goals and issues we’re working on,” Nott said, taking a sip from her glass.

“What about you?” Caleb asked, his attention turning to Nott now. 

“Nott, you should tell him.” Jester leaned over, to whisper in a voice that was clearly audible across the table. “Maybe he could help you.”

Nott took another large gulp from her drink, her fingers playing over the rim of the glass. “I, um. It’s-, I’m not myself, and I haven’t been for a while. This, this isn’t me. This isn’t how I’m supposed to look, to be. I’m trying to change myself, physically.” She sent an unsure look to Essek, as though she wasn’t sure what she should say. Essek gave her an encouraging nod that seemed to shore up her shaky resolve.

“Do you mean this isn’t your original form?” Caleb looked pensive. 

“Yes, and Essek has already done a lot to help me. He’s very smart, and he’s a good boy.” She reached out to pat a loving little hand over his. “He’s tried his best to help me get my body back. His people have a way to sort of magically reincarnate themselves, but can’t really change a living body. We’ve had some good starts in the past, but nothing’s worked so far.” 

From the quizzical, fascinated look on Caleb’s face, Essek felt the need to explain. “What Nott says is largely an oversimplification. The Luxon beacon is a magical artifact central to my people’s religion. It allows for the, uh, recycling of sorts, of souls into new lives for consecuted individuals. If you would like I could perhaps tell you more later?” 

There was a hungry look in Caleb’s eyes as he nodded. He’d turned his whole body to face Essek. “I would love that.”

Beau broke the moment with a loud snort. “Ugh, get a room.” 

Before Essek had fully thought it through he made a quick motion, sending one of Caduceus’s finger sandwiches flying at her. She caught it out of the air before it could hit her, but the one that Essek had palmed in his hand and threw right after, hit her right in the head. 

“Hey! Ah, come on. Asshole!” Beau brushed the pieces of cucumber out of her hair, sending one piece bouncing across the table top. Da’rex began to chase it playfully. Caleb threw his head back laughing, it was probably the most unrestrained Essek had even seen. 

“I like you around your friends,” Caleb grinned, getting himself under control. “You’re less polished around them. It’s a good look on you.” 

Essek ducked his head. He felt so hyper aware about Caleb seeing him without any sort of societal mask, without politeness or decorum drawn around him like a sort of armor. It shouldn’t make him feel so vulnerable, just to exist in front of people. “Ah, well, thank you, I suppose.” 

“If you don’t mind my asking, you mentioned reincarnation. What about yourself?” 

Essek was glad for Caleb’s topic change. That air between them seemed to lighten. 

“I am only on my first life. I actually turned down consecution. It was something of a point of contention between myself and my family.”

“You turned it down?” Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I, ah, I have issues with the treatment of the Luxon’s religious ways. We stall forward progress in the name of religious fervor. It’s-,” Essek pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“How old are you then, if you’re on your first life? You can’t be much older than your second century, ja?” 

“About a hundred and twenty.” Essek wasn’t expecting the way Caleb’s brow rose. 

“That is very young for an elf.”

Essek straightened, ready to assure Caleb that he was much more mature than his age would lead many to believe, but he was cut off. 

“Wait, over a hundred is young?” Fjord asked, incredulously. 

“I mean, I’m about the same age.” Cad interjected with a shrug as he brought out dinner, laying everything out before taking his seat. 

“Usually, we consider adulthood to be around one hundred.” Essek stared down at the table. Da’rex, perhaps sensing that he needed something to occupy his hands with, was chasing his fingers along the table top. 

“Wait, you mean I had to deal with all your ‘young lady’ bullshit and we’re basically the same age?” The look on Beau’s face said she wasn’t going to be letting this go. Essek scowled at her before he turned to Caleb. 

“Like I was saying,” Essek insisted, determined to change the subject. “Recently I came across some research I think might lead me in the right direction with Nott. It’s,” he glanced at the rest of the Nine before continuing, but none seemed to object. “Have you ever heard of the mage Halas?”

Caleb seemed to think about it for a moment. “I’ve heard of him. He was a Zemnian mage from the age of arcanum. Why?”

“We found his Happy Fun Ball,” Jester said with a solemnity that had Fjord and Nott laughing. 

“That,” Caleb paused, incredulous. “That sounds very filthy. Please, tell me more.” He leaned forward, a dashing, roguish curl to the corner of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Beau leaned over to Fjord, cursing under her breath, but not low enough so that Essek couldn’t hear. “Fuck, I like him.” 

“Okay, so like, we found this ball, right? And it was a puzzle, but Essek figured it out, and it sucked us inside. Only it was-,” Jester paused, seeming to be looking for words. 

“It's a pocket dimension he made, or at least used, to create a space where he could experiment.” Nott added, helpfully. 

“He had a demon trapped in there and everything!” Jester added. 

“An extraplanar pocket where one of the most powerful mages of ages past ran experiments. I—, you wouldn’t happen to still have it.” Caleb looked between them, wondering. 

“We handed it over to an ally. It was, how would you put it in common,” Essek frowned, “a bit out of our wheelhouse, at the time. The temptation for me would have been too great, I knew that, and I did not have the proper time and resources to map and study it as it should be studied.” 

“It was also called the Archmage’s Bane, so…” Fjord trailed off with a grimace. 

“Yes, it had very efficient defenses against magic users.” Essek could still remember the feeling of panic sitting on the cold stone floor, as Nott worked at the lock of that dreadful collar. “But we did find some of his research papers. He had the beginnings of a spell that seems to be similar to true polymorph. However, I lack your transmutation background.”

“Well, I would be glad to lend my help however I can. I can’t deny that I would also be very interested in seeing Halas’s notes.” 

“I would, I’d really appreciate that.” Nott gave a toothy, sincere smile. 

“Hey Cayleb, how come you decided to stay for dinner all of a sudden, and be friends with us?” Jester shook her head, “not that we aren’t like, suuuper glad you’re here, but we’ve invited you to dinner before, or asked you to hang out, and you always said no.”

Caleb stared down into his wine glass, taking a long pull as he thought. “An association with the Cerberus Assembly, even a minor one, can make a person distrustful. I love my country very much, and I have to believe that the work I do, the work the Assembly does, must be done. That does not mean it is easy. I’m not the most sociable of people, my job rather limits my social circle. Astrid and Eadwulf, you met them before, they’re really the only people I would call friends, but I have known them since I was a boy. You, you all are the first people I have connected with in a long time, and I’m humbled that you accepted me so warmly into your group.” 

“Well, I for one am really glad you came. This has been nice.” Caduceus nodded, sliding the small bowl of crickets to the end of the table near Yasha and Essek. 

Essek didn’t think before grabbing himself a small handful. He dropped one on the table for Da’rex to at least play with, if she decided she wasn’t hungry.

“Are those… bugs?” Essek froze with his hand halfway to his mouth. Caleb was giving him a pinched look. He’d forgotten the empire had such a strong distaste for insects. Essek had been hiding his identity as a drow for almost five years now, and still, it seemed, did an awful job of it. 

“Is that a problem?” Yasha glared, popping a cricket into her mouth in defiance. 

“Nein, no.” Caleb looked from Yasha back to the little bowl. Essek wasn’t expecting him to reach out and pop one of the crickets into his own mouth. “Hmm, it’s…” Caleb wrinkled his nose as he swallowed hard. “It’s crunchy.” 

Essek put a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. There was no reason for this man to be so endearing, truly. 

“Oh, we should get in the hot tub!” Jester perked up. 

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. “You really have a hot tub? Here?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we really do.” Caleb gave Jester a skeptical look. 

“I’m almost certain this estate didn’t have a hot tub. That isn’t the kind of thing you see in these neighborhoods.” 

“We made it actually.” Caduceus gave a self satisfied grin. 

“It’s heated with magic, we made it with stoneshape and junk.” Beau shrugged. 

Caleb glanced at the Nine around the table, and Essek wondered what he saw when he looked at them: a group of colorful assholes, that was true; a chaotic group of mercenaries for the King, not wrong, but not necessarily true either; or maybe he saw what Essek did, a family forged in understanding, willing to adopt every fucked up asshole they became fond of. Essek dearly hoped it was the last one.

Chapter Text

The hot tub was… well it was a sight. It was set up in a spare room on the second floor that had been turned into a veritable small spa. The towels they had stolen from the bathhouse ages ago were neatly stacked in the corner, and Cad had grown a beautiful kind of ivy along the walls, that flourished in the humid, steamy air. Most of the room was taken up by the hot tub formed into the very stone floor itself. Essek wasn’t the type for group nudity really, to much of the protests of select members of the Nine, but even he had to admit he was fond of the room. 

Caleb even seemed a little impressed with the room. He crouched by the edge of the tub, his finger tracing the heating rune Essek had inscribed along the edge. 

“You are certainly an inventive lot, I will say that.” 

“That is certainly true.” Essek laughed. There was something both thrilling and so very vulnerable watching this man looking over his magic work. 

“This is good work.” Caleb’s fingers lingered over a rune. “If you replaced this using Cathvar’s divisional theory you might be able to better streamline the spell.” 

Essek raised an eyebrow. “You’re criticizing me now, hmm?” The worst part was Caleb was right. It was completely different from how that theory was typically applied, but Essek could see what he meant. It was inventive, and unorthodox, and much like Caleb. “Do you think people find that endearing, you correcting their spellwork?” 

Caleb rose to his feet, giving Essek a wry grin. He hadn’t realized he was standing so close before he stood up. “I think you find it endearing.”

By the Light, a line like that had no right stealing the breath from Essek’s lungs the way it did. He opened his mouth, trying to find words, not sure what he could even begin to say in response. He wondered what happened to the man who pulled away from him so suddenly and decidedly in that alley. 

Movement over Caleb’s shoulder caught Essek attention instead. “Jester!” Essek hissed, watching Jester, now stripped bare and lowering herself into the hot tub. 

“What? Essek, it’s fine! I don’t mind. And you don’t mind either, do you, Cayleb? I mean, you’ve just got to join us, right?”

How had it not occurred to him until this moment that coming up here with Caleb and these shameless idiots would end like this? 

“I thought we could just show him the tub, maybe soak our feet. You didn’t have to get naked, Jester.” Essek turned on Caleb. “You don’t have to say yes to her.” Caleb just chuckled. 

“No, it is fine. We are here, are we not? You’ve already heated it, it seems it would be a shame to waste it.”

“I suppose so.” Essek frowned watching Beau and Fjord lean back against the edge of the tub. 

Caleb slipped out of his coat and book holsters with only the slightest of hesitations, hanging it on a hook next to the other piles of the Nine’s clothes. What Essek was not prepared for was for Caleb to unlace his shirt, pulling the fine, white linen over his head. The steam of the room and the heat building under his skin was making his head feel light as Caleb turned, his hair falling loose from its ribbon. 

“Are you going to be getting in?” There were thick curls of red across his chest that stood out against the milky pink of Caleb’s skin. Light, he was staring, wasn’t he?

“Ah, I um,” Essek turned his eyes down to the stone floor. “I think I’ll just dip my feet perhaps.” 

“Ja, of course.” 

Essek toed out of his shoes and stripped out of his robes down to his linen shirt and trousers. He took his time rolling the legs of his pants up, listening to the sound of Caleb stripping out of the rest of his clothes. The Nine were trading barbs and bantering, but Essek paid little attention. He listened to Nott loudly wolf whistle, presumably at a now stripped Caleb. Essek didn’t lift his head until he heard Caleb climb into the hot tub. The water at least obscured the worst. 

Not that that made the sight any easy to take in. Caleb was set with Fjord on one side and Jester on the other, his hair hanging around his face with the ends dark auburn with water. The skin of his shoulder and chest were decidedly pink from the water’s heat, and there was a pretty flush to his cheeks. Essek wondered if it was just the water’s temperature, as he took a seat on the opposite edge dipping his feet in the water. Essek was certain he looked positively violet, and the water was the least of the causes. 

“Come on, Essie, you should actually get in the water, it's real nice.” Nott gave him a very exaggerated wink. 

“I will when you do.” He challenged.

She pointed a chiding finger at him giving a bemused look. “Alright, touche.”

“Coward.” Beau was giving him that playful, smug look. Essek hated a little how easy it was for Beau to goad him. She was too much like Verin in that regard. 

Essek scowled at her not looking away as he pushed forward, lowering himself into the hot tub fully clothed. “Are you happy now?”

“You’re a weirdo, you know that?” She wrinkled her nose. 

“Maybe.” Essek gave an aloof little tilt of his head before he turned away from Beau, snidely ending the conversation. 

Well, he’d wanted to be a smart ass, now he was stuck here. His wool trousers were sodden and heavy and his shirt clung to him. Looking up Caleb was watching him with a wide, goofy grin. 

“I can’t stand to see her win a conversation.” Essek muttered quietly in explanation.

“I understand the feeling.” His eyes trailed over Essek in a way that had his ears pressing back against his head. He couldn’t look away, but the feeling of being seen that Caleb left him with… it was like being stripped bare and exposed. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He was the most dressed of anyone in this room, even wet and ridiculous as he must look. “You have freckles.”

“What?” Essek startled, only half paying attention, so lost in Caleb. 

Caleb tapped a finger to the bridge of his own nose. “You have freckles. I didn’t know drow could get them.” 

Essek brought his hand up to trace his nose and the tops of his cheeks where he knew his freckles were, his face feeling hot. “Ah, it’s fairly rare. We don’t usually spend much time under the sun. It’s usually associated with a harsher life in my home. It’s more common among those not as fortunate to live under the darkness of Roshona, but it’s not uncommon to see them on devoted clerics or soldiers. My brother had them all over his shoulders, it infuriated my mother.” 

Essek smiled at the memory. “They’re generally considered unsightly, but I think I have come around on them.” He gave Caleb a small, coy smile, his eyes helplessly darting down to the freckles that apparently covered Caleb’s chest, shoulders, and arms in addition to his cheeks. 

Caleb’s smile in return was soft and sweet, his eyes creased at the corners and his lips curling gently. It wasn’t as wide or as sunny as the smile Caleb would flash him from across a library table, but Essek thought it might have been his favorite one yet. It was more apparent now than ever in this soft moment, how Caleb’s bright smiles so rarely reached his eyes, unlike now. 

“Hey, Caleb,” Essek was embarrassed how much he was startled at Beau’s voice cutting through the tension, abruptly reminding him he and Caleb weren’t alone here. Beau shot him an amused look, but thankfully didn’t call him out. “Your tattoos are pretty sick, man. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Caleb lifted an arm out of the water holding out a forearm tattooed with black labyrinthian designs. He scratched absently along the lines, and Essek realized with curiosity they were raised in places. 

“Ah, they are certainly interesting, aren’t they?” He was stalling, Essek noticed. 

He had seen the slightest glimpses of the tattoos before, at the edges of Caleb’s sleeves when he would dig at his forearms through his coat, a recurring bad habit it seemed. Looking at them now fully exposed there was something… odd about them. Caleb stared down at his own arms, seemingly unwilling to talk, but unsure how to divert Beau’s attention. Well, it was his own business. Essek had once made a career out of prying the secrets out of people, and he no longer found much joy in the act.  

“Beau, why don’t you show him your tattoo.” Essek stepped in, redirecting the conversation easily. 

He wasn’t fool enough to think that Beau wouldn’t pick up on it, but thankfully she went along with it, turning and lifting her hair to show the jade tattoo, a tribute to a lost friend. 

"They're magic, actually. They’re, like, performance enhancing, or whatever. We got them while we were pirates." Caleb blinked dumbly at Beau a moment, glancing over to Essek for confirmation.

" Was— , pirates? You were pirates?"

"Yeah, we kinda became pirates by accident. That was kinda how we got in trouble with Uk'otoa." Jester shrugged, Nott and Beau quietly echoing the word under their breaths. "But now we have a boat, so that's pretty cool though."

There was an incredulous smile curling at Caleb's mouth. "You all have been on quite the adventures, ja." 

"You should see Essek's tattoo. His is really pretty too." Jester waggled her brow. 

Essek resisted rolling his eyes, dutifully unbuttoning his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. The tattoos were in a lovely deep sapphire that wasn’t noticeable at first glance, but caught the glow of the dancing lights that hung in the air quite beautifully. They were geometric lines, an abstraction of dunamantic rune work on his inner forearms. 

Essek had been reluctant to get any tattoos at first. Watching the women get their chaos crew tattoos though had made it seem like an easy affair, after all else they had been through together, but then watching each of them sweat and go limp in their chairs under Orly’s needle had been rather intimidating. Still the thought of gaining an intellectual edge had held an appeal. Essek’s vision had gone black moments in, and he’d woken sweating and disoriented, with Marius scrubbing vomit off the deck, much to his mortification. Still, they had turned out beautiful in the end, and he had felt it left him with a distinctive edge in his casting. He supposed that made the pain and indignity worth it.

Caleb reached out a hand, pausing, giving Essek a chance to pull away, but he didn’t. Caleb’s hands were warm, and slick, and steady as he took Essek’s wrist in hand, angling it back and forth to catch the light. Essek’s mouth felt embarrassingly dry. 

“It is fine work. The color is very fetching on you.” 

“Thank you, They, uh, they help sharpen the mind.” Essek sheepishly pulled his arm back, hiding them safely under the water. 

“I think you hardly need something like that.” 

This was unfairly humiliating. Essek’s face felt bright and hot, and he could just feel his friends' eyes on them. He had been the Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty, had sat next to Her Luminance the Bright Queen in court, and now here he was. But then, hadn’t Essek always been a little weak to anyone sharp enough and willing to extend him a kind hand? Adeen had been testament enough to that. 

“Oh! You should see mine, Caleb.” Light bless Jester and the ability she had to cut through the tension in a room. “See, it’s like the hands of the Traveler. Pretty cool, right?” she flicked her hair back from his shoulders to show off the shimmering white filigree of the clasped hands. 

“Beautiful. The Traveler is your god then?” 

As one Fjord, Caduceus, and Essek began frantically shaking their heads, trying to warn Caleb off, but it was too late. The damage had already been done. Jester then devolved into a rather frantic rant about murder, and making babies, and a balance between good and bad. That had Essek and Fjord exchanging matching grimaces over her head. Caleb nodded along, his face carefully blank, but clearly overwhelmed. 

“I have pamphlets. I can give you one later once we’ve dried off.”

“Ja, sure. Why not?” 

“We’re having a TravelerCon soon, do you want to come? It’s gonna be on a super cool tropical island with a volcano and everything. It’s gonna be super cool.” 

“You spend an unsettling amount of time around volcanoes, don’t you?” Caleb cast them all a skeptical look. “I’m afraid I will have to decline. I have work in the city that I can’t leave.”

“Okay, wait.” Beau leaned forward holding out a hand. “Not to backtrack, but how many babies are you supposed to have to make up for a murder?”

“I don’t know!” Jester shrugged. “Maybe it’s one, you know? You take one, you give one. I’m not sure.”

“Give a copper, take a copper,” Beau joked, incredulous. 

“What is the worst thing you’ve ever done? As far as bad things go?” Caleb asked, curious. 

“Oh, well I stuck an axe in a dude’s head one time.”

“I remember that,” Essek chimed in. He also remembered the resulting scramble to hold the man down from weakly scrambling away to heal him. “I watched you do it.”

“That one was pretty fucked up.”

“But that was badass and totally justified.” Beau defended.

“I mean, he was just the carpenter, but who knows, maybe he would have been lethal.” 

Beau splashed at Essek in retaliation for the smart comment. “She was defending your life asshole.”

“Yeah, I was just defending us.” Jester gave him an exaggerated pout that had him holding up his hands in surrender. 

Beau turned back around on Caleb. “What about you? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

Caleb gave a bitter little laugh, his shoulders rolling forward, his eyes staring down into the water. He wore a pained, strained smile as he sighed. “The worst thing I’ve ever done, ja? I am the reason that my parents are no longer alive.” 

Jester made a punched out little noise, and Essek could hear Fjord mutter a curse under his breath. 

“That’s, uh, that’s a lot to unpack. And, why do you think that would be your fault?” Essek could just imagine that pinched, cautious look Beau got when she was concerned, but he didn’t look away from Caleb.

There was such a look of guilt on his face, and his shoulders seemed to bow under the weight of his thoughts. Essek understood that guilt. It had become a close friend to him over the years: the guilt he felt over his father’s death; the distance that he had allowed to grow between himself and Verin; using his knowledge from his brother to steal the beacon from Bazzoxan, putting him and his men in even more danger; the guilt he felt watching Jester and Caduceus speak to their gods and knowing he had ripped the privilege away from his own people; the guilt and fear of what his mother must think of him; the fear and guilt of what being discovered hiding in the empire could mean for the two nations. 

“When I was young,” Caleb paused on his words, feeling out the taste of them in his mouth as he thought. He looked from Beau to Essek, his eyes darting oddly to Fjord for a moment before looking back to Essek again. “When I was young I trusted people who perhaps I shouldn’t have. I believed with blind devotion when it wasn’t-, wasn’t good. There was a house fire. My parents did not get out.” 

Ermendrud’s Web of Fire. Essek remembered Caleb’s mentioned ease with fire, the easy, familiar flick of his fingers lighting the incense in the library all those months ago. Essek remembered being young, remembered his own reckless pursuit of knowledge. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way himself as well. Thankfully, he had never seriously injured anyone aside from himself. Essek unconsciously tightened a hand around his knee, finger digging into the tender parts of the joint. 

“That doesn’t mean it was your fault,” Beau pressed. Caleb’s smile was weak and thin lipped. 

“It is more complicated than that, but thank you for the sentiment regardless, Beauregard. It was a long time ago though. I should not bring down the mood of the party, ja?”

“I’m really glad you joined us, Cayleb. You’re really cool, and I’m super glad you stayed for dinner.” Jester leaned forward, breasts swinging and hair falling to frame her face in that charming way, but beyond the briefest flick of his eyes Caleb didn’t stare. 

Silly as it might be, Essek had been watching. Caleb’s eye had glossed over Beau; and Yasha; Caduceus had earned a look, but it was one born more of fascination for the strange aesthetics of a species so rare in the empire than lust; Fjord received a lingering look; and Caleb’s eyes frequently tracked the way Jester bounced about, but still, every time Caleb’s eyes returned back to Essek, staring, watching. It was a heady thing to be the center of someone’s focus like that, especially a man like Caleb Widogast. 

Caleb’s face lightened a bit. Jester did tend to have that effect on people. “I’m glad I stayed as well.” 

Conversation picked back up after that, slowly the melancholy tension bleeding away as Jester and Nott argued over who in the Nine was the hottest. Essek let the conversation wash over him, only half paying attention. Caleb seemed of the same mind, leaning back against the stone lip, his hair fanned out in the water around him moving like flame. They shared a long, quiet look until Essek had to duck his head, his ear flushed and pressed back flat to his head. 

“It’s getting late, I shouldn’t stay much longer.” Caleb pushed himself up straight, stretching his back in a way that pushed out his chest and made his wet skin catch the light. 

“Oh, are you sure? You could stay the night though. It’s getting pretty late, like you said, and you’re a little drunk.” Beau offered with a shrug of the shoulders.

Essek tried to imagine Caleb staying the night at their little estate house. They didn’t have a spare room, maybe he would take the couch; he would be too tall, his feet would hang over. Essek wondered if Caleb still frowned in his sleep as well. He imagined finishing his trance to find Caleb curled up on their front room couch, tucked under that ugly throw blanket Yasha had bought, with Frumpkin sleeping on his chest. 

Or. Maybe Caleb would take Essek’s bed. After all, he didn’t need a bed to trance. Most drow in the dynasty didn’t even own a bed unless they were married… or if they had more amorous tendencies. Essek himself had only ever tranced on his trancing lounge before coming west. 

“Nein, I’ll be fine. I don’t live far.” 

“Where do you live?” Yasha cocked her head. 

“Oh! Maybe we could come over to your place next time?” Jester grinned wide. 

“Why not? After all, I did offer to help with that spell of yours, didn’t I? My personal lab is a bit more extensive than what you have here, no offense meant.” Caleb glanced at Nott. “I have to leave town in a few days for some quick business, but if you would like to come over tomorrow, I could help you then.”

“That would be lovely. Veth and I could come over in the morning.” 

Essek wondered what Caleb’s home would be like, tried to imagine himself there. His thoughts circled back to that night with Caleb, how close they had come to kissing. His beard had grown a bit longer since then. Caleb hadn’t shown any sign that anything had happened between them. It was like the night never happened. Caleb still flirted, still smiled, his gaze still lingered. 

“Perhaps you would let me walk you home, so you can show me where you live?” And maybe give them a chance to talk alone. 

There was something assessing in his eyes, understanding. “I’d like that.” Then Caleb knew what was coming, good. 

Caleb leaned back, his hands bracing against the stone behind him, and that was all the warning Essek got before he was pushing himself up, out of the water. Essek was quick to avert his eyes, but the impression of pale pink skin, and auburn hair, and freckles was already there, behind his eyes. He swallowed hard against the image, listening to the sound of his friends’ laughter and the rustling of clothes. 

He should get out now, when hopefully attention was pulled away from him. Still keeping his eyes low, Essek pulled himself out of the hot tub, one hand holding onto the waist of his now sodden trousers. The water in the wool made them unbearably heavy, and rather than struggling like a fool to climb out and manage to keep them up around his waist, Essek recast his floating cantrip, lifting himself out of the hot tub. 

He cast a few prestidigitations to dry out the wool, before collecting his robes again, quickly fastening them back up. Essek caught a glance of Caleb watching him out of the corner of his eye, an amused smile on his face. 

“What?” 

Caleb just shook his head, pulling the strap of his book holsters tight around his chest in a way that sent Essek’s stomach into knots. “Nothing, nothing at all.”

Essek straightened a hand down the front of his robes, motioning Caleb to follow him while the rest of the Nine were still toweling off and collecting their things lazily. “Come along, you said you needed to get home didn’t you?”

Essek led Caleb back down the narrow staircase a few steps ahead of him, while Caleb was still setting his shirt to rights under the holster, his coat draped over an arm. The linen clung to his skin in places where it was still damp. 

“I can dry you off if you would like?” Essek offered, raising a hand at the ready, but Caleb waved him off.

“No need, really. I’ll dry off on the walk back.” 

“It’s freezing out.” Essek frowned, pausing on the steps. 

Caleb shook his head with a smile. “It’s brisk,” he corrected. 

Essek rolled his eyes, turning to continue on. He stumbled on the last stair, a sense of lightheadedness stealing him for a moment, as he reached for the banister. Fjord had said something about the hot tub would make drunkenness worse, hadn’t he? Essek hadn’t realized he’d drank so much. He was a bit of a nervous drinker though, and dinner with Caleb Widogast was certainly something to make him nervous. 

“Careful.” There was kind amusement in Caleb’s voice. 

Essek brought a hand up to his neck. It twinged like he had been bitten by some bug, or perhaps it was just the pinch of his amulet against the soft skin of his neck? Had Caleb pinched him, reaching out to steady him when he had lost his balance maybe? His hands felt weak and clumsy. He hadn’t felt this drunk in the tub, maybe it was hitting him all at once now that he was on his feet. Vertigo, of a sort. Essek’s fingers closed around something hard, and he pulled it away with a sharp tug. He stared down at the small purple fletched dart in his hand uncomprehending for a moment. The realization had his stomach bottoming out, his head swimming. 

“Ca-Caleb,” the words came out slurred with muted panic. He glanced back at the human, still standing on the stairs, hidden out of view from the rest of the main room by the curve of the wall. He saw the realization settle on Caleb’s face: the confusion, the fear, the horror. Caleb was all he could see, there was a growing blackness at the corner of his vision. His head spun. Distantly he could hear Caleb shouting. Then, nothing. 

Chapter Text

Essek’s head was foggy, and his stomach rebelled. The first thing he was aware of was the arm tight around his waist holding him up. He blinked the haze away in time to see half the Nine and Caleb standing at the base of the stairs. He watched Caleb, a strange, hard look on his steely face that Essek had never seen before, shake out his arms the black labyrinthine tattoos light up and buzz, and then Caleb’s arms were blurring through the somatic motions of a slow spell as he smeared molasses over his bottom lips. It must make his lips taste sweet, Essek thought to himself, and he wanted to laugh at the inopportuneness of his own thoughts.  

Cad’s face was tense, his arm outstretched. Oh, he must have cured the poison, Essek realized. He craned his head to look up at whoever was holding him. A drow, his long white hair in a tight bun, his eyes narrowed on the Nine as he backed away. Oh, there was a knife at Essek’s side, he hadn’t even noticed it at first, angled that it could be sent up to stab under his rib cage at a moment’s notice. 

Jester slammed into Caduceus’s back at the end of the stair, wearing just her damp chemise. She screamed his name, her face terrified and angry. She raised her hands to cast, but hesitated. Right, his wanna be assassin was using Essek’s body as a meat shield. 

The drow took another step back away from the group, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, fangs catching the light. Essek still felt like he was moving through water, trying to get his thoughts in order. He noticed the growing glow of the drow’s ring a moment too late. He felt the tingle of magic sweeping up his legs, the feeling of weightlessness. Teleport. Panic ripped through Essek’s chest. No, he couldn’t go back to Xhorhas! He couldn’t! He struggled, but the prick of that dagger pressed harder against his side, and he could feel the tip tearing through his tunic. 

His panic was cut short as Caleb slashed a hand through the air counterspelling the ring’s enchantment. The drow hissed a curse as Caleb continued moving, casting hold person, but he shook off the spell with a grunt of effort. The man shifted his stance and Essek instantly realized what was happening, but there was no chance to give a warning as he summoned two echoes, sending them charging at the cluster of Essek’s largely unarmored friends. Caleb moved inhumanly fast, sending one up in a short burst of flames, and Fjord shot three eldritch blasts into the chest of the other. Essek took the opening, casting pulse wave. It was a risky gambit, but he had little choice. If he failed, well, Essek trusted that his friends would save him.

The assassin was blasted back against the wall with a loud crack, but his blade dug a gash in Essek’s side as he went. Essek’s hand went to his side, his robes were wet, but he didn’t dare look down at the damage done. He needed to focus, and looking would only further the panic clawing at his throat. He stumbled, his legs still wobbly, and the sense of vertigo rushing over him again. On instinct he rose back into the air. That helped some. 

Jester cast a quick hold person, and this time it stuck. Freezing his would be captor in place against the wall. Essek drew himself up, spine straight, even though it stretched at his side and pulled his wound. Essek wrapped the persona of the Shadowhand around him once more, for the first time in years, as he once would have his long since gone mantel. He fixed his face into an aloof, cold sneer, scowling down his nose at the agent. With a wave he warped gravity around him, pressing in tight on him from all sides. 

“Jester, you may drop your spell.” Essek didn’t glance back to see if she would listen. He moved forward, wincing internally as he wobbled in place, still a little unsteady, even off his feet. In an instant Yasha was there at his side, an arm at his waist, careful to avoid his wounds, but keeping him steady. He felt a brief rush of life return to him at Yasha’s touch, and a more significant one that followed shortly after, one of the clerics, Essek didn’t know which. 

“How did you find me?” Essek asked, voice steel. He raised the man up a little higher, until he was on his toes. 

“You are the most wanted man in the Dynasty. Do you not think we haven’t been looking for you? It was only a matter of time, Essek Ra’ton.” Essek clenched his jaw tight, his face remained carefully impassive. 

“And tell me, have you already reported back my location to the new Shadowhand?”

“I do not answer to traitors,” the drow snarled, baring his fangs. Once, Essek could have ruined the man’s whole career for a slight like that. He spit at the floor near where Essek’s floated. It was tinted pink with blood. Essek wondered if it had been the impact of the wall or his gravitational hold on him that caused the internal bleeding. 

Essek tightened his hold. The Echo Knight let out a strangled, pained gasp as the air was forced from his chest. There was blood on his lips. 

“You are avoiding my question. Do you know what I think?” Essek smiled, all teeth and viciousness, as he took another move forward. “I think if you had reported back you would be lording it over me now. I think you would love to tell me that my days are numbered, that the dynasty was coming for me. I was the Shadowhand for a not inconsiderable amount of time. Do you think I have not seen your type before? Glory seekers. You rush in without thought. You didn’t yet report my location, did you?”

The man didn’t respond, his jaw clenched and his eyes were hard as he glared down at Essek, but his lip had begun to tremble. 

“That is what I thought. Tell me, what is your name?” He remained defiantly silent. Essek closed his grip a bit more. There was the snap of a rib, and the knight gave a breathless cry.

“Thuron. It’s Thuron.” His breath was coming in panicked gasps now. Good. He understood then. Letting him go wasn’t an option. It never would have been. 

“Thuron. And, are you consecuted, Thuron?” He gave a tentative, suspicious nod. “Good, then die assured that your soul will find its way to a beacon.” 

Essek watched the cold, dawning realization in Thuron’s eyes, watched it shift to the beginnings of vindication and fury. Essek closed his hand. Thuron crumpled, his body caving in with a sickening crack, and he let the limp body fall to the floor. His blood was pounding so loud in his ears he could hardly hear anything else. 

“Essek, you’re shaking.” Jester’s voice was soft and gentle, her hand on his just the whisper of a touch, but even still it made Essek startle, stumbling into Yasha at his side. 

Yasha was quick to catch him, as Essek dropped to the floor, his knees giving out once again, and then he was heaving sick all over the floor. Essek wasn’t sure if it was the poison, what he had just done, or that his friends had finally seen just how truly heinous Essek could be. 

“Alright, okay. There we go.” Caduceus rubbed a large, kind hand in circles on his back as Yasha held him up. Essek hadn’t even heard him approach. “Let’s get all that poison out of your system, alrighty?”

“Oh, Essie.” Nott ducked her head, so that even hunched over as he was, Essek could see her face, pinched with concern and that unshakable love that Essek had never been able to figure out how he had earned. She smoothed his hair back from his face, and he felt tears well up unbidden in the corners of his eyes. 

They were so kind to him, this motley little family he had, by luck, fallen into, so much kinder than he deserved. He would not be here if it weren’t for their kindness a million times over. He would likely be being dragged through the Dungeon of Penance right now if it hadn’t been for them: without Caduceus stopping the poison from taking effect, Jester’s rather clutch hold person, and Caleb’s- Caleb. Essek had almost forgotten him in the chaos. 

Finally lifting his head, Essek’s eyes sought out the empire mage. He hadn’t moved, still standing at the base of the stairs where he had been casting from. His sleeves were rolled up, but his arms had ceased that strange glow. His face was terrifyingly blank when Essek met his eyes. Essek supposed it was at least better than fear or disgust.

Beau landed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, breaking their stare. He startled, and began to pull away, but she didn’t let him go. “I think you’re gonna need to stick around for a little bit now, Widogast. At least until some things are discussed.” 

Essek didn’t see what kind of face Caleb made in response, as Yasha easily scooped him up in her arms and deposited him on the couch in the sitting t room. Nott was a flurry of frantic movement. She carefully cleaned him up, while Caduceus cleaned up the mess he had made on the floor and presumably disposed of the body. Essek hoped he kept the head, but he was too exhausted to open his mouth.  

Nott brushed the hair from his face, fetched a cool rag for his head, and a bucket in case he was sick again. Essek certainly hoped not, though his stomach and head were still spinning a bit. Her care for him was… overwhelming, but very appreciated. 

Yasha and Jester were whispering at his head, low enough that even Essek could not hear. Fjord had left with Caduceus, presumably dealing with the body. Jester had raised the bottom of his tunic to check his side, and heal anything that remained of the wound. 

“Something tells me you are not the unassuming refugee you had me believe.” The silence that fell was instantaneous as Caleb sat down in the chair across from the couch, his face still a neutral mask. 

“No, no I am not.” Essek waved Nott away as he pushed himself up on shaky arms. She propped a hand on his back to steady him, but as she went to pull away, Essek tucked his hand in hers and kept her close. 

“I think I would like some answers here.”

“You owe us a few answers in return, I think.” Essek inclined his head towards the tattoos on his arm. He had rolled his sleeves down, but in just his shirt Essek could see the thick black lines peeking out. 

Caleb held out his arms in front of him, like he was inspecting them. “They are enchanted, works like a haste spell, but I think you already figured that out. They are,” Caleb paused, considering. “Wizards, you know how we can be. Sometimes we get ideas and, well, you need someone to test them on. It worked out well in the end, I suppose. They’re handy.”

“They turned you into a human experiment? Was this the Assembly? Was it Ikithon?” Beau scowled, leaning her hands on the back of the couch. 

“I did not really say no.”

“That’s not the same as saying yes.”

Caleb pursed his lips into a thin line, but didn’t respond to Beau. “I think there are more important things than my tattoos at hand here.”

Caleb was right, they did owe him answers, especially now that they, Essek, had dragged him into danger just by being close to him. 

Essek was tired; he was so very tired. He was tired of the fear, the paranoia, the guilt, the mistrust. Maybe that was part of why he had been so quick to trust Caleb, because he wanted to believe that this charming man could really just like him, and be interested in him for no other reason than that he was worth interest. More than anything, Essek was so very tired of living a lie every moment of his life. 

“I was once the Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty. That would be similar to your Master Ikithon’s position in the empire. I committed high treason, stole a religious artifact, and fled my home country. I have been dodging their detection as best I could ever since.” 

Beau let out a quiet, frustrated noise behind him. That was fine, let her complain all she wished. She was not the one who had to hide her very skin just to go outside. He would not lie here, not to Caleb. He had helped them enough to earn some honesty. And if it did become an issue, Jester casting modify memory was always an option. 

“That… that is a lot to take in.” Caleb’s brow was creased in consideration. “Why? Why did you steal it?”

Essek thought of the Assembly, thought of the letter he had sent the Martinet on a manic whim, the small bundle of research notes he had sent at first. He had thought it a long shot. He had had naive dreams of papers and information traded in secret, an exchange of knowledge. Instead he had been fed honeyed words of manipulation that seemed so obvious in retrospect. Da’leth had praised him, told him how smart he was, how interesting his lines of research seemed, and Essek had so very easily bought into it. How young and foolish he must have seemed to an elf like the Martinet. He was no Umavi, but he was certainly more experienced than Essek. 

Discussions of the beacons and dunamancy had been slow at first. Essek had been reluctant to show his hand that much. But Da’leth had offered a secular eye, someone untainted by the fanaticism of the dynasty, and in the end that had been a temptation too great for Essek to resist. And before he fully knew what he had gotten into, Essek had been plotting to steal the beacons for the empire. 

“Because I am a callus man with little regard for the lives of others, or at least I was at the time. I would very dearly like to think I am better than that now, but…” Essek shrugged, trailing off, his eyes wandering back to the doorway, out to where Fjord and Caduceus were likely still removing the body. 

Jester’s small, cool hand landed on his forearm, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I think you’re a really good person, Essek.” 

The laugh that startled out of him was bitter, and maybe a little mean, but he didn’t pull away from her touch. “You just watched me slowly crush a man to death. I do not think that constitutes as good.”

“I don’t know about that. We’ve all done some pretty fucked up shit. I mean, there was that guy I axed in the brain. Like you said, he was just a carpenter.”

“There was also the man we cut the hand off of in Nicodranas. I'm gonna be honest, I don’t fully remember why we did that. I think he was mean to Jester’s mom or something.” Caduceus spoke up from the doorway, Fjord trailing behind him, their hands blessedly clean of any gore or blood. 

Nott tightened her grip on his hand, bringing Essek’s attention back to her. “If we want to talk about all the fucked up things we’ve done, there was the time I killed a manticore baby too young to even open it’s eyes, or the time I accidentally shot the head of a guard on a no kill recon mission. I think we’ve all done some pretty fucked up things. Essie, you couldn’t have let him go. He was going to bring you in, he poisoned you. We got really lucky that Caleb was there, or we could have lost you. I’d kill a thousand drow assassins if it meant keeping you safe.” Essek had to swallow back hard against the lump in his throat. 

Sitting bruised and terrified in that empire jail cell he never would have guessed how important that jumpy little goblin would become in his life. He never would have guessed at the way Nott had taken him under her protection, the fierce care and love, that Essek had no idea what he did to earn, but cherished so deeply. 

“Nott the Brave, what did I ever do to deserve you?” 

“You’re a good boy.” She reached up a hand giving his face a light, patronizing little pat with a smile on her face that had Essek chuckling in spite of himself. 

“Not to-” Caleb cut in, but he seemed to falter as all eyes turned to him. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t—, I don’t mean to interrupt, but you mentioned the beacons to him, the assassin I mean. Does that—, do you still have them?”

For all that Essek found himself unwilling to lie to Caleb, where Essek had stashed the beacons felt like a dangerous amount of information to hand over. Essek traded a quick look with Beauregard. “I have them, yes.” 

Essek left it at that, the moment hanging in the air between them. Caleb seemed to realize he’d overstepped, ducking his head with a sheepish look. “I didn’t mean to pry. My curiosity got the better of me.”

“It happens,” Essek dismissed him with a shake of his head. “We’re wizards. It tends to come with the territory.”

Essek did allow himself a moment to imagine it though, imagined taking Caleb into the study, throwing back the warded, lead lined sheet over his work desk that contained one of the beacons and many of his research notes on the artifact. He could so easily picture the way Caleb’s eyes would light up, the way he smiled when presented with new magic, the hunger when faced with a challenge. Essek imagined for a moment Caleb as a research partner, unlocking the secrets of the Luxon together. Finally having the peer he had sought for in Ludinus and the Assembly. 

But, Essek reminded himself, Caleb still was with the Assembly, and even if Essek thought he was different from the Martinet and his ilk, he did still work under Ikithon. Caleb might not betray him directly, but it was a conflict of interest, and Essek didn’t want to risk getting Caleb into any sort of trouble, even if he had proven tonight to be far more capable than Essek had first given him credit for. 

“Not to change the topic, but I wanna know, what was it that he called you in Undercommon, Essek?” Beau frowned, leaning further over the back of the couch. “He called you orphan, or something.”

“Ah, yes.” Essek resisted the desire to grimace. “He called me Essek Ra’ton. Technically, it would be my current name back home. I was born a member of Den Thelyss, but my crimes will have had me removed from the den. 

There are many people who do not have the privilege to be born into a den or good fortune to join one later in life. There is no, ah, well, there is no particular shame in that. Ra’ton would better translate to Orphaned. It is a name that means one has done something so egregious their den has seen fit to expel them, and there is a great deal of shame in that.”

“That’s okay, Essek. We’re your family!” Jester insisted, her face pinched. “We can be your den.” Essek gave her a watery smile in return. Her kindness never failed to strike at his heart like a physical blow.

“That is very sweet, Jester. Thank you.”

Yasha circled around to take the seat next to him on the couch, her face tight in sympathy. What a pair they made, Essek thought with an air of dark humor, the Ophanmaker and the Orphaned.

“Essek, don’t take this the wrong way, but your home kinda sounds like shit.” Beau wrinkled her nose and Essek couldn’t help laughing. 

“Yes, well, it has it’s good parts, but I think the trapping of high society are kinda ‘shit’, no matter what country you are in.”

Beau inclined her head in agreement, “yeah, yeah, no, that’s pretty fair.” 

“Mr. Caleb, I know it’s getting late, and you were headed home before all this. I’m sure you're tired. I could walk you home if you like.” Nott’s offer caught Essek a bit off guard, and seemed to catch Caleb off guard as well.

“That really isn’t necessary. I can make it back fine.”

“No, no, I insist. After everything that’s happened tonight you squishy wizard types shouldn’t be walking in the dark alone. Besides, you still need to show us where your place is.” 

“Oh, are we still going to be meeting tomorrow?” Caleb turned a concerned eye on Essek. “Will you be well enough by tomorrow.” 

“He should be fine,” Caduceus answered for him. “I already cured him from the poison. He got most of it out of his body, this is just the after effects. A lot of tea, a little healing, and a good bit of rest and he should be fine by tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Caduceus. I assure you, Caleb, I’ll be well enough.” 

“If you’re sure, then I suppose I will see you tomorrow. Good night, Essek.” Caleb’s smile was warm, and sweet, just a lingering hint of concern at the corner. Essek wished he had the privacy to bask in it. He had been hoping to have that moment to talk to Caleb tonight, but hopefully he would have his chance tomorrow. If not, who knew when his next chance would be. Caleb had mentioned he would be leaving town for a while shortly. 

Nott kissed the back of Essek’s knuckles before hopping down from the couch. “Alright, let’s get going, pretty boy. It’s only getting later.”

Caleb raised an amused eyebrow. “Pretty boy?” 

Nott gave Caleb’s leg a playful little pat. “Don’t worry, you’re not my type.” She made a show of looking him over. “Too… clean. Besides, you gotta respect a dibs.” Caleb’s cheeks were pink. 

“Nott!” Essek hissed, his ear dropping to brush his shoulders as he flushed. 

“Yeah, yeah, let's get walking, wizard.” She grabbed her crossbow from beside the door, hefting it onto her hip, eyeing Caleb down. 

“Hey,” Caleb paused, glancing back when Beau addressed him. “I think it goes without saying that some things don’t leave this house, understood.”

“Of course, Beauregard,” Caleb gave a small little bow, “understood.”

Watching Caleb shoulder on his coat, pull the scarf from his pocket and replace it around his neck, Essek abruptly realized he should likely be very concerned about Nott being alone with Caleb. Nott was well meaning, but sometimes she distinctly got ahead of herself. Things between him and Caleb were complicated, Essek wasn’t really sure what to call it beyond that. He didn’t know where he and Caleb stood since that night in the alley. He knew Caleb was interested, he had always known that, and Caleb lit a fire in Essek, captured his attention, in a way no one had ever done before. Something held Caleb back though, and he wasn’t sure what it was. 

He wondered if he could suggest someone else to go with them, but quickly realized that there wasn’t really anyone in the Nine that would either want to or be able to contain Nott. 

“Come on, bedtime for poisoned elves.” Yasha held out a hand to help him up, but Essek didn’t immediately take it. 

“Caduceus said I’m not poisoned anymore.”

“Yeah? Walk up the stairs and prove it.” Essek gave her a petulant frown. 

“Maybe I’ve just decided to rest on the couch tonight.”

“Nope.” There was a small smile at the corner of Yasha’s lips, and before Essek’s sluggish body could react, Yasha was grabbing him, scooping him up and tucking him under her arm. 

“Yasha!” Essek squirmed, but her arms were like steel. It was undignified and unfair. Yasha didn’t even humor with a response, just carried him up the stairs. 

Chapter Text

In no uncertain terms Essek had been thoroughly banned from his late night walks, and it was fine, really. Essek understood. The attack by Thuron the evening before changed things dramatically. If the dynasty was looking for him in Rexxentrum then, well, Essek was beginning to grow worried that his time here was running out. 

They wouldn’t be able to stay in Rexxentrum anymore, no one had said it, but they all understood it. The estate was no longer safe, as much as Essek had come to love it, as much as he had loved the stability and the security of having some place warm and theirs to come back to. Essek had been without a real home for so long; it had been so nice while it had lasted. 

He would miss his late night walks through the strangely comforting quiet of the city night, he would miss the rambunctious dinners, Jester’s murals, the pedestrian chaos of the early morning market, the late nights fighting back the homesickness under the dome at the top of his tower. He would miss Caleb. He would miss the brush of shoulders, the inkwell quietly slipped in his bag to replace one spilled, the exchange of glances and smiles across the study table. 

They would still see Caleb, of that Essek was sure. He was a powerful ally who was always willing to lend them a hand. The Mighty Nine would be calling on him again, that was sure, but there would be no more running into him on late night walks or in the academy library. There would be no days spent tucked together in the Soltryce Library trading books back and forth. And as nice as the first half of last night’s dinner and hot tub hang out had been, Essek found it hard to believe that it would ever be able to happen again.

If the dynasty was closing in on him, did Essek have any right to stick around the Mighty Nine and bring that kind of thing down on them? It was different than the concerns about Uk'otoa while they were on the water. This was a powerful nation that would stop at nothing, go anywhere, to see that Essek paid for what he had done. 

If Essek were a better man he would leave. Devise a new identity: new name, new face, and disappear. He wouldn’t though. The terror at the thought of losing the Nine stuck in his throat and threatened to choke him, even if it would be for their own good. 

Essek had to close his eyes tight against the sting of tears. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the wave of panic. They would manage. They always had before. Things were different, he had to remind himself. It wouldn’t be like him and Nott sleeping in the treeline outside cities to avoid people’s eyes. He was one of the Nine, and the Nine took care of each other. They would make it. 

His hands were shaking as he poured himself another cup of tea. Caduceus had gone to bed with the explicit instructions that Essek finish the pot before he woke up in the morning. The taste was astringent and bitter, but it did wonders to calm his nerves and ease the turning of his stomach. Essek turned his attention away from the estate and the uneasy future and instead focused on the notes in front of him. He had spent most of his morning waiting for the Nine to wake, getting as much done as he could on the spell for Nott. 

Halas’s books were scattered open on the table in front of him, as well as several pages of notes Essek had taken from transmutation textbooks in the Rexxentrum Archive and at the Soltryce library. Caleb would be a big help once they finally went over them. 

Light be damned, he wanted to be there now. Patience had never been Essek’s strongest virtue, and sometimes waiting for the world to catch up and finally wake was agonizing. He hadn’t even had the chance to talk to Nott since she left to walk Caleb home last night. Yasha had very insistently put him to bed as soon as they had walked out the door, and Essek was embarrassed to say that he had actually ended up sleeping rather than trancing, childish as that might be. 

Essek pulled out a new tome, setting a stack of notes to the side. He was so close. So very close, he could feel it, but still the answer seemed infuriatingly out of reach. Da’rax was at least enjoying herself, running back and forth under his hands, trying to avoid his impatient tapping finger. He added a transitive rune to the end of the equation, but something about it didn’t seem right. He crossed it out starting again. He needed something that could handle the power of a spell of this magnitude, something that would stabilize the transformation. It was too volatile as it was now. 

He pursed his lips staring down the work laid out. There was something, something just tickling the corner of his mind, a thought he was just missing. With a frown Essek pulled out his own spellbook from under a pile of papers on maintaining the integral structure of a living body during transformation. Caleb’s spell, Ermendrud’s Web of Fire, channeled a great deal of power, Essek remembered being surprised the spell didn’t backfire in the caster’s face. But Caleb had found an interesting way of dispersing the power, a way to keep the weave of the spell smooth. 

Too much power too fast and one was liable to blow themselves up. Essek had done it, he should know. 

There, a modified transmutation rune, but there were abjurative arcs to the signature at the end, creative enough that it caught Essek’s eye the first time he was transcribing. Essek added the modified protective transmutation rune to the section of the weave he had been working on. He felt the grin stretch on his face unbidden as he checked his math. It worked. Against all odds it worked. Perhaps a little less refined than Essek would normally have liked, but it worked. Finally he was getting somewhere. 

“Hey, Essek!” Jester’s voice startled him more than it had any right to. He hadn’t realized everyone was awake already. The time had slipped by him; glancing to the window he could see the early morning light peeking through a crack in the heavy curtains. “We’re going to go do some real quick shopping before we go to Caleb’s, do you need anything?” Jester cracked the door just wide enough to mash her mouth and an eye through. “You wanna come?”

“I think I will remain for now. I, ah,” Essek grinned again, glancing at his desk. “I am on a bit of a roll right now. I don’t wish to lose it. But if you could restock my component pouch I would very much appreciate it. Ask Nott, she will know what I need.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Well, see you soon, Essie.” 

“Only Nott gets away with calling me that, and you know it.” Essek frowned. 

“Fine, then I’ll just have to come up with something myself.” She stuck out her tongue at him, rendered even more comical by the way her cheeks were squished between the door and the frame. 

“Joy,” Essek snarked back, but there was a smile on his lips as Jester shut his door and Essek returned to his books. 

Essek began to work with a new fervor after that, refining his equations, fine tuning the vector runes to tighten the spell's weave. It was still a good way from finished, but finally Essek felt like he was getting somewhere after having been stuck the better part of a month. Maybe he was getting lucky, maybe Caleb was a good motivator. Maybe both. Followers of the Luxon would call it fate or destiny. Essek didn’t believe in such nonsense.

The early morning seemed to slide by him unnoticed, except for the occasional pause to listen for the Nine’s return. Essek simultaneously didn’t want to pause his work and couldn’t wait for them to get back soon enough. The sooner they returned the sooner they could go to Caleb’s, the sooner Essek could show him his work, the sooner he could watch that brilliant mind in action. 

The moment Essek heard the chimes downstairs that heralded the Nine’s return, he didn’t hesitate. He quickly shuffled his papers, gathering his notes and book, before vanishing them away into his wrist pocket, and rushing down the stairs to meet them.

“Nott, Nott!” Essek called down the stairs, as he pulled his pack over his shoulder; there were a few books a bit too hefty to comfortably sit in his already rather stuffed wrist pocket that he had loaded away in there. 

“Yes, yes?” She parrorted back at him, already holding out a small shopping bag that Essek assumed to be components. 

Essek paid it no mind, instead clasping his hands over hers with an excited squeeze. “I’m getting somewhere. I’m really getting somewhere with your spell.”

“Yeah?” There was a tentative kind of hope in her big, yellow eyes. 

“Yes,” Essek glanced at the rest of the party, “are you ready? You finished shopping? Can we go over to Caleb’s now? We have much work to do.”

“Ooh, watch out there Essek.” Fjord’s mouth twisted into a wry grin around his short tusks. “Sounding a tad desperate there. Remember, you want to play hard to get.” 

Essek ignored him, muttering something in Undercommon under his breath that had Beau barking out a laugh.

“Wait, no, what’d he say? Beau you have to tell me what he said. It’s captain’s privileges.”

“And we are not at sea, Captain Tusktooth.” Essek grinned showing teeth. “Now come, come, Caleb will be waiting for us.” 

True to form, it took several more minutes before Essek was finally able to push the rest of his friends out the door. Nott led the way through the Shimmer ward, and Essek found himself practically buzzing with anticipation. He decidedly leaned into the feeling. It was better than agonizing over the changes coming, what he had done, what it meant for the Nine. Magic was an easy thing to get lost in.

Slowly that buzzing excitement began to change. Essek could see them on the horizon, of course he could, there were few places in the Shimmer ward where there was not some glance of the towers of the Candles peeking high over the tops of the surrounding buildings. And with every step Nott was bringing them closer and closer to them. 

“Nott, you’re sure this is the correct direction?” 

“Of course! I know where I’m going.” Nott waved him off, not seeming to notice Essek’s upset. 

“Something wrong?” Caduceus craned his head to look at Essek, drawing the rest of the party's attention. 

“No, no. I simply, I just didn’t realize he was so close to Ikithon that he’s living in the Candles. It certainly,” Essek paused, searching for words. “It recontextualizes things a bit. Ah, perhaps we should hurry, and not linger.” Essek doubled his speed, forcing the rest of the Nine to keep up with him. 

“You’re sure you’re alright with this? We can go back to the house if you don’t think-,”

“It’s fine,” Essek cut Beau off. “We already agreed to go. It just caught me off guard. That is all.” 

“I mean, he did talk a bit about Trent last night, right? I mean he said he was like, super mean, right? And maybe did, like, some super fucked up unethical human experiments on him too though, you know? So, I don’t think it really changes anything. I think we can still trust him.”

“It’s not a matter of trust, Jester, more a matter of power. I didn’t realize he had this kind of standing with the Archmage.” And he had let Caleb walk away with the knowledge that Essek still had both of the stolen beacons. No, Essek had already made the decision to trust Caleb. He just had to trust the information would not be handed over to Trent. 

They fell quiet after that, as they made their way further into the Candles. The towers were luxurious and beautiful, each one unique and eye-catching. Essek’s attention was drawn to the silver spire that towered above all the others. The stone seemed to shimmer and external stairs wrapped around the outside. It reminded Essek of his own towers back home. The external walkways connecting the three spires. Essek thought about the hours he had spent watching the Rohona skyline from those windows. He thought of their estate here in Rexxentrum, the small tower off the rest of the house that he had made his own, with it’s blended skyline. Not quite a wizard’s tower, no, but a tower part of something larger, an aspect of something greater. 

Nott led them on, as Essek lingered in his own maudlin thoughts. At some point, when he hadn’t been paying attention the Mighty Nine had shifted, and now they surrounded Essek on all sides as they walked: Yasha and Fjord directly at the back of him, Beau and Nott walking ahead, the clerics on either side of him. It settled something in him to know they were here with him, that they would protect him. 

They passed a multi-spired tower of brass and red brick, surrounded by dense trees, and instead of passing it by Nott led them onto a little cobblestone path further into the trees. Once Essek saw it there was no doubt in his mind that the place belonged to Caleb. It was so very Dwendalian: with its dark wood, cozy red shutters left open and allowing a glimpse at the white curtains swaying gently in the breeze inside, a stone chimney stack spitting smoke, and a large outset window on the second floor. 

It was cozy and idyllic, in that rural Zemnian way Caleb seemed to favor. Essek couldn’t help smiling at the scene, already a little more at ease here, away from the looming towers of the Assembly, with the trees so dense and tall he could barely see them. 

Essek paused at the door, one hand moving to brush back his hair, before remembering his illusion, and leaving it be. He had been looking forward to this so much all morning, how silly for him to get nervous now. He needed to lift his hand, to knock, but they remained stubbornly at his side. Thankfully, it seemed Jester had no such reservations, darting forward to pound an insistent fist against the dark wood of the door. Essek half expected to see dents every time she pulled her hand back. 

After several long seconds of knocking, Essek’s ears caught the click of the lock, and he grabbed Jester’s wrist just in time to keep it from coming down on the rather harried looking dwarven woman.

“I assume you are the Mighty Nine?” Her scowl was half hidden behind the fall of her thick mustache and the tail of her long beard, which was tucked primly into her belt. 

“Yup, that’s us.” Jester just grinned, shaking her hand free of Essek.

“I will let the master know you’re here.”

“Ach, there’s no need for that, Anja.” Caleb appeared over her shoulder, his breath a little quick, and a smile on his face. “Please, please come in. And Anja, that will be all for today, thank you.” 

He motioned the Nine inside as the dwarf, Anja, bowed, before disappearing through a side door. Essek watched her go, before Caleb caught his eye again. 

“I thought dismissing my staff for the day might allow us a certain amount of privacy.” His gaze was loaded and significant. In response Essek gave an easy twist of the ring on his left hand, dropping the illusion. It brought a rather unexpected grin to Caleb’s face, bright and pleased. 

“The gesture is appreciated, very much so.” Essek allowed his own small smile, a little coy and very pleased. 

“Ach, but where are my manners? My mother would have my hide. Please, feel free to set down your coats.” Caleb gestured to the coat rack beside the door. “I ordered breakfast; I hope it will be to your liking. The dining room is just through here.” 

The Nine were quick to overtake Caleb as they reached the door to the little dining hall. It was as quaint inside as it was out: with white walls accented by that forever strange, dark brown wood; heavy, sturdy furniture; and in the dining room a wall almost entirely taken up by a large fireplace. He found himself holding back a smile at the sight of the collection of tiny cat figurines lining the shelf above the roaring flames. Essek found it achingly endearing. 

“Are you alright?” Caleb had fallen back to catch Essek, while the rest of the Nine found their seats. His brow was pinched tight in concern. 

“I’m fine,” Essek tried to wave him off, but Caleb deftly caught his forearm, leveling him a serious look. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. I have two dutiful clerics to see to me, and have had a full night's rest. I’m well.” Essek rested a tentative hand atop Caleb’s. 

“Gut, I was concerned. You seemed in a bad way last night. I am glad to see you back on your feet, or, well…” Caleb smiled, mischievous and sly, as he trailed off with a glance to where Essek hovered a good foot off the ground. 

“You think you’re very funny, don’t you?” Essek asked, struggling to keep the smile off his lips. 

“I think you think I am.” Essek’s heart was tripping over itself, and he was sure Caleb must be able to hear it from the way it echoed in his ears. Caleb’s smug, playful grin had his stomach in knots. 

“Confident, aren’t you?” Caleb just shrugged in response. 

He stepped away and Essek sucked in a greedy breath, desperately trying to control his racing heart. Caleb didn’t go far though. He pulled out the chair to the right of the head of the table, only to motion for Essek. He felt half out of his body as Essek took his seat, Caleb gentlemanly tucking it in after him. Jester looked like she might burst. Essek was sure the only thing stopping her from screeching was the pastry half shoved in her mouth. Yasha gave him a little thumbs up, that he supposed she thought was subtle, and sent Essek’s ears aflame. 

“We were a bit surprised you lived all the way out in the Candles, gotta say,” Beau spoke first, as everyone began to eat. Essek could have killed her. They couldn’t have one nice meal, one nice conversation without her inevitably beginning an interrogation. “Didn’t realize you were ‘live on his grounds’ close to Trent.”

Caleb, to his credit, didn’t seem particularly surprised at the line of questioning. He simply shrugged. “Trent, he likes to keep those close to him, well, close. I’ve worked with him for many, many years. He decided he wanted me easily at hand should he need me.” 

“For experimentation?” Caleb sat back in his chair at that, lips thinning to a tense line and arms disappearing under the table. Essek could just imagine them clenched into tight fists on his thighs.

“Beauregard!” Essek hissed, his eyes darting from her to Caleb, waiting for the tension to burst, anxious to see where things would turn. 

“For research,” Caleb asserted, his voice careful and flat. Carefully, like it took focus and concentration, he brought his hands back up to take his silverware and continue eating. 

“I don’t mean to piss you off. I might not be good at showing it, but I do actually like you, man. It’s Trent I’m not a big fan of.” Beau shrugged. It seemed to settle Caleb a bit, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. 

“Yeah, if you ever feel like ditching out of here and traveling with us, just let us know, you know?” Jester leaned forward, her face so forcefully earnest. 

Caleb chuckled, but Nott shook her head. “She’s not joking. If you ever wanna quit and run away with us, we’d all love to have you.” She gave Essek a very exaggerated wink. 

He was going to have to have a very serious talk with all of them about staying out of his love life after this. In all likelihood, it would achieve very little, but it might make Essek feel a bit better. 

“I’m afraid that isn’t much of an option for me, but the sentiment is appreciated. You have all become,” Caleb paused, weighing his words carefully, “very unexpected friends, and I am very grateful to have met you, all of you.”

“We, ah, I’m afraid we might be seeing less of each other after this.” Caleb’s eyes turned back to Essek. “After what happened last night, well, spending too much time staying in Rexxentrum after that feels like tempting fate. We will still pass through, I am sure, and I doubt Jester would allow us to lose contact, but we won’t be spending much time in the estate from here on out.” Caleb’s eyes were understanding and sad. Essek stared down at the table in front of him, just so he didn’t have to look at them. 

“That is likely for the best. I will miss your presence in the city though. It will feel less lively with you lot gone. I’m glad it will mean you’re safer though. I’m sorry you have to leave behind the estate. I know you cared for it a lot. You put so much effort into your tower.”

Essek shrugged, pulling up his best carefree smile, but it felt stiff. Perhaps it had been too long since he was at court. Surely it shouldn’t feel so hard to fake a smile over something as petty as this. “That is the nature of things. It is to be expected, such is the life of a man on the run.” 

“Such a roguish, dissolute adventurer as yourself must be well acquainted with the rough life.” Caleb braced his chin on a hand, an indulgent smile curling the corner of his mouth. 

Essek couldn’t help the laugh that startled out of him. “Ah, yes, pity to those foolish enough to quarrel with me.” Essek jokingly raised his hands, curled into awkward fists. “Truly, the hands of a roguish dissolute, these.” 

The bark of laughter from Beau broke the moment. Essek turned to regard her with a bemused look, as she choked on a piece of bacon. 

“You don’t have to laugh that hard, you know.” Essek huffed. Beau just shook her head while taking a drink to try and clear her throat. 

“Are you all enjoying the meal then?” Caleb asked, redirecting the conversation as Beau recovered herself. “It’s mostly Zemnian fair, I’m afraid. It was a bit short notice to shop around, so I went to my usual cooks.” 

“It’s delicious, thank you, Caleb.” Granted there were a few strange looking dishes that Essek couldn’t make heads or tails of, but Yasha had loaded up her plate, and Essek thought he might ask her her thoughts later. Essek was playing it safe with a plate of potatoes and eggs. 

“Do you have any favorite foods, things you would like if we have the occasion for this again perhaps?”

“Essek is boring, he likes soup.” Jester huffed with derision. 

Essek gave a slightly bashful shrug. “I am fond of comfort foods.” His rather uncultured palette used to frustrate his mother to no end. Even once Essek had reached his forties, all he wanted was Cook Valith’s mushroom stew and plain rice.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Caleb shrugged. 

“Oh, oh! Cayleb! You should try to get bear claws next time. I think you would really love them. You know, in Nicodranis they’re made with cinnamon. It’s a liiitttle different than most here, but they’re super good. I think you would like them, if you like the little apple tart thingies. Oh! Maybe we can bring you back some next time we go visit my mama,” Jester babbled on. 

“I would never say no to a gift or a visit.” Caleb smiled, charmed as everyone inevitably was by Jester’s cheer. “What about you, Yasha. I’m afraid I didn’t have any bugs on hand to serve, but is there anything else you are fond of?”

“I like fish.” Yasha’s delivery was deadpan, her face staying neutral except for the slightest of smiles at the corner of her mouth, as Fjord tried to smother his laugh and Beau made a strange choking noise in the back of her throat. “Do you like fish?” 

If Essek’s ears pressed back any further his jewelry would brush his shoulders. He would kill them, all of them. He would cast a gravity fissure right here, right under the table. Take him and all his friends with him. Put them out of their misery. It was like watching a cart accident as Caleb’s face split into a wide toothy grin. 

“Ja, I’ve been known to enjoy fish on occasion.” Essek might be an unmitigated coward, but he had never wished to get up and just run more than in this moment. “But, I’m pretty partial to a good sausage myself.”

“Yeah, you got a favorite kinda?” Beau asked between red faced gasps of laughter. 

Whatever Caleb intended to say Essek would never know, as he slammed one of his heavier books from his bag on the edge of the table. “So, those notes I was telling you about, would you like a look.” 

Caleb’s eyes turned back to Essek, taking in his flattened ears and the surely bright flush to his cheeks, and the look of mirth on his face seemed to soften. The look in his eyes was soft and unbearably fond. “Ja, of course, why don’t we go up to my laboratory then. We can get started, and see what we are working with.” 

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Unbearably endearing, really. 

“Shall we?” Caleb glazed from Essek to Nott, standing from his chair to motion back through the door to the entrance hall. 

“Gladly.” Essek shot one last narrow eyed look to his still laughing friends, collected his book off the table and followed.

Chapter Text

Essek followed up the stairs behind Caleb, Nott trailing at his heels. He was a little gleeful to see Caleb’s private laboratory. It had been far, far too long since he had access to a well stocked, good lab. What they had set up in the estate was ramshackle at best, with its shoddily lead lined walls and scarce books. 

Not to mention it was Caleb’s space. There was something so intimate, so trusting, about being allowed into the lab of another wizard. It was a place wholly theirs. There was so much you could learn about someone from looking at their lab: how they stored their papers, what sort of books they kept, if the atmosphere was meant to impress or relax. 

Caleb led them down the hall from the landing and Essek found a smile creeping onto his lips. The hallway was narrow and a little cramped by virtue of the various bookshelves that lined the walls. An unconventional place to put them to say the least, but Essek found it endearingly eclectic. 

“An odd place for a library.” Essek craned his neck to peek at the titles as they passed. Many were in Zemnian, some were technical tomes that Essek was desperate to get his hands on, and others seemed to be fiction. 

“I sort of ran out of room in the actual library, and I try to keep my laboratory relatively book free. My magic tends to be a bit of a hazard.” He gave a wry look over his shoulder, reaching up a hand to wiggle his fingers, a little flame dancing playfully from each finger tip. 

His control was… remarkable. Gorgeous really. Caleb had such a marvelous ability to fine tune his magic down to the most precise of motions. He would be well suited to the particular and meticulous nature of dunamancy. Essek imagined what Caleb would look like casting a pulse wave, his fluid and artful somatic movements in the well worn, familiar dunimantic runes. It would be the highest of treason, but in for a cooper in for a gold, Essek supposed. Perhaps after this. 

“Unconventional, but practical, I suppose.” Nott shrugged, popping up on her toes to peer at some of the titles on the spines. Essek noticed her hand inch towards a rather fetching tome bound in green leather, and quickly slapped it away. 

Caleb stopped at the door at the end of the hall. It was nondescript and rather plain. Nothing to give away that it was the lab of a powerful mage. Essek could see the near imperceptible shimmer of wards, and they flashed and faded as Caleb waved a hand over the wood surface. 

He stepped to the side and opened the door for them, and instantly Essek’s sight whited out. Essek hissed, bringing a hand to cover his stinging eyes, dropping the book tucked under his arm. 

“Scheisse,” The light was quickly gone again, but Essek’s eyes still burned. There was a warm hand on his cheek tilting his head up. Essek tried to open his eyes, but blue spots floated in his vision and he had to blink hard to see. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. My laboratory—I completely forgot.”

“Are you alright, Essie?” Essek could hear Nott’s voice to his side. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine. It will pass just give me a minute.” Essek blinked rapidly, trying to blink away the blurry haze. Slowly, the world began to come back into focus, and he could see Caleb, his hand on Essek’s cheek staring down at him, his face concerned. It shouldn’t tie his stomach in knots so much. It really shouldn’t. “There, that is better already.” There were still white spots dancing at the corners of his vision, but he could see again. 

“I’m sorry. I completely forgot about the windows.” Caleb’s thumb stroked his cheek so sweetly. It sent a little shiver down Essek’s spine. Then Caleb was stepping away, and Essek found himself both missing the warmth of his touch and also deeply grateful for the space, distinctly aware they were not alone. 

Essek glanced over to Nott and instantly regretted it. There was a smug knowing look on her face that had Essek putting another step of space between them. “No, it’s fine. I simply wasn’t expecting it. It was rather overcast this morning. I didn’t think it would be so bright.”

“Ach, ja, that would be my windows. Come, I’ll show you, don’t worry I’ve turned the lights down already.” That certainly sparked Essek’s curiosity. 

Essek followed Caleb into his lab and was immediately struck by the large vaulted windows that lined two of the walls that Essek was immediately certain did not line up to the outside of the house. For one, Essek could see Catha hanging heavy and full in the sky, casting a lovely white light on fields of colorful flowers. It couldn’t be past noon outside. 

“It’s a beautiful illusion.” Essek took a step closer to peer further out. He could see a field of what might have been wheat, Essek really couldn’t say, on the edge of the flowery meadow. 

“Thank you. It’s Blumenthal, where I grew up. Of a sort of course, perhaps slightly more idealized.” 

Caleb waved a hand, lighting the lanterns that lined the walls, throwing the laboratory into beautiful color. The fire light caught and lit up the slight shimmer of more warding runes along the walls, complicated weaves of abjuration, even divination. It was beautiful. The smooth stone floor was coated in a fine layer of chalk dust, lines of work only half erased. A wall of counter space opposite one of the windows was covered in notes and strange artifacts that Essek itched to get his hands on. 

Frumpkin was stretched out in a lazy sprawl across one of the tables. He lifted his head as the lanterns went up, regarding the group dispassionately before he rolled over, the papers crunching softly under him. Essek supposed his presence explained the strange raised lip at the edge of the table that held rows of vials and jarred components. 

It was a beautiful lab, one well suited to its owner. It admittedly made Essek a little homesick for his own towers. The renovation of the laboratory had cost a pretty copper, from the rune grooves in the floor to the expensive warding to prevent any more of his past accidents repeating. It had been paid for by the Den, a gift from his mother after his appointment as Shadowhand. He wondered if it had been left abandoned all this time, or if it had been handed over to some other arcane practitioner of Den Thelyss.

“Now, let’s see those notes you were telling me about.” Caleb held out a hand and Essek was quick to hold out one of his notebooks that he had stowed away in his bag.

The little black blur shot out faster than Essek could react, from Essek’s sleeve at Caleb, sending the mage stumbling back a startled step with a noise of surprise. Essek’s notebook clattered to the ground as Essek quickly waved a hand reappearing Da’rex into his cupped hand. 

“I am so sorry about her. She thinks she is very funny, startling people like that.” 

Caleb let out a stunned little chuckle, a hand pressed over his heart. “No, it’s fine. She is, she’s quite the ornery one. Aren’t you?” Caleb reached out a hand to scratch a finger down her furry back. Da’rex reached out her own forearms, holding him there a moment. 

It really shouldn’t be doing this much to him, just watching Caleb petting Da’rex and watching her chase after his fingers. And yet, Essek felt like his heart was in his throat. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel this way about someone. It was like there was too much emotion in his body and Essek had no idea what to do with it all. It was like he was liable to burst. It was… overwhelming to say the least. Sometimes Essek wondered if finally kissing Caleb might release some of the pressure, or if it would be the final thing to make his poor, poor heart burst in his chest. 

“Here,” Caleb stepped away, picking Essek’s notebook off the ground as he moved over to the table. He began to pile up stacks of papers and set them aside, earning a murp of frustration from Frumpkin, who picked himself up and relocated a few feet away, before flopping back down. “We can work over here. Pardon the mess.” 

Essek set Da’rex down on the table, watching her dart off to play amidst the stacks of paper as he summoned his materials from his wrist pocket. It was quite a bit, but with Nott and Caleb’s help they quickly got everything laid out and sorted. 

He watched Caleb closely as he read through Hala’s notes, watched his eyes light up as he began to pick up the thread. Caleb pulled one of Essek’s books over, the one where Essek’s own notes and addition to spell’s weave were. 

“This is,” Caleb shook his head. “You are very brilliant, Essek.” 

“He is,” Nott jumped in with an insistent kind of enthusiasm that was very distinctly her. “He’s a very smart boy.”

“Thank you, but I am standing on the shoulders of giants, and all that.” Essek demurred. Once he never would have dreamed of downplaying his own achievements and prowess, but then he had not faced the direct and aggressive praise of Caleb Widogast and Nott the Brave yet. 

“But you are the one who is making sense of it. That is nothing to scoff at.” Essek nodded his head acquiescing to the complement, and Caleb turned back to the notes. 

Essek could tell the moment he came across the rune Essek had borrowed from his Web of Fire spell. Caleb read, paused, and doubled back, rereading the line again. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I took some inspiration from your work. Your work is very inventive, and it seemed an effective way to avoid a magic surge considering the power being channeled.” 

Caleb ducked his head, a strange expression flitting across his face, and Essek realized he was actually bashful. It was so rare to see Caleb without the easy confidence in his own skill. It was hopelessly endearing. 

“Nein, no, of course not. I’m flattered, really.” 

“Of course, you are an exceptional arcanist. Your work is more than worthy of imitation,” Essek pressed, just to see the lightest of pink flushes on Caleb’s cheeks. 

“You flatter me, Herr Essek.” 

“It is not flattery if it is true.” Essek stared up at Caleb, the moment seeming to stretch, and the rest of the world falling away, as it was want to do when Caleb was around. His eyes were just so very blue and his expression alway so very intense, enrapturing even. 

There was a pull, a sharp note of surprise and outrage that lit across Essek’s mind. He broke away from Caleb spinning to look back at the tables. Frumpkin was crouched on his haunches, his arms stretched forward, a little cloud of dust drifting from his paw. Essek watched the cat lift the paw, checking underneath before looking around again. 

“Frumpkin! You naughty creature.” Caleb cursed under his breath, hurrying over to scoop up Frumpkin, dropping him down off the table. “I am so so sorry, I think he got a hold of Da’rex. Sometimes he really does have a mind of his own.” Caleb looked incredibly distressed and guilty over a familiar that could be easily resummoned. 

“Caleb, Caleb, it’s fine. Really. I’ll summon her again later. Knowing her, I would not be surprised if she had been antagonizing him in the first place.” Da’rex had a troublesome streak, and he could easily imagine his little friend trying to goad the cat into playing with her. 

“You’re sure?” Caleb still looked so distraught. “You should at least let me compensate you for the ritual.” Caleb moved, as if to begin patting down his pockets in search of his coin purse, but Essek just caught his nervous hands in his with a laugh.

“How about you help me unlock the mysteries of an ancient and powerful mage and we call ourselves even, hmm?” That seemed to melt some of the worry away from Caleb finally. 

“Ja, ja, sounds like a plan.” 

From there their work began in earnest. Essek outlined the work he had already done, the questions that still needed to be answered. Caleb began pulling notes and papers from around his desk and summed books from the hallway. Nott’s keen eye pointed out errors, or places where both wizards had missed something. Her ideas were unconventional and clever; the insight of an alchemist. A very different way of thinking that presented an interesting boon here.  

Caleb was a delight to watch, he always was when magic was involved, but this wasn’t just sharing a spell or two, this was creating something entirely new. Essek sketched out the idea for a new rune to incorporate into the weave at the structural arc, and watched the way Caleb’s face split in a gleeful, excited grin, his hands fluttering rapidly back and forth, like he couldn’t bear to keep still. Essek wondered what would happen if he took those hands in his own, if he soothed the nervous motion, perhaps pressed a kiss to the tops of his knuckles or the inside of a tattooed wrist. 

The west had turned him into an awful romantic. He blamed Jester’s influence.

The lab was hot, especially with three people working their hardest, four with Frumpkin winding around their feet when they tried to walk, not to mention the torches that lined the walls. It wasn’t long before Essek abandoned his cloak over the back of a chair. It left him lighter, and was admittedly a bit safer working in a lab like this. 

“I never did get the chance to ask you about that,” Caleb called Essek’s attention back up. He was leaning his hip against one of the tables, his eyes trailing over Essek, lingering over his legs and where he floated, but the weight to his gaze didn’t seem entirely… academic. 

“My floating cantrip?” Essek asked, in part just to draw Caleb’s eyes back up to his face. He didn’t think he could handle Caleb continuing to look at him like that. It made Essek want to shake him, ask him what was going on, what his game was, what he really wanted. 

It certainly worked, Caleb’s eyes snapped to his, a different kind of hunger there now. “It’s a cantrip? That is exceptional.” 

“I’m very proud of it, but it isn’t really so impressive as it seems. It is little more than a sustained alteration of the gravitational fields under my legs.” That sparked a laugh from Caleb.

“Ach, yes, not impressive at all. Is there a reason for it though? It must be a lot of work hiding a bit of spellwork like that under your normal illusion. If it’s simply about your height, surely that could be included in the illusion itself.” There was the crack of a smile hiding at the corner of Caleb’s lips. 

“Jokes about my height again, really? I thought you were above that.” That dopey smile was spreading, and Essek pointed a threatening finger at the man, which was somewhat diminished by his own growing smile. “Don’t you dare.” 

Caleb tipped his head back in a loud laugh that had Essek fighting against laughter himself. “Alright, if that’s not it, what is the real reason.” 

“Ah,” That sobered Essek a little, as he weighed whether or not to tell the truth. Nott was pouring over her book, but Essek could tell she was listening in by the very careful stillness of her ears, always ready to defend him. “Walking is a bit of a strain for me sometimes.” 

Essek eased himself down into the chair across from Caleb. He was listening so intently, such soft and genuine care on his face. 

“I had an accident when I was young, arcane experimentation that was, honestly, much over my head at the time. I lost control of the spell, and the blowback nearly sent me through the wall of my Den’s library. My legs were properly mangled. I had the very best clerics to help my recovery, of course, but the damage was extensive. It was a miracle of the Luxon that I ever walked again, or so I am told. Being on my feet too long still makes them ache though.” Essek managed an inelegant shrug, as though he had not spent a great deal of time and energy into making people forget about his unfortunate disability, or at least keeping it out of sight. 

“I’m sorry that happened. The arcane arts in the hands of the young and ambitious does have a way of turning out poorly at times, doesn’t it?” There was a rueful, sardonic tilt to Caleb’s lips that belied the understatement to his words. “It certainly makes your cantrip all the more impressive. It’s everything magic should be, isn’t it? Something that helps people, something that improves lives, rather than tear them apart. All too often magic is used to destroy, to hurt those less fortunate, to maintain the power of those on top. I think we forget the power we hold sometimes, the potential we hold to change the world for better.”

“You-, you certainly have a way with words, don’t you?” Essek’s throat felt unreasonably tight. He thought that if Nott hadn’t been in the room there with them he might try to kiss Caleb again. It was probably for the best she was there. 

“Ahem!” Nott’s sharp voice cut in, as if on cue, breaking the moment. “I think I might have found something.” Essek carefully avoided her knowing gaze as he glanced over her shoulder to the equation she had laid out, and then they were back at work. 

Essek had never worked with people like this. He had always been a staunchly solitary researcher, even when he was studying in the conservatory he had avoided collaboration as best as he could. He had been so sure there was nothing anyone could have to offer him. After all, how could they be as smart as he was? He was a dunamancy prodigy. Caleb was a transmuter and Nott studied under a completely different academic discipline, and yet here they were, not only keeping up, but offering new ideas that had never occurred to Essek before. 

It was like a kind of magic in and of itself, the way they seemed to move as one around the lab, passing notes and sharing ideas, and building off one another’s thoughts. It was a beautiful thing. Essek couldn’t help but wonder if he had been depriving himself of this all this time in his insistence on work alone, or maybe Caleb and Nott were just special. 

“Wait,” Caleb dropped the thick tome he had been copying notes from down on the desk with a thud that had Essek jumping in his seat. There was an eager glint in Caleb’s eyes that spoke of a breakthrough. He fumbled his spellbook out of his harness. “The spell you taught me, immovable object. You told me that transmutation focuses on changing the object itself, but dunamancy is about shifting focus to the forces around the object. Do you think we could somehow pull a copy of Nott’s body from the past? Would that be possible here?” 

Caleb held out his spellbook and pointed a finger to the section of the weave he had been focusing on. Essek moved closer to follow Caleb’s eyes. “I don’t know that we could pull a past version of her forth, but…” Essek frowned thinking hard. The substantive runes of that spell were remarkably close to transmutation, now that Essek knew better what to look for. “We could perhaps use something almost like a resonant echo to make a sort of blueprint for the spell. It might streamline things a bit, add in mass conversion and lower the chance of a magical kickback.”

Essek leaned over the table marking out the dunamantic runes on the master sheet. He began transcribing vinculum runes to pull the equation together. Halfway through Caleb stopped him with a light hand on his, wordlessly slipping the pen from his hand. Essek took an obliging step to the side, watching as Caleb continued the work he had started to create a rune that was something new entirely, a strange mix of dunamancy and transmutation, come together in something bigger than themselves. 

It would work. They had done it; a complete, viable spell. Caleb was grinning again, and Essek's face was aching with how wide he was grinning in return. Essek wasn’t prepared for the arm Caleb threw around his shoulders, abruptly pulling him in for a tight hug, one arm around him and one around Nott. He smelled like sweat, and cat, and wood smoke, and Essek fit so perfectly tucked into his side. His head just fit in the crook of Caleb’s neck, and once the initial surprise faded he found himself easing into the touch. He was so warm… 

Essek swore he felt the ghost of lips at his temple, but then the feeling was gone and Caleb was pulling away, and Essek couldn’t be sure. Caleb was still grinning wide.
“This is, this is amazing. You are amazing. This is history, pulled from history. Thank you for letting me be a part of this.” Caleb’s smile was blinding, and his breath was coming in exhilarated little pants. 

“I couldn’t have done it without your help.” Essek couldn’t help but demure, casting his eyes down as he worried the fabric of his robe between his fingers. 

“Nonsense, you would have gotten there with or without me, it just might have taken you longer. No, you are far too intelligent for that.” Essek didn’t think he had ever seen Caleb smile so wide for so long. 

“Thank you both for this. Can we do it?” Nott looked a little stunned, overwhelmed. Essek was not surprised. He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she was quick to reach up and lay her hand over his, holding onto him. 

“We’d need components. It calls for a significant amount of clay I do not have.” Essek frowned, mind already considering where they could find some in the city.

“I have a yard,” Caleb offered. 

Essek gave a startled little laugh. By the Light, this was really happening, wasn’t it? “Are you sure?” 

“Ja, of course. This seems important, and I think I can manage one angry gardener.” Essek gave Caleb a nod, before he dropped to his knees carefully in front of Nott. 

“Do you want to do this now? You have all the time you need to think about this, if you want.” 

“No. No, I need to do this.” Nott shook her head, her ears flicking with the movement. 

Essek would be sorry to see her familiar face gone. He tried not to think about it too hard though. It would do him no good. Nott brought her hands up to her face examining her slender green fingers with a critical eye. 

“Being Nott has… it’s been good for me I think. I used to hate it. I hated myself too, hated this body I was in, hated the way I felt in it, hated the way people looked at me. But you, you changed that.” Nott reached out cupping his cheek, and Essek abruptly found himself blinking against tears. “You helped me to feel at home in a body that wasn’t mine, and I can’t thank you enough for that. You’re a sweet boy, and I was lucky to have found you. 

“I’ve learned a lot. Being Nott, the Brave taught me to be brave. It taught me to look beyond everything I thought I knew. But it also made me realize how much I loved being Veth. This isn’t my body, for all the amazing things it’s allowed me to do, I want to be Veth again. And I want to take all the things I learned as Nott and see if I can be Veth and still be brave.” Her yellow eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and Essek felt a few tears slip down his own cheeks. Nott was quick to wipe them away with a tender hand. 

“I am very proud of you, Veth the Brave.” She gave him a wide toothy smile, rocking up onto her toe to press a light kiss to his cheek. 

“Well then,” Caleb cleared his throat. “It sounds like we have some digging to do. Shall we?”

Chapter Text

They headed back downstairs to gather the rest of the Mighty Nine to begin setting up the ritual. Caduceus had pulled a shovel off his belt and recruited Yasha and Beau into helping him dig up the garden. It was a lovely garden. Essek still felt a little guilty to put such a large, gaping hole right in the middle of it. But there were more important things, he supposed. Fjord and Jester had run out to get the rest of the gems they would need. Meanwhile, Essek, Nott and Caleb had begun the process of setting up Caleb’s lab.

Essek began the arduous process of drawing out the circle in preparation. It had always been Essek’s least favorite part. He had spent so long in the Thelyss study having his knuckles rapped by his tutors for shaky lines and misplaced runes, and then later in study at the Conservatory facing professors armed with rulers checking his circles to their exacting requirements. While Essek more than understood the need to be precise and careful, especially in a field like dunamancy, he had been very glad when he had installed the rune grooves in his own personal study. 

Essek glanced back to their compiled notes, scowling to himself. He had drawn the transistor arc at the wrong angle. It needed to be a forty five degree angle facing north, this was south. Essek smeared away the line, ready to start over again. 

“Ach, allow me.” Caleb’s hand was warm over his, rough and gentle, as Caleb ever was, as he plucked the stick of chalk from Essek’s hand, fingers lingering and leaving behind a light buzz. 

Obediently Essek shuffled back a step, allowing Caleb the room he needed. Caleb spared one more glance at their notes, before he began to work. He moved with an exacting, easy confidence. He didn’t refer back to their notes or checked his lines, but kept going, drawing out each arc in punctilious detail. Essek watched him, referring back to their plans, but Caleb hadn’t made a single mistake as far as he could tell. Caleb dusted his hands off on his pants as he stood, leaving behind chalky handprints. 

“You are a marvel, aren’t you?” Caleb startled a bit, as if he hadn’t realized Essek was still watching him. 

“ Was ?” 

“Your circle.” Essek gestured down to his work. “You didn’t make a single mistake, and without looking.”

“That is nothing. Just simple memory.” Caleb waved him off with a shrug. 

“I don’t think anything about you is just simple anything.” Caleb’s eyes on him felt like a near physical weight, so intense, so consuming. Essek never knew it was possible to feel this way with just a glance, so exposed, so seen.  

Beau practically kicked down the door helping Yasha and Cad bring up the huge amount of clay, and Essek was embarrassed to say that he still felt breathless, even as he stepped away, waving a hand to half the weight of the clay. Beau stumbled a bit shifting her feet as she scowled at him over her shoulder. 

“You couldn’t have done that at the bottom of the stairs? Or better yet, when we were digging?” She huffed, tucking the now much lighter bundle of clay under her arm. 

Essek wrinkled his nose. “Absolutely not, I don’t do manual labor. You got it up here fine. Now, set it in the center of the circle.” 

The way that Beau narrowed her eyes as she passed him let him know that the only thing stopping her from taking a swing at him was that her hands were full. Essek gave her a shitty little smile just to drive the point home. Beau rolled her eyes and dragged the clay off. 

Jester and Fjord weren’t long after that, arriving back in the lab once they were done filling the short little trough with the clay. Caleb easily crushed the gems to dust with a wave of his hand. The preparations were finished.

It was all so quick. Everything was coming together so fast. Essek fiddled with the piece of chalk in his hands, just to keep himself preoccupied, while the ladies continued their jokes, something about being an expert on breasts. 

“Hey.” A small green hand covered his own, halting the motion of his fingers. Nott’s great, yellow eyes were so full of concern and worry, Essek couldn’t hold her gaze long. It was awful, so awful of him to be doing this. He should be happy for her. She shouldn’t be worried about him. This wasn’t about Essek. This moment was supposed to be about Veth. “I’m not really going anywhere, you know.”

“You’re going back to your family after this, aren’t you?” Essek finally met her eyes this time. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and Essek got the distinct impression she was trying her best to reign herself in. A novel idea for the goblin woman in front of him. 

“I am.” It was the answer Essek had expected, but it still hurt. “Hey,” Nott tugged his attention back to her. “I am going back to my family, but you’re my family now too, okay? All of you are. That doesn’t stop because I go back home. This isn’t the end. I’m going to see you again, and often. And, hey, if anything important ever comes up again, you know you have me in your corner.” She laced her fingers through with his. “It’s you and me till the end, remember? We promised, and this isn’t the end yet, you hear me?”

Essek nodded, his throat thick with unshed tears. “Well, a promise is a promise, and I am not one to go back on my word lightly. Shall we perform our greatest feat yet then, Veth the Brave?” Nott- Veth’s face split into a big toothy smile, and Essek couldn’t help leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. 

He helped her ease herself down into the clay, taking the offered gems from Jester to arrange over her body. Caleb had already lit the incense while they were talking. With one last nod to Veth, Essek settled down into a comfortable position on his knees, sleeves rolled up and the torch light catching the shine of his tattoos, and began to incant. 

Essek could feel the temperature in the room shift, the clay growing hotter as the air grew heavy and charged, like the moments before an electric storm. The taste coated heavily on Essek’s tongue and stood his hair on edge. Slowly, the clay softened, seeping up around Nott’s body and swallowing her down until it covered her completely. 

Time seemed to become an elastic thing, pulled out slow and infinite until every minute seemed to stretch on forever. It felt like a slow spell had been cast on the very air around them, and every word of the incantation Essek spoke came out drawn and labored. 

Essek felt his consciousness connect with Nott’s, felt and saw the image of Veth she had conjured into her head. He felt their breaths join in concert, felt his chest rise and fall in time with her’s, felt the tight press of clay around him as it began to cool and harden. And Essek reached out for those threads of magic that choked the air around them, drawing them in tighter and closer, manipulating them to his will, and driving them into the clay. He worked to pull the image of Veth from their collective thoughts forward, to rearrange matter into a proper shape. His heart was beginning to race, a giddy sense of elation that this was, really and truly, finally happening setting in, and Essek wasn’t sure if the feeling belongs to him or Nott. He wasn’t sure the difference mattered really, they both still felt it. 

Essek moved to pull that first taunt string of the spell's weave, but there was no give, like there was a knot further down in the weave he couldn’t see, but there was nothing there. His work was immaculate. There was something dark, something powerful, that was blocking him. It made the magic slip through his fingers like oil, and he couldn’t seem to regain his grip. He tried one last time, gathering the strands of the spell’s weave into his hands and pulled with all his might, but this time that dark something pulled back, ripping it all from his hands. Just like that the clay shattered, sending shards flying and knocking Essek back on his ass, as the magic of the spell was suddenly ripped from the room. The cold high pitched laughter that rang in his ears tied knots in Essek’s stomach as he struggled to regain his breath. 

Essek could only blink stunned at Nott, still distinctly goblinoid, and the rest of his friends looking confused and concerned. Yasha was quick to pull him back up, dusting the chalk off the seat of his robes, when all Essek could do was stand there. Nott was looking at her hands, fingers running down her body, and the shot of guilt Essek felt was nauseating. It had gone wrong. He’d failed. 

“I don’t understand,” Caleb was frowning at their collective notes. “Your work was meticulous.”

“Of course it was,” Nott chipped in with a surety that Essek didn’t really feel he deserved at the moment. “Did you hear that? The-,” She trailed off with a gesture to her head, seemingly struggling to find the words. 

“The what?” Jester frowned, helping clear the last of the clay off her clothes and out of her hair. 

“The woman laughing?” Nott glanced at the rest of the Nine who looked lost shaking their heads. 

“I did,” Essek said, an uneasy thought beginning to form in his mind. “We should head back to the estate soon. We need to regroup from here, and figure out what happened exactly.”

“You have an idea of what happened,” Fjord pressed. 

“I think so, it felt,” Essek frowned, trying to think of the best way to describe it. “It felt like there was something dark stopping me. Whatever —whoever— put this spell on you, Nott, is more powerful than myself, and I fear we can’t undo this without dealing with them in some way first.” 

Essek watched the notion sink in for Nott, the way her shoulders slumped just a bit before she steeled herself again. “Then it sounds like we have some investigating to do.” He admired her resilience. Nothing ever seemed to truly get her down, not for good. Essek wished he had her spine. 

“I’m sorry I can’t do more. But, I think this has gone a bit above my capabilities.” Caleb frowned, his fingers worrying the edges of the bundle of papers. 

“You’ve already helped us so much,” Essek was quick to assure.

“Yeah, man. You’ve already done a lot, seriously.” Beau gave him a comradely punch on the shoulder that had Caleb sharply wincing. 

“You’re very welcome.” Caleb wrinkled his nose, rubbing a hand over his bicep. “Come, I’ll see you out.”

“We should at least help you clean up this mess,” Caduceus offered. 

Caleb waved him off. “Nein, don’t worry about it. Really. You have enough worry already. I can take care of this.”

Caleb collected the last of the notes scattered around the lab, before handing the bundle over the Essek, his hands lingering. “I’d love a chance to transcribe this spell some time, if you would allow it.”

“Of course, I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Have you put any thought into what you might name it?” Caleb’s question caught him off guard. He hadn’t actually considered that. 

“I hadn’t actually. In the dynasty it’s customary to name any spell after your Den.” Essek shrugged, busying his hands with putting away all their papers and notes into his wristpocket. 

“You could name it after yourself,” Caleb offered. 

Essek huffed a little snort. “That’s a little conceited, don’t you think?” Caleb’s expression turned amused and rueful. “Ah, you’ve named spells after… I didn’t mean it as—” Caleb held up a hand to cut him off. 

“No offense taken, truly. What are we wizards if not a little conceited?” Caleb’s expression was wry, lips pressed thin to hold back a laugh. 

“I suppose that is very true.” Essek cast a glance past Caleb to his friends. “Perhaps I will name it for them. After all, I could not have done it without them.” And that was the whole point of naming spells for Dens, wasn’t it? To credit those who had enabled your work, who supported you. 

“I think they would be very pleased to hear that.” Their eyes caught again, and the moment seemed to stretch on. 

“Right, well, we’re just gonna start heading out then.” Fjord cleared his throat motioning to the door. 

“Right, of course.” Caleb nodded motioning them on. “Leading the way.” He turned back to Essek, extending the crook of his arm like he had once before. “Could I see you out?” 

There was an uncertainness to Caleb’s expression, like he half expected Essek to refuse him. It was a bold move, repeating the same gesture he had extended that night when everything had seemed to go so abruptly wrong. It was also sweet. A silent request for another chance, the opportunity to try again. Well, Essek was nothing if not a believer in second chances. 

Essek settled his hand into Caleb’s arm, reveling in the way the human’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “I would like that very much.” 

They followed behind the rest of the Nine, far enough back to give them some privacy as they descended the stairs, but Essek found himself lingering at the door. Yasha caught his eyes, giving him a quick little nod. She wrapped one arm around Beau’s shoulders, who reacted like she’d been struck by a thunderbolt, and one hand on Fjord’s back pushing the group to pick up the pace as they walked, until they were out of sight behind the thick trees. 

“So,” Caleb cleared his throat, more nervous than Essek thought he had ever seen him. 

“So,” Essek repeated, prompting Caleb to continue. He might care for Caleb, but  that didn’t mean he had to make this any easier for him. After all the agonizing he had done, Essek thought that Caleb deserved to sweat, just a little bit. 

“I owe you an apology, for that night, when I walked you home. I am not usually—,” he broke off shaking his head. “You make me very nervous, Essek. I knew you were charming, brilliant, and interesting from the moment I met you, but, well, I did not expect this.” He made a vague motion to the space between them. 

“I didn’t expect this either. I don’t really do things like this often.” Essek shook his head, glancing away, unable to meet those intense blue eyes. “You have been— you’ve been so kind to us, to me. You are so smart, and passionate, and you care so much.” 

There was that soft anguished look back on Caleb’s face once again. “Ich glaube ich liebe dich, und das ist das traurigste daran.” Caleb’s hand came up to cup Essek’s cheek, thumb rubbing gentle circles. “Can I kiss you?” The soft, desperate way Caleb made the request stole the air from his lungs.

“If you don’t I’ll never forgive you.” There, the crook of a smile at the edges of Caleb’s mouth, and then his lips were on Essek’s. 

Essek brought his hand up to curve around the back of Caleb’s neck, pulling him down, closer, closer. His lips were chapped, and his beard scraped Essek’s cheek, and his hand was the slightest bit clammy cupping his cheek. It was perfect. It was by far the best kiss Essek had ever received, long and slow and sweet. 

Caleb rested his forehead against Essek’s as they broke away to catch their breaths. Essek couldn’t help staring. He didn’t think he would ever get enough of the way Caleb looked at him, like he was something so precious. 

The high pitched cry had Essek pulling back sharply, startled. His eyes flew to the tall surrounding trees. Perched on a low branch of one of the nearest branched Essek could make out the pale face of a large owl, watching them back with large black eyes. 

“Ha, it would seem I am not the only nocturnal creature come out into the sun today,” Essek teased, activating his ring of disguise with a simple gesture. Caleb was still watching the owl with wide eyes though, his face worryingly pale. Essek hadn’t realized the noise had frightened him so much. “Caleb?”

Caleb startled once more, eyes snapping back to Essek before he spared the owl another glance. “Right, ja. Sorry.” Caleb took a deep breath, his face earnest and determined. “I will see you soon. I promise.”

“I thought you were leaving town soon?” Essek asked, puzzled. 

“I am, but if it would be alright I’d like to drop something off for you before I leave.” Caleb’s shoulders were still held a little stiffer, and there still seemed an edge to him. Essek supposed he understood. After all, this was a rather nerve wracking culmination of their relationship. Whatever exactly that might be now. 

“I would never say no to getting to see you.” That brought a freer smile to Caleb’s face, and he leaned in for one more quick kiss that left Essek wanting more. But no, now was not the time; the Mighty Nine were waiting for him just around the bend in the road. 

“Then I will see you then.” Caleb smiled, gave one last cautious glance back at that strange owl, before returning inside. 

Essek stood there a moment, collecting himself and trying to wipe the foolish, love sick grin off his face. The last thing he needed was to give his friends more ammunition. He wasn’t entirely sure he even wanted them to know about this, not yet. Not just yet. He took his parasol off his belt, and headed off down the road. 

The owl was still perched, unmoving, on the branch as he walked away.

Chapter Text

Essek floated the entire way back to the estate, both physically and metaphorically. He could still feel the faint, electric press of Caleb’s lips against his, the softness of his hair under his hands, the rasp of his beard on his cheeks. 

Jester kept giving him curious side glances, trying to poke at him, but Essek determinedly brushed her off. He didn’t want to tell her, or anyone, just yet. He just wanted to ride this high a little longer before he had to deal with whatever had happened during Nott’s failed spell. 

In the end, Essek had little input to give on the discussion once they reached the estate. They all huddled around the table in the war room, plied with sweet tea and snacks by Caduceus. Essek sat next to Nott, an arm around her shoulder in an awkward attempt at comfort. She didn’t seem to mind it. 

Beau led most of the discussion. She had dragged one of Essek’s chalkboards in from the lab, much to his consternation, recording everything they knew about Nott’s experience. The more Nott described the more tense Beauregard grew, until she recounted the stories her father had told her about a witch in the woods. 

Essek didn’t like the sound of this at all. The whole thing sounded like something out of a bedtime story his nurse would tell him to frighten him into trancing. He also didn’t like the way Beau’s shoulders had been drawn up, high and tense. Essek didn’t think returning to her parent’s home would be a peaceful homecoming. He shared a glance with Fjord, nodding in Beau’s direction. Fjord gave an understanding nod in return. Good, a captain should take care of his first mate. 

With their next moves in mind, the Mighty Nine disbanded for the night, and Essek retreated to his tower, cocooning himself in pillows and blankets with a small stack of paper and began to work. First, he began work on crafting a spell scroll for Fortune’s Favor. It was an obvious choice. A simple, if foundational, spell to introduce the school of Dunamancy. 

It was a soothing thing, to lose himself in the magic and the notation of a familiar spell, like returning to a well worn book. The hours seemed to slip through his fingers as he worked, until he reached for his tea only to find it cold. The sun was going down. It was hard to tell with the illusion of night around the tower, but there was a subtle change to the colors of the sky that was noticeable if you knew what to look for. 

He set the now finished scroll to the side, pulling out a new page only to pause. What other spell to do? He had already shown Caleb Immovable Object. There was Gravity Sinkhole, but what real use would a man like Caleb get out of a combat spell? There was always Resonant Echo. After all, Caleb had shared spells of his own making too, hadn’t he?

Essek flipped the pages in his spellbook and began transcribing with a renewed intensity. This one took less time than Fortune's Favor. He might be very well acquainted with that spell, but this was something he had created himself. He had spent months and years staring at these equations, and then had done it all over again to reinvent the spell for his new spellbook. On a whim, as he finished the last rune, he added a note in the margin. ‘An assistant for when Nott and I can not be there in the lab with you.’ Light, he hoped that didn’t seem as pathetic and cheesy as it felt writing it. 

“Still up here?” 

Essek glanced up from his work. He hadn’t heard the trap door lift, but Yasha was there with her head peeking up. She pulled herself the rest of the way up as Essek set his papers to the side, capping the ink and tying off the scrolls. 

“I wanted to talk to you, it’s been a long day.” She settled down into the blankets beside him, and Essek shifted to wrap one edge of the blanket around her as well, though it wasn’t quite big enough for the both of them. 

“I’m hardly the person you should be concerned about right now, I think. Beau and Nott are both going through a great deal more than I am.” Essek shrugged. 

“Maybe, doesn’t mean whatever you’re feeling doesn’t count though.” She leaned back against the pillows to look up at the stars above them. “I’ll miss these. Today’s been kinda a mess of good and bad news.” 

Essek let out a heavy, weary sigh. Yasha was right. No matter how giddy and excited he might feel about this new thing with Caleb, things were still complicated right now: leaving the estate, Beau’s family, Nott’s curse and eventual departure from the party. He leaned back, joining Yasha laying down. “It isn’t ideal, no.” 

“Nott’s going to leave. Once we do this, and fix her.” 

“Yes. She, ah, she has a family. Of course she is eager to get back to them. She hasn’t seen them in a long time. What right do we have to keep her from that?”

“Do you miss your family?” That question startled Essek. He turned to look at Yasha, surprised. She just stared him down with those kind, understanding eyes. 

“That is complicated.” Essek gave a nervous little laugh, his hands worrying the blanket around his shoulders. “Of course I miss some of them, but I also don’t miss them at all. The Mighty Nine have been a better family to me in this last year than any of my family ever was, and I think that’s what makes me miss them. I know better now, and I also know what I might have had, what they could have given me, if they had been able to love me in the way I wished. If I had known how to reach out. Does that even make any sense?” 

Yasha nodded, “I think it makes a lot of sense. My tribe was kind of like that.” 

They were quiet for a long time, just laying there in silence. There was a chill to the air; Essek still hadn't managed to figure out how to heat the inside of the dome, but the thick blankets and pillows surrounding them trapped in enough warmth that it didn’t bother Essek too badly. 

“So, Caleb?” There was a smile to Yasha’s voice that had Essek covering his face in his hands to hide his grin. “So something did happen then?”

“He asked to kiss me,” Essek admitted between his fingers. 

Yasha’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. She gave a little wiggle, turning over on her side to face him fully. “And did you say yes?”

“Of course!” Light, he was giggling now. He felt like a child all over again, trading whispered secrets about school yard crushes. 

“How was it?”

“It was,” wet, their noses had knocked together, and Caleb’s beard had scratched his lips, “perfect. It was perfect.” 

“Do you love him?” That tripped Essek up again. 

“I, I don’t know. Love is a— it’s a big word. I, ah, I think I could. I think I could love Caleb very easily. I just don’t know how to tell. How do you know that it’s love?” 

Yasha’s face turned a little sad. “You know, trust me. You just know.” 

“Thank you,” Essek reached out to place a hand atop hers. Yasha turned her hand to hold his own.

“Of course, Like you said, the Mighty Nine are family. We’re family.” 

Essek scooted a bit closer until he and Yasha were close enough that he could feel the heat of her, and she threw an easy arm around him. She didn’t run quite as hot as Caleb did, Essek noted idly. They laid there in silence watching the stars, and the way the subtle color changes belayed the sun falling beyond the horizon outside of the little dome. They stayed there until Caduceus collected them for dinner. 

The next day was spent shopping and stocking up on anything they might need on their trip, all the while dutifully pretending that there was nothing wrong. Essek had grown up as a scion of Den Thelyss, he was well versed in pretending the moorbounder in the room didn’t exist. So he and Nott restocked their components together as though this might not be the last time they performed such a familiar and old routine.

Caleb came by the day after, and just in time. They had intended to leave in a few hours, first to Zadash to meet Dairon, do some research, and then check in with the Gentleman, before heading out to Kamordah from there. Essek had pushed back their departure as much as he could, knowing that Caleb had planned on visiting before they left. The spell scrolls had been burning a hole in his wristpocket for the last two days, waiting to be handed over. 

“Essek! Caleb’s here to see you!” Jester’s voice rang out through the estate, and Essek was quick to set down his current work, packing up the essential parts of his lab, and shuffling out from under his pile of books. 

Essek didn’t bother calling anything back, just hurried to meet them in the entrance hall. Jester was leaning against the wall with a grin, and Caleb… He glanced back at Essek, a grin lighting up his face that had the breath catching in his chest. He’d trimmed his beard down, leaving just a short smattering of red. Essek was surprised how disappointed he felt about it. When had something so odd, something so distinctly foreign, become so charming? When had it stopped being strange and unsettling and started being just a part of what made Caleb, Caleb? 

“Hallo, Jester told me you were about to leave soon? I’m glad I was able to catch you.” Caleb had turned to fully face him, closing the distance. Jester had left, slinking around the corner, though Essek could still see the tip of a horn peeking out from the kitchen door. 

“I’m glad you caught us too. I would have hated to leave without getting to say a proper goodbye. You shaved.” Essek was tempted to bring a hand up to feel the brush against his palm. He wondered if it would be more or less scratchy against his cheeks now. 

“Do you like it?” Caleb brought a hand up, like Essek had imagined himself doing, running along the curve of his jaw. 

“I can certainly see more of your face now to judge, can’t I?” Essek teased. “I think there is little you could do to your appearance that I wouldn’t like.”

“You are a flatterer, Herr Essek.” Caleb’s eyes dropped down to take all of him in. “You’re walking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually do that.”

“Ah, yes.” Essek glanced down at his own feet firmly on the ground. “I’ve been trying to more often lately. After dealing with the anti-magic golems in the Halls of Hallas Beau became rather insistent that I work on strengthening my legs. A physical therapy of sorts. I just count myself lucky that I still fare better than Fjord with the beatings he gets.” 

“I’m glad to know you are looking after yourself then.” Caleb’s hand fell to the satchel at his side. “I brought you something. It was something of a rush order, but…” Caleb trailed off, pulling out a small brass orb. It fit easily in the palm of his hand, the casing perforated in seemingly nonsense patterns around the top. 

“What is it?” Essek frowned, cocking his head. 

Caleb didn’t respond, just held out a finger motioning for Essek to be patient. He twisted the little orb along a faint seam that split it down the middle, and the inside lit up with a soft, white light that shone out through the holes. 

“A lantern?” Essek asked, perplexed. He didn’t know how to break it to Caleb that seeing in the dark was the least of Essek’s concerns, as charmingly crafted as the device was. 

Again, Caleb didn’t say anything, just grinned pointing a finger up towards the ceiling. Essek followed Caleb’s finger, and he felt the breath punched out of him. Shining up on the dark wood ceiling was an elaborate, beautiful starscape. The lights were far brighter than they had any business being in the entrance hall, still lit with the afternoon light that drifted in through the window, and all the while the device was so softly lit that Essek could stare right into it without it aching his eyes. 

“Caleb,” the name came out breathless on Essek’s lips, “you didn’t.” 

“It seemed a shame that you would lose something you put so much work into. It’s not the same as your tower of course, but it’s something. A piece of home you can take with you.” Caleb gave him a fond look, mixed up with hope, and that something sad that never seemed to truly leave him. 

Oh. That’s what Yasha had meant. He loved him. He loved Caleb. This man, who had managed to produce a complex enchantment item in less than two days just to give Essek a small piece of his old home, now that he was being forced to leave this new home he had made for himself. It only steeled Essek's own resolve.

“You are,” he shook his head “so very thoughtful. This is… I will treasure it a great deal. Something to remind me of home, and to remind me of you.” Caleb's smile grew wide and pleased. “I have something for you as well.”

“You didn’t need to get me any—” Essek waved Caleb off, summoning both of the spell scrolls from his wristpocket. 

“These are for you.” Caleb blinked down at the proffered spells with a stunned kind of shock, as if he wasn’t sure if he could really take them. Essek tucked them carefully into Caleb’s empty hand himself. “You’ve aided us so much, and shared more than your fair share of spells with me. I couldn’t begin to repay you for all you’ve done, but this is a start. Be careful who you use them in front of. There are many who would gladly manipulate Dunamancy to their own ends.” 

That seemed to snap Caleb out of the stunned stare he was giving the scrolls in his hand. “This is too much, I couldn’t.” He held them out, almost to give them back, but Essek covered Caleb’s hand in his own, pressing the scroll against Caleb’s chest. There were stars of light playing against his cheeks among his freckles from where the star orb shone. 

“I insist. They are my spells to do with as I please.” 

After a long moment Caleb nodded, swallowing hard, and Essek’s eyes tracked the motion unbidden. He hadn’t realized how close they had come to stand in the exchange. From here Essek could see the fan of his lashes against his cheek when Caleb’s eyes fluttered. 

“Can I kiss you?” Now it was Essek asking the question. 

Caleb’s eyes darted to his lips, and he seemed to lean forward into Essek’s space just that much more. “Are you sure? Your friends are watching.” 

Essek spared a glance to the kitchen door, Beau was quick to dart back around the corner. He didn’t see her, but he was sure Nott was there as well. Jester didn’t even bother trying to disguise that she was watching, and gave Essek a wink and a thumbs up. 

“They’re going to know eventually, and the Mighty Nine are something of a package deal. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Caleb shrugged a shoulder, taking that final step forward to close the distance. “I’ve told you before, I’m fond of your friends.” 

And then he was leaning in, and Essek moved to meet him, his feet easily leaving the floor as one of his hands came up to cup the side of Caleb’s neck. Their noses didn’t bump this time, and both of their hands were dry, and not even the shrill noise coming from the kitchen door could stop Essek from melting into the kiss. It was good; it was perfect.

Chapter Text

Essek stared up at the dark canvas of the covered wagon. He had the star projector resting on his chest, throwing soft light; he was taking a welcome break from the sun. There was only so much a parasol and special glasses could do before a headache began to set in. 

Yasha sat in the corner, pressing a new flower she had collected into her book, and he could hear the muffled conversations of Jester and Fjord at the front of the cart. Beau and Veth were walking ahead of the painfully slow wagon. If he was very quiet, he could hear the squawking sounds of their laughter. 

It was still odd, getting used to the change of Veth. There was always that fell swoop in his stomach when he looked over, expecting green skin and wide yellow eyes, to find soft brown skin and long dark hair. Essek felt guilty with how much he missed her the way she was. Especially given how happy she seemed. 

They had performed the spell successfully the moment they hit the first inn on the way back from Isharnai and the Cyrios Mountains. It had shattered the tub, and they had skipped out quickly after that, leaving enough coin for a replacement behind. But, it had worked. Nott the Brave was now Veth the Brave. 

And in the end they hadn’t even needed to trade anything to the witch, thanks to Jester’s quick thinking. Essek thought about sitting inside that hut, the way Isharnai had loomed over him impossibly tall. Truly a fey straight out of a child’s cautionary tale. She had looked in his eye and Essek had been sure that his whole life lay out before her, like an open book. It had sent a deep nauseating fear through his core, and when she had asked what he would be willing to do for his friend, when she had asked if he wouldn’t turn himself over, confess his crimes… Well, Essek had been very eager to escape that awful little hovel. 

How sad and pathetic for him to sit here and wish that he were more self-sacrificing. He had listened to the things his friends had been willing to give up, and Essek hadn’t even entertained the thought of facing the consequence of his own actions to give his very closest friend her life back. It seemed no matter the ways the Mighty Nine changed him for the better, he would always be the same coward. 

But it was done. She was Veth once again, and now they slowly made their way toward Felderwin. In spite of Veth’s speeches to the contrary, Essek couldn’t help but be sure this was it for them. Already he could feel a rift between them. They had hardly talked most of this journey. It was a far cry from the way they had practically been attached at the hip for the last few years. 

Essek sat up, twisting the star projector off as the sounds of the city drew closer. They had reached Felderwin then. He carefully tucked away Caleb’s gift, thumbing his ring and activating his usual disguise. It was time. 

Essek found himself walking alongside Veth as she led them through town. Felderwin was a quaint little place. The fields on the borders had seemed to stretch out endlessly around them, and as they proceeded further into the city, they found it bustling with life. 

Their motley crew seemed to draw more than its fair share of looks, which wasn’t uncommon for them in and of itself. Fjord, Cad, and Yasha seemed to catch folks eyes initially, towering over the majority halfling population as they did, but it was Veth who seemed to draw their stares. Essek didn’t think she failed to notice the whispers, hidden behind hands and spoken too low for even elven ears to pick up 

They turned down a side street and Veth picked up speed. He could see the sign ‘Brenatto Apothecary’ hanging on a modest sized little building. Essek noticed the other sign that had been hung on the door, just as Veth came to a halt right in front of it. ‘Closed Indefinitely’. 

“I don’t understand!” Veth pounded a fist against the door, to no response. “They should be here!”

Jester was quick to step up and put an arm around Veth’s shoulders, murmuring some kind of comfort. Essek wasn’t listening. It had been a while since he and Veth had first met, and even more since she had been on her own before that. Things moved faster outside of the dynasty, outside of a world ruled by elves and umavis. Anything could have happened in the time Veth and Essek had been wandering the empire. 

“Veth?” There was an older human woman staring from the end of the lane, a bag of groceries fallen at her feet, her face slack in shock. “Veth, is that–” 

She was cut off by the tiny, dark blur that ran past her feet right for their group. Essek’s hands went up to cast purely on instinct, but Veth was already moving to meet it, her hands outstretched lifting it up off his feet into her arms. 

“Mom!” Oh, this was Luc then. His head was buried in Veth’s shoulder, and Essek could see the way tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. He could likely count all the times he had seen Veth cry in the years he had known her on one hand. He almost felt like he should look away. He didn’t. 

Veth pulled away, setting Luc back onto his feet, her hands patting over him, frantically checking him over, but Essek’s spine had gone stiff. He took in Luc’s short, dark curls; wide, dark hooded eyes; a toothy grin framed by full lips; a pronounced cupid’s bow, that Essek now realized was all Veth; sunny, copper colored skin; and a strong nose. 

Overall, he looked startlingly like Essek, or at least like Essek’s illusion. The one he and Veth had both cobbled together and perfected in those first hard months traveling together. His face was thinner, his features more elven and fey, but the similarities were undeniable. They had sat on the edge of towns or tucked away in the corner of a bar, hoods drawn low, and pointed out people and features they found pretty, or trustworthy, or suitably nondescript for travel in the empire. But there had been more to it than creating a working disguise. Essek was starting to see that now. 

He could feel the Nine’s eyes turning to him. Caduceus’s mouth was a concerned, pinched line. He wasn’t the only one who had noticed the similarities then. Essek didn’t at all care for the considering look Beau kept throwing between him and the pair. 

Veth had molded him into some sort of stand in for her lost son then? Shaped him as she had seen fit, and what? Pretended? Essek didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure what to think about all of this, or how to feel about it all. He thought he should feel angry though, betrayed maybe, hurt, but really all Essek felt was uncomfortably numb and tired. 

“Veth.” The old woman had closed the distance. She still looked at Veth like she was looking at a ghost. “What happened to you? How did you get here? We all thought…” She shook her head trailing off. 

“It’s alright. I—I got better, and I’m home now.”

“Mom, where were you? Daddy said that the goblins killed you.” 

“No, no they didn’t. I was just far away. I was trying to get back. I was trying to come back, I really was. I was trying so hard, but I wasn’t able to come back until just now. But I was,” Veth’s voice cracked, her eyes wet and red. “I was always thinking about you. I never stopped thinking about you.” 

Luc didn’t say anything, just gave a cautious and considering nod, before he was tucking his head back into Veth’s neck. 

“Edith,What happened to the shop? Where’s Yeza?” Veth turned her attention back to the older woman. 

“That mean lady said he had to leave. She took him with her.” Luc’s nose wrinkled in exaggerated distaste, his quick answer cutting Edith off. 

“Took him? What do you mean?” There was a note of panic in Veth’s face that she couldn’t seem to hide. Her voice was thick and cracking. She held Luc tight against her hip, a kind of desperation in the way her hands tightened. 

“He had a, uh, a commission of sorts.” Edith explained. “He was contacted by some government types. I don’t know the details. He wasn’t supposed to talk about it. But they took him up to Rexxentrum, I think, to keep working.” 

“You don’t know anything about what he was working on, or who he was working for?” Veth glance between Edith and Luc. 

Edith just shook her head. “Daddy always put me in my room when the mean lady with the pointy ears would come by.”

“Veth, we should look around the shop,” Beau tentatively ventured.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’ll just—,” she trailed off, seemingly stuck there, still holding Luc on her hip. 

“I can take him back with me right now, keep an eye on him, if you would—” Edith began to offer.

“No, no, he can stay with me. For a little bit. While we look around. Then, uh, then we’ll figure something out.” Veth nodded, setting Luc down back on his feet. 

“Alright, well, if you need me, you know where my home is.” Edith nodded and turned back down the road. 

“Thank you, Edith.” The word came out like an afterthought, like Veth had only just remembered to say it. Essek didn’t think he had ever seen her so scattered before. Nott— Veth— had always been irratice, yes, but she was always purposeful, never… this. Edith just gave a kind nod and continued walking.

Jester helped keep Luc preoccupied, while Veth made short work of the lock. Essek lingered at the back of the group, trying to figure out how he was feeling. There was an uncomfortable numbness that settled around him like a cloak, watching Veth’s emotional conversation, seeing her son and the resemblance they shared. But there would be time to reflect later, right now what was important was figuring out what happened to her husband. 

The shop proper had been cleared out. The shelves were empty and there was a thin coating of dust on the counter top. Essek lowered himself an inch or two so he didn’t have to duck under the low door frames. He carefully adjusted his illusion accordingly. 

Beau had already begun rifling through drawers, searching for anything of interest. Veth threw open the doors at the back of the shop that seemed to lead into a tiny apartment. Nothing seemed to catch her eye there, and she turned away after only a moment. Essek waved a hand, casting detect magic, but nothing seemed to light up. 

“Yasha! Come help with this door. It should be unlocked by now. I don’t get it. The lock isn’t that good.” Veth called out. Essek followed the commotion to the next room over to find Veth, Jester, and Yasha crowded around a basement door, Luc lingering a few feet back. 

“Wait,” Essek held up a hand to pause them. The soft glow of abjuration magic radiated from the door. It was an easy thing to dispel; once that was done the door fell apart from the previous blows it had apparently been subjected to. 

“It looks like someone really doesn’t want anyone down here. Let’s check it out.” Beau said from over Essek’s shoulder. Veth was already heading down, Luc quickly darting after her. 

The basement, while small, held a rather elaborate lab, and everything here seemed to have at least a low level arcane glow. Tables full of vials and beakers lined the back wall. Essek recognized a few, an alchemist’s staples, but some were wholly unfamiliar. Essek began a tight lap of the edge of the room looking for a glow that might stand out from the rest. 

“Over here, there’s some— there’s notes. They’re all burned up. It looks like he hid them in his desk.” Veth scowled at the parchment scraps, turning them over in her hands. “As we continue to invoke the—” She faulted her eyes darting up to Essek, “the beacon…” 

Essek’s stomach bottomed out. Jester slapped a hand over her mouth, and Beau and Fjord shared a grave look. A beacon… No, no, the empire didn’t have any beacons. They couldn’t. 

“The effects unleashed are curious, and reach far beyond this laboratory.” Veth continued. “The dunamis field encompassed an entire portion of the town, with locals complaining of an ill, sluggish sensation.” 

It was a beacon then. It had to be. They really had a beacon then. But how? How? The two in Essek’s possession were both accounted for: one in his wristpocket and another in the lead box in Jester’s haverack. Both safe in their care and, most importantly, away from the Assembly. 

“Based on our previous experiments and extracted techniques from Kryn operatives, captured or otherwise contacted—” Veth broke off shaking her head at part of a word that had been burned away. 

Light, did that mean him? Was he one of the Kryn operatives that these notes referenced? He had tried to keep the beacons from the Assembly in the end, had realized his mistake. Had it been pointless after all? Had the information he had already handed over been enough for them to learn whatever these ‘extracted techniques’ were?

"This magic, by my theory, is deeply rooted in ancient history of some arcana we take for granted.” Veth continued reading. “If these beacons are just the surface, what eons-old rituals have been lurking beneath the citadel in Ghor Dranas?" Essek wrinkled his nose. Ghor Dranas. I didn’t surprise him to hear those of the Assembly speak like that. They had struck Essek as the type to smile to his face and call him a crick behind his back. 

"In these past weeks, we have successfully distilled a single vial that should enable a temporary influx of dunamis to even an untrained soldier.” Jester’s eyes were wide and wild when they met Essek’s, but he had nothing to offer. He could only stare dumbly back. Isolating dunamis… It was impossible, removing it from a beacon like that… Equal parts intrigue and horror pulled at Essek. “Once I can remove the beacon itself from the process, I hope to have this alchemist refine the method." 

Jester waved a frantic hand in the air as she looked over the other scrap of paper. “Wait! Listen, guys, listen! Word has found me of Trent finding a few of his proteges have a knack for early dunamancy— blah blah, something, something. I am eager to look over their findings. Imagine— something something —could be accomplished by the Assembly should we further learn to command these—” Jester broke off with a frustrated noise. “There's so many things I can't read because it's burned away!"

Essek felt dizzy, like the world was all moving too fast around him. He had thought that in spite of all the harm he had caused, at least he had not handed a beacon to the Assembly, but had he helped them in the end anyway? Had his change of heart come too late for even that bit of good?

“So, the Assembly has a beacon somehow? Can that happen? Can they just find new beacons? I thought you guys had all of them in the dynasty.” Fjord turned to him, and it took Essek a moment to remember how to speak. 

“No, we think we are entitled to all of them, but we drow know there are still more out there. One of the main tenets of Luxon worship is the quest to find all of the beacons. And, I— I mean, objectively yes, they could just find them. They’re ancient artifacts, and most of the ones currently in the dynasty’s possession have been recovered from ancient sites like the Ghostlands, the Frigid North. It’s just— it’s unlikely. It’s incredibly rare. I can’t believe that they would just…” Essek trailed away, a hand coming up to his mouth. 

“So, the Assembly has your husband working to make these dunamancy potions then?” Beau asked, glancing back over the page Essek had taken from Jester.

“He’s an excellent alchemist. They would need someone like that.” Veth’s eyes turned on him, almond shaped eyes, brown and hard and narrowed. “But where did they get the idea? Is this part of your research then?” She waved the page in the air. “Is this the kind of shit you were handing over to Da’leth?”

“Veth, I—” Essek could only dumbly shake his head. He felt like he was sinking, like he was falling. He had half a mind to bring a hand up to his neck just to make sure he hadn’t been poisoned again. 

“No! This is because of you!” She pointed a finger in his face, taking a threatening step towards him. Essek was standing on his feet. He didn’t remember when that had happened. Veth’s face was all twisted up in anguish and resentment. “Because you got involved over your head, because you sold state secrets, because you got curious. And now the Assembly has Yeza!” She broke off at the end, her hands were trembling. 

“Luc, hey, why don’t we go ahead and wait upstairs, okay?” Jester’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it felt so unbearably loud in the deafening quiet of the room. Essek didn’t move from his spot, rooted to the floor. A beat later there was the soft sound of feet on the stairs. 

“We could try sending him a message, couldn’t we? We can find out where he is and if he’s safe that way,” Fjord suggested, stepping in to take charge. Essek appreciated the gesture. 

For all the playful antagonizm between himself and Beau, the soft understanding between him and Yasha, the easy love and affection between him and Jester, for all the ways they had all become strange siblings to him, it was Fjord out of any of the Mighty Nine that really reminded him the most of Verin. A good leader, with a good head on his shoulders, a talented talker who had a way with people, and also an unabashed fool and a forgetful idiot. 

Essek had betrayed his brother, burnt that bridge so thoroughly. He had abused his station and their relation to steal the Bazzoxan beacon. People had likely died because of him, because of that. Bazzoxan was a dangerous place. The last time he had ever seen his brother Verin had seemed furious, that wild light in his eyes when he’d tried to grab Essek… His closest family, gone from him. 

And now… Was this the end of his new family? What had been meant to be a fresh start, now tainted by his past crimes? Veth would rightfully want nothing to do with him for this. Essek couldn’t imagine that anyone wouldn’t take her side. Veth and Jester were so close, and Fjord would go with Jester. Caduceus would realize the group was better off, healthier, without Essek, and Beau would follow the majority of the group. Yasha… Well, he didn’t think she would walk away from all of them, especially not Beau. They had been growing so much closer lately.

“Oh! Okay there, come on.” Caduceus wrapped his arms around Essek’s torso, hauling him back up. He hadn’t even realized he had begun to fall. His head was hazy and everything seemed far away. Oh. He was passing out then. “Alright, I’m gonna get him some fresh air.” 

He began guiding Essek gently back up the stairs, supporting most of his weight as they went. “You’re not at fault here. You know that, right? This happened outside of your control.” He was wrong. Didn’t Caduceus realize how wrong he was? “We’re going to fix this. Don’t let her anger— it’s not about you. This is not about you.” 

The light chill to the air as they stepped outside was a welcome shock to his system as Caduceus sat him down, his back braced against the shop’s wall. Essek took in a deep, shaky breath as he drew his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around himself. 

“That’s it, deep breaths.” Cad’s big, broad hand rubbed circles against his back, guiding him to lean forward. “Come on, head between your knees, keep breathing like that. Good. I’m gonna make some tea. You hold on right here.” 

Thankfully, Caduceus didn’t wait for a response before heading back inside. Essek wasn’t sure he knew how to move his tongue anymore. He just sat there, feeling the blood pound in his head. 

Essek couldn’t shake the feeling that he had worn out his usefulness. He had returned Veth, and now she had her son back. What more use did Veth have for the drow boy she had scrapped off the streets? Especially now that he was the reason for her family still being separated? Of course she wouldn’t want him around. 

He’d suspected the same about Deirta as well, at times. Once he had been sure that there were no memories of a previous life coming, that he was no great scholar, that he was just simply Essek, he had felt a new pressure in his studies. He’d felt the increased need to prove himself, like he had something to make up for. He had been sure that if he couldn’t prove himself a good investment, his mother would remove him from Den Thelyss. 

Maybe that’s just what mother’s were; someone to push you on, someone to guide and shape and mold you as they saw fitting. Maybe breaking away from the mold meant losing them. Maybe that was just the way of things. 

Jester’s mother had never seemed that way though. Marion had made Essek so exceptionally uncomfortable the first time he had ever met her, though not by fault of her own. She reminded him so much of Deirta: the poise, the bearing, the perpetual soft smile that seemed frustratingly unflappable at times. At the same time she was dramatically different. The first time the Mighty Nine had met her, Jester had run up to wrap the woman in a crushing hug she had been quick to return with gusto. She had quickly cleared her entire schedule to dedicate the day to her daughter, and arranged for rooms for the entire party. Essek hadn’t embraced his mother like that since he had been a child, and the Umavi was a busy woman. Her time was valuable, and her sons had only been afforded so much of it, never a full day like that. She reminded Essek startlingly of his mother without the spine of steel Deirta hid behind her sweet smiles. 

He couldn’t imagine Marion trying to push Jester towards anything. The wanton property destruction that could be found in Jester’s childhood bedroom was evidence enough. Essek couldn’t suppress a shiver at the thought of the smack he would have gotten from his nurse if he had vandalized the walls like that. Light preserve him. 

“Hey!” The sudden noise had Essek startling upright in a way that made his head swim a bit. Luc had his hands cupped around his mouth as if that would make his ‘whisper’ anything less than the shout it seemed. He sat down against the wall, mirroring Essek, inching closer until they were sitting only a couple feet apart. “Mom seemed real mad at you, huh?” 

Essek gave a humorless little laugh. “I think that is something of an understatement, and perhaps you shouldn’t be talking to me right now.”

Luc only shrugged, uncaring. “It’s fine. Mom gets mad all the time. She never really means it though. She used to get real mad and threaten to poison the neighbor’s cat, cause he pooped in the garden. She never did it though. In the end she just made Daddy put up a better fence in the garden and gave the neighbor dirty looks for a long time. So you’re probably fine.”

“Very comforting.” Essek wasn’t sure exactly what to feel about that story, but he certainly wasn’t feeling better. 

The halfling was still giving him that long considering look. “Is my dad still alive?” The question caught Essek off guard, and he felt his stomach bottom out all over again. “Mom said you know the people that made him leave. Is he going to be alright? Will he come back home?” There was such a naked worry on the boy’s face, a strange, younger mirror of the face Essek had worn for the last few years. 

“I can honestly tell you that yes, I think your father is still alive.” He meant it too. He didn’t think the Assembly would have reason to kill the alchemist working on such an important project. He was less certain what they would do once the project was finished, but from the notes it had sounded like something that would be a long term project. 

Luc nodded, pulling his little legs up in mimicry of Essek’s pose. He seemed to consider what Essek said as they both looked out on the street in silence. Essek wasn’t sure what to do. He had never spent much time around children, but he felt he should say something. Anything to fill the silence. He wondered if Luc was bothered by their resemblance. Though, Essek supposed he had no real reason to think of it as anything other than coincidence, if he noticed at all.

“Would you like to see a trick?” Essek offered. Instantly Luc’s attention was on him. 

“Yeah! Yeah, what kind of trick?” Luc tucked a knee under himself to sit a little higher, turning to Essek. 

Essek held out his cupped palms motioning for Luc to watch as he summon Da’rex into his outstretched palms. The boy startled, his eyes wide as saucers as he let out an excited, high pitched noise. “Would you like to pet her?” 

Luc nodded his head so rapidly and vigorously, that Essek was half concerned it would fall off. He guided the boy’s hands flat, allowing Da’rex to wander over to him. Luc jerked a bit at the touch of her furry legs.

“She tickles! What’s her name?” Luc raised his other hand, stroking a careful finger over her abdomen. 

“This is Da’rex. She’s my familiar.” Essek found himself grinning in spite of everything at the wide eyed wonder on Luc’s face. 

“Oh man, that’s so cool.” Luc turned his eyes back up to Essek. “Are you really a drow?” 

There was the sickening anxiety right back again. How did the boy know? Essek racked his brain. He’d said he was from the dynasty, hadn’t he? He’d completely forgotten about Luc in the room. 

“I am, but it’s a secret, alright? So you can’t tell anyone.” 

Luc nodded, lips pursed and face tight with a comical kind of solemnity. “I won’t. Can I see?”

“I have an illusion up right now. If I drop it someone might see, and then it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?” Essek frowned considering. “Here, give me your hands.”

He banished Da’rex with a wave, sending her back to her little hiding place in his pocket, and took Luc’s empty hands in his. Luc shuffled up onto his feet to better reach as Essek guided his hands up to his face. The boy’s hands came up to touch his cheek, clipping through the very edge of his illusion. Luc’s eyes lit up. 

“That’s so cool.” He pulled back a hand to study it. 

“Luc,” Veth’s voice had Essek jerking back, his heart suddenly in his throat again. “Go inside, kiddo. Cad is making something to eat real fast, okay?” 

“Okay!” Luc was quick to scramble back to his feet, pausing for a moment in his haste to get back inside. “Thanks for letting me hold your spider. She’s real cool.” Then he was gone. 

The silence that settled was heavy and tense. 

“I shouldn’t have—”

“This was all—”

The both began at the same time, both cutting themselves off, silence settling once more. Essek was the first one to break it this time. “I’m sorry. This never would have happened if I hadn’t spoken to the Assembly.”

“No, no it probably wouldn’t have,” He was expecting the words, but they still felt like a physical blow. Veth let out a heavy sigh, exhaustion in every line of her as she sunk down to sit against the building with him in the spot Luc had just left. “But then, maybe it would have. The Assembly found this beacon by themselves after all. They might have gotten here eventually, just would have taken them longer. Either way, it's in the past. What’s done is done. Right now, I need your help to get him back.”

“You don’t need my help.”

“No, but I want it. I don’t want to do this without you, Essie. I shouldn’t have said that in there. I was scared, and it was over the line.” Veth laid a hand over Essek’s, stilling the viscous wringing of his fingers. 

Essek wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, there were so many things running through his head, and he wasn’t sure what was going to come out of his mouth when he opened it. “I look like Luc, but you have him back now.” You don’t need me anymore, Essek didn’t say, you have the real thing. Why settle for an imitation. 

“Oh, Essie.” Veth tugged at his hands, pulling them into her lap, one hand coming up to his cheek to force his eyes to meet hers. “You don’t look like Luc. You look like my boy, cause that’s what you are. You’re my boy.” 

Essek felt his face crumble, and Veth was quick to pull him in close, tucking his head against her chest, until Essek was practically laying down. He hardly cared about the sight they must make, not with Veth cooing nonsense in his ear, fingers carding through his hair as she rocked them softly back and forth. 

“We’ll get Yeza back. I promise you, Veth. I’ll make sure we get him back. We have leverage with the King. We can go straight over the Assembly’s head.” Essek’s voice caught in his throat, tight from swallowed back tears.

“They won’t stand a chance.” Veth agreed, but her voice seemed less sure than her words suggested. Essek wrapped his arms around her middle, holding her back in turn. They sat together like that for a long time. 

Chapter Text

Reluctant as Veth was, Luc was sent back to Edith. They packed the pair anything they might need, handed over a large bag of gold and teleported to Nicodranas together. Marion was all too glad to take them in. The Nine couldn’t stay to see them settled in though. There was an urgency they all felt, that had only increased after Jester had managed to get a sending through to Yeza. He hadn’t been able to talk, but he had been able to let them know he was alive and that he didn’t think he was in any immediate danger by faking coughs and sneezes in time to Jester’s increasingly convoluted and harder to understand questions. It had been a relief to discover, but the Assembly have never had any compunctions about removing their pawns from the board as they saw fit. 

They stocked up in Nicodranas before returning back to Rexxentrum. This time, they didn’t dare stay in their own estate, and instead took a room in the Soul’s archive. They worked with Yudala Fon, who was only too happy for any opportunity to check the Assembly’s power and operations. As eager as Veth was to charge in, they were acquainted with the Cerberus Assembly enough to know they needed to be well prepared when they did so. 

The papers discovered in the Brennatto’s basement lab went a long way to help their case when they finally sought an audience with King Bertrand. Fjord did most of the talking, while Essek lingered at the back and tried to look forgettable and unassuming. Veth had stood wringing her hands, and shifting on restless feet. When it was finally her turn to plead her case she hadn’t been able to help the withering looks shot at the members of the Assembly in the audience. 

He had never liked it, any of the times they have had audiences with the King. It was a nerve wracking thing to stand there in his disguise, in front of the monarch of the country you had made your home, knowing that if he knew what you were, you would never leave the room again. Not to mention that when he looked up it was to the knowing faces of the Martinet, Ikithon, and DeRogna, as they scowled at him from their little daises. They’d struck such a tentative balance of recrimination. How easy it would be for them to spill his secrets, to ruin him. All too easy. 

King Bertrand Dwendal declared an end to Yeza’s conscription. He would be allowed to leave the custody of the Assembly, and they may continue their work on a commission basis, but only if Mr. Brennatto was willing. Somehow, Essek doubted that would be the case. An Assembly aid would escort them to the research site, as soon as the audience was concluded. The news had Veth looking like she might burst out of her skin. 

“Mighty Nine,” the voice stopped the group in their tracks, as they made their way to exit the chamber to where their escort waited. Ludinus Da’leth approached with an air of feigned pleasantness, but Essek could see the tightness around his mouth, the way he held his ears stiff and back, the resentment and condescension in his eyes. “I wondered that I might have a quick word with your esteemed wizard.”

“What do you want?” Veth bit out, harsh and caustic. 

“Make it quick please, Martinet. I do have places to be, remember?” Essek conjured the most patronizing look he could manage, the kind he had learned at his mother’s knee in court. It earned him the most satisfying flicker of rage in those pale eyes. 

“I wished to speak to you about the research being conducted on this recently discovered artifact.” His tone was cloyingly pleasant. 

“Is that so?” Essek narrowed his eyes.

“It is quite the boon for the Assembly, finding such a curious artifact as this, and while the loss of Mr. Brennatto is a shame our research continues. You could always be part of that research yourself, Mr. —” Da’leth paused, the crack of a smile flickering across his lips, mean and cruel, “Ah, but it’s just Essek now, isn’t it? The Cerberus Assembly boasts the most well equipped research facilities that you could possibly hope to have access to. Working together we could achieve a great many things, I am sure. I won’t be extending this offer to you again.” 

Essek felt a hand fall to the small of his back, soft and reassuring. He didn’t have to look to know it was Veth. He wondered if any of the Nine were concerned about his answer. After all, this had been what he wanted more than anything once. This very offer had almost convinced Essek to commit treason for them. Well, he had committed treason, but it hadn’t been for them. He’d never handed over the beacons in the end. It must have infuriated them, especially Da’leth. 

In the past when they had met in person, Essek—in spite of all the compliments Ludinus had laid at his feet, all the sweet talking and praise—hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the elf disliked him. 

Now, he didn’t doubt for a second that Da’leth had been using him every step of the way. 

As much as he would love the chance to bring the beacon to a real lab to study it properly, Essek wasn’t tempted for a moment. 

“A tempting offer,” Essek smiled, showing his eye teeth. He wondered if Da’leth would even understand the slight for what it was. He supposed it didn’t matter much anyway, Essek didn’t even have his fangs in this form. Still, it was a petty affront that brought him a thrill of vindication. “Sadly, I have to decline. You see, I’m not in the habit of working with petty bureaucrats and small-minded, uninspired individuals.”

Da’leth’s lips drew back in a cold sneer, as he moved a step closer to hiss, “very well. You have made your choice then. Remember well this kindness I extended to you, crick, when that sharp tongue of yours wounds only yourself.” 

And there it was. Essek watched the Martinet stride away, once again the picture of contained, stoic elegance. Who would guess that moments ago he was dealing threats?

“That guy’s a real piece of work, huh?” Fjord scowled after him, a hand clapping Essek on the shoulder. 

“I really don’t like him.” Coming from Caduceus it was a resounding condemnation. 

“We know where he lives, you know. We should, like, throw a bag of flaming dog poop at his door or something.” Jester suggested, as they turned back to the doors. 

Yasha nodded grimmly, “yeah, next time we’re in town.” 

“Where are you even gonna get dog shit?” Fjord asked, oddly fond, considering the subject matter.

“I don’t know! We could always go to my momma’s. Nugget poops a whole lot, you guys.” 

“We know,” Essek cut in. “We’ll figure out where to source our ‘dog shit’ later. For now we have another, probably a little more pressing, goal at hand.”

“Right, come on Veth, let’s get you back your husband.” Beau headed the group, leading them to where their escort awaited them.

The attendant, a younger looking human woman with dark hair, teleported them to the middle of a forest Essek didn’t recognise. He assumed it couldn’t be terribly far from Rexxentrum judging by the view of the Dunrocks. All around them they were almost entirely enclosed by forests so thick Essek couldn’t see past the thickets of trees; the exception being the large, imposing building in front of them. Towering spyres, ornate stonework, and pointed arches made for a beautiful, if distinctly unwelcoming, place. 

“Vergesson Sanatorium. Why the hell are we at a sanatorium?” Fjord leaned in close to the group, keeping his voice low. Essek’s eyes followed his to the sign outside of the tall wrought iron gate.

“I think it makes perfect sense.” Essek’s lips pressed into a tight thin line. “This is where the Assembly conducts their more sensitive experiments, yes? The ones the king is less likely to approve of and sanction.” He gave Fjord a heavy, significant look. He could see the moment he understood Essek’s implications, and his face went grim.

“I don’t get it. Why does it have to be here ?” Caduceus glanced between the two of them. Essek didn’t have the heart to return the eye contact. 

“For the same reason the Shadowhand is given largely unlimited access to the lower levels of the Dungeon of Penance, because all research needs test subjects, and if it’s dangerous and unsanctioned, all the better to have someone who will not be missed.” Wordlessly Caduceus placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a comforting little pat.

“That’s not who you are anymore. You wouldn’t feel ashamed of yourself if you were still that person.” Caduceus’s warm baritone was as soothing as ever. No matter his own thoughts, Essek wouldn’t argue with him on this. This visit was not about him, and he would not make it about his own pain. 

The guide led them into the building and through the stone corridors. It was a haunting place. There was a dark, unsettling feeling here that sent a chill to Essek’s very bones and had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. It almost reminded him of the Ghostlands. During the rare occasions Essek had passed through that place, it had always instilled a feeling of dread into his very soul. He wondered if this place too had been tainted by so great and so many acts of hatred and malice, that it polluted the very earth. Maybe it was simply a fit of his imagination. Maybe, someone else, someone who knew less, would be able to walk these halls and feel only an appreciation for the beautiful architecture. 

And it was beautiful. The main floor, before they began their descent, was full of high vaulted ceilings and the most ornate stonework. Stained glass windows sat between arches filtering in colorful fractals of light to the gray stone floor. The opulence reminded him of home a bit, though it lacked the wider, airier rooms, and extravagant domed ceilings he was used to. 

Then they were led down, down into increasingly austere halls that bore a sharp contrast to the ornate extravagance they had left behind. It began to remind Essek of descending down the winding paths of the Dungeon of Penance. An apt connection, all things considering. It seemed forever before their escort led them to a locked door. The woman produced a metal key, turning it in the lock at the same time she pressed a hand to the wood, speaking a word under her breath that lit it up with a quick flash. 

The room was large: full of bookshelves and alchemical tables, arcane contraptions of coiled copper wires, glass shelves full of arcane oddities that Essek would under different circumstances be itching to get his hands on, and at the center of it all: Trent himself, standing behind a table with the beacon set on a platinum tripod before him, facing their group. 

Essek felt possessed by an almost alien feeling of outrage at the sight. It wasn’t patriotism , of all things, no. If Essek was a patriot, he wouldn’t have committed treason in the first place. And he did disagree with the way the dynasty restricted dunamancy research and practice, but… No, these men , these mages, should never be allowed to have their hands on dunamis. 

“Ah, Mighty Nine.” Trent’s smile was unsettling to say the least. It made Essek’s skin crawl. “Petra, you may go. Return to your post.” He waved off their escort, who gave a quiet nod and left. “You are here for the alchemist, I understand.” 

“Yeah, so hand him over.” Veth snapped out, her stance widening like she was expecting a fight any moment. Trent only laughed, cold and amused. 

“You will have him, I assure you, you will have him. You see, I am rather tied up at the moment, so I will need to summon you a new escort, for the more restricted areas. But don’t worry, I think this one will be suitable and to your liking.” 

His grin was cruel and predatory, and Essek couldn’t shake the feeling there was a joke being had at their expense, one that Essek hadn’t discovered to punchline to yet. 

Ikithon raised his hands, a piece of copper wire between his fingers. “Bren, if you would be so kind to come to the laboratory. I need guests escorted to Mr. Brennatto.” There was something oddly familiar about the way his hands moved in casting, the way he looped the wire around his small finger, that Essek couldn’t place. He was certain he had seen it before, on different hands, but he couldn’t think about that now. With Trent right in front of him now was not the time to be caught up on unimportant details. There would be time to think more on it later.  

“Pfft, he didn’t even use the full twenty five words.” Jester scoffed softly. Essek couldn’t help the amused little exhale, and he caught Fjord hiding a smile behind his hand. 

“Master Thelyss, though, I suppose it is just Essek now.” The vile little smile was back on Trent’s lips again as he spoke. Essek detested having this man’s focus directed at him. “Regardless, I heard you turned down the Martinet’s offers to collaborate. It’s such a shame. We’re really starting to get somewhere. A few of my more gifted pupils have even managed a few dunamantic spells of their own.” 

That set Essek’s teeth on edge. They had only had the beacon for a short amount of time. How could they have reverse engineered several dunamantic spells already. “Is that so?” he asked casually, a placid, courtly mask firmly in place. “I’m sure their efforts are impressive. Everyone must start somewhere after all.” Essek’s courteous smile widened as Trent sneered. 

“Master Ikithon, you requested my—” Essek very abruptly felt like the floor had been ripped out from beneath him as he spun to face the side door and found himself face to face with stunned blue eyes. “My presence,” Caleb finished weakly. 

Essek felt the rest of the Nine straighten around him: he heard Jester suck in a breath, Fjord muttering a sharp, quick curse under his breath, and Beau letting out a soft, emphatic ‘no’. Essek didn’t make a noise, just stared at Caleb as he stared back. 

He was stripped down to his shirt, holsters, and trousers, his hair pulled back severely from his face, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing stark black tattoos, his hands frozen where he had wiped at them with a linen rag coated in deep, rust colored stains. 

“There you are. I believe you have met my protegé, Bren Ermendrud.” Trent’s smile had turned wide and toothy, like a gloomstalker’s. “Bren, escort them to our little alchemist friend, would you?” 

Caleb’s— Bren’s jaw went tight and hard, his brow furrowed, and his mouth a thin unreadable line. “Yes, sir.” He bowed low to Trent, glanced once at the Mighty Nine, before he turned on his heel, walking back the way he had come. “Follow me.”

The Nine hesitated, none of them looking quite sure if they should move or where to go. Essek was the first to follow, jaw tight, eyes blank and staring sightless straight ahead as he followed after Bren. The rest of the Nine were soon to follow after. The silence only lasted so long, as the door to Trent’s lab shut behind them, Jester was the first to speak up. 

“Caleb, I don’t under—”

“No,” Essek cut her off, his voice hard and reproachful. “His name is Bren, remember.” 

Bren’s steps faltered for a moment as he paused, glancing back at him, his face crumpling into that familiar expression of agony. How long had it been since he had worn that perpetual charming grin that had both concerned and enraptured him from the beginning? “Essek, please—” 

Essek didn’t even spare him a glance, eyes still locked ahead of him. “You will not address me, you will not speak to me, you will turn around and take us to Yeza Brennatto, and then we will take our leave. Do you understand me?” 

A long, drawn out paused before a quiet defeated, “yes, of course.” 

Caleb, no, Bren continued walking again, and Essek only felt angrier at the man’s dejection. He looked so shamefaced, so defeated. It made Essek furious, watching him, crestfallen, lead them down the hall, fingers digging at his forearms, crusts of what he assumed to be dried blood flaking off from his nails. 

He didn’t think he’d ever felt so angry in his life. There was the time Verin had vandalized his spellbook during their adolescence. Essek had actually swung at him for that, not that it had done him much good beside nearly spraining his wrists. Even then, that had been petty children's things. This was… Well, Essek wasn’t sure he had ever felt quiet so deeply betrayed in all his life. 

He tucked his hands into his cloak where he could hide the way they trembled. Da’rex sat pressed flat against his palm, his thumb worrying circles over her fuzzy abdomen in much the same way Veth would worry at the buttons of her necklace. 

“So, I’m guessing you’re not just a research assistant then?” 

Essek resisted the urge to close his eyes in exasperation. Couldn’t Beau just be quiet? She never, never, could stop asking questions, especially the ones that Essek wasn’t at all keen to hear.

Bren’s steps faltered just a moment. “I do assist Trent in his research.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

A long drawn out breath. Essek didn’t look up from the stone floor in front of him. “No, Beauregard. I am not just his researcher.”

“You’re a scourger, aren’t you?” Bren was very pointedly silent at Beau’s statement. “That’s it, isn’t it? You know, the Cobalt Soul hasn’t even been able to prove that you guys exist yet, and here—” 

“How much longer until we reach Yeza?” Essek cut Beau off. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t. He wanted to get Yeza, and he wanted to leave. He needed to leave this place, and soon. Essek felt like he might throw up. His heart was pounding and his limbs felt weak and unsteady down to his bones. 

“It—it isn’t much further.” Bren still sounded so empty and defeated. Essek wished he could hit him. He would gladly sprain his wrist on that stupid face if he thought for a minute it would do away with the nausea and sickening rage eating away at his heart. 

The group was silent after that, thankfully they didn’t have to walk for long long. They turned a corner, stopping at the first door on the right. Bren didn’t even have to unlock it. He just opened the door and stepped inside. From what Essek could see of the room it was not much different from Trent’s own lab, though it lacked the many arcane implements and curiosities. 

“Eremendrud, I think I’m finally really getting somewhere with this. I swear!” The voice was determined, insistent, maybe a little desperate. Veth made a noise like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. 

The small halfling man with a fist full of beakers had to be Yeza, there was no doubt in Essek’s mind about that. He could easily recognize the resemblance to Luc, and now, himself too. They had the same curly hair, the strong nose. Essek’s disguise it seemed had been given Yeza’s narrower face, where Luc took after his mother’s round, full cheeks. 

He could see the exact moment Yeza’s eyes drifted past Bren and fell on Veth, his hands going slack, the beakers falling from numb fingers, scattering over the floor. Essek very much hoped they contained nothing caustic. Yeza looked dumbstruck, and he couldn’t blame the man. While they had been able to send him a few messages, twenty five words were not enough to explain the rather complicated situation, especially if Jester was the one sending them. 

“You’re really alive!” Essek could see Yeza’s lip trembling as his words came out breathless and stunned. 

Veth didn’t reply, instead she took off towards him, clearing the distance of the room to pull Yeza in tight, her face buried against his neck. He seemed equally as eager to hold her back. Hushed, desperate words were whispered into the crook of each other’s necks, fists clenching tight into the back of shirts and sinking into hair. Essek’s eyes wanted to wander to Caleb. He kept them on Veth. 

“You really are alive. You’re really here!” There was such open wonder and awe in Yeza’s voice as he began to sway him and Veth back and forth, almost like they were dancing, like even here in this awful place he still wished he could sweep her off her feet. 

“I’m here! I’m right here, babe. And we’re gonna get out of here. I’m taking you home. I promise!”

“Veth.” Essek stepped forward, pushing through the press of the Mighty Nine around the door. Yeza did a double take, staring from Essek to Veth. Light, they would have to explain that later. “I can get us out whenever you would like, simply say the word.”

“I could teleport you, if you would—” 

“Unnecessary.” Essek was quick to cut Bren off without a backwards glance. “I can handle it myself.” 

He floated further into the room, to allow the rest of the Mighty Nine to fit through and gather round, but Bren’s hand caught his wrist, pulling him back. “Essek, please . Just— give me a chance to talk, to explain anything.” There was a steel to his voice now, a frustration. Good. 

Essek spun, grabbing the front of Bren’s robe and hauling him close until they were nose to nose. He had to float several inches higher to manage it. Essek dropped the illusion so that Caleb—Bren—could see him properly. There was a sharp gasp from Yeza behind him, but that could be dealt with later. “I want you to look me in the eye right now.” And he was, blue eyes wide and stunned, his throat working like he could barely swallow. “I want you to see the hate and revulsion in my eyes when I tell you that there would be nothing I would love more than to never see you again for the rest of my life, that I wish I had never met you. There are no honeyed words or pretty lies you can tell that will change that, Caleb Widogast .” Essek spat out the name like it was a curse. “If you know what is good for you, then I will never see you again, because if I do I will not hesitate to end you. Do you understand me?”

Essek didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t want to hear anything that might come out of those lips. He wrenched his wrist free of Bren’s numb fingers with a last snarl, and then he was gone. A quick teleport and the Mighty Nine were standing, crowded, in Jester’s cluttered and colorful childhood bedroom. 

Chapter Text

The silence felt deafening in the little room. Essek’s breath was coming in short, quick pants. His hands were trembling again. He felt like he might shake apart. 

“Dude, are you—” 

Beau didn’t get a chance to finish the question. Essek summoned the star projector Caleb had gifted him from his wristpocket, throwing it as hard as he could manage at the wall. The brass made an awful clank, but bounced off, unharmed, enchanted object that it was. 

“That— that,” Essek broke off with a hiss and a truly filthy string of undercommon. 

The hand that landed on his shoulder was light and careful, but it still had him startling. Yasha’s face was drawn tight in worry and sympathetic anger, but even that felt like too much right now. 

“Did you know,” Essek let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes flicking from Yasha’s to where the star projector had rolled, “the word infatuate comes from elvish? The literal meaning is ‘to be made a fool by’.” Essek laughed again, hard and cold. 

“Essek—” Jester started, but he cut her off with a shake of the head. 

“I think I am going to get some air. You should let your mother know we are here and get Yeza settled in.”

He didn’t give them a chance to respond before he swept out the door, disguise back in place, discreetly sneaked down the stairs and out the back door into the narrow alley behind the Chateau. The air was warm and humid, nothing like the brisk, refreshing air of Rexxentrum. It reminded him of the start of the rainy season in Rosohna. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was home, but his mind knew the truth. Right now, back home it would be dry and cool with the slightest chill to the air.

There was a cool ocean breeze to combat the humidity at least, that had Essek drawing in deep, shaky breaths as he sunk down against the cool brick wall to sit on the ground. His cloak would be filthy after this. 

Essek summoned Da’rex, letting her run a few ticklish circles around the palm of his hand before she scuttled down on the cobblestones. He flicked a little pebble past her, sending her running after it. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so foolish, Da’rex. And that’s saying something, all things considered. I let him into our home. Light, I gave him spells!” Da’rex came scurrying back, little pebble held over head in one of her pairs of arms. Essek gently took it, tossing it for her again. 

“He even told us that he was connected to Trent, and we just ignored it, or at least, assumed the best. We— I just decided to believe he was different, that he wasn’t like the rest of them. Those grand speeches of his about the good magic could do, the responsibility that wizards have, it was all just pretty words. Caleb was always so full of pretty words. Light, he was so suspicious! Why didn’t I see that? Have I really learned nothing since that mess with Adeen?” 

He’d been using Essek too. He’d wanted the connections Den Thelyss had, and again Essek had fallen for attention and sweet words. Their short lived relationship had ended rather messily. His mother had never spoken of it beyond navigating the rumors it had sparked, but there had been a tightness to her eyes and thinness to her lips that spoke of disappointment. Essek bitterly wondered what his mother would say about this latest mistake of his. She would be furious, no doubt. Not that her opinion mattered now. She wasn’t here to clean up his messes, because he wasn’t there to damage her reputation anymore. No, Essek supposed with a resentful chuckle, his mistake of a private life wouldn’t be the thing that damaged her reputation. 

Da’rex tapped impatient arms on the back of his hand. She’d brought back the little pebble without him noticing. He scratched a finger along her fuzzy back and she pressed up into the touch. “You are such a good little girl, aren't you ssinjin? You are the one good thing he brought to me.”

“Are you… talking to someone?” The voice startled Essek. He’d been so caught up in his own head he hadn’t even heard the door. Yeza was giving him a puzzled look. “If I’m interrupting I can…” he trailed off, motioning to the door behind him. 

“No, no, it is fine. It’s just,” he coaxed Da’rex up onto a couple fingers, holding her up to see. “I was just talking to myself really.” Angry little arms stomped at the back of his fingers. “To her,” Essek amended. 

“Do you mind if I…?” He motioned to the spot next to Essek. It left him with a strange sense of deja vu. He looked so much like Luc with that hair and those eyes.  

“Of course.” Essek had been anticipating a talk like this.

Yeza took his seat, feet kicked out in front of him. “I understand I have you to thank for getting my wife back to me.” 

Essek shook his head. “I’m sure she would have managed it even without me. She is tenacious that one.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Yeza laughed, his head resting back against the wall, a fond smile turning up his lips. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. She is an amazing woman.” Without her Essek never would have gotten out of the tiny jail cell, all that time ago. 

“Funny, she said pretty much the same thing about you.” Yeza cocked his head, eyes focused on Essek. His face was some mix of fond and indulgent. “I understand we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other from here out.”

Essek didn’t know what to say to that. Surely this couldn’t be that easy? Surely no one could be so quick to accept a strange drow into their ‘family’. But Veth had been, hadn’t she? 

“It’ll be nice getting to know you, Essek. Heard you’re a dab hand at alchemy too. We’ll have to talk shop sometime.” He clapped a friendly, easy hand on Essek’s shoulder. 

“Just like that?” Essek blurted out, mouth working ahead of his brain. Yeza’s brow creased in confusion before smoothing out into the fond amused look again. 

“Just like that, kiddo. When Veth decides something there’s not a lot of point in trying to argue, not that I usually want to. We talked about it a bit. She wants to still go to that—” he frowned, shaking his head, “that volcano party thing you guys have coming up, because she doesn’t want to make your blue friend sad, but after that hopefully we’re gonna settle back down. I don’t know if that’s gonna be back in Felderwin, or somewhere else, but regardless I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of you, yeah?”

Essek nodded, throat tight. “I certainly hope so. I doubt Veth would allow otherwise. She is, again, tenacious after all.” 

“She sure is.” Yeza’s smile turned sorrowful and aching. “I’m real glad you got her back to us. More than I can say. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m real sorry for what happened back there.”

Essek’s brow furrow. Sorry for what? Oh. He meant Bren. Essek fixed his eyes down at Da’rex in his hand with a jerky nod. The silence stretched. 

“Well, I should get back. Veth wants to get caught up and all that.” He slapped his hands on his thighs, pushing himself to his feet. 

“Yeza.” Essek’s voice made him pause. Standing like this he was just a few inches taller than Essek. “Ermendrud, what was he like? What was your impression of him?” 

Yeza’s brow was heavy with pity; Essek looked back to his hands. “He wasn’t bad to me, there is at least that. That didn’t seem to be his style. DeRogna or the human woman would pressure me for more progress. They never physically threatened me, but they weren’t kind. There was the big one, he never really talked much, just loomed around looking intimidating. I think he might have gone into my mind at times.” Yeza trailed off a bit, his eyes lost in the middle distance. “Ermendrud was— he was charming, all kind words, and offers to assist in the project. I don’t think it was for my benefit though. He was obviously brilliant though, very intense.”

It wasn’t far off from how Essek himself would have described Caleb before he had learned the truth about him. What different connotations those words held now. He had thought that Caleb was too charming to be true. There was a saying in undercommon, ‘from the teeth forward’. Caleb had always spoken from the lips, not the heart. Essek had suspected that from the start, but… he had seemed genuine at times. Increasingly so, as time went on.  

“Thank you.” The offer came out weak, but Yeza didn’t seem to mind. He gave Essek a sympathetic nod, before he headed back inside. 

Essek sat there for a while longer. He wasn’t sure how long. Long enough for his butt to go numb on the stones, and his back to ache, and his hips to throb, as he sat there, throwing gravel for Da’rex. She was a good distraction. Eventually he had to go back inside though. He would have to face the rest of the Nine eventually, better to get it over with. 

They were huddled around one of the tables downstairs, sullenly picking at dinner. Essek was half tempted to sneak away, but the moment he moved into the room Caduceus gave him a nod, drawing the rest of the table’s attention. Beau kicked out the last empty chair; it looked like they had ordered him food while he had been gone. Better to get it over with, Essek reminded himself, as he quietly took a seat. 

Essek glanced around the table, “where is Veth?” 

Jester was quick to give him a waggle of her eyebrows. “Yeza and her stayed upstairs. They’re getting caught up, if you know what I mean.” 

“Stop that this second.” He wrinkled his nose up in distaste. That was the last thing he wanted to think about. 

Jester giggled, ducking her head to look back at her plate, but the smile was quick to melt off her lips into something more morose and melancholy as she dragged her food around her plate. Essek was almost certain she was making a dick out of her mashed potatoes.

“We should figure out what we’re doing next.” Fjord cleared his throat, pushing his plate out of the way to lay out their map. “We still have a bit of time before Traveler Con, so we could go to the Menagerie for Cad, and still make it back to the coast to pick up Veth again and grab our boat, especially now that Essek can teleport us we—” 

“I don’t think we should have teleported away like that.” Jester cut in, still frowning at her plate. “We shouldn’t have just left. Caleb should have had a chance to explain.”

“Explain himself?” Essek repeated, incredulous. He knew that Jester had a bad habit of seeing the best in people, even when there was nothing there to see, but this was something else entirely.

“Jess, he already showed his true colors. Knowing he’s a scourger, or whatever it is they’re called, is all we need to know about his character.” Fjord’s words had Essek thinking back to the doubts he had raised about Yasha’s own character all those months ago when she had been taken by Obann. 

This wasn’t the same though. No. Caleb— Bren , was a servant of Ikithon, a ruthless killer in the name of the Empire. He had likely done unspeakable things. But then again, so had Essek. 

“That isn’t true! That’s not true at all.” Jester had turned a fierce scowl on Fjord now. “What about all the things he did for us, huh?”

“Come on, Jester, he just wanted to get in with us. He was using us.” Beau was careful to keep her eyes on Jester as she spoke, and very deliberately off Essek. He appreciated it. It was better than the pity in Fjord’s eyes, the knowing looks of Caduceus, the way Jester’s eyes kept flicking to him like Essek would speak up and agree with her, should agree with her. 

“But there were other things too! What about all the other things? He told us he didn’t even like Ickithong, remember? And he’s the reason we were able to save Veth! If it weren’t for him you wouldn’t even be here anymore, Essek!” Jester turned accusing eyes on him now, as if that wasn’t a fact Essek was keenly aware of. As if he hadn’t been thinking about it, and every other thing Bren had done for him, since the moment he teleported them all out of there.

“Of course I would like answers, but answers rarely bring the catharsis that you hope they will.” Essek set down his spoon, giving up the pretense of pretending to eat. 

“He looked surprised to see us, you guys. I don’t think he knew we would be there. I don’t think he wanted that to happen either.” 

Jester wasn’t wrong. It was a thought that had occurred to Essek as well, but he didn’t have any good explanation. Fjord laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and she seemed to deflate a bit. “I’m gonna go talk to my momma about rooms for us all.” With that Jester excused herself from the table. 

“How are you handling this, Essek?” It was the first thing Cad had said since Essek sat down. 

“Better than Jester apparently.” Essek smiled, all teeth. It was petty, mean, and below him, acting like this. But having all their eyes on him, the way Cad was watching him so expectantly, felt too much like prodding at bruises that weren’t theirs to touch. “It isn’t like we didn't know that he was connected to the Assembly from the beginning. There was always the chance that he was more involved than he claimed. We took a calculated risk.” 

“For what it’s worth, he seemed to pretty genuinely care about you from my perspective.” Cad shrugged a shoulder. 

“Then he managed to fool even your sharp eye.” Essek struggled to pull the cool, aloof facade around himself like he had at Vergesson. He couldn’t even manage the bright spark of fury. From the faces at the table around him, they didn’t buy his words even for a moment. “I’m going to see if Jester has those rooms ready and turn in early. Excuse me.” He was quick to flee the table, heading upstairs where he could be alone.

The more time that passed, the more he had a chance to cool down, the more he began to agree with Jester. At least in part. He wished he hadn’t left so quickly, or at least that he had managed to get some kind of answer or explanation out of Bren. Essek still didn’t think those answers would actually make him feel any better—if he actually got them—but that didn’t stop his desire to know. He wasn’t a wizard for nothing. 

It didn’t escape Essek’s notice that he and Bren were more alike than he had previously realized. He had been so enraptured by the man, by the way he had talked about how magic should be used for the aid of people, how mages should not lose sight of the power they wield. It had been a sort of proof that wizards weren’t all doomed to the degeneration of morals and compassion that Essek had seen in himself and in the Assembly, when he had finally seen sense. 

Now he realized that Bren was just a dark mirror to the Essek he had been before meeting Veth and the Nine. He wondered if Bren did what he did out of patriotism, or if his concerns were strictly for the advancement of his magic, like Essek’s were. He wondered how he justified his actions to himself. Did he tell himself that he was simply following Trent’s orders, the same way Essek had simply been enacting the will of the Bright Queen? 

Essek’s mind stumbled back onto the conversation in the hot tub, it felt like ages ago now, where Bren had spoken of his parents. He said he had trusted the wrong people, what did that mean? Was that how Trent found him? Plucked him out of a gang, or a jail cell perhaps? It wasn't an altogether uncommon beginning for members of the Lens. It was all baseless speculation though, and it was useless to dwell on.

He settled down into one of the comfortable, plush armchairs in the room they had been given to trance. They were doubling up, and Essek saw no reason to take up a bed when he hardly needed it. He was just beginning to drift off into memories when Fjord and Cad quietly slipped in. Essek didn’t bother coming out of it, he just let himself fall deeper into his trance. 

It was far from a restful night. He couldn’t seem to guide his thoughts away to safer memories. Instead his mind lingered on the gentle rasp of Caleb’s callused hands on his cheeks, the taste of his mouth, the heat of his skin whenever he pressed close enough for Essek to steal his warmth, the love he thought he had seen in those clear blue eyes. It left Essek waking cold and lonely, with his chest aching and damp eyes. How could you long for a person that never really existed? 

Caduceus and Fjord were still asleep, and would be for another four hours, so Essek dried his damp eyes and conjured a book from his wristpocket. He briefly flirted with the idea of going for a walk. He could walk down to the docks or the beach and watch the way the light from Catha and Ruidus played on the dark waves. But no, not only would the Nine be furious with him for leaving unattended, the thought, tempting as it was, filled Essek with dread. He could almost feel the bite of the dart in his neck, the way it had turned his head fuzzy and himself useless. He had been so close to being lost that night. Essek thought again of Jester’s words, about the way Caleb had saved him. 

Essek did his best to try and lose himself in his book, with the quiet background noise of the Nicodranas nightlife and the loud reverberations of Cad’s snores. Still, he found himself reading the same page over and over again. He could get out his spellbook and attempt to get work done. He was finally getting somewhere on reconstructing Dark Star, even if it would be a long time before he would be able to cast something so powerful. He couldn’t make himself do it however. It would only make him think about the spells he had willingly handed over to Bren, the head start he had unwittingly given the Assembly. 

He almost didn’t notice the sound at first, the softest creaking of wood in the hallway. It was the sensation of Da’rex’s tugging at his consciousness, a frantic curl of panic feeling the way through their connection, that had Essek perking up and paying attention. 

She had a habit of wandering at night while he tranced and finding her way back before it was time for the Mighty Nine to begin to pack up for the morning, so when Essek quickly went into her mind he wasn’t sure where he would be or what he would see. Da’rex seemed to have set herself up on the wall above the door of the room they were staying in, and there, creeping down the hall towards her, a shadowed figure with a shock  of red hair still visible in the dark with an ear pressed to the door of Marion’s room. He stood, shook his head and continued down to the next room. 

Essek sharply pulled out of Da’rex’s mind, his heart pounding in his chest. Surely the Assembly had not come for them. Surely this wasn’t the tying up of loose ends that Essek had feared. Surely… surely they wouldn’t be so cruel to have Bren be the one to remove him from the board.

“Caduceus,” Essek’s voice was hardly more than a harsh whisper. He felt like he was being strangled, but the snores cut out all that same. 

Cad blinked big, sleepy eyes at him. Essek wasn’t sure what the look on his face was, but it was enough to have Caduceus already sitting up to turn to him. 

“It’s Bren. He’s here.” The firbolg’s eyes widened, but any response was cut off by the soft sound of a knock on the door a room over. That was Jester, Beau, and Yasha’s room. There was the sound of the door opening, a loud thud, and a cut off, aborted noise of surprise. Essek was already up and running out the door, while Caduceus shook Fjord awake. 

Yasha was standing out in the hall, a terrifying look of rage on her face, and one hand holding Bren up by the neck as he scrambled for purchase against her grip, legs kicking weakly. Jester was clinging to her arm tugging at her grip and pleading for her to let go. 

Jester’s eyes caught his as he stepped out into the hall. “Essek! Essek, you have to tell her to stop it! He’s not even fighting back!” 

“Yasha,” Essek laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, pulling her attention back. “Let him go; we can’t just kill him.” There was a reluctant pause before Yasha let him go, sending Bren falling back on his ass in a heap. He scrambled back a few steps, a hand coming up to his neck. 

“We could.” The words were ground out as Yasha gritted her jaw. 

“No, not yet at least. What are you doing here? I thought I made myself clear about what would happen if you showed your face again.” Essek pulled every scrap of composure he could around himself, trying to ignore the fact that he was still in his nightshirt, with his feet bare and his calves exposed. 

“Please, I just wanted a chance to explain.” Caleb’s voice came out an awful rasp. His hair was loose and disheveled around his shoulders. Essek didn’t think he had ever seen it free of its ribbon like this. His clothes were in disorder and his usual coat was gone. He looked awful. It soothed a bitter, resentful part of Essek to see it. 

“We could find out what all they know.” Fjord offered, standing half in the doorway and still looking a little asleep on his feet. 

“He wouldn’t be able to lie to me.” Beau cracked her knuckles. 

Jester shot Beau a dirty look. “You’re not going to truth punch him, Beau. We can just use a zone of truth.”

“Regardless of what we are doing, let’s get inside the room now. The last thing we need is to wake up the whole Chateau.” 

“A bit late for that.” Essek glanced back to see Veth coming out of the last room at the end of the hall, still in the process of buttoning her dress, and Yeza looking mused and tired behind her. She was giving Bren a foul look.

“Come on,” Essek motioned them back into Jester’s room, not waiting to see if they followed as he led the way. “If we are going to have an interrogation we should have it somewhere more private. I was saving this spell as a bit of a surprise for when we got on the road again, but this will do.” 

Essek conjured his components from his wristpocket laying out the intricate ivory carved brooch of a hand holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, Yasha had bought it for him in a second hand store in Rexxentrum; a chunk of marble that Jester had accidentally broken off of a temple in Zadash in an act of vandalism, and silver spoon he had had since his early travels with Veth, something that had been stolen in some town or village, but never ended up being sold for coin. He laid them all out carefully and turned his attention to casting, careful to keep his eyes away from the rest of the room, away from Bren. 

Hadn’t he been thinking earlier that he had regretted his rash reaction at Vergesson? Still, it was a different thing entirely to be faced with Bren again. It turned Essek’s stomach, and made his throat feel tight. 

Essek focused on the magic, let it swell inside of him, let the satisfaction of it fill him. It was his first time casting this spell, and he was eager to see his friends' reactions, even if it was a little marred by the purpose of it that night. Essek felt the spell click and the magic reach a crescendo as he sat back on his heel to look at the slightly shimmering, wooden door in front of him. 

“Alright, hurry inside.” Essek opened the door, gesturing to them to enter. 

The Nine began to filter in, but Bren paused, lingering. Essek followed his eyes. Ah, the star projector. It was still sitting on the floor under the sizable dent in the wall. He bent to pick it up, turning it over in his hands. 

“Consider it yours. I have little use for it.” Essek turned on his heel, walking through the door, but not fast enough to miss the way that Caleb’s face fell. That shouldn’t hurt Essek. Why couldn’t he find the same satisfaction in Bren’s pain? Essek pushed the thought from his mind.

Chapter Text

Essek stepped inside the doorway to find the rest of the Nine gawking in the entrance to the near perfect replica of their Rexxentrum estate. Though, there was admittedly a more Xhorhasian flair to it: it lacked the wooden accent beams; and the vaulted ceiling of the entrance was now a large, beautiful dome, painted with scenes of the Mighty Nine and their exploits; the lamps glowed more green than they did orange, and outside the window was a dusky purple twilight. 

“Holy shit, dude. What is this?” Beau turned in a circle, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Oh my gosh! Essek! This place is so cool!” Jester wrapped tight arms around his waist, knocking the breath out of him. He rested his hands over hers. 

“I’m glad you like it. It’s because of me that we can not return to the estate, so I thought it would be appropriate to bring a piece of home with us. There is more to it, but I will leave proper tours for another time.” Essek turned back to Bren, who was still standing in the doorway, taking the hall in with wide, awed eyes. 

“Perhaps it is not the place for the compliment, but this is an impressive feat of magic. You should be proud of yourself, especially considering the effort at customization you put in here.” 

Bren’s eyes were soft, and his expression genuine. Essek didn’t know what to do with that, so he simply nodded, motioning for the Nine to follow him. “Through here.”

He led them into a modified, larger version of their old sitting room. Essek took a seat on the couch, and Bren took the armchair across from him, while the rest of the Nine filled in the space. Funny, wasn’t it, that Essek had once confessed his own secrets here before. Now it would be Bren’s turn, an eerie mirror to that night.

“Alright, I’m going to cast the spell now, so you gotta let it work, okay?” Jester held up a hand, the other clutching her symbol of the Traveler. 

Bren gave a reluctant nod. “I won’t resist it.” 

“If you do, we'll be getting answers my way.” Beau crossed her arms threateningly over her chest, made all the more intimidating with the way Yasha loomed behind her shoulder. 

“Point taken, Beauregard. You may cast whenever you wish.” Bren acquiesce to Jester.

Jester reached out her hand in front of her, a bolt of green leaving the tip of  her finger to hit Bren in the mouth. He flinched at the motion, but didn’t seem pained as the green mote of light sunk into his skin, sliding down his throat to his chest and stopping over his heart, before the light faded away. 

“Alright, you guys. It worked. We have ten minutes now, but I can always recast it if we need more time.” 

Essek opened his mouth, but he was beaten to it. “Do you prefer Bren or Caleb?” He hadn’t expected the question out of Yasha. Looking at her closer, past the scowl and crossed arms, there was something wary if also sympathetic and concerned to the crease of her brow. 

Bren seemed caught off guard by the question too. He paused thinking it over for a moment. “I liked being Caleb. I liked the person that Caleb was. I liked who I was when I was Caleb.”

“Okay, Caleb then. Why did you come here tonight?” Beau leaned in close, that expositor instinct kicking in.

“Because,” Bren— Caleb seemed to steel himself, eyes darting around to the Nine. “Because I am tired, so very tired, of lying. Because I am so tired of living my life at a distance. For a brief moment I let you all in, and you saw me, or at least you saw someone I would like to be, and you accepted me. No one has ever done that for me, and while I don’t still expect that same acceptance anymore, I do feel like I at least owe you some real answers, after everything you did for me. I will tell you whatever you want to know.”

Essek understood that sentiment. He understood the way the Mighty Nine could worm their way past your defenses, and the way that kind of radical acceptance could change you. It had given Essek perspective, and for the first time in his life, he had felt like he had a reason to be better, people to be better for. 

“How much does Trent know? How much did you tell him?” Fjord asked, leaning against the arm of the couch. Caleb’s face turned even more grim. 

“I won’t mince words, there isn’t much he doesn’t know.” Caleb’s eyes flicked down to his lap, his fingers digging at the lines on his forearms, leaving behind little red crescents. “He knows you still have the beacons, and he knows what I know about your movements.”

“And my spells?” Essek asked tightly. It was the question he had been dreading the most, and from the slump to Caleb’s shoulders he didn’t think the answer would be a good one. 

“I needed something to give him, something to convince him that my cover was worth it. I—” Caleb’s eyes darted to the couch, to the door, and then back to his lap, never settling on anything. He wouldn’t meet Essek’s eye, he realized. “I needed an excuse to be allowed to see you, and the spells satisfied Trent that it was worth it.”

“Is that why he sent you after me? To steal spells?” That had Caleb’s head snapping up, though still he didn’t meet Essek’s eye. 

“No, it wasn’t like that. I know what it looks like, but I didn’t seek you out that first time we met in the library.” There was so much desperate insistence to the words, such an open plea for understanding, that it tugged at Essek’s heart against his better judgment. “It really was just a chance encounter. But your accent caught my attention, and I recognized your name. In the beginning you were in and out of the library so frequently; I was just keeping an eye on the kind of subjects you were reading. I didn’t expect more to come of it, but you continued to be friendly, so I decided to push it. After those first spells we exchanged, well, I thought it would be a convenient connection, but I never thought it would turn into all of this . You have to believe that.”

“So it was opportunistic, rather than premeditated,” Beau scowled.

“Then you saw a chance and decided that you could try to charm secrets out of me?” It felt… Essek wasn’t entirely sure. It was humiliating for one, to think that someone could come in and so easily twist him to their whims, infuriating too. Was he really so easy to manipulate that the Assembly could send someone along and get him wrapped around their finger at the drop of a hat? 

But the look Caleb gave him was bewildered. “Was? Nein, no, that was never my intention. I never even thought that charming you was an option considering the files Da’leth kept on you.”

That had Essek sitting up straighter. “What exactly does that mean? What do you mean by his files on me?”  

“The intelligence files on you specifically said that seduction wasn’t an option, considering the previous failure by the Martinet.” The confused look on Caleb's face clearly said that he was repeating information he expected Essek should already know. 

Oh and that did something strange and nauseating to Essek’s stomach. “Ludinus was trying to seduce me?” He was gaping, floundering for something to say, some way to react. Essek could practically feel his mother’s fingers on his chin reminding him to keep his composure. 

“Oh man, that’s kind of gross, right? Isn’t that guy, like, really super old?” Jester wrinkled her nose. 

“By your standards, extremely, by elven standards he is older, but by no means elderly. Though,” Essek wrinkled his own nose a bit. “He is admittedly older than my mother’s current life by about a century, give or take.” Jester made an exaggerated gagging noise. 

“Wait, did he really try to honeypot you and you never even realized?” Beau raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, I mean, I suppose it puts some of our interactions into more context looking back, but…” Essek trailed off, thinking about the way Da’leth’s hands had tended to linger, the cloying praise, the warm smiles. “I thought he was just very appreciative of my research. I mean it’s not like he—'' Essek shrugged, finding himself sputtering for words.  

Beau scoffed again, behind her hand. “Yeah, we get it dude. You’re not the best at picking up on other people's interests.”

“That isn’t—” Essek started. 

“Reani.” Beau countered, imperious and smug. 

“We are getting off topic.” Essek turned pointedly from Beau back to Caleb. “I am not the one we are supposed to be interrogating.” 

“Why was it that Trent brought you in?” Caduceus asked. Bless him for turning the conversation back to the matter at hand. “I don’t think you knew he was going to blow your cover like that. Why would he do something like that?”

Caleb’s eyes flicked to Essek before he quickly ducked his head again. “He’s been watching me closer and closer lately. Trent was suspicious of how close I was growing to you, all of you. There isn’t room in a volstrucker’s life for outside attachments. That is rather by design.” 

“The owl.” Essek remembered the way Caleb’s face had blanched, the way his hands had tightened on Essek, the way the kiss had lingered with a kind of sad desperation. “The owl was Trent, wasn’t it?” 

For the first time, Caleb’s eyes lifted to look at him, pained and miserable, and he gave a nod. It felt like looking into a dark mirror, a version, an echo, of himself that never left the dynasty, never encountered the loving assholes that had made himself someone worthy. Only, Essek couldn’t quite bring himself to feel the hatred and loathing, looking at Caleb now, that he felt looking back at his own past.

“So, you did care about us then? That wasn’t you just faking then, right?” Jester spoke up for the first time. 

Caleb reached out to lay a hand on top of hers; she hadn’t moved far from him since casting the spell. “Believe me when I say, with all my heart, Jester, that you all very firmly and quickly endeared yourselves to me greatly. Understand that I’ve never had something like this before. I’ve never had friends that didn’t also see in me the monster I saw in myself. You all saw good in me, and for the first time in a very long time I thought that maybe I could be that person that you saw.” 

Jester squeezed his hand in return, and seemed one more sad look away from gathering Caleb up in a bone crushing hug. 

“That’s why he blew your cover then. He wanted to burn all bridges between us.” Fjord was watching Caleb, considering. 

“Wait, you keep talking about ‘all your life’ and all this ‘never hads’. How long have you been working with Trent?” Beau was scowling. Essek watched Caleb carefully. It was a question he had wondered about as well, and he was eager to learn the answer.

Caleb pulled his hand back from Jester, fingers beginning to dig at his arms again. He didn’t look at Beau when he answered. 

“I began training under Master Ikithon when I was around sixteen. I was in school at Soltryce at the time. He picked myself, Astrid, and Eadwulf out of the top of our class to study under him personally. That’s when we began our training to become Volstruckers.”

“And no one notice that something fucked up was going on?” 

Caleb leveled Beau with an unimpressed scowl. “If you think that those at the Academy are not aware of Trent’s recruitment and his methods, you are sorely mistaken.” 

“What about your parents, someone?” Beau’s voice was full of righteous indignation. Caleb flinched like he had been struck, sinking lower into his seat. 

“You said it was your fault your parents died.” Yasha’s voice was soft, but Caleb still squeezed his eyes closed tight, hands in white knuckled fists on his lap. “Was that because of Trent?” 

A heavy quiet settled in the room. Essek could make out the sound of Caleb’s quickened breath. He wanted to say something. He half wished he could reach out his hand to hold Caleb’s hand like Jester had done, but he didn’t think he could. He wasn’t sure he was able to yet.

“Yes, and no. I can’t say their death was anyone’s fault by my own.” Caleb lifted his head, drew in a shaky breath, and spoke in a voice so steady it was startlingly lifeless for a man so passionate and emotional. “ I murdered my parents.”

Caleb watched his hands quickly flex in his lap for a moment, before he summoned Frumpkin with a snap, sinking his fingers into his fur. “It was a test. We were all allowed home for a visit, since our training had been going so well. That night I heard my parents talk of sedition and rebellion against the empire. Astrid and Wulf heard similar things. So, we did what we thought we had too, what we had been trained to do.

“We had dinner at Astrid’s house that evening, she had poisoned their meal. Wulf went by himself. He strangled his mother and then his father to death. I—, They helped me move a cart in front of my home, and then I set it alight. I could hear them screaming inside—” Caleb’s eyes were lost in the middle distance, a kind of wild light there. 

“Caleb,” Essek cut him off. He wanted him to stop, needed him to. Caleb’s eyes snapped to him, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. 

“We made murderers of ourselves that night, killers of the worst kind. There was no backing out after that. We believed in Trent wholeheartedly, because if we did not, if he was not in fact doing great things for the empire, then what did that mean about us? Not to mention the fact that we had no one to go to, not to mention that there would be no walking away after what we had done. 

“It had all been a lie though. I didn’t learn that until years later. Eadwulf discovered it first. Our parents had never been traitors. It had all been an elaborate lie, a test, from Ikithon. Our memories had been altered. We went to Ikithon and he was… sympathetic. He told us that yes, it had been a test, but he had only meant to see if we would be willing to turn them in or not, that he never expected that we would have taken matters into our own hands. He said that at that point maintaining the illusion just seemed kinder.” 

This time Essek did stand, floating to a stop directly in front of Caleb. “I don’t think Trent has ever been concerned with being kind.” 

Caleb’s smile was heartbroken and rueful. “No, neither do I.” 

Caleb stared unfocused, looking right through Essek. He wanted to sooth a finger over that crumpled brow, wanted to see those sad eyes brighten, wanted to see one of those rare joyful looks he had always treasured. Essek pinched Caleb’s chin, forcing his eyes up, forcing him to look Essek in the face. Whatever condemnation Caleb might be expecting he would not find it in Essek’s expression.

“You and I are the same. I had been a pawn to the machinations of those more powerful than I for most of my life: my Umavi, my Queen, the Assembly. For a time I thought myself mighty because of the power they gave me, because I had pawns of my own to toy with. I was used, and I used others. My concerns were for myself, and myself alone. I was alone, and bitter, and I closed off my heart and let it grow cold for a very long time. But you listen to me now, Caleb Widogast, even the coldest heart can be warmed. 

“Evil men took you, and they hardened your heart, and they made you cold to the world, but I do not believe for a moment that is who you are. There is a fire in you, Widogast, a passion and a kindness I can’t believe is anything but genuine.” 

Essek’s mind wandered to another, similar conversation from almost a year ago, though it seemed longer. It was easy to conjure the memory of all his new friends, well, Essek hadn’t used the word friend yet back then, crowded around him in a tiny room above an inn in Zadash. Jester had cast zone of truth then too. Essek could so clearly remember the feeling of panic and the taste of bile in the back of his throat, as he sat there undisguised for the first time in months, as they coaxed long hidden secrets from his unwilling tongue. He remembered the way Mollymauk had pressed his lips to his forehead at the end, the way it had felt at once like absolution and an exoneration, and the light way he had joked about how fetching he found the color purple. 

His fingers under Caleb’s chin began a gentle caress against the stubble of his jaw. Caleb’s lips looked red and slightly swollen, like he had bitten them raw. There was a temptation to kiss him, to taste his lips again, but Essek couldn’t. He couldn’t fully open himself to Caleb like that, not anymore, not if he couldn’t be sure where his loyalties lied, not with his trust so broken. Desperately Essek hoped this meeting would get through to Caleb, convince him to escape from Trent, but Essek could also guess how deep the man’s claws were in Caleb. 

So instead of taking a last chance to taste Caleb’s lips again Essek contented himself with brushing a strand of ginger hair behind an ear and pressing a soft, sad kiss to Caleb’s forehead. How achingly sad that it felt like a goodbye, if not to Caleb then to what they used to have. Something in Caleb’s face told Essek he understood too. 

“You have a good heart, Caleb, and I have to believe you can also be a good man. If not, well, what does that mean for me, hmm?” Essek managed a sad smile as he floated a step back. “You’ll always have a place with the Mighty Nine, if you should so choose it.”

Chapter Text

Essek had offered Caleb a place among the Mighty Nine, Jester had encouraged him to run away with them, Yasha had promised to kill Trent if he even thought about trying to come after him, and even Veth had reassured him that every single one of them was fucked up and awful in their own way, just like him. And still, at the end of the night, Caleb had left. 

And of course he had. It would’ve been stupid of him to actually just leave with them. There was no plan in place, no way to deal with Trent and the fallout that would come with his right hand defecting. No, it wouldn’t have been very smart had Caleb agreed. And still, Essek had wanted him to. 

But instead Essek had walked him to the door of the estate, and Caleb had pressed the star projector into his hands, his face stern and determined. Caleb had curled Essek’s fingers around the smooth, cool brass, his hands a lovely contrast: rough and warm. 

“You should keep this, even if it doesn’t mean the same thing anymore. You shouldn’t have to lose this little piece of your home just because…” he had trailed off, his hands slowly leaving Essek's, leaving him feeling cold and bereft. 

Essek hadn’t responded. What could he have said after all? He had simply disappeared the trinket with a flick of the fingers, into his wristpocket. Caleb hadn’t left though; he’d just lingered there, shifting his weight back and forth. 

“I’m sorry. I never meant for it to end up like this.”

“I know.” Essek’s lips had pulled tight in a weak mockery of a smile. “Sorry doesn't change anything though. We still ended up here.” 

Caleb had swallowed thick and hard at that, nodding his head with resignation. He had opened his mouth, like he meant to say more, but he seemed to think better of it, his mouth snapping shut with a click of his teeth. “Goodnight Essek. Thank you, for hearing me out. If you or the Nine ever need anything, don’t hesitate to send to me, please.” His hands had fluttered at his side, before one hand settled on his other forearm in a tight grip, like he had to physically hold himself back from reaching out to Essek. It was a painful notion. 

He lingered there for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, before Caleb had given a determined nod, taken a few more steps away from the door and with a last glance back had disappeared in a teleport. Then it had been Essek’s turn to linger there, watching the place Caleb had been, wondering if that would be the last he saw of the unexpected man who had captured his heart, only to turn out to be someone entirely different than Essek had thought. Essek wasn’t even sure what he wanted the answer to that question to be. 

After that he did his best to put Caleb out of his mind.Thankfully, it turned out to be easier than he expected. 

Saying goodbye to Veth had quickly consumed his other worries. They hadn’t spent more than a couple hours apart in the last few years, but now she was looking at buying a home in Nicodranas. Essek had known it was coming, of course. They had talked about it before, but now the day was here and Essek had found the reality of the situation overwhelming. It left Essek feeling off kilter the entire trip into the jungle. He was constantly looking over to find Veth, only to remember that she wasn’t with them. 

Not only was Veth gone, but Caduceus had been more anxious than Essek had ever seen him. It had all been a success in the end though, and Essek had been delighted to meet the rest of the Clays once they had all been healed. Clarabelle reminded him very much of Verin when he was her age. He had always been trailing Essek around and putting spiders in his hair or stealing his books. The pest. It all made Essek fiercely homesick. Those nights he would turn on the star projector and stare up at the twinkling lights as he tranced. It left him feeling melancholic, but in something of a good way. Like a bruise softly poked at. 

The Mighty Nine had stayed in the estate most of the trip, and Essek felt proud of the way they had all loved their rooms. The layout of the house was similar to their Rexxentrum estate, but large enough that they all had their own sizable rooms. 

Caduceus’s was similar to his cottage in the blooming grove, simple wooden furniture and a small and cozy fireplace. There were pots of flowers everywhere, and mushrooms and fungus growing in the corners of the room and from the wood of the walls. There was a low, large table for tea ceremonies, along with an ever boiling kettle and endless supply of tea. Essek didn’t know if Caduceus had any familiarity with the kind of ceremony that accompanied tea in Xhorhas, but he’d wondered if some day he might get the chance to show him. He thought the firbolg might like something like that. 

Beau had a small reflecting pond under a faux atrium that looked up to a sky filled with stars and the shadows of trees that seemed to loom in the distance. The space was wide and open, with bookshelves lining the walls, and light drapes of blue fabric hanging from the ceiling, throwing shadows and constantly shifting in the artificial breeze.

Jester’s room had given Essek a good bit of trouble. He wanted something that felt like home for her, but also something more adult than her bedroom in the Chateau. In the end he had settled on something close to it, with its four poster bed, large wardrobe, and wide windows, but bigger and with plain white walls. There was a desk overflowing with paints and canvases, and Essek had promised that anything new added to the walls he would be sure to keep for the next time, as accurately as possible. He was no Caleb, but he would do his best. In the corner of the room he had included a small shrine for the Traveler, designed after the Thelyss home shrine to the Luxon. He had told Jester that he would be more than happy to adjust any of it to however she preferred to worship, but she had only kissed his cheek and assured him that it was perfect. 

Fjord and Yasha’s had been easy by comparison. In Yasha’s room one wall was dominated by the mural Jester had painted for her in the estate, and the rest of the room was covered in framed pressed flowers, although most of the wall space was hidden behind pots and vases of fresh flowers. A large, open window looked out into a roiling, grey, thunderstorm, cool rain leaving the windowsill damp, and instead of a bed he gave her a thick bedroll, padded with fur and layered blankets in the style of the southern nomadic tribes. Fjord’s was a near replica of the captain’s quarters of the Balleater, complete with a gentle rolling sway of the floor and the distant crying of gulls. This time there was a small shrine to the Wildmother covered in ivy and flowers on the table beside the bed that was bolted to the floor, and trinkets and knick knacks from all over their travels cluttered the shelves; a reminder that he was not alone.  

Veth’s room remained in the house unoccupied. A large, busy room with shelves, and bowls, and piles of all the odds and ends and trinkets that she had liked to collect and a child’s room connected to it full of toys for Luc. Essek had hoped desperately there would be a chance for it to be used soon. There was, to an extent. 

Veth rejoined them in Nicodranas once they returned, ready for Travelercon. Luc and Yeza were staying behind. They had bought a little apartment, and Yeza was thinking of opening a new shop here. Apparently they had decided against a return to Felderwin, too many bad memories lingering there. It was supposed to be one last adventure with the Nine before Veth settled down for good, and after having spent the last two weeks without her, Essek was all the more conscious of what awaited him at the end of the trip. 

Their reunion on the docks was more emotional than Essek strictly liked for a public setting, but who was he to argue when she pulled him down into a tight, warm hug. Quickly Jester, and Yasha, and then the rest of the Nine were joining in and it moved from a group hug to something more of a dogpile due to Veth’s height. 

And then they were off. Sailing on the Balleater once again. And honestly, Essek hated it. The humidity, the damp, the salt all ruining his hair and robes, and the light be damned sun. It was inescapable. There was only so long he could spend below deck during the days before he started to feel like he was going insane (even if  there was nothing more to do on the deck either to pass the time). Even with his special tinted glasses it was just so damned bright! The sun reflecting off the ocean till Essek could hardly see anything ten feet beyond the boat. It left him of little use during fights or their flight from the dragon turtle when he could hardly see, and it was giving him a near constant headache at this point. He was starting to get seriously concerned that all this sun was going to permanently damage his eyesight by the time the Nine were done with him. 

Essek had been eager for the journey to be over, to finally land, and begin preparations for whatever it was exactly that Travelercon was supposed to be. He still hadn’t been sure what to expect. When they finally landed everything seemed to get worse: there was the village of Vo, and their mysterious god, there was the island itself’s attempts to kill them at every turn, and then there was an astral beast attempting to wipe their memories. They had been lucky to have Jester and Cad with them, and even luckier that Vilya had accompanied them to make sure that everyone’s mind remained intact. 

Essek hadn’t even realized at first. He had woken up feeling fine, better than he had in weeks. It hadn’t been until he’d made a passing comment about being eager to return back to the Rexxentrum estate for some creature comforts, and perhaps to see Caleb to tell him about the strange magic on the island. The Nine had shared pained, uncomfortable looks across the morning fire, before Jester had place a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and suddenly he’d remembered: remembered the shape of his mother’s face, remembered the way Verin used to pull his hair when he ignored him to read, remembered the day he was appointed shadowhand and the pride in his mother’s eyes, and remembered that there would be no real return to Rexxentrum, that there was no home for them there, and that there would be no casual catching up with Caleb. It had left Essek in a foul mood for the rest of the day, and the Nine kept sending him pitying looks, that had only sent Essek shrinking deeper into himself. 

Eventually Vokodo had been defeated, but not before granting them a vision of pure terror. It had left him unsettled. He constantly found his mind circling back to the vision when he tried to calm his thoughts to trance, like a mockery of a nightmare. The other members of the Mighty Nine had seemed just as unsettled as Essek had been by it all. 

After that the shift to Travelercon had been an interesting one. Essek had almost felt more stressed with Jester ordering them here and there to make party preparations, than he did hunting down an elusive aberration under the threat of an altered mind. It had been like being home, watching his mother bark orders at servants in preparation for a day of Light. Essek had been abruptly reminded, balancing on top of Yasha’s shoulders and burning through high level spells to perfectly situate the banner Jester had painted, that he really, really didn’t like parties. 

The event had gone off well enough in the end. Well, until it very abruptly hadn’t, but Fjord had been at the ready, and Artagan had been much more caring, and the gods more forgiving than Essek would have given them credit for. 

Half of the guests left after what had happened on the top of the volcano, Celia Ovesso being one of them. Essek had watched her stomp off to the boats with no small amount of horror. He wouldn’t say he felt bad for her really. She had been a real bitch when she’d shown up here. 

Still, as Essek watched the woman, with a golden dick permanently glued to her hand and a bruise blooming on the side of her face from where Beau had tackled her into the dirt, he had wondered what might have happened to him if he had ever had the misfortune of meeting the Mighty Nine as the Shadowhand Essek Thelyss. They would have eaten him alive. They might even have killed him. He would have insulted Jester once, or seemed too shady to Beau and no one would even have ever seen him again. Light be merciful, they would have hated him. He had shuddered slightly at the thought and gone to fetch another drink from the Beaurebar.

The party had gone on. Beau had turned out to be quite the bartender, which probably shouldn’t have surprised Essek that much, but in his defense he had seen her drink alcohol that would strip the paint off armor, more than once. Still, Essek had accepted the mixed drinks brought his way and sipped at the rosé from Veth’s flask whenever his hands had been left empty. He had stuck by her side most of the night, only allowing himself to be coaxed out onto the dance floor once by Jester and making a fool of himself in the process. 

With Travelercon wrapping up there had been no escaping the knowledge that soon they would be getting back on the ship to return to Nicodranas, and it would mean the real, official end to Veth’s time traveling with the Mighty Nine. It had made the rest of the trip home hard to bear. Essek was pretty certain that Fjord had ordered Orly to take a more roundabout and languid route back to Nicodranas. 

On the surface very little had been different, but there had been a lingering tension and melancholy underneath it all. They had spent their nights reminiscing about everything they had done, the wild year that traveling together had brought them. It had been sad, and heavy, but maybe it was a good kind of sad, the kind of sad that meant that the care had been real and the love had been true.

Essek could learn to be okay saying goodbye. He had to be. He had to be better about loving and losing. Life was inpermanent and he would live on centuries beyond every member of the Nine. If he’d focused on all the things he lost it would surely kill him. He’d lost his home, his people, his culture, his family, he lost Caleb, he was losing Veth, and someday he would lose the rest of the Nine. But he had gained so much more. He had found a new family that accepted him unconditionally; he had found a love of travel; discovered a world more wonderful than books could have ever prepared him for; he had found love even, for a time; and now he would always have a home in Nicodranas that he could return to. He had to focus on the positives. Had to. 

The first night back in Nicodranas they’d spent crowded in the Brenatto’s new apartment. Yeza and Caduceus had cooked dinner and they all had slept in what had been essentially a pile in the front room, but the night passed quickly. Essek felt like he had said goodbye to Veth so many times already, but that hadn’t made it any easier. She had given him a long, tight hug, and placed her colorful button necklace into his hand so that he could always have an easy return teleporting here. That thought did make the parting easier. 

Then they had left.  

They made a stop in the Rexxentrum Archives to visit Yudala Fon, before they meant to continue on to the Blooming Grove. Caduceus wanted to see for himself that the sickness was fading from the woods, and Essek wanted to look into the causes himself. He had a few theories, and he wanted to look into the corrupted forests of Molaesmyr. They could take an expedition out from Uthordurn. They had even considered seeing if Reani would be interested in coming along, assuming that she was free. 

Essek set himself up at one of the archive tables in the Cobalt Reserve with a stack of books on the ancient elven city and accounts of its fall and previous expeditions to the ruins. He was relieved for a chance to push the last several weeks out of his mind, and allow himself to sink into the comfort of books and research. He figured he had a few more minutes of quiet study before Beau finished with Yudala and came to join him. Essek copied down any notes he thought might be relevant, and made notes on their map of danger zones that were mentioned in previous accounts. 

“Of course, Beauregard. If you should need anything else you let me know.” Yudala’s voice echoed off the walls, a distant reverberation. Essek lifted his head to watch them approach his own little table, Beau at their side. 

“Thanks man. We really do appreciate the help.” A frown twitched at the corner of Essek’s mouth. One of two High Curators of the Cobalt Soul, the highest ranking member of her order on the entire continent, and Beauregard still insisted on using words like ‘man’ and ‘dude’. Essek supposed that was what you got when you found an order on the precipice of keeping authority in check, blatant disregard of station. 

“Beauregard, before you go,” they reached out a hand on Beau’s arm, making her pause. “If you mean to leave the Archives I would suggest avoiding the front entrance. We have had something of a… spy, so to speak, watching the front of the Archives.” 

That certainly caught Essek attention. “What do you mean? They turned their piercing green eyes on him now. 

“There has been a creature that has been staying outside of the front entrance and watching. It has been there for over a week now. We know that it is arcane in nature. It has been dispelled or killed on multiple occasions, but every time it comes back. We aren’t sure what it’s looking for or who sent it, but we have our suspicions. Regardless, I know that your group values its privacy, so I thought it best to warn you in case you wanted your presence in the city to remain unknown.”

“Wait, what kind of creature is this exactly?” Beau asked. Essek had a sinking feeling he knew already. 

Yudala shrugged. “It appears as a common street cat, but its form is only an illusion.” Essek barely heard the second half of the High Curator’s statement. He was already scrambling for his notes and inks and heading for the door, Beau hot on his heels behind him. 

The rest of the Nine were quick to follow, once Beau and Essek grabbed their attention, Jester casting a quick pass without a trace on them all as they slipped out of the back of the Archives sneaking around to the front of the building. Essek almost didn’t see him at first. He threw up a quick detect magic and there, the warm amber glow of familiar transmutation magic in the shape of a cat curled up in one of the bushes across from the front door. 

“Frumpkin!” Jester’s voice was more shout than whisper, and Essek watched the cat’s head snap up, bright glowing blue eyes peering between the leaves, and then Frumpkin was bounding across the courtyard towards them. Jester was instantly on her knees to scoop him up. “Oh my gosh, Frumpkin! What are you doing here? Where is Cayleb? Is he okay? What’s going on?” 

She scratched him behind his ears and he stretched into her touch, turning his head this way and that before he lept from her arms running ahead of them about five yards before circling back to meow at them plaintively. He beelined to Essek, his front paws reaching up to grasp at the hem of his cloak. 

“Ah, no, no. That’s going to snag.” Essek tutted. Here he was standing in the middle of enemy territory scolding his— Caleb’s familiar. Why did his life only ever seem to grow more and more surreal. He lifted the cat up under his arms, his head sinking comically into the rest of his body, bringing him close to his face. “I assume you wish for us to follow you— and we will— but you must stay close so that Jester’s spell affects us all, understand?” The cat blinked his big, blue eyes, his pink little tongue flicking at his nose, and made a little chirp that Essek hoped was an affirmation.

The moment Essek set him down Frumpkin was off, running on ahead, but careful not to leave the radius of Jester’s spell. “Is this really a good idea?” Fjord asked as the cat ran ahead and circled back again. “It could be a trap.”

“Honestly, no idea.” Essek shrugged as they followed the cat down a narrow side alley he had never noticed before, in spite of the many times he had come down this street. “And if it is a trap, it’s not a very good one.”

“I mean, we are following him, aren’t we?” 

Essek considered that, glancing back to Fjord. “Touche. We will just have to be prepared then. Just in case.” 

It took a while, passing through back streets and alleys, but it became apparent that Frumpkin was leading them to their old estate. Once they reached the door, Frumpkin pawed at the wood with a frantic kind of energy, until Jester opened it for him.

“We shouldn’t be back here,” Beau hissed, shutting the door behind them all. “If anyone finds out we’re in town this would be the first place they would look!” 

No sooner had the door shut that Frumpkin seemed to almost melt, sagging to the floor a bit before rising again, and rising, and rising, his body stretching and shifting into something else entirely. Right. The blue eyes. Essek should have realized earlier. 

“It was the only place I could think of to get you alone with minimal risk of being listened in on.” Caleb turned to face them, brushing a stray hair back from his face. 

He looked… well, better than he had the last time they had spoken. His red hair was in an orderly tail once again, shorter strands framing his bright, blue eyes. His clothes were neat, though he lacked the usual coat that obscured his book holstered from view. Still there were the bags under his eyes, and the wan paleness of his skin, but those were hidden, in a sense, behind a charming, easy smile. 

“There a reason you couldn’t just message us?” Beau crossed her arms over her chest. Caleb gave a rueful shrug. 

“I don’t have the spell. I was hoping for some word from you, but it never came. So, I’ve been keeping an eye on your estate and on the Soul. I figured those would be the likeliest spots you might teleport to. Usually I have Frumpkin watch the Archive, and set up some kind of alarm spell around the estate, but it seems I was just at the perfect place at the perfect time today.”

“Then what is it that was so important, exactly?” Caleb’s eyes went to Essek for the first time since he had stood up out of Frumpkin’s form as he spoke, and Essek watched that silly, easy smile slip off his face, giving way to the dour man that Essek had become so acquainted with. 

“I wanted to warn you, in case you ever came back to Rexxentrum, that you should leave this city as soon as possible. Even better, leave the empire entirely.” Caleb took a step closer, his lips pressed into a thin, serious line. 

Essek’s spine straightened, he felt hurt and insulted. “Leave the country? Why in Luxon’s name would we do something like that? We’re not staying in Rexxentrum. We have no illusions about remaining in the King’s city. We’re only here to speak to the Cobalt Soul. Once we leave the city there shouldn’t be an issue.” 

Caleb shook his head, moving in closer. Essek wondered if he had even realized how little distance there was between them now. If he came any closer Essek would be able to reach out and touch him— if he wanted to, that was. It didn’t feel like a conscious choice; it felt like gravity, pulling them together, like magnets.

“Things have changed. The situation has changed, Essek.” Light, the sound of his name in Caleb’s mouth… “Ludinus and Trent are furious. You made it very clear where you stood, that it was in opposition to them. They have their own beacon now, not to mention the way you and the Mighty Nine have been ensuring their plans fall through at every turn. Losing Mr. Brenatto was a huge blow to the research project.” They were standing so close now. “Essek, what do you do with an asset that has made it clear they refuse to cooperate and has already cost you so much?”

Essek’s throat felt tight, he could feel the soft scuttle of Da’rex who was hidden up his sleeve. She, as always, was a comfort. “You remove them from the board.” Caleb gave a grim nod. 

“But we’re supposed to be the heroes of the empire, right? Shouldn’t that mean something?” Jester sounded almost desperate. 

“That only means so much if they choose to expose me: as a drow, or for my crimes, or for crimes they have fabricated themselves.” Essek responded, but he didn’t look away from Caleb as he spoke. 

“We should leave.” Caduceus’s voice was calm and steady and sure. “We already have what we came here for. We’ve been planning on leaving the empire anyway.” 

Essek’s mouth opened without his consent. “You could come with us this time.” 

Caleb’s eyes went wide; he looked stunned. He seemed to falter, as if he would never have expected the offer to come from Essek of all people. Essek took a small, private delight at the sight of Caleb at a loss for words. He seemed to visibly collect himself, opening his mouth to give his answer before he was cut off. 

They were all still standing in the front entrance hall at the foot of the stairs. There was little point or time to move to the sitting room for this conversation, and honestly Essek had little desire to move there too. The house smelled odd and dusty and disused. So they all lingered by the door, which meant when the front door flew open behind them it gave them a straight view of Ludinus at the front door, with two Crownsguard flanking him. 

Essek felt his stomach bottom out at the sight of that snide, victorious grin. A hand closed around his bicep tugging him back a step. Yasha had her sword drawn in an instant, and Beau’s feet easily slid into a fighting stance. It wouldn’t do anything though, Essek knew it with a sickening surety. There would be no winning this fight. Even if a miracle happened and they managed to kill Da’leth they were still in the heart of the empire. They would be flooded with Crownsguard in seconds. No, there was only one option. They had to flee.

“Mr. Ermendrud, how nice to see that you beat us here, and you already have the prisoner secured.” Essek barely dared look away from Ludinus, but he couldn’t help peeking up at Caleb. It was his hand that had closed around Essek’s arm, and there was a primal kind of terror dancing behind his eyes. “As for you Mr. Thelyss. You are under arrest, and are to be extradited to the Kryn Dynasty where you are to face trial for your many crimes. I would suggest that you surrender peacefully.” 

The curl of his smug grin sent a white hot anger through Essek. He wouldn’t allow this to happen. He refused. He couldn’t let them win like this. Essek raised his hands to cast. He could get them out, get them to the Blooming Grove. It would be their only shot. 

His time with the Mighty Nine had taken Essek far in the terms of practical battle magic, but there was nothing even he could do to stop the counterspell on Ludinus’s lips. All there was to do was to trust. There. Fjord’s arm outstretched in a counterspell that had the words fizzling in Da’leth’s mouth. Essek could feel the spell picking up, the weave of magic taking shape as it wrapped around himself, and Yasha, Jester, and Fjord, and on down the line. The weave wrapped around each one ready to pluck them from this place. 

Caleb’s hands were up and ready. He had dropped Essek’s arm once the casting began, and Essek could see the counterspell ready to go. He could also see the exact moment Caleb felt the brush of Essek’s magic wrap around him as well; the way his hands faltered; the way his eyes turned to Essek at once, dumbfounded and gratified, and maybe awed. Like this was the best confession that Caleb could hope to receive. Perhaps that was true. Perhaps the greatest act of care would be to take him away from this place. 

Caleb’s fingers went lax, the spell fading before it ever began. Essek spared a moment to wonder if that counterspell shaping on his fingers had been meant for Ludinus or himself, but it didn’t matter. Caleb was a skilled caster. Essek didn’t doubt that if he’d wanted to, needed to, he could have held onto that spell. Choosing not to act was a choice in and of itself. Essek had to believe that. 

Abruptly the moment was over. Essek waited for the feeling of magic wrapping around him, the moment where the world went a little dark before coming back into sharp focus. Instead Essek let out a sharp gasp as the breath was stolen from his lungs, the weave torn violently from his fingers, the magic pulled away so sharply and suddenly it left Essek reeling. 

“Now, now. It would be rude to just leave. I don’t think we can allow that.”

Essek’s hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking, a come down of adrenaline and shock and fear. Caleb had gone a deadly pale, all the life bleeding out of his face. He could hear the Mighty Nine cursing as Trent stepped in through the door behind the rest of the intruding party. 

That was it. His teleport had failed, and there would be no trying again. He would never have the time to draw a circle. Jester’s hand was raised, the other resting on her holy symbol. Cad’s hands were white knuckled tight on his staff. They could both try to word of recall them away, but that was a much less powerful spell than teleport. It would be much easier to counter. And there was the added risk of splitting up. The thought of only half of the Mighty Nine stuck behind and at the Assembly’s mercy while the rest were thousands of miles away none the wiser was a terrifying one. Essek couldn’t think of any way to get everyone out safe and together. He couldn’t. 

Yasha hefted her sword, drawing it back, ready to move. Essek lunged for her, grabbing tight to her arm. It wouldn't be enough weight or force to stop her, not even close, but it was enough to convince her to stay her hand it seemed. He held his other hand out to Jester and to the rest of the Nine. He could see the crackling eldritch energy ready in Fjord’s palm. 

“And what, pray tell, would happen to the rest of the Mighty Nine?” Essek’s voice shook traitorously. 

“Fuck no,” Beau muttered under her breath, and Jester gave a shout of “Essek!” in time. 

“Why, the heroes of the empire? It’s hardly their fault that a crick managed to infiltrate their group in disguise.” Ludinus was still smiling that placid, arrogant smile. 

Essek took that in, nodding haltingly. “Very well then.” He hesitated a moment, glancing to the Mighty Nine around him. Beau looked predictably mad, her eyes red with unshed tears. Caduceus looked unexpectedly angry, staring down Trent and Ludinus with narrowed, wrathful eyes. Jester had her hands covering her mouth and tears slipping down her cheeks. Yasha looked like she wasn’t sure what to feel or do, overwhelmed and caught off guard. Essek caught Fjord’s eye and shared a nod of understanding as he wrapped an arm around Jester’s shoulder. Caleb looked stunned, shellshocked, his eyes moving from Trent to Essek and back again. 

“Bren, come here,” Trent’s voice cut through the silence of the room. Caleb hesitated only a moment, before he was crossing the room, face carefully and frightfully blank as he moved to stand by Ikithon’s side. “We will be working on your focus and your casting time later, I hope you understand that.” 

“Of course, sir.”

Trent’s eyes turned back to Essek, and there was nothing else for it. Essek floated forward, past the Nine, towards the door. Jester whispered out a broken, and wet ‘don’t’ that made the breath catch in Essek’s chest and panic claw bloody track up his throat. He couldn’t look at her as he passed. He felt awful for that. It would be the last time he saw her, and he couldn’t even spare her a glance. But Essek was sure that if he did that, cowardice would take hold of him again. He would run right back to the Nine, but they wouldn’t be able to protect him. As far as Essek could see, either way this was the end of him. At least this way he could make sure it wasn’t the end of the Nine. 

In a fit of inspiration he reached out a hand to Caleb as he passed, letting it linger there a moment, feeling the warm, soft brush of his skin before he was floating past. 

He came to a stop in front of Trent and Ludinus, who parted to allow the Crownsguard to step forward, who in turn were quick to manhandle him, pulling out heavy iron manacles to slap around his wrists. Essek wasn’t prepared for the way the air gave way under him. The impact of his feet hitting the ground sent shockwaves up his legs, to his knees, to his hips, his spine before his legs buckled under him sending him down hard onto his knees with a shout as he hit the ground with a thud. 

The Crownsguard were unphased, grabbing the center of the chain attached to the manacles and hauling him up faster than Essek could hope to get his shaky, battered legs back under him. 

“Anything you would like to say?” Ludinus stared down at him imperiously. 

Essek looked away from him, away from the rest of the Nine, staring fixed at the floor. “Just— Just to give Veth my apologies, and to tell her goodbye for me.” She would be beyond furious with him. At the same time, Essek was almost glad that she wasn’t here for this. It would have made it all that much harder. 

“Right then.” Ludinus snapped his fingers, and the chain around his wrists went taunt as the guards yanked him forward and back off his feet once again, dragging him out of the house and into the bright, blinding light of day, undisguised, feet catching on the rough cobblestone as he tried desperately to stay up on his stumbling feet as he was half carried, half dragged away, his magic out of his grasp, and listening to the sounds of his friends crying out behind him. 

Chapter Text

It was three days since Essek had been taken and Caleb ached. His heart ached; he kept imagining the fear that had been so plain on Essek’s face, the sickening way his body had crumpled to the floor. His stomach ached, empty and convulsing, and his throat burned and tasted of the bile he’d been spitting up all morning. This type of magical feedback always made him sick and nauseous, leaving him throwing up all day until his body finally became used to it. 

His arms ached, of course. But funny enough, that was an ache he was accustomed to. He fidgeted with the edge of the pink tinged gauze at his wrist. It would need replacing soon, before the blood began to weep down his hand. 

He had left the Mighty Nine’s estate that day at Trent’s side, watching the people he had come to think of as friends cry and rage as he turned and abandoned them. He had followed Trent down the street, watched Ludinus walking with his head high and proud, watched the pair of Crownsguard follow at his heel with Essek dragged behind them. 

Every so often Essek would manage to get his feet under him for a few stumbling steps, before he would be tugged off balance again, and be left to drag against the stone street. At some point he had just given up and allowed himself to be dragged along. And everywhere they had walked, everyone they had passed stopped to gawk and stare at the strange drow chained and dragged through the streets. 

The sight had made bile rise in Caleb’s throat, and he’d clenched his fists until he could feel his fingernails leaving grooves against his palm. Trent had walked them along, following the spectacle. There had been no need for Trent and Caleb to accompany the guards. Any threat Essek could pose was neutralized with those manacles. Da’leth and two Crownsguard were more than enough to handle him. 

But Caleb had understood. He had slighted Trent today, and in front of the Martinet no less. He hadn’t enabled or allowed Essek to escape, but the way he had let the counterspell slip through his fingers would undoubtedly concern Trent in regards to Caleb’s loyalties to him. Tent had made him watch that spectacle as a reminder, a reminder of what happened to those who defied the Assembly, who defied him . 

Trent had placed a hand on his shoulder as they had begun the tense walk back to The Candles bringing Caleb in closer. “I saw what happened back there. Your concentration is faltering. We cannot have that, Bren, I hope you understand. I would hate to have to shift more of your workload onto Eadwulf or Astrid if your performance keeps slipping. They are both already busy enough. I would hate to think they may be worked to the point of distraction.” Caleb had felt something hard settling his stomach.

“Especially Eadwulf. He has been in the field so frequently lately, and you understand how deadly even the smallest mistake can be in your line of work of course.” 

Caleb had felt like he had been thrown into a tub of icy water, felt the cold steal the feeling from his fingertips and move quick and fast through his body, settling in around his heart. He’d thought about Eadwulf, tried to recall the last time he had seen him. Caleb had been avoiding him and Astrid for so many weeks by then. Had he seemed overworked? Tired? 

“I understand, master.” Caleb had had to force the words past the tightness of his throat. 

“Good, then you understand my concern.” 

Trent had paused his steps, turning to look at Caleb with a look twisted in a sad approximation of concerned condesionion. Caleb had thought back on what Essek had said; how he didn’t believe Trent had ever felt real concern for someone else. It had set alight a rage in Caleb’s chest he hadn’t ever quite felt before. 

He had always regarded Trent with a horrified kind of awe, but after that, all Caleb had wanted was to put his hands on the man. He would have centered a fireball right where he stood, with as much power as he could muster, if it even stood a chance of harming the man. Caleb had let out a shaky breath, startled by his own anger, his own desire to destroy: himself, Trent, this gods damned city that would drag a man through the streets with such indignity and call it justice. 

If there was one thing that had stayed his hand it was the small weight resting in his sleeve, the soft touch of Da’rex’s toes on his skin. She had slipped from Essek’s hand to Caleb’s when he had brushed past on the way out of the estate, his hand lingering long enough for her to scuttle up his sleeve. Caleb couldn’t risk anything happening to her; once she was gone she would be gone. There would be no Essek to resummon her. It also meant that he would immediately know if…, well, if the unthinkable happened. If she vanished then he would know that Essek was truly gone.

“I feel as though I have neglected you as of late. I feel a remedy is in order. I have something in mind for you, an experiment that I have been thinking about lately that I believe will improve your focus.” 

“Of course, master.” Caleb had given the smallest of bows, struggling past a rage he had never felt the equal of. “I would be honored.” The fact that Trent had expected him to be grateful had Caleb gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw against the scream building in his throat. 

The idea that playing lab rat yet again was Trent’s offer of absolution for his perceived betrayal had made Caleb want to launch himself at the man. He had never understood more the desire to feel the hard impact of skin under his fists than in that moment. What sort of absolution was that? 

Caleb had thought of Essek standing before him, ethereal and haunting in that airy, white linen nightgown, so at odds with the neat, ridged robes he usually wore. His hands had been so soft on Caleb’s cheeks, skin smooth as silk, and the heady scent of his citrus perfume filling his nose. The press of his lips on Caleb’s forehead that night had felt more absolving than any penance of pain Trent could ever offer. Looking at the man then, all Caleb had been able to think about was how much more would Trent take away from him before it was enough, before the man would finally be satisfied? 

That anger Caleb had felt had only settled into a sure and steady determination, a cold, quiet rage in the days following, when Trent had strapped him tight to an old, wooden chair Caleb hadn’t sat in in decades. He was bigger now, and the straps bit into his wrists on the loosest setting. They were meant for smaller wrists, for children. Caleb had watched, choking down screams, as his blood soaked into the wood with each precise and methodical cut Trent made into the skin of his arms, with each bit of flesh flayed back and made ready for the sharp, unforgiving feeling of the residuum. 

Caleb had watched his blood fill the whorls of the wood abruptly sick with the knowledge that he was responsible for some of the blood there, blood of children that he had strapped to this chair and cut open himself. He had made excuses to himself, told himself that it was better he do it instead of Trent, that at the very least he could offer kind words and a gentle hand at clammy brows. As if that made any real sort of difference. As if a kinder hand changed the fact that these children had been nothing but grist for the mill. 

He had sat in that chair for five hours and thirty six minutes, with nothing but his thoughts and his own screams echoing in his ears, and suddenly everything seemed clear, clear in a way it hadn’t since Essek had first floated into his life with that clever brain and that pretty, lilting accent. Essek had turned his whole life on its head so easily, and now Caleb realized it was only because it stood on such shaky foundations in the first place. 

Essek and the Mighty Nine had shown him kindness and the possibility of a better way. They had given him a reason to question the supposed necessary evil of his existence. They had changed him irrevocably, even his name. 

Now Caleb knew what needed to be done. Once Trent had dismissed him he descended into the bowels of Vergesson to retrieve the amulets he would need and slipped out quietly again. He spared a thought to getting messages to Astrid and Eadwulf, but the thought that they might try to stop him, or worse, despise him, stayed his hand. It would be better this way. This way, when they heard, the surprise would be genuine, and Trent would see that in their minds. 

The Assembly would have someone watching the Nine’s estate, and sure enough when he neared the end of the street he could spot a young man in plain clothes and boots of a leather too fine and thick for anyone dressed the way he was, sitting at a street corner. It was a simple thing to turn into a small, orange, little songbird and take flight down the street and in through the window of the little kitchen, dodging dried up and dying potted plants on the window sill. 

Noise was coming from the sitting room. Caleb cocked his head, hopping nervously along the counter as he listened, but it stayed far away, not moving closer, though his mind couldn’t make out the words like this. He had the presence of mind to shift back straightening his spine with a pop as he neared the door. His bandaged arm pulled and ached when he turned back, but he shook it off. The door had been shut, but it did little to muffle the sound of raised voices. 

“—before Dairon is our best option for this.” Beau’s voice was barely muffled from the wood. “She’s already been putting in work to infiltrate things there. I’m telling you, the Cobalt Soul is the only ally we need here, not some wildcard.” 

“They’ve barely been there a month. She’s not gonna know all that much to help us. She’s certainly not gonna have the status to know the things we need to know.” Fjord’s words were harder to hear, not as loud as Beau. “I for one am willing to take a gamble on a bigger ally.”

“Essek talked about him.” The voice was very quiet this time, and Caleb had to press his ear to the door to make out what Yasha was saying. “I don’t think it would be a bad idea to try, and if it doesn’t work, we can just kill him.” 

“Guys, none of this help is gonna mean anything if we can’t get to him. How are we  even going to get all the way to Xhorhas? We can’t even get to Veth in Nicodranas without all splitting up.” Jester sounded tearful, and Caleb couldn’t bear to stand here and listen in any longer. 

He rapped his knuckles against the door taking a step back. The room went abruptly and deadly silent before the door was wrenched open to a stoic and grave Fjord, falchion clutched in hand, and Beau and Yasha glaring over each shoulder.
“Caleb? What are you doing here?” Fjord’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his blade didn’t lower. 

“And why are you in our house?” Yasha added with a frown. 

“I came to help. I want to help you get Essek back, and I think I might have the start of a plan to do it.” Caleb poured as much sincerity as he could muster into his voice, desperate for them to believe him. He wasn’t sure what he would do if they sent him away. Probably pull some stupid stunt all by himself, and get himself killed along the way. 

Fjord, Beau, and Yasha all shared a glance full of meaning Caleb couldn’t begin to guess at, before they were glancing over their shoulders, presumably to Caduceus and Jester. Finally, the three took a step back, motioning him into the room. 

“First, I brought a gift.” Caleb held out the small wooden box, and Beau was quick to snatch it up, throwing back the lid to inspect the amulets of protection against detection. “There should be enough for everyone.” Beau gave him a long considering look, before finally nodding, a feeling of understanding passing between them as she started handing them all out. “I also brought a friend.” 

Caleb pulled Da’rex from his pocket, wincing slightly as she bit at his fingertips. She had been doing that lately, growing more and more agitated. He could sympathize. He missed Essek too. Jester was quick to come to his side, making cooing and making kissy noises at Da’rex, even while there were tears in her eyes. 

“Essek slipped her to me at the last moment. And it—,” Caleb took a steadying breath running a finger over her fuzzy back. “If she’s still here we can— we know he’s still alive somewhere.” Caleb finished, his brow pinched and lips pressed into a tight thin line. 

“We’re going to get him back.” Yasha sounded so sure. Caleb wondered if that was for her sake or theirs. “We’re going to get him back because he made sure to get me back.”

“We’re trying to figure out when would be the best time to grab him. We have a couple ideas, and maybe even a potential ally.” Fjord glanced at Beau. “If we’re lucky.” 

“It can’t hurt to try. But first,” Caleb slipped out of his coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. His bandages had gone from pink to red, and blood was beginning to drip down one wrist onto the floor. He hadn’t even noticed it before. His transfiguration might have pulled the stitches. “First, I would appreciate a knife and some help.” Caleb’s lips twitched into a weak grimace as he nodded to Caduceus and Jester, whose twin looks of horror turned to grim understanding and determination. It looked like it was time to get to work then. 

Essek was beginning to regret handing off Da’rex to Caleb as he sat alone in his cell. The quiet was deafening, and he found himself acutely desperate for her company. It had been a silly, spur of the moment decision. She wouldn’t do him any good, besides being a sad reminder. At least if he had kept her she could have been a welcome companion, and when the time came he would have been able to say some kind of goodbye to her. But there would be no goodbyes, not with her, and not with the Nine. Essek was beginning to think purple was something of an unlucky color for them. 

It was a strange thing to be on the other side of the bars in the Dungeon of Penance. They had been quick to teleport him out of the empire, as soon as they had reached the Claykeep Prison, Ludinus smugly waving him off to another mage to be transferred to the Dynasty. Essek had been dragged directly to a cell, chained to a chair and securely gagged. 

Now it was just a waiting game. He wondered who would be sent in to see him. It would need to be someone who could properly confirm his identity, and someone high enough to hold authority in court. He spared a moment of dread at the thought that Verin might be sent, but no. That would be ridiculous, to have him come all the way from Bazzoxan. 

A moment later the sound of footsteps down the hall confirmed his suspicions. The steps were too light for his brother’s heavy, marching tred. Essek watched the form of Lythir VaSuun, of all people, resolving itself out of the shadows as the cell door swung back. He wore ornate robes and his hair in a sleek bun, the mantle of the Shadowhand around his shoulders. 

Essek found his nose wrinkling in distaste in spite of himself. Lythir VaSuun, of all people, Shadowhand? Den VaSuun wasn’t even counted among the noble dens. Lythir was a moderately talented mage, but hardly anything impressive. Even at his current power Essek was sure he could best the man. 

Well. He could have . His spellbook had been confiscated, his spells once again lost to him. There was a small consolation in knowing that he had learned from past experience and there was a backup copy tucked somewhere in Jester’s haversack. It wouldn’t do him any good, but at least the knowledge wouldn’t be lost. He thought briefly of his spellbook in Caleb’s hands. It felt intimate. He thought of the good Caleb might do with it. Or, perhaps, it would find its way into Trent’s hands. Essek liked to think it wouldn’t, but how could he be sure? 

Lythir gave him a long, curious look. “So it really is you then, isn’t it.” He motioned to the guard. “Remove his gag, if you would please.”

“Sir, are you—” Whatever the guard meant to say, Lythir quickly cut him off, his voice sharp and cutting. 

“I assure you I can handle him. Now remove the gag.” Essek wanted to scoff; as if the tight iron mitts encasing his hands and the wards on the cell weren’t enough to tamp down on his magic without the gag. It was all a bit overkill, if you asked him. Flattering, but overkill. He was a wizard, not a sorcerer. His magic was academic, not innate, and without his book or his hands to aid his casting, he had as much influence on the weave as the Aurora watch guarding his cell. 

The guard was quick to act this time, and Essek found himself grimacing at the taste of iron the gag left behind on his tongue. With a sudden clarity he knew that if it was Beau in his spot she would have spit at the guard. The thought made him feel oddly fond. 

“We have already recovered one of the beacons from your personal belongings when your wristpocket was dispelled. I don’t suppose you would save us both the time and confess to where you have hidden the other beacon?” 

A surprised, bitter laugh bubbled out of Essek’s throat. “And rob you of the satisfaction of prying the secrets out of me? No. Besides, I am not stupid enough to hurry my end along by confessing before I even face trial. Why, hoping I would save you the hard work? I have to say, Lythir, I am surprised to see you were appointed Shadowhand.” Essek sneered down his nose at the man best as he could, stuck in his seat as he was. 

Lythir didn’t rise to the bait though, simply lifting an unimpressed eyebrow. “I might not be a magical prodigy. I have invented no spells that have reshaped our understanding of dunamancy, yes, but at least I did not need nepotism to get my appointment, Ra’ton. I don’t need to match you in magical theory, or be some kind of arcane genius, because I am actually good at my job. I am a better intelligence agent than you ever were.”

Essek sat back in his chair, stung in spite of himself. Lythir wasn’t wrong, of course not. Nepotism was the very bedrock of how the dynasty functioned, especially among the ruling dens. Essek had spent his childhood at the skirts of the umavis of the other ruling dens, as had every child born to an umavi of the ruling dens. It was a close, insular group, long lived and resistant to change. Essek had known from the moment of his appointment that he would never have gotten there without the favor of the Bright Queen or the political maneuvering of his mother. He liked to think he had not been a bad Shadowhand, but he was well aware that he was certainly not the most qualified in their history. 

“Are you here to bandy words and insults, then? Is that what you are here for? Or perhaps a zealot such as yourself intends to pry the secrets out of me? Is that it? Do you think you could be the hero to discover the location of your precious beacons?” Essek’s voice was cold, and mocking. How easily he had reverted to old habits after returning home, he thought to himself. 

Lythir pursed his lips, looking down at Essek disdainfully. “No. I thought it would only be fair to allow you the chance to skip the trial and torture, and just tell us the truth, but I realize such a thing is beyond someone like you.” Lythir turned on his heel, making a motion to the guard at the ready, Essek’s gag still in hand. 

“What? Not going to threaten me or give me empty promises of leniency if I tell you what you want? Surely even a new Shadowhand must understand how to wield the incentive of pain.” Essek wasn’t sure what he was doing, what he hoped to achieve in making Lythir linger. Once they began the torture he knew it would only be a matter of time before he caved. Very, very few people were able to keep their secrets when the dynasty set their mind to getting them. 

Lythir glanced back at him over a shoulder, his face patronizingly amused and pitying. “No, I think I will leave you to your own thoughts and company until the time of your trial. I can think of no greater torture than that.” And at that he was gone, footsteps growing quieter in the echoes of the hallway. 

Chapter Text

The click of shoes on the stone floor alerted Essek to his visitors long before the loud clanking of the door being opened. It was deafening in the silence of the dungeon. It had been… Essek wasn’t sure, days, weeks, months even since he had spoken with Lythir. Locked away in a secluded, deep section of the Dungeon of Penance it was hard to tell. Isolation and deprivation, that was always the first step. He wondered if they would mix things up for him. Afterall, where was the fun in torturing someone who already knew your whole playbook? 

Hushed words were exchanged in undercommon outside his cell, but Essek didn’t lift his head. He didn’t care enough to give them the satisfaction of straining his ears to listen or to crane his neck to watch their arrival, instead he continued to stare down at his lap.

It was the flash of white out of the corner of his eyes that had Essek’s head snapping up. The robes of the umavi stood out starkly against the black stone and steel and the darkly armored Aurora Watch guards. The attending guard bowed low to the umavi as he closed the door behind her and left. Essek could hear his footsteps walking away. Essek hardly paid it any attention, his eyes firmly fixed on Deirta Thelyss, standing bright and resplendent in her white dress and cloak in the middle of his cell. 

“Oh Essek, what have you gotten yourself into now?”  Her brow was creased, her eyes sad, and her lips a thin disappointed line. Suddenly, Essek was a boy of thirty again, in trouble for making a mess of the den library. She reached out gloved hands, gently unlocking his gag.  

Essek coughed weakly, his voice rough and his throat dry. “My apologies for the disappointment, Mother.” 

The slap across his cheek was not what he expected. It wasn’t hard, but the sting of his cheek left him blinking and stunned. His mother had never struck him before. Deirta pinched his chin, turning his face to look back at her. Now she looked properly cross. 

“This is no joke Essek, your glibness does you no credit here. Do you not realize what is happening here? You are going to die. I don't have the power to stop that.” There was a heat to her eyes that turned Essek’s stomach as he jerked his head away. He couldn't go far, strapped to this chair as he was, but he could at least shake her hand off. 

“I’m no fool, I know what I’ve done.”

“A fool is exactly what you are! You had everything! The youngest Shadowhand in the history of the Kryn Dynasty. You had respect, station, power. You had everything, I saw to that, and you threw it all away, and for what? To cavort around the empire with a band of mercenaries, apparently.” 

He hated this, sitting here, his mother talking down at him like this, the way he was forced to look up at her. “Because we live in ignorance of a being we profess to worship!" And there he was, raising his voice, how uncouth. 

Her lips thinned. "You never could let that go, could you? Why could you never let it go, Essek? Your desperate search for answers only ever made you miserable and isolated you from people who could have cared for you. I never asked you to become a cleric of the Light, only to respect its power. Instead you stole it away to the empire. Well, was it worth it? Did whatever you learn appease that hunger in you, or did you discover some other knowledge to covet?"

"I just," Essek sucked in an abrupt breath, all the anger leaving him at once, and he was left feeling hollowed, scared, and overwhelmed. "I thought— I thought I found people who understood, but then I realized I was wrong, but I'd come too far, and I needed to know. I just needed to know. I thought I could escape from here, and take the beacon, and learn the truth, and be happy somewhere on my own, somewhere without limitations. I— I had fantasies of returning home with answers— to finally be proven right— for everyone to see that I had been right." A childish thought from someone who had not had to make it on his own in this world before, who had no idea what lay before him, who couldn’t guess what gaining the beacons would cost him in terms of power and experience. 

The last thing Essek expected was the way Deirta seemed to deflate at his confession, her face growing sad once again. 

“I always forget how young you are, my little prodigy. So clever, so serious, but so very impulsive and naive at times. Forever the little boy who would read his books sitting on the edges of the courtyard instead of playing with the other children, hmm? It was so easy to forget this world is new to you. 

“Happiness is not everything. Happiness is but a fleeting emotion. It is like the seasons, they come and they go, but they are never gone for good. If you would have waited… Maybe you could have found happiness at home, if only you would have chosen to find it.”

Essek abruptly found himself chewing his lower lip to keep it from wobbling. “I was happy though, with the Mighty Nine, with the mercenaries, more happy than I’ve ever been. And I didn't have to stop asking questions or being curious. They just liked me." His mother wiped a gentle finger under his eye. 

“But was it worth it? Were the, what, four or so years, or however long you spent with them, worth it? That is less than a fraction of your life, Essek. How can you think such fleeting happiness is worth your life being cut so short?”

Essek shook his head, there were tears running down his cheeks now. “They, I didn’t take the beacons for them, it wasn’t… I met them after, I had already made my mistakes by then. They weren't involved. I had no—,” Essek sucked in another hard breath. "I had no plan when I left, just hoped it'd be better. I didn't know what I was doing." The words came out hushed and breathless, an admission. He’d thrown out his plan to give up the beacons to the Assembly, but he’d still followed through on his plan to steal them, even with no place he would be able to keep and study them, no place to go, no backup plan, and then he had lost his spellbook and it had only gotten worse.

Deirta tucked his head against her chest, hands brushing his filthy matted hair back from his face. “I knew you weren’t happy, but always expected it would pass; I thought with time you would move on from your obsessions, find something new to hold your attention. I had hoped the tragedy with your father would snap you out of it, make you realize how rebelling against the Luxon, refusing consecution, hurt and affected those around you.” 

Essek stiffened in her arms, her hands running a soothing path up and down the back of his neck where the short hair had begun to grow out. “I didn’t mean for him—”

“Hush now, I am not cross with you for refusing consecution, not anymore, and your father will return one day, Light willing. Our actions are only ever our own, Essek. You might have upset him, but he chose to leave how he did, not you. You were always so young and ambitious. My boy, more curiosity than sense. But I always expected you would settle in soon, I know now that I shouldn’t have assumed, I should have seen to it. Umavi I may be, but this is a lesson I had yet to learn."

His mother, the Umavi, a perfect soul, and here she was admitting to a mistake, a way she had failed him, telling him he was not to blame for the way Lirdnin Thelyss has been lost to the depths of the Betrayer’s Rise. Essek tucked his head closer against her chest and sobbed. She cooed sweet nonsense to him in undercommon, gently rocking him in place like she used to when he was twenty, before he could trance properly and would still have nightmares. Eventually she pulled away, crouching to meet Essek's eye, in a way no Umavi should. Her expression was grave, but there was a smile there, however sad.

"Out of every son, every daughter, every child I have ever had you have always given me the most trouble, are you aware of that?"

Essek gave a wet laugh, nodding. "So you liked to tell me, often."

"You almost leveled the Den's library twice doing unsupervised experimental magic before you reached your first century. You broke your legs in seven places the last time."

"Six," Essek corrected easily, the old argument rote. "The seventh was only a partial fracture."

“That did not mean it healed any easier.” 

Essek certainly knew that. There were days when his legs could hardly bear his weight.  

Her hands came to cradle his face again, her white gloves were stained with dirt, and sweat, and his own blood, so was the front of her dress where he had tucked his head. A fond smile sat on her lips, but her eyes were damp. “I remember when you first did this.” Deirta tugged gently at a lock of his short hair where it hung in his face. 

“You were furious with me.”

“I found you in the bathroom with a pair of scissors hacking away at your braids by the fistful, of course I was upset. You had debuted in court less than a decade before, and then you went and did that .” 

The Umavi’s face dropped again. Usually she seemed so placid and serene; Essek had always delighted in being able to antagonize a rise out of his mother, but the deep sense of grief that hadn’t left her since she had stepped into his cell was not something Essek relished to see in her eyes. 

"I can't save you."

Essek took a shuddering breath. "I know."

"There's nothing I can say to fix this. I don't have rights to claim you under Den Thelyss any longer."

Essek knew that. It still stung knowing that Deirta could not even be truly counted as his mother anymore.

"At your trial and sentencing I cannot speak on your behalf."

"You can't, even if I was still of Den Thelyss. It could ruin the Den. There's no saving me, and it would only bring all of the Den's loyalties into question."

Deirta nodded, her eyes shining. She already knew that, of course she did. It was understanding she was looking for then, or perhaps absolution for a mother who could not speak in defense of her son, debased and sentenced to die. 

"In all my many lives, I have never lost a child like this before." The Umavi blinked hard, her jaw clenched tight. Somehow the thought of his mother crying felt so infinitely terrifying in that moment.

"I do so like to be different." 

The look Derita gave him was disapproving and bemused, but the wobbling of her lips seemed to stop.

"Is there anything you would like me to tell your mercenaries? I'll pass along a message if I'm able."

Essek thought about that for a moment. He imagined a sealed letter bearing the Thelyss crest stamped in wax full of, what? What could he even say? What could he tell the Nine that would make it better? He had walked out of their little estate that he had come to love, sure that it would be the last he would ever see of them.

Beau was surely furious with him for surrendering himself; Jester would be beside herself, as she had been with Yasha. Yasha would once again mourn another friend lost too soon. Veth… had her old family back, she wouldn't need the young drow she had adopted off the streets anymore, though she might disagree. Fjord would do his best to keep them together, Essek had faith he could manage. Caduceus would ease them all through his departure, even though he himself would be aching as well. His death… Well, they would heal in time. They had gone through this before, after all. Essek could only hope that his death would have a fraction of the positive impact as Mollymauk’s had in the end. 

Essek wondered what happened to Caleb after he’d left. He hoped Trent hadn’t punished him for his warning. If Caleb was lucky Trent had never learned of it in the first place. He thought of the way Caleb had stood there, shoulder’s hunched, and head bowed at Trent’s side as Essek had been manacled, and once again found himself desperately wishing he knew a way to get him away from that man. Hopefully the Mighty Nine could do that for him now. 

"Tell them I'm sorry, and not to blame themselves. That I loved them, and I do not regret it."

Deirta's smile was sad, "I'm glad you found them. I'm glad you found some fleeting years of happiness before this. You shine brighter for having known them. They've softened your edges in a way I thought only time could do, but I realize now my patience had turned to neglect."

Essek didn't know how to begin to address that. His mother had been rather distant most of his adult life, an aloof figure who attempted to guide him away from certain interests and urged him towards others. He'd felt more like her moorbounder than her son at times, ever pushed on with little thanks or reward. To hear her admit that though was something else entirely.

"Thank you. Thank you for visiting me."

"It was the only thing I could do." Deirta stood back to her full height, reaching out to wipe the last remaining trace of tears from his face with her soiled gloves. "There we go, my Light. You are a Thelyss, remember? Do not let them see you cry. They do not deserve your tears." 

The Umavi admitting wrong and acknowledging him as a Thelyss in spite of his formal removal from the Den, Essek wondered how many other principals of the Light his mother would disregard today. 

Essek watched her slip off her soiled gloves and pull her cloak tighter around her to disguise the stains he had left. A fitting, if melancholic, metaphor. She called for the guard to open the door and escort her out, pausing for a moment to look back at Essek one last time. The next time he saw her would likely be his hearing, and she would not be able to show him kindness there.

“Go in the Light, Essek.” And then she was gone. 

Essek didn’t know how long time stretched on after that. It had once been his specialty. He could bend the world to his whims, stretch out a moment into hours, control the most base element of the universe, and now it all betrayed him sitting here in a little wooden chair in a dark room. 

He was exhausted and hungry, his mouth parched and dry. He was quickly coming to regret his tears from earlier, and he hadn’t been allowed to trance for any real length of time. His body ached too. One guard, whom he didn’t recognize, but Essek wondered if he hadn’t unknowingly slighted the man at some point, seemed to take a special kind of pleasure in causing him pain. 

The last time they had brought him his meager meal of over-boiled rice his lips had been split removing the gag, and the guard had relished in driving the steel toe of his boot into Essek's legs with any noise he made, warning the wizard to not even think of trying to cast anything. 

Essek supposed he was just lucky his hands were still intact. That would change after his hearing, he was sure. That was what you went for first on a mage, afterall. Once he was formally charged with treason then they would begin questioning him in earnest about the whereabouts of the beacon. Essek hoped he would be able to hold out, but more pragmatically he hoped the Nine were smart enough to disappear with the remaining beacon before he broke. 

The clang of the bars startled him out of the beginning of a doze. Ah, it was his favorite guard back again it seemed. He gave Essek a cruel, toothy smile as he slid back the door.

“Well, Ra’ton, time for you to get going.” The guard motioned for two others to follow him, and quickly Essek was being unchained from his chair, hands rebound behind his back. 

He hadn’t left his cell since they had brought him in. This would be his trail day then. They threw a rough sack over his eyes, and Essek scrambled to get his feet under him as he was hauled out and down the corridors, a guard holding each arm in a way that made his shoulders scream and ache. The particularly cruel guard walked ahead leading them up through the Dungeon of Penance. 

Essek couldn’t truly say where they were taking him, blinded as he was, but the way there was punishing. Essek focused most of his attention trying to keep his feet about it, out of fear of having his shoulders dislocated.

The air shifted slowly, accompanied by a change in the way their steps echoed, a familiar hush, and Essek realized with a nauseating drop that they had entered The Lucid Bastion. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breath came in short labored gasps. This was it. 

The clink of armor, the sound of doors being opened, the hush falling over a crowded room. They pulled Essek to a stop, and he was driven down to his knees with a force that had him biting out a sharp cry past the gag that filled his mouth. His captors paid him no mind though. Suddenly, the hood was ripped from his head, and Essek was closing his eyes with a hiss, blinking back tears. 

He remembered when they were children, Verin had hated coming to court. He would cry and wail about how the light burned his eyes until Essek would walk his little brother back to the Thelyss estate in the western Bastion. Essek had always thought it comical that he had ended up under the harsh sun of Bazzoxan. 

A hand fisted in his hair, hauling his head up, forcing him to look up at the court. All the chiefest members were in attendance. A privileged audience then. A sea of familiar, contemptuous faces. Essek hadn’t really expected much else, after so great a crime as he had committed, but the sight still felt like a punch in the chest. 

The Bright Queen rose to her feet, staring him down. She was dressed resplendent as always, in a flowing dress of Umavi white decorated with gems and beads that caught the light in a way that was almost painful to look at. Like a star, like the Light itself given body. Essek could think of only a few times he had ever seen Leylas Kryn’s expression quite so severe. 

He couldn’t help thinking of the way she had beamed, that imperturbable, knowing smile at him when he had been named Shadowhand. 

“Essek Ra’ton,” Leylas paused, glancing at Abrianna, who gave her a solemn look, her face sober and drawn. 

Essek remembered how he used to sit with the Skysybil in the months after his accident, still chair bound and so angry at it all. She had taught him how to make pillow lace. He had spent hours twisting bobbins and trying to create new patterns. It had been to varying levels of success, but it had kept a young boy, afraid and angry as his life changed so dramatically, preoccupied, and that had been more than enough. She had been an old, ancient drow at the time. 

When he had been young, Abrianna had been convinced that he was her brother from her fourth life. Xunril had been an accomplished battlemage and Taskhand. She had always been rather doting on him because of it, and even when Essek’s chance for anamnesis had come and passed, her affection for him had never cooled. Now, her yellow eyes spared him only a brief, displeased look before she turned away from him. 

“Essek of Den Nine,” The Queen continued. The words sent a shock through Essek. That couldn’t be his mother’s work, could it? “You have been charged with treason of the highest degree, five counts of murder, blackmail, extortion, conspiracy, and perverting the course of justice. You are accused of the theft of two of the Luxon’s beacons and collaborating with foreign enemies. If you are found guilty you face a sentence of execution.” 

He was trembling. His whole body shook, knees on the cold marble and tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Essek wondered if the guard could feel the way he was shaking with that hand in his hair. His eyes darted to the side, to his mother, sitting to the Bright Queen’s right. Her face was hard, and her lips a thin, pained line. 

Essek remembered suddenly that Deirta herself had been executed for treason once. In her second life, while their people had still been in the underdark, locked deep in a civil war with those who remained true to the Spider Queen. She had been taken, tortured, and executed. 

Deirta had been a great warrior then. As far as Essek knew his mother had never taken up a sword again after that. He wondered how his mother had felt, facing her own death. Had she been as scared as he was now? Had she stood proudly, or had her knees shaken? Had she been able to hold back tears at the end of it all? Essek wished that he could ask her, but he knew he would not get another chance to talk to her now. 

“The accused had the right to a defense provided by his,” Leylas paused, nose wrinkling like the words tasted bad in her mouth, “Den.” 

Essek frowned in confusion. Surely his Mother couldn’t have pulled the strings to vouch for him. She wouldn’t— couldn’t put the whole Den at risk just for a man that everyone knew already to be guilty. The door to the side chambers swung open, and Essek jerked instinctively against the punishing grip the guards had on him at the sight of the Mighty Nine. 

They strode into the great cathedral of the Bright Queen with their heads held high, eyes straight ahead in a way that spoke of a familiarity with the opulence of the room. Den Nine. Leylas had said the words herself, but Essek could hardly wrap his head around it. Surely, surely , they couldn’t truly be a recognized den? But they would not be here, speaking for him at his trial like this without legal den status. 

They all wore dynasty fashion as well: darker jewel tones, and asymmetrical cuts that seemed jarring to see on his friends. The Mighty Nine had up until now been a very separate, very different chapter of his life, and seeing them dressed in the styles of his home felt like the strangest merging of worlds. They looked like they belonged here, and for a moment Essek could imagine it, an eclectic group of deceptively capable idiots working at the behest of the Bright Queen instead of King Dwendal. Perhaps in a world, where he was less stupid he could have met them here in this court. Perhaps in a world where he was less stupid and braver he could have abandoned the court to run off to join them in the wasteslands. 

A silly flight of fancy. 

When they spotted him, Jester’s hands flew to her mouth to hide an aghast little noise. Essek was sure he looked like a fright. Veth’s face was all twisted up, like she wanted nothing more than to cross the distance between them, and Essek wanted nothing more than to have her in his arms right now. Yasha’s hands were white knuckled fists at her side as she glowered at the guards holding Essek in place. Beau glanced at him, her face tight, before she turned her scowl back to the Bright Queen. Fjord placed a steadying hand on Beau and Jester’s shoulders both, and sent a sober nod to Essek. Essek didn’t think he had ever seen Caduceus so visibly upset as he took in all the court with those careful, considering eyes. 

Lingering at the back—the shock of red hair caught Essek attention—was Caleb. He stood a little off from the rest of the group, hovering along the edges. His eyes were cold, and his face carefully blank as he regarded the room. He didn’t look at Essek. 

Essek didn’t know what they were doing here. All of the Nine, but especially Caleb. How had they gotten access to the Bastion? Had the Bright Queen referred to them as a Den? Light be damned, they shouldn’t be here. Didn’t they realize there was no saving him? The court already knew he was guilty. There would be no getting away with this for him. Not anymore. 

“How do you plead on behalf of your Den member?” Leylas Kryn regarded the Mighty Nine with a sharp, evaluating eye. 

“He pleads guilty, your Luminance.” A murmur of surprise rose through the court as Fjord spoke up.

Essek made a punched out noise behind the gag. What in the name of the Light were they doing? He wanted to shout at them to be silent. Couldn’t they see they were only causing more problems? Couldn’t they see they were only hurrying his death along?

“Guilty?” The Bright Queen echoed in surprise.

“We don’t see a point in denying something we all know is true.” Fjord took a step forward, back straight, head high. “We are all well aware that Essek stole the beacons. What we have for you is an offer.” 

Essek felt like he couldn’t breathe. A sharp spark of panic lit up his chest, and he was almost certain the gag stopping his mouth would choke him. They weren’t giving him up, were they? The Mighty Nine wouldn’t do that. They were his family, his den. 

They should. It would be the smart thing to do. They should hand over the beacons, distance themselves from him, insure that the dynasty had no reason to come after them once Essek was gone. 

He still hoped they wouldn't. Essek wasn’t sure he would be able to handle it. And, if at all possible, he would like to refrain from tears in front of the court. His mother’s voice played over again in his head: they don’t deserve your tears. 

“An offer? And what could you have to offer?” Leylas regarded them with distaste. Essek was surprised she had tolerated this little play for so long. 

Fjord dodged the question. “We want you to release Essek into our custody.” 

That got a sharp, humorless laugh from the Bright Queen, her patience was wearing thin. Essek could see it. “Give me one good reason I should hand over the worst criminal the dynasty has seen in the last 400 years?”

“Because we can offer you this.” Fjord motioned Jester close, to reach into her haversack. Essek knew what it would be before Fjord fully withdrew his hand. 

A collective gasp rose through the court as Fjord withdrew the Luxon beacon holding it high aloft above his head. The Queen was back on her feet in an instant, along with many others. 

“Tell me why I should not have you killed right now and claim what is rightfully mine?” There was no concealing the venom in her voice now. Essek felt like he could hardly breath past the gag and the panic.

“Ach, I think that is something I can answer for you.” For the first time Caleb spoke, moving to the front of the group next to Fjord. His spine was straight, and his shoulders were pulled back, his head was high and proud, his face carefully crafted into a look of bemused, charming detachment. It was a mask Essek was well acquainted with. “I have this, you see.” 

He pulled something from around his neck holding it out for all to see, and Essek was startled to see the familiar bead of amber that Caleb had once shown him in the study of the estate while pressed nearly shoulder to shoulder trading spells. 

“This necklace is a spell of my own invention, you see. A modified version of the spell secret chest, if you will. What that means is if anyone should try to kill or harm myself or my friends the second beacon I have stored in here would be lost forever to the ethereal plane.”

Now Essek felt like he was really going to hyperventilate, his breath coming quick and harsh. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t really be their foolish plan. They were in a room with some of the most powerful people in the country and they were bluffing. All they would need to do was dispel the necklace and then it was over. 

“Shadowhand!” Essek’s head snapped up in spite of himself at the Bright Queen’s call. He watched Lythir stand from his chair, leaving the dais, his face a mask of fury. 

Lythir approached the group warily, eyes darting to Yasha and Fjord at the back, then to Beau standing close to Caleb’s flank, before his eyes finally settled on Caleb himself. He examined the bead for a long minute, eyes narrowed. Essek could just make out the sound of him muttering under his breath in Undercommon, but he couldn’t be sure what he was saying. 

He reached out a hand, the somatic component of identity already shaping on his fingers, but Caleb pulled the necklace away. “Ach, I don’t think so.” The look Lythir gave him was contemptuous. Caleb just looked blithely amused. 

Lythir sneered, turning his back on the Nine to bow low to the Queen. “Your Luminance, I can make out the shape of a beacon within the amber. If what he says is true I do not think it would be wise to attempt to dispel it, not with the beacon at stake.” So much for not needing to be particularly magically gifted to be Shadowhand, Essek thought viciously to himself. He wondered what sort of illusion or decoy they had managed to hide in the amber. Whatever it was wouldn’t hold up to close inspection. 

“In the interest of good faith,” Fjord cut in, holding the beacon out to the new Shadowhand. 

Lythir hesitated, his eyes darting to the Bright Queen, then to the rest of the Mighty Nine, before he took the outstretched beacon. He didn’t speak another word to them, turning, thin-lipped and scowling, back towards the dais. The court watched with bated breath as Lythir bowed low, presenting the Beacon to the Queen. She held out one hand, ghosting it over the surface.

“It is indeed the lost beacon.” Leylas’s voice echoed around the chamber, and at once there seemed to be a collective exhale. Quana took the beacon from Lythir’s hands, passing it off to a pair of Aurora Watch with whispered instructions. Essek imagined they would be much more reluctant about the display of the beacons from now on.  

“You have returned what was stolen, but you still hold one of the Luxon’s beacons hostage, or you seem to.” Leylas’s face was full of barely reigned in anger. Essek had to fight off the instinct to avert his eyes and duck away from her wrath. “What are your demands then?”

“Now your Majesty, there’s no need to overreact.” Caleb’s smile curled sharp and cruel at the corners of his mouth. “This is a simple transaction, and really you are getting a rather good deal out of it. You have regained the two stolen beacons and stand to gain a new one altogether because of us, and the credit for these feats is all yours. You hand Essek over to us, and that is yet another concern off the board. He will be far away from you, never to return or cause your dynasty grief. You will never hear his name whispered again, and you claim whatever you wish happened to him. But punishing him achieves nothing, and I’m sure a woman as wise as yourself can see past her own want for vengeance to the sense of our offer.” 

She absolutely did not. The Bright Queen looked like the only thing she wanted more than Essek’s demise was to run this presumptuous empire wizard through with her sword. Her face was contorted in a rictus of feral rage.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what is to keep you from resending your agreement and hunting Essek down after the fact.” Essek was fantasizing about casting silence. Whatever their plan was, whatever they were trying to do, Essek despised this, glancing to the furious Bright Queen he wanted to be sick with the dread settling hard in his stomach. 

“What you need to understand, your Luminance, is that the Mighty Nine are a very well connected group, in the empire and beyond, with a far reaching web of allies. Should anything happen to Essek word would quickly reach the good people of the dynasty about how a group of empire mercenaries were the ones who returned the beacons, and discovered the location of this new one. And not only that, but that the traitor Essek was allowed to go free with these mercenaries. I don’t think that would look very good for you.” Caleb’s smug, viciousness had melted away to a steely determination. 

With all eyes on the Mighty Nine, Essek dared a glance up at his mother, sat to the left of the Queen’s throne. She wasn’t watching him though, nor the Mighty Nine, her eyes were locked on the Bright Queen, a simmering fire hidden behind her placid expression. Essek wondered what she was thinking at that moment. What she thought of his friends’ foolish plan to rescue him. 

“I want to stress again, your Majesty. This could be a very beneficial deal for you. Three beacons gained, Essek disappears and you may claim he died however you wish, and you also will never be bothered by Den Nine again.” Caleb inclined his head, stepping back, his case made. 

Hushed whispers broke out throughout the court, murmuring conversations, as they began to take in everything that Caleb had laid out, and for a long moment, The Bright Queen allowed it. She watched them, her eyes tracking over the Mighty Nine one by one, lingering on Caleb, before her gaze turned to Essek. He did his best to meet her assessing, hard stare. 

Leylas stood and the hall went deathly silent. “It would seem you have me at an impasse. I can bring no harm to you without risking the permanent loss of one of the Luxon’s beacons, and thus risking the chance of ever unifying the Light.” She watched them with narrowed eyes before waving a hand sharply to the guard on either side of Essek. “Take him.” 

The words hit him like a physical blow to the chest, and without the anxious terror of his impending death there was nothing to prop him up any longer. But before Essek could collapse the rest of the way to the floor, Jester and Veth were both there. They flanked him on either side to prop him up. Essek was all too glad to sink into the warmth of them. He had been so sure he would never see them again, and now the cloying scent of sugar and cinnamon, and the sharp herbal, alchemical smell mixed in his nose and threatened to bring tears to his eyes. 

The rest of the Mighty Nine closed in around them, moving with the ease of long practice, of many months, and many fights, spent learning about each other and caring for each other. And just look at the length they had gone to to insure they could save him, that they didn’t lose him. They had come into a foreign country, willingly thrown themselves into the spider’s web of den politics, and apparently started a den of their own, all to save him from himself. 

Caleb pulled the necklace from around his neck, setting it down on the floor in front of him. The orange of the amber a stark contrast against the white marble. He backed away, closer to the group, the somatics for a teleport on his ready, quick fingers. He wondered if they would respect the deal they had made. Fjord could not counterspell them all if they decided to keep them here. 

“Essek,” The Bright Queen’s voice cut through the tense standoff. Her expression was still angry, but tempered now, reigned in. Essek watched Quana lean back, moving away from her Queen’s ear. “Don’t think that there will not be eyes on you. You have moved far from the Light’s sight, and though you have been granted this mercy now, do not think it will happen again should you ever think to enter my domain again.” 

Essek leaned against Jester and Veth as he stumbled to his own feet, careful to keep his face clear in spite of the pain. Jester was quick to wrap an arm around his waist, taking some of his weight. Still gagged and with his hands bound there was little Essek could do in response to the Bright Queen’s words, so Essek simply bowed. It was shallow, more an incline of the head than the kind of gesture one would extend to the great Umavi of Den Kryn. A gesture of respect, but not one of deference. Leylas nodded in kind, and that was it. The moment was over, and Essek was to be parted from his homeland once more. 

Caleb extended a finger to the piece of amber still on the floor a few feet before them, “Una.” There was a spark of bright, familiar orange light, and a pop that came with storage spells of this sort, and when the light cleared, there on the floor of the Cathedral of the Bright Queen was what could only be a real and genuine beacon. Essek’s heart skipped a beat at the realization that it hadn’t been a decoy, hadn’t been a bluff. 

And then they were teleporting out. From the corner of his eye Essek he could see Fjord hand up and ready to return any counterspell that came, but there were none, and with a tug the Cathedral vanished before them. 

Chapter Text

Essek’s feet hit the floor with an impact that rattled in his knees and sent an ache up his hips that had him stumbling. Jester and Veth were quick to grab him, lowering him to the ground. Essek closed his eyes leaning into their support, allowing their presence to wash over him. They had done it. They had saved him, against all odds. He had been convinced he would never see them again, had been sure of it. He should have known not to discount the Mighty Nine, even with the odds being what they were. 

He didn’t know where they were, but it wasn’t the estate, Essek doubted it was even the empire. The sitting room furniture that had all been pushed back against the walls was of a nice, vermaloc wood. They likely were still in the dynasty then. Some kind of safe house they had established in the time Essek had been imprisoned?

Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of Caleb, lingering just behind Jester, not quite brave enough to come forward nor dare to move away. With every movement his hands fluttered at his sides, like he wanted nothing more than to reach out, but lacked the nerve. Finally he seemed to settle with his fingers digging in tight on his forearms. 

The tingle of healing magic thrummed through Essek’s chest and down his spine, not the warm, soothing feeling he associated with Caduceus or the caffeine high of Jester. It buzzed through him like a static shock. Essek glanced over his shoulder, as Yasha settled her warm fur mantle over his shoulders. It wasn’t much, just enough to soothe some of the ache in his knees and fade the bruises of his shins. 

“I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?” Essek could only nod, though the motion made his head ache awfully. 

Yasha lifted him, her arms sliding behind his back and under his knees, careful to jostle him as little as possible. She moved him over to a chaise that had been pushed against the far wall, laying him out carefully. Fjord helped straighten out his legs with slow, purposeful care. It didn’t stop the ache, like a physical wave through his whole body, and Essek found himself biting down hard on the metal bit in his mouth. 

Caduceus stroked his hair back from his face. “It’s good to have you back, Mr. Essek.” His touch came with a brush of magic. It felt like a warm cup of tea slipping down his throat and warming his entire body. Essek opened his eyes, jaw unclenching, to give him a grateful look. 

Beau rummaged a hand around in the bag on her hip finally pulling something free with a triumphant noise. It took Essek a moment to register it as an amulet of protection against scrying before Beau was slipping it over his head. 

“You focus on that, okay? We’re gonna fix you up a bit, ditch anything the dynasty could maybe trace, and then head out to a secondary safe house, got it?” Essek nodded as best he could. 

Jester pushed herself between Yasha and Caduceus to get to him. She was babbling on a mile a minute, fretting hands smoothing back his filthy hair and wiping loving thumbs over grimy cheeks, before she could focus enough to aim her attention on the catch on his gag. Essek didn’t bother trying to follow what she was saying, just let the sound of her voice sooth him. The adrenaline of the trial and his hair's breadth escape was fading, leaving him even more shaky and exhausted than he had been when this had begun.

Steady hands tugged at his bound hands, and Essek glanced down to a swearing and spitting Veth, as she angled his wrist to better get at the lock. Her hands were gentle, in spite of her scowl, and Essek could see that it was worry pinching her brow, nothing else. He had missed her, missed her so much. 

Jester eased the gag from his mouth, and he couldn’t help but wince at the ache the motion caused. He hadn’t had it off hardly since his mother had visited him, and who knew when that had been. Jester’s fingers rubbed careful at the hinge of his jaw, and Essek leaned into the touch. 

His jaw popped when he opened it, his voice creaking in disuse. “I don’t know if you are all fools or geniuses. That play should not have worked. You— I never wanted you all to put yourself in danger for me.”

“Essek, man, don’t—” Essek cut Beau off with a shake of his head. 

“I am not often a brave man. The whole reason I left with Da’leth was to ensure you could be safe.” 

“Hey,” Veth’s soft touch was at odds with the hard tone of her voice as she turned his face towards her. “Fuck that. If you ever, ever, try something like that again I promise you I will kill you before the dynasty gets the chance, got it? I don’t want you to be a martyr; I want you to be here, alright?” 

And what else could Essek do, staring into wide, determined brown eyes, but nod? Veth muttered a soft ‘good’, her eyes lingering over his face, before she was pulling away the iron mitts, quick and without warning. The pain was sharp and acute, radiating up his forearms as his fingers tried to straighten instinctively, and Essek couldn’t hold back the sharp noise of pain he let out. 

Veth winced. “Sorry, sorry, thought it might be better if you weren’t expecting it.” She patted his forearm apologetically.

Essek raised his hands up toward his chest, trying his best to unfurl the tight fist of his hands, but he couldn’t seem to make his fingers respond. They throbbed, his pulse beating hot and intense under his skin, and for a moment a new panic gripped Essek. 

Had they ruined his hands? If they had that would be it for him. He wouldn’t be able to cast like this. And then where would he be? Then what good would he be?

“Easy, you’ve had those on for a while.” Caleb’s zemnian lilt cut through Essek’s fatalizing. For a moment he had forgotten he was there. 

Caleb knelt in front of him, his eyes never meeting Essek’s as he reached out a slow hand, like Essek was an animal he might startle. He didn’t move away though, and Caleb carefully took one of his hands, kind fingers working to ease the stiffness, slowly coaxing his hands to open, little by little, and return the blood flow to his digits. 

It ached terribly, but Essek bit back a hiss, focusing instead on the hint of bandages that peaked out from under the cuffs of Caleb’s new plum coat. He allowed his mind to wander to what might be the reason for them as Caleb swapped hands. 

“You know Essek, our plan was actually really good, okay?” Jester chimed in, and Essek wondered if it was because she couldn’t take the silence or the strange tension that lingered between the two wizards. As she talked she placed her hands on Essek's shoulder, pumping him full of a third round of healing magic. It left his body feeling buzzy and strange, but it banished the last of the lingering pain, leaving Essek feeling pleasantly floaty in his own body. “Like, we actually really thought it out this time. We put a lot into it, and we were super careful, so you don’t need to worry about us, really.”

“That reminds me, actually,” Essek said lightly, before turning a scowl on Caleb, who’s shoulders seemed to hunch and fold himself impossibly smaller. “That was a real beacon. I would ask where you got it, but I’m afraid I already have an idea.” 

“I had access to the facility that Trent was keeping it at. It was not all too hard to liberate it.” Caleb attempted a casual air as he shrugged and failed miserably. 

“And now you have made enemies of some of the most powerful mages on this continent.” 

“Then so be it.” 

Essek let that sit for a moment. For the first time, Caleb raised his eyes to meet Essek’s, and he was caught off guard by the quiet determination he saw there. The words were so softly spoken, but carried such a conviction, a surety. 

Beau continued, reminding him that there was more going on in this conversation than Caleb’s profound, understated declaration. “We needed a beacon for our plan to work.” Beau shrugged, like it was as simple as that. Essek supposed to them it really might be. 

“Yeah, Essek, we couldn’t just bluff! I mean,” Jester held her hands up, gesticulating wildly, “your life was on the line! We had to do it right.”

“You did bluff.” Essek reminded them, feeling an increasingly frenzied urge to take them each by the shoulders and shake them as he realized exactly what they had gone through to ensure his return. He wasn’t sure he was worth it. “The necklace could have been easily dispelled. It was not a secret chest spell.” 

“We didn’t think they would risk the beacon to test us on that particular lie. It seemed a risk worth taking.” Beau shrugged. 

Essek could only blink for a moment at the group gathered around him in stunned silence. They had really done it. They had freed him from the clutches of the dynasty, maybe even for good. And they acted as though it had been their only option, the only sensible thing to do. It was an odd thing to be on the outside looking in on the Mighty Nine’s particular brand of insanity and dedication.  

“You are all—” He shook his head, grasping for common and failing. He broke off into a truly filthy string of undercommon. 

“How is it that in the empire you managed to pick up a mouth almost as bad as my soldiers’.” Essek’s mouth snapped shut with a click, his eyes darting past his friends. 

Verin leaned against the doorframe of the sitting room, arms crossed over his chest. His words were light and easy, but his expression was considering, cautious. Essek’s chest ached to look at him. Somehow he seemed so much older than Essek remembered him. There were new beads in the braids that hung loose and framed his face outside of battle, a bright red enamel. He wondered if they were from that Taskhand Verin had been so tentatively flirting with for the last two decades. He wondered what their mother thought of it, if she detested them as much Verin had worried she might. 

Essek pushed himself up, trying to sit up straight. The sudden motion made his head swim. There was no pain, there was too much divine magic pumped into his body for that, but his vision went fuzzy around the edges. When he blinked it away Essek was looking up at a concerned Caleb. His hands were on Essek’s shoulders pressing him back down against the arm of the chaise. Caleb was quick to withdraw as Essek’s eyes refocused, taking a step back into the crowd of the Nine. 

“Take it slow,” Veth was chastising him, but Essek was only half listening. Reluctantly his eyes slid from Caleb back to Verin. 

“You— ah, you helped them?” Essek’s voice sounded weak to his own ears, but it was all he could manage as Verin closed the distance. Jester and Caduceus were quick to make room, though Veth didn’t move a step.

“Do you think your friends managed to apply for den status by themselves? They are clever, sure, but they are not very well versed in the workings of the dynasty.” Verin stopped just a few feet from Essek. If he reached out his hand, his fingers would just brush the spider silk of his tunic. “I might not have your mind for politics, but I do know a thing or two about the law.”

“Den applications and paperwork like that should have taken months though. I don’t understand?” He couldn’t have been held that long, surely not. Right?

Verin shrugged a shoulder, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “We got lucky. Someone must have been making sure things were pushed through quickly.” 

No, surely not. “She couldn’t—” The words caught in Essek’s throat. 

“I think it was one of the only things she could do.” Something solemn settled in Verin’s eyes as they regarded one another. 

Deirta couldn’t have known what the Mighty Nine had planned to do. All she would have had was faith and hope that these strangers would be able to pull something off, that they would have some sort of plan in mind to save him. 

Essek wished he had some sort of way to thank her. 

“And you?” At Verin’s questioning look he continued. “Why did you help me? I haven’t been good to you, Verin. You had no reason to help me.”

Verin glanced past his shoulder to the rest of the Nine gathered behind him, trying to pretend like they weren’t listening. “No, you haven’t been. You have been distant and cold. You have stabbed me in the back and betrayed me along with the rest of our people.” He let out a breath, deflating with a sigh, and his tone softened. “But, these people tell me you are not that same man anymore. I do not know how much I believe them, but I like the man they have described to me. He reminds me of the boy who used to sing me to sleep when I was too young to trance.” 

“Verin—” The name warbled dangerously on Essek’s tongue. He reached out a tentative hand to his brother’s forearm, relieved that Verin didn’t pull away. “Thank you. Truly and deeply. You are a better brother than I deserve.”

Verin’s hand came up to cover his own, his smile melancholy and wry. “That is probably true. Figures it would take you leaving to learn not to be a bastard anymore.” His hand tightened on Essek’s before he stepped away entirely. “I should go. The safe house is secure and undiscovered. My part in this is over. I don’t want to be gone too long and my absence be noted. The last thing I want is anyone knowing I was involved with this, and you are nearing the time you should be leaving as well.” 

“Of course. Be safe, Verin, and go in Light.” The sentiment meant little to Essek, but it was not about what it meant to him. This was about Verin, and this was about what could be the last time he saw his brother face to face. He desperately hoped that there would be time and opportunity to fix their relationship now, but who knew what the future would bring. 

Verin nodded, his face creased and sad, but he said nothing else as he turned and saw himself back out of the room. 

“I’ll follow after him, make sure the coast is clear and all that.” Fjord nodded, leaving after Verin a moment later. 

Essek let out a shaky breath, clearing the air from his lungs, all at once remembering where he was, and more importantly what he looked like. He cast a quick prestidigitation, clearing some of the grime from his skin and hopefully shaping his matted hair into something less wild and awful. There was nothing to be done about his ragged robes, and his skin still felt unclean, but it would serve for now. 

“Now.” Essek cleared his throat, trying to reign in some semblance of control in his voice. “Can someone explain to me where exactly we are, and what the plan is? Assuming, that is, there is one at all.” 

“Right now we’re in a safe house Dairon and Verin helped us set up in the Coronas. We wanted somewhere to regroup and make sure you were alright.” Essek nodded along with Beau. A sensible plan. “From here,” Beau trailed off trading a grimace with Jester and Veth.

“I talked to my papa, and Caleb got some help from his friends, and we set up a safe house where we can all stay for a while, until you’re really better. It’s up in—” 

Beau held up a hand cutting Jester off. She tapped a finger to the amulet resting against Essek’s chest. “You focused on that long enough?” She nodded her head to the door that Verin had vanished through. “Cause that was a lot.” 

Essek huffed with affront, swatting her hand away. “I am one of the greatest dunmancers the Kryn Dynasty has ever seen, one of the most accomplished scholars in centuries, and the youngest drow to ever be named Shadowhand. I can hold my focus through a simple conversation, thank you.” 

“Real fuckin nice to have you back, Essek.” Beau rolled her eyes, but there was a fond set to her mouth and humor in her eyes. The familiarity of it made Essek feel a little more normal again. 

“The safe house is in the Dunrock Mountains, near the Pearlbow Wilderness, just outside the empire's reach. It’s almost impossible to get there without teleporting. It should be safe.” Caleb pushed himself to his feet, dusting off the knees of his trousers. “In fact, we should start preparing to leave soon. We’ll want to go as soon as Essek has attuned to the amulet, and that will not be long now.” 

“Right, come on everyone, let’s make sure this place is stripped, and that we take whatever we need.” Fjord clapped his hands together, eyes scanning over the Might Nine. 

Essek hadn’t even noticed him come back in the room. He supposed his mind was elsewhere. 

The Mighty Nine all began to right themselves, collecting bags and weapons that had been set aside. Veth collected the irons and gag that had bound Essek, dumping them into her bag with a look of disgust twisting her face. A few of the Nine left the room all together, presumably to check the other rooms of the safe house.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot,” Jester had barely gotten a few steps away before she was bouncing back, sliding her haversack down one shoulder to root around in it without having to take it off. “You’ll probably want this back.”

The relief Essek felt at the sight of his secondary spellbook nearly crumpled him. It wasn’t the tatty, old suede that had worn thin, fallen apart, and been stitched together many times that Veth had stolen for him so long ago. That one was permanently lost. Instead it was bound in fine black leather with gilt pages that Essek had purchased once the Mighty Nine had finally started making real coin. It had been most of the coin he’d had at the time, a silly, frivolous purchase, but Essek had thought it was important to present a more polished appearance now that they were beginning to take good jobs. 

He hadn’t been able to do it in the end though. What he had meant to become his new primary spellbook had quickly become his backup copy. Essek hadn’t been able to give up the soft feel of the suede under his fingers and the rush of fondness the messy stitches on the cover brought him. Even the crossbow bolt hole that had pierced through the first quarter of the book was something that Essek had worried his fingers over many nights with an indulgent smile. It had held his spells yes, but more important had been the memories around it. As pleased as he was to have a back up, Essek still found himself mournful for the one he had lost. 

“Thank you, Jester.” He pressed the book close to his chest before snapping it away into his wrist pocket with a flick of the hand. “Thank you for keeping it safe for me.” Essek leaned up to press a quick peak of a kiss to her temple. It was more blatant affection than he was normally comfortable offering, but the beaming grin on her face made it worth it. 

She trounced off once again, and Essek was left to watch the Nine carefully and systematically remove any trace that they have ever been here, clutching Yasha’s pelt tighter around his shoulders. Caleb didn’t stray far from Essek’s chaise though. He knelt down on the floor, shuffling through his bag, taking a careful stock of its content. He took out and then carefully repacked components, books, an excessive amount of paper, and oddly a collection of small rocks that each had small little notes tied on with twine. He finished setting himself to rights, one hand straying to his coat pocket before he quickly jerked it back out with a hiss. 

“Scheisse,” Caleb shook out his hand before carefully reaching his hand back in with a wince. “I had almost forgotten. I have something else to return to you.” Caleb held out his closed fist to Essek. “She had been quiet the demon since you've been gone. I have been bitten more times than I care to count.” 

Caleb opened his hand, a blur of black and white jumping for Essek in an instant, and Essek’s heart was instantly in his throat as Da’rex landed on his outstretched arm. She skittered a frantic lap up his arm and back down to his hand, spinning in a circle in his palm before raising her forearms in the air in a demand for attention that Essek was all too pleased to grant. He brought her close to his chest, scratching a finger over her abdomen as she clung to his finger.

“Thank you,” Essek felt unreasonably choked up. It was silly. If something had happened he could have just resummoned her, but the fact that Caleb had kept her close and safe in spite of the dangers he and the Nine had faced, and in spite of her apparently vicious attitude in his absence, pulled at his heartstrings in a way that only Caleb seemed able to achieve. “Thank you for keeping her safe for me.”

“Of course. I could do little else. She is dear to you, and I cannot fault her for being angry at your departure. I don’t think any of us were at our best with you gone.” Essek took a moment to take in bright, earnest blue eyes; vibrant, red hair that slipped loose of its tail to frame a handsome face; that thin, grim mouth that Essek once kissed the sorrow away from. 

This man had crossed the continent for him, made a fugitive of himself, broke ties with Ikithon, subjected himself to the Nine’s suspicion that Essek was sure had accompanied any offer of help. There was no question about Caleb’s devotion. That was certain, but what kind of man he was, was still a question Essek wasn’t sure he knew the answer to. 

It was one he wanted to learn the answer to though, Essek knew with a sudden clarity. He wanted to learn all the little things about Caleb that were different, or the same, or that he had never had the opportunity to learn in the first place. 

“Thank you,” Essek repeated the sentiment again, this time reaching out to lay a hand atop Caleb’s where it rested against the edge of the chaise, the touch long and lingering enough that it had his spine straightening and his eyes brightening with something akin to hope. 

“Alright, I think that’s everything.” Beau rubbed her hands together as she stepped back into the sitting room turned war room, giving everything a last look over. “Is everyone else ready to go, cause I’d really like to get the fuck out of here sooner rather than later?” 

There was a chorus of agreement from the rest of the Mighty Nine, and Essek began to shift his hands under him to start to lift up. His head felt better, less buzzing, less dizziness. Essek was reasonably sure that if he stood up now he wouldn’t faint. At least, he certainly hoped not, as he levered himself into a sitting position. 

“Whoa, wait, hold on.” Caleb brought his hands up to Essek’s shoulders to stop him. “Just wait a moment, ja? Let someone help you.” 

“Caleb,” The name came out as a frustrated huff. “I am well enough to sit up by myself. I have been pumped with enough healing magic to manage that much at least.” 

“Or, you are magic drunk and it has taken away the pain and made you numb to the larger, underlying issues.” Caleb leveled him with a serious unimpressed look. 

Essek pursed his lips into a thin, frustrated line. It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware of that. There had been many times when he was young and left unsupervised he had attempted to reteach himself to walk, taking that lack of pain for a lack of problem. Ultimately he had set back his own recovery many times in his own impatience. 

Still, Essek felt that was hardly comparable. Nothing had been broken, there had been no torture.  Besides atrophied muscles and malnourishment,  it was nothing more than bruises. 

“He’s got a real good point there,” Caduceus chimed in over his shoulder. Essek sent him an irritated scowl, but Cad just gave him a not unsympathetic shrug. That was that then, Essek supposed. 

“Fine, very well, but know that I don’t care for being carried around like an invalid” Essek huffed, laying back down against the arm of the chaise. 

“Duly noted.” There was a smile curling at the corner of Caleb’s mouth as he fished out one of the twine tied rocks from his bag to clutch tight in one hand. 

Begrudgingly, Essek found that the sight of that small, amused smile went a long way to wipe away his irritation. 

“I forgot what a bitch you were. Why did we save you again?” Beau finished pulling on her coat, and Essek spared a thought to what the weather must be like where they were going, if it had pushed Beau to actually get sensibly weather gear, midriff still exposed or not. 

Yasha muttered a ‘behave’ as she stepped past Beau to the chaise. Essek was suddenly reminded of laying out on the couch in their Rexxentrum estate, poison still lingering in his system, and Yasha scooping him up to carry him off to bed. It had only been a few weeks, maybe months, since that night, but it felt like years ago now. 

Thankfully, Yasha was a little gentler picking him up this time, because when she stood with him in her arms, tucked against her chest, the sudden movement made his head spin for just a moment. He was forced to acknowledge, if only to himself, that perhaps Caduceus and Caleb had been more right than he would ever admit out loud. 

“You know, I must say the shine of having you back is rapidly beginning to wear off for me as well,” Essek shot back, Beau just stuck her tongue out at him over Yasha’s shoulder. 

“Alright, okay, can we settle down enough to get the hell out of here now?” Fjord’s tone was more pleading than authoritative, and Essek had to tuck his head against Yasha’s chest to hide his grin. He had missed them all so much, missed this. 

The Mighty Nine gathered around in a tight group in the center of the room, and Essek took a moment to regard his surroundings: the familiar architecture, the deep purple of the vermalock wood, the soft green flicker of the arcane sconces on the walls. Once again, Essek found himself leaving his home. Only now, it was knowing exactly what he would be leaving behind, all the little things he had disregarded and taken for granted before, they were so achingly beyond his reach: the smell of street food that pervaded the air in the Gallimaufry district, the comfort of familiar stars and the soft light of a dawn that never brightened to a sunrise, even just walking down the street and seeing people that looked like himself. 

Here Essek was, leaving it all behind, all over again. Only it wasn’t the same this time. When he had first left he had been alone, battered, and stripped of any power or agency he once held in the dynasty. He had left his home with an angry heart, full of resentment: at the court that stifled him, at his family that was never satisfied, at his supposed peers too cowed and complacent to ask any hard questions. He had been so sure there would be nothing he would miss. He knew the truth of that now. There was so much to miss. 

Essek glanced from the room to the Mighty Nine, and Caleb at the center, who was asking if everyone was ready to go one last time. This time Essek wouldn’t be wandering out lost into the world. He had a family, and a home, and a purpose. He had people who loved him, who would go through hell and politics to get him back. It was not something Essek had ever thought he was looking for, but it made him happier than he’d ever imagined he could be. 

As the teleport took hold, and Essek felt his body grow quickly and briefly weightless, Yasha’s arms still solid around him and the tickle of Da’rex nestled against his neck, he knew that he had nothing to worry about. Not about where they were going, not about what they would do next. Nothing. Because as long as he had the Mighty Nine, Essek could be secure in the knowledge that there was someone there for him, somewhere for him to go, and people who cared about him. It made all the things he lost, all the things he would miss, easier to bear. 

They made the sorrow worth something. And that was the point of it all, wasn’t it?