Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As the last light slips away behind Aldwynn's hilltops, a hush falls across the land. A hush so dense the very air seems to forget to move. It's as though the world is holding it's breath, dreading the inevitable.

However, by day, the towns stir back to life, brushing any unease aside like dust off a windowsill. Chatter rings out as trinkets and wares are traded, and gold changes hands of folks and creatures of all walks of life. Their stories are buried deep underground, festering in the soil, yearning to see the light of day again. There are countless quests to be had, and legendary beings to discover. The thrill for adventure is ever present within Aldwynn, with each day offering new perils to rekindle old friendships.

But as they live out their days within the masses, our heroes are not meant for a peaceful life. A crushing sense that something isn't quite right creeps in. like cold breathing trailing down the backs of their necks. Something suffocating and unnatural lingers just beyond their sight. Whatever it may be is waiting, watching their every move, and in the pits of their stomachs they can feel it. Whatever lurks in the darkness is hungry.

Chapter Text

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ Part One ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It has been three weeks. 

Three rather long weeks in his opinion, though whether or not the weeks were long to him is inconsequential, as the technical length of the weeks did not change. But regardless, Ethan is home again. 

He hums quietly, stepping around his shop and carefully unpacking seeds from his backpack. The supplies he gained from the trip, while measly, will assist greatly in his future orders. And by the Universe, is he behind on orders.

From behind him, Ethan hears a small croak. He turns, and sees the small Ribbit Lilypad holding a watering can. He smiles at first, glad to see her doing well, then furrows his brow. "How did you manage to get in?"

Nothing but another ribbit in response. "You're meant to be outside." He sighs, leaning over and picking her up. "Come here, let's go." It takes three attempts until he manages to get her out. Every time he nears the door, she leaps out of his arms and walks to the flowers scattered around his greenhouse, watering those. Evidently, Lilypad is not interested in returning outside, and would rather spend her days inside the greenhouse. 

The small creature is just one feature of his greenhouse that he missed. The lattice along the entry way to his supply room, the moss growing along his door, and the flowers scattered around his grassy floor are characteristics that give his greenhouse the presence of home. He's missed it dearly. 

But orders. Right.

He turned to a small jar of fireflies on the windowsill facing the greenhouse. "Alright, fireflies, I'm back." He took out his notebook, glancing down the list of today's orders. "We have a lot of work to do, there's a lot to get done." 

He turned and pulled himself up onto the counter next to the fireflies, then opened his notebook again, scanning the list of tasks. "No Golem orders today, just food orders, so that's what we are gonna do." He set down the notebook, turning and speaking solemnly to the fireflies. "I am going to have to- and I'm so sorry to ask you this- but I am going to have to ask you to come hunting with me. I know you don't like that, and that's okay, but we're going to have to do it. We need some supplies. I'm completely out of stock."

Many people considered him crazy. He had long since been struggling with the townsfolk calling him insane for speaking to himself, whispering about magic and the horrors of the shadows, but he knew himself. He wasn't crazy. The fireflies were a companion. He hadn't taken them on his journeys, and he'd regretted it sorely, and he could tell they had missed him. They jumped when he spoke, and flew closer to him when he let them out of the jar. He knew the fireflies cared, and he didn't mind the people calling him to be deranged. 

Ethan leans in closer to the fireflies. "Can I tell you a secret? I don't think I've slept in a couple days. I left my spellbook home, you know, and I haven't done magic in weeks, and it's underneath my skin keeping me up."

The fireflies buzzed in circles, agitated. "Come on now, relax. I'm fine, I'm an adult. But I'm buzzing." The fireflies relax slightly, some still flying in circles near the top of the jar. Ethan opened his mouth to speak again, but a thud echoed across the room. He turned his head sharply, worried about the creatures that came out at night. Zombies and spiders were the least of his worries, now that he had his fireflies back, but there were all manner of creatures that were awake at night. He couldn't very well take them all down.

He stood, walking over to the door and peeking through the lattice wall. He expected, for a moment, there to be a goblin standing on his doorstep, long limbs ready to reach through and grab him. Or perhaps a skeleton, with arrows that could shoot through the holes in the wall. He really needed to change the walls in his greenhouse.

But it was neither. 

"Lilypad, my love, what are you doing?" He opens the door completely, picking her up and bringing her out to the tilled earth outside of the door. "Don't you want to water the crops? Look, they're all dry." 

Lilypad looks up at him, turning her head slightly. Ethan pauses, and hears a crack of thunder in the distance. He looks up, and sighs as he sees the enormous rain clouds crowding the sky over the water. "That's coming this way, isn't it?"

Lilypad chirps, and he sighs, leaning down to lift her into his arms. "Alright, then, inside."

He sets Lilypad in her makeshift pond inside, then turns to the Golem in the corner. "You still mad at me, Dirt?"

A creak and a shuffle. 

"Come on, I still love you. I'm sorry you were left alone, but I didn't know Lilypad was at the house." Another deep sigh. "Come on." Ethan walked over, placing a hand on the Golems shoulder. "Up you come. You're alright." Dirt huffed, turning and looking at him. Mud had leaked from his big dark eyes, mixing with the moss growing along his body. A small red tulip sprouted from his head, like a single, pathetic, piece of hair clinging onto a bald man's scalp. 

Ethan grimaced. "You're all dirty, Dirt." He paused. The Golem creaked. "Ah, well, I walked right into that one didn't I? Bloody hell, alright. You're okay. I brought you something." Ethan reached into his front pocket, taking out a pink daffodil. Dirt creaked in interest, and reached out a long arm. Ethan passed it over, and smiled as Dirt held it up close to his face.  "Do you like it? I picked it special for you, maybe to replace those rather unpleasant looking red tulips?"

Dirt stopped inspecting the flower, and huffed, dropping it in indignation. "Wait, wait, no I'm sorry I didn't mean it, come on," As Dirt walked away, as if to spite him, dropped several red tulips along the ground behind him. They sprouted by magic, growing from buds into full tulips in seconds. Ethan sighed, picked up the daffodil, and stood up. "Well then, nice to be home I suppose." He stepped over to the supply cupboard, and took out a glass vase. He filled it with water, and placed the flower with the end touching the liquid. 

He placed it next to the work sink, and turned back to the fireflies. "Right then, where were we?" The fireflies buzzed. He couldn't understand their speech yet. He was getting there. Maybe. 

He thought for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Right! Orders." Ethan had several things he had to do before returning home after the rain stopped. The first was to harvest a pumpkin, and the second was to drag a bookshelf from his library upstairs all the way across Grimwyck to make the Golem in his own home. 

Ethan has been a Golem scientist for many years. He had been the first in centuries to be able to build Golem's at will. His mother had taught him some of the basics from her history lessons. Maybe she had been planning to teach him more. She had up and left him along with the rest of his family, so maybe she had assumed he was doing well enough on his own. 

Or that's what he told himself. 

Regardless, he was now refining his skills in Golem building by practicing. Dirt had been an accident, the result of leaving a pumpkin to rot then placing it on top of a pile of dirt that he had made while digging out a pond for Lily. He had jokingly cast the enchantment spell on the pile of dirt, thinking that the decayed pumpkin would make the spell null. Dirt climbing out of the soil seemed a humorous and immediate counter to his thought. The rotten pumpkin was perhaps an explanation for his particularly rotten personality. 

Ethan had turned back to see the creature perched with an inquisitive look on its face, staring deep into his eyes. From that moment on, the creature had seemed to make it its life goal to make Ethan's life miserable, and had started by picking his least favorite flower to spread onto every surface.

The tulips were just another reminder of his faulty skills in Golem making. Which was why he needed to practice, and expand his horizons past his specialty: Iron Golems. Most of the cities and smaller villages in Aldwynn had commissioned Iron Golems from him, which was where he had been these last months. Traveling, building, getting paid, then traveling more. But as much as he loved his Iron Golems, he wanted more creativity than they provided. 

These were his thoughts while going out and harvesting the largest pumpkin in his garden. The others weren't quite finished yet. He could enchant them to grow faster, but he didn't find it necessary at the moment. He just needed the one. He put his palm against the surface, and muttered a light levitation spell. It lifted off the ground, and followed him as he packed up his gardening tools and went inside. 

Once under his own roof, he went upstairs and found the right bookshelf. Not too large, but also not small. It ended up being about double the size of the pumpkin, which was what he needed. He levitated that as well, then climbed back down the ladder and looked out the window. Still fucking raining.

He looked at his fireflies on the windowsill. "Right, we need to go out. I know, the rain is gross, I know it makes it hard to fly. But you'll be in my backpack the whole time and I won't let you get even a drop of rain on you." This time, he swore the buzzing was resigned. "Thank you for working with me fireflies, I've missed you." He lifted the jar, tucking it safely into his backpack. "Let's go then." Ethan pulled the hood of his jacket up over his face, and stepped out into the rain. 

It was a fairly quick walk to his house. He followed a cobblestone and slate path for about half the trip. It was lined with lanterns, which keeps back skeletons and the like. He lives in a very dense Mangrove forest, with daunting vines giving the illusion of fingers creeping out of the darkness. In his absence, the area surrounding the greenhouse and his home have been overrun. He'll need to get his shears out soon to take care of them. However, until then, he pushes past them. It is hard to keep the pumpkin and bookshelf levitating in these conditions, but he is practiced enough that it is only a small strain on his body. 

Ethan's home in Grimwyck has since become… overrun. The sculk infestation began many years ago, and has since taken over the minds of many of the people here. It is unfortunate. Particularly as he has not gone with them. So he is left with his mind while his friends and acquaintances lose theirs, sacrificed to the darkness that creeps over every surface. 

He sees it as he walks. Deep blue, almost black, an ominous green light emanating from spots along the vines. He hates the shit. Hates what it looks like, what it smells like, what it sounds like, but most of all what it represents. The loss of many of his friends, the sacrifice of your mind to the deep. He hates even more that he survived. That he is still functioning the same as before the infestation, while the rest of the town loses themselves. 

But for now, he ignores it, running past it through the forest along the stone path. He sees the Mangrove tree with an X carved into it, and takes a sharp right, running through the bushes to the light on the hill that is his house. Thunder cracks as he makes it to the staircase that winds up around his house. 

It's a haphazard thing, made of whatever wood he had available. It circles his home, steadily getting higher as he nears the front door. His friends have questioned his sanity for building it. One of his dearest friends Ashlyn once said, " this thing is so long it almost deters me from visiting you every time I have to climb it" . The problem is, he loves it. He loves the magic it seems to put into his home, and a staircase couldn't give the same energy.

He begins to climb, shoving his cold hands into his pockets. Exhaustion wracks his bones, but his mind is still buzzing along with the magic in his veins. He needs to do something to get him to sleep. This insomnia is not good for his health. 

He is turning a corner near his front door when he hears it. A faint humming. A tone so clear and terrible that he knows immediately what it is. The sculk is there, wrapping around his home, trying to reach the light at his front door. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small pocketknife, and slicing the tendrils off the wood. Small indents where the plague had lain remain; an evidence of the sickness that it now holds. He pushes the remainder of the vines off his home, watching as they fall to the ground below. "For fucks sake," He mutters, turning back to his trek.

Thunder cracks as the door to the home closes, and he takes a deep breath finally inside after so many months. For a second, he considers sleeping. But when he thinks about his bed, he feels a strong pulse of magic. He knows then he will not sleep.

Ethan takes the fireflies out of his bag and opens the jar, letting them fly around the kitchen. They mostly buzz around his head, flicking in and out of his hair. "You lot act right."

He set down the pumpkin and bookshelf on the ground. He took his spellbook out of his bag, crossing his legs and sitting on the ground in front of them. He put his hand on the pumpkin, muttering a few spells beneath his breath. These he had memorized. As long as his spellbook was in his possession, he could perform them. When he removed his hand, there was a rune carved into the pumpkin. 

The next was a bit more complicated. 

Greenwitch magic was much like a language in that it had core roots that directed the communication of ideas. The roots are derived from ancient magic and are unchangeable. It is the 'soul' of the word, as his mother liked to say. The affixes are the portions that modify the word slightly, allowing for a broad dictionary. Once memorized, Greenwitch magic only requires the inborn skill to actually perform spells. 

Ethan had memorized the language long ago for the uses that are within his dictionary. Plant growth spells? Easy. Flavor spells? Simple. It is the new uses of his spellbook that are difficult. He flips to the page he had tabbed earlier that day when traveling home. A bookshelf Golem. 

Completely passive, these Golems won't defend, but they provide just the intimidation factor that monsters and creatures of the night will stay away out of fear of attack. While not foolproof, passive Golems are effective enough that many like them. 

He mutters the words beneath his breath. He's been practicing all day. The true issue with the Greenwitch language is pronunciation. There is no set pronunciation, as it varies based on the item you are trying to craft. While impractical, there is truly no better option. He places the pumpkin on top of the bookshelf, then closes his eyes. Muttering the memorized words. When he opens his eyes, it is still a pumpkin on a bookshelf. 

Well shit.

He tries again, altering some of the vowels to take on a throatier sound. Still nothing. 

"Shit." 

He looks closer at the book, as if a nearer inspection will grant him the understanding he needs. He turns his head slightly to the side, looking at the second word in the enchantment. This is the phrase that is arguably most crucial, what grants the base item life. Combining the root 'oto' for life, and affix 'haut' for what must be bookshelf. The suffix is up to Ethan; it gives the Golem its soul. He had been using 'aie' which is love. 

Ethan has never used the word 'haut' though, and is unsure of the pronunciation. And now that he is looking at it, there seems to be an inflection marker above the 'a'. Not only had he been pronouncing it wrong, an inflection there would mean the suffix couldn't have an a. Inflection marks must be uniform throughout the word. He scratches out the suffix he had written, and considers a different suffix. After a moment, he writes down 'iluh' which while doesn't have a direct translation, is the texture of oak wood. His bookshelf is oak, and he felt that it fits. More than love anyway.

He tried it again with the inflection and new suffix, and he heard a crack. He looks up to see the shifting of the pumpkin into the bookshelf. He grins, backing up and watching as the wood cracks and groans to allow space for the pumpkin in the center. 

It's a beautiful and sacred process to watch a Golem be born. Ethan turned away then, and allowed the Golem to be formed without him watching.

When the noise stops, he turns back, and sees a medium-sized bookshelf Golem. It has a main body and two arms on either side made out of the oak. He kneeled in front of it, and reached out his hands, touching either side of the body. He closed his eyes, feeling for the soul. Ethan learns it is a he, and while he likes the name that Ethan gave, interpreted it differently than him. 

"Oakley." Ethan smiles. "That's beautiful, Oakley, good job." The arms spin, and the books shift in the body. Curiously, Ethan reaches out and removes one of the books. When he opens it, the pages are undamaged and still completely legible. Interesting. So Oakley is still a functioning bookshelf. 

The fireflies clearly love him. They have begun buzzing around it, darting back and forth between his arms and through the shelves. Ethan smiles, then places the book back on the shelf. "I know you like him, fireflies, but we are going to find a new home for him."

Oakley looked up at him then, and Ethan felt a deep longing in his chest to keep him. "I just- I already have too many. I treat all the Golem's I make with respect. They're meant to have good conditions, and if I have too many, you will lose out on some. It's unfair to you, Oakley, I can promise you that. But don't worry. You'll stay here for now. Maybe I'll go into Giredale looking for a good home for you." Oakley makes a rustling sound then, like wind through book pages. Ethan smiles. "Well, while you're here, you're welcome to wander. Don't get too close to the fire or the stove, but you can go upstairs or stay down here, wherever you'd like. For now though, I've got to cook."

He stands, and walks across the house, leaning down to open the cupboard next to the stove to find it absolutely empty. "Ah, well shit. We are fresh out of stock. I don't bloody have time for this." He leaned against the counter, taking out his notebook as a firefly buzzed around his head condescendingly. "Piss off, mate I'm busy." Flicking through the pages, Ethan sighed. "Food orders and no bloody food. Nothing cooking, I have nothing. Well shit." 

He turned to a page for cabbage stew. "Well, actually, I might have some things for this." He leaned down, toeing open the ice chest. "Ah, perfect. Fresh out of milk as well. I'll need to pick some up. With what bloody bucket? I haven't got buckets either. God help us all." He sighed, closing the book and glancing around his house. Vines, of the natural kind, not sculk, had overgrown the place, stretching down to his floor. "Bloody hell. Alright, let's do that then." 

Ethan picked up the crates in the corner of his room, bringing them to the center and beginning to stack them, taking down the vines from the top. They fell to the ground in a bundle. Oakley watched him curiously all the while. Once they were down, he sighed, climbing down his crates. "Christ. Maybe I should just remove them all."

Thunder rumbled again, and lightning temporarily lit up his home. Exhaustion… lingered. Creating Oakley had helped, but he would need to go out hunting tomorrow to get this energy out from beneath his skin, or he would be sorely disappointed when the exhaustion took his mind first. 

As he reached the ground, hunger rumbled in his stomach. He needed food desperately. He pulled several potatoes out of the cupboard, sliced and seasoned them, then placed them on the stove. He waited as it cooked, crossing his arms and legs and looking out the window. The fireflies buzzed around him. He sighed, watching the rain still pouring out the window. 

If he squints, he thinks he can see a glimmer of the sunrise on the horizon. That's good at least. Today, he will go out and get materials. Ideally, he will also get his magical energy out of his system so he is able to sleep.

He sits at his desk, writing down materials he needs. Pork, beef, various fruits, and a plentitude of greens from his greenhouse. As the sun rose the rain faded out, and Ethan stood, preparing to leave. He hooked his axe on his belt, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a couple hours Oakley, don't worry." He opened the door, and was immediately struck across the stomach by a Chort.

"Ah fuck!" Ethan stumbled back, kicking out at the Chort. Gaining his footing as quickly as possible, Ethan grabs the axe off his waist and smacks the creature across the head as hard as he can. There is a crack, and it falls to the ground limply. 

There is a moment where he rests his hands on his head, breathing deeply. He hasn't missed these creatures. Being native to Giredale, it is rare to see a Chort outside the city. They are creatures or dark magic, and flock around spaces where people congregate, picking up scraps and trash on the streets. Grimwyck's population is few and far between, so there hasn't been much interest for them before now. For one to be in Grimwyck, that means there has to be something happening in Giredale to encourage movement across the river. 

Or something in Grimwyck drawing them here.

And Ethan doesn't like the sound of that.

Chapter Text

Ethan walks easily down the ramp into Grimwyck, his fireflies buzzing around him. He had considered putting them in the jar, but they were being good today and enjoying themselves buzzing around him. 

As he follows the stone path into town, he realizes the extent of the sculk across the ground that he hadn't been able to see the night before. It covered the roots of the trees, wove in and out of the moss on the ground. As he made it into town, he took note of the sculk on the roofs of the houses and in between the bricks on the walls. The immensity of sculk made a ringing in his ears. He grimaced, and walked faster, eager to get out of the sculk infested areas. 

And then he walked into the center of town.

Right in the center, the large tree had been completely overrun by sculk. The roots that arched over the center of town were dripping in the shit, glistening as if alive, shifting as if in pain. Ethan stood and stared at it for a long while. This tree had been important to the town. Important enough to save, and even more important to treasure. And it had been…disgustingly vandalized by the foreign material. 

The mystery of the sculk haunted Ethan. He had spent countless hours studying the shit, which had led to it being introduced to his greenhouse and home. He did his best to keep the infestation back, but somehow it always grew back. It drove him crazy, but there wasn't anything he could do that he hadn't already done.

He walks past the tree. He eventually plans on heading to Giredale, but first he needs to check on something. He walks past the Grimwyck waypoint. He doesn't plan on taking it to Giredale when he does head over; he can walk, he doesn't need to waypoint and suffer the headache. He walks along the path for a bit, then cuts left and into the forest. 

It's ten minutes before he sees the small enclosure. He steps up to it, looking in. The Golem is camouflaged against the tree, and it takes a moment before he shifts and Ethan is sure he is there. "Hey, Bud. How are you?" The Golem creaks, and Ethan smiles, kneeling so the Golem feels more in control. "I hear you. I hate rain as well. How are you holding up? Everything okay?"

The Golem stomps a large foot, and Ethan sighs. "I know. The enclosure is too small, but I don't have time to build a better one right now." The Golem creaks a question. "I can't have you roaming around town. They will kill you." The Golem hums, and Ethan stands up. "I'll be back in a bit, yeah? I'll get that new enclosure done."

As Ethan walks away, he sighs. Glancing at the fireflies still following him. "I feel terrible leaving him in there. But he's injured, and I don't have the supplies to fix him now. I'm a Golem maker, not a healer. I'll have to find one."

He pauses to pull a map out of his bag, and glances at it. If he keeps heading north, he will reach the river eventually. He'll have to cross at the shortest part of the river, then make his way to the bridge. He is so wrapped up in the map that it isn't until the fireflies start acting aggravated that he looks up. 

He is face to face with a large bear. 

Perhaps face to face is a bit exaggerated. They are extremely close though. Closer than comfort. Ethan immediately crouches down, maintaining eye contact. Beside the bear, a baby bear huddles beneath the larger animal. So not only is it a bear, it's a bloody mother. Ethan has never been mauled, and doesn't want today to start that. 

He also doesn't want to attack her. So he begins taking steps back, keeping his hands behind his back to appear as small as possible. That is the key to bears in this region. They are far more scared of you than you are of it. Keeping yourself a minimal threat is critical. Ethan steps carefully over a log, then begins the large circle around the bears. He has to head this way, but at the least he can take a detour. 

It is then that the bear runs straight at him. 

"Fucking shit." Ethan turned tail and ran, sprinting as fast as he could. If he remembered correctly, the river should be within a half mile. He could run that far. 

On a good day.

It is barely two minutes of sprinting before he knows he can't make it to the river at this pace. And the mama bear isn't even tired yet. He can hear her snorting behind him, lumbering through the bushes. Ethan takes a deep, shaking breath as he runs, then braces himself for what is next. He flips around, and pushes out a hand, muttering the spell he knows so well. 

There are three spells that Ethan specializes in. The first is with his fireflies. He can easily direct them to attacking nearby hostiles. His fireflies are his first line of defense. In cases with creatures like this, he isn't sure his fireflies will be safe attacking the creature. 

The second is a connection he has with the ground. The dirt that the plants grow in response to his call, and when he commands it it will groan and shake, unsteadying the footing of his target. 

But the most convenient for situations such as this, similar to the second spell, is a manipulation of the roots beneath the ground. Using sheer mental exertion, Ethan is able to bring up the roots to surround the target, containing them for just a moment while he escapes. And that is exactly what he does. While the bear roars in frustration, Ethan turns tail and runs, crossing the river and pulling himself up on the opposite bank. The bear doesn't follow. After being released by the roots, she slinks back to her baby. 

Ethan takes deep, ragged breaths, attempting to calm his shaking limbs and racing heart. He hasn't had an encounter like that in months. He isn't a fool. He has no experience with healing magic, and if he were to ever be mauled alone like this, he would not recover. 

Being a friend of nature isn't enough to prevent being killed by it. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The sun is setting as he tracks into Giredale. He spent the day hunting, and his bag is heavy with various types of meat. He will use it tomorrow for cooking and fulfilling orders. However, what he didn't find was chicken. He'll need chicken for a couple of the orders, so it's absence is rather inconvenient. He runs his hand through his sweaty hair as he makes it to the bridge into Giredale. His plan is to stop by Desca's for the night, then head back to Grimwyck to get to work.

As he walks across the bridge, his slight limp exacerbated after all of the traveling he's been doing, he sees two people crossing the bridge heading the opposite direction. The first, a girl with long brown hair and boots, holding a purple bag on her shoulder and a bouquet in the other, Ethan recognized from the flower shop across from Desca. Rachel had lived in Giredale for a few months after moving back from living with her mother in the countryside. She had taken over her Aunt's flower shop, and Ethan has stopped by often to purchase some of her dyes and fabrics since. 

The other is an unfortunate face. In an ideal world, Ethan would prefer to never see the carpenter ever again. Their stalls were next to each other in the Giredale market, and Andy has filed several complaints regarding the look, smell, organization, color palette, and anything else they noticed about his stall. They had left Aldwynn several months ago, and Ethan hadn't expected to ever see them again. He had jokingly gone out for celebratory drinks with Desca, drinking to celebrate never having to see the antagonistic carpenter ever again. 

He didn't remember a time when they didn't hate each other. Andy's father was a kind man, and Ethan had gotten along with him quite well throughout the years, commissioning him for several projects. Before leaving, he had asked for a fishing rod, and Andy's father had promised to get it to him after the journey. Ethan would have to stop by the carpenter sometime soon for an update.

The pair pass him on the bridge, Rachel giving a friendly wave and Andy ignoring him. He sighs, adjusting his collar and walking into the town. If Andy will insist on carrying on this game of hate now that they are both fully grown, he won't protest. Getting along with Andy will be akin to getting along with a stinging nettle; bearable, but uncomfortable and painful.

Walking through the Giredale streets is one of his favourite things to do.. With the sun basically set now, most of the inhabitants have gone to bed. He walks past a library, and stops for a moment to consider going inside, but when he gets closer, he is quickly dissuaded. There are spiderwebs on all corners of the shop, rotten books in the corners, and many of the bookshelves have collapsed in on themselves. He wrinkles his nose at the smell; it reeks of damp, and Ethan is sure under the floorboards there is a mold infestation of some kind. Someone will have to get on that, or it will only get worse.

Desca's invention shop is closed at this hour, but the place isn't quiet. It never is. It hums with an undercurrent of electricity. Her ideas haven't spread around the entire town yet. Many reject the idea of self functioning schematics as magic, so she is having a hard time getting anywhere, especially in Coalhaven. Ethan doesn't get to the door before it opens, and Desca stepped out, obviously distracted.

Her engineering goggles were on her head, a smear of grease across her face.  She looked up, and jumped at the sight of him. "Ethan! You scared me, sorry." She walked over to him and hugged him tightly. After pulling back, she inspected his face with a slightly concerned expression. "How are you? You look…" 

Ethan doesn't know what he looks like, but he knows it can't be good. He hasn't had a proper night's rest in… a long time. 

"I'm just tired. Need a good sleep and I'll be good as new."

Desca shrugged. "Well, if you say so." She looked down the street. "I need to pick up some ¼ gears. Do you wanna come with?"

Ethan smiled, happy to see his friend still inventing.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

He ended up staying the night in the guest bedroom at Desca's. The bed was stiff with lack of use, and he woke several times throughout the night for seemingly no reason at all. 

In the morning, Desca made breakfast. Ethan sat at the table, his arms crossed and feeling nervous. He wasn't exactly sure why. This nervous energy is akin to the magical energy that kept him up just the other night. Desca seemed to sense his unease, and kept the conversation to a minimum. 

After breakfast, Ethan thanked her for the meal and got ready to go back to Grimwyck. He would search for chickens on the way. Desca walked him to the door, and opened it to Rachel watering the plants in front of the shop. 

She turned, meeting his eyes, and smiled that bright smile of hers. "Hello! Good morning! Ethan, I think I saw you yesterday, but didn't get the chance to say hello. How are you?"

Ethan smiled tiredly, rubbing his face. "I'm alright. Behind on a lot of orders, so I really need to get to work."

Rachel skipped across the street, then looked at him closely. "You need a pick-me-up. Do you want to come inside? I've got some herbs that can get you going."

Too exhausted to think of an excuse, Ethan agreed. Desca followed, chatting with Rachel about a trade they have going, and Ethan followed mindlessly, before he found himself inside Rachel's flower shop. Right as he entered, Rachel flipped around and held out a hand. "I do believe there is someone you know here."

Ethan looked around the shop, confused, until his eyes landed on none other than Taylor Cruiks. "Oh for fucks sake."

Taylor grinned, tossing an empty cup from hand to hand, relaxed against the counter in the back of the shop.  "They let me back in."

It has been a few years since Ethan has seen them. After being let out of prison, they retreated to the woods east of Giredale and Ethan hasn't seen them since. Whatever encouraged them back to Giredale… Ethan isn't sure he wants to know. 

Now that they are here, Ethan sees the horns growing out of their skull and feels a reluctance to linger on them. They make him endlessly uncomfortable. Maybe that's hypocritical of him, but he can't stand to look at them, much less think about them. 

Desca sidled up to Ethan, crossing her arms. "Well, " let in " is definitely a lenient way to put it. " Entered without telling Giredale officials " is more like it."

Ethan turned to Rachel, choosing to ignore Desca's comment. "Do you know Sticky Fingers?"

"Now hold on, don't call me that."

Rachel turned around, frowning at Taylor. "You didn't steal more, did you?"

"No! I told you, I changed, I don't do that shit no more." They turned their gaze on Ethan. "Don't call me sticky fingers, bitch."

Desca cleared her throat. "Well, you stole the library, didn't you?"

They rolled their eyes in a rather dramatic show of outrage. " No , that was given to me by…someone."

Ethan furrowed his brow. That wasn't convincing at all. Desca shifted, glancing behind her at the street. "Can you, uh, produce the deeds for that?"

"They're still printing."

Against his better judgement, Ethan let out a snort of laughter. Then, upon further consideration of the situation, furrows his brow. "Taylor, do you even know how to read?"

Taylor looked taken aback. "I- uh, well, I mean, kind of, yes. Yes, I do?"

"Convincing." Desca deadpanned.

Rachel moved to the kitchen and started throwing herbs into a mortar and pestle, grinding them together with dexterity. 

Ethan gave Taylor another look, then sat at the table across from them, putting his bag on the ground. Desca hurriedly sat next to him. 

The only sound is the grinding of medicinal herbs against stone. It's awkward, and Ethan feels an itch under his skin to fill the silence. Twirling his fingers, he glances at Desca, before sighing and raising his head.. "Have either of you seen any chickens?"

"My brother and I were in the woods north of here, and one landed on their head, so, yes?"

Ethan feels a quick start of surprise at the reminder that Rachel and Andy are siblings. They do look similar, their features often mirroring each other, but it is never stark enough to indicate relation. The way they act is just so different that Ethan almost struggles to believe it. Rachel was raised by her mother, who was an amazing yellowwitch, specializing in healing magic. Andy however, was raised by their father, who while Ethan got along with him just fine, was well known for being against magic of any type, and passionate in his hate for it. Andy followed after him, which is another reason they hate Ethan so fervently. 

Ethan realized he had been lost in his thoughts, and blinked as Rachel placed a cup in front of him. He glances up to thank her, and sees Taylor holding his spell book. "This is pretty cool."

Ethan glances at where his bag was, and sees it there no longer. He knew this act of being "changed" was bullshit. Once a thief, always sticking their fingers where they don't belong. Ethan grabbed his book, and took a drink out of the cup. "Leave my shit alone, Sticky Fingers." The mixture Rachel had made was surprisingly good, and he felt both relaxed and rejuvenated. 

Rachel sat at the end of the table, folding her hands politely and smiling at Ethan. "So, why are you looking for chickens?"

"Orders. I have a bunch of food deliveries and a couple require chicken. I cant fucking find a single one though. I might need to buy it through the cook if it keeps going like this."

Taylor sniffed. "Not that I owe you shit, but I know where a chicken is."

"A single chicken?" Ethan was surprised that Taylor was being so normal with him. In the past, they were extremely hard to work with. Maybe for more than one reason.

"Multiple."

The clock on the wall ticked in the silence. Ethan took another drink, waiting for Taylor to continue. When it was clear they wouldn't without prompting, he asked, "Where?"

Taylor glared at him for a long moment, as if debating their despise for him and the want to help. Ethan was nearly finished with his cup when Taylor sighed. "Come on. I'll show you chicken."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Taylor leads them through Giredale, out the back gates, and up and over a ladder on the Giredale wall. The entire time, Ethan and Desca hung back, muttering to each other. "Do you think they're going to kill us?"

"I fear they might. Do you have any weapons on you?"

"My cooking knife. But that's nothing. Deadly for a chicken, but I don't know about the half goat freak show up there."

"Can y'all stop whispering back there! It's driving me insane!" Taylor called over their shoulder, and Rachel glanced back as well, smiling again. 

"At least Rachel's here." Desca muttered. "We probably won't die if Rachel stays."

"I don't know why you're worried. You're not the one who-"

Taylor stopped in their tracks. "Can you catch up! I don't want you to complain that you got lost if you're so far behind.

Desca hurried her pace slightly, but Ethan didn't bother, allowing them to wait for him. As he walked, he looked around, they were at a river crossing, with a big, abandoned church on the opposite bank. There was a temporary bridge installed across the water, and a green tent where the builder must be setting up. Ethan hesitated, recognizing the tent. Either Andy's father had been working here, or Andy themself. 

They were everywhere, and Ethan hated it. It made him feel itchy. The fact that he recognized their shit all over his city. He wanted them out. That wasn't fair; he knew that. He didn't even live in Giredale, but Grimwyck, and he was safe from Andy's presence there. But their reappearance in Giredale promised more appearances at the stalls, and at Rachel's, and in the countryside, and he hated to consider what would ensue. 

As he reached the group at the bridge, he put his hands in his pockets. "I don't like where you've taken us."

"Aw come on, I'm showing you chickens."

"If we get there and it's a fucking painting or some shit of a chicken, I will be incredibly mad."

They cross the bridge, avoiding the church. Taylor doesn't seem to like it, and crosses on the outside of the fence next to the river. Ethan and the others follow, and he glances in at the graveyard beside it. It's ominous. He's never been this far north of Giredale before. Why would Taylor just know exactly where a chicken would be? 

"Are you sure of where we are going, Taylor?"

"Come on, you can trust me."

Ethan scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure."

They stop, pulling Ethan off the path a bit. Rachel and Desca hesitate further up, looking back at them anxiously. Taylor put a finger in the center of his chest. "Listen, I've been told that if I don't break the rules I can stay in Giredale. I've fucking changed. You can't define me by the mistakes I made years ago. I served my time, I'm better now. Leave it be."

Over Taylor's shoulder, Ethan watches Rachel walk towards them. "Um, Taylor?"

But they've already let him go, stalking off back along the path. Ethan rubs a hand across where their finger dug into his skin, thinking. The chances of them actually changing are slim, but what if they had? Besides, they were still going off into nowhere, and Ethan was still afraid of what lay at the end of this path. 

As they entered the woods, he realized it. There was a step-worn path in the underbrush. Lanterns lined it, and there were marks on the trees. Taylor must live at the end of the path. If they had taken up residency in the library in Giredale, they must walk it often, and if they were to see a chicken… so of course they knew exactly where to go. 

They walk for another ten minutes in the woods until they find Taylor's chicken. There are actually multiple, and Ethan is vaguely surprised that they followed through. Taylor, Rachel, and Desca sit on a stump next to the path while Ethan does his work with the chickens, putting the carcasses in his backpack. He's infinitely tired, and feels it like a blanket weighing on his shoulders. He almost can't breathe with it. 

He walks back to the group, rubbing his hands on a handkerchief. "Does anyone know of a waystone in the area? I'd rather waystone home, I've been running around too much recently."

Taylor sighed. "Yeah, I know one. This way." They continue down the path. Ethan smiles to himself, adjusting his pack on his shoulder and evening his stride with Desca's. He's almost definitely correct then. Taylor almost positively lives down here. 

As they are walking, they come upon a patch of flowers in the woods. Ethan hesitates, looking at them. "Rachel, do you have these for your shop?"

Rachel looks back, and gasps. "Oh no I don't, these are beautiful! I want them, oh my goodness." She takes a small jar from her bag, then kneels and begins to pick the seeds out of them. As Ethan is waiting, Taylor walks up next to him. "You make food, right? Very useful. I like food."

Ethan gives them a look. "Do you want a delivery?"

Taylor grins. "Do you deliver? What do you charge? Do you want a fish?" They remove a small, dried out minnow from their pocket. 

"Why the fuck do you have that in your pocket?"

"Do you want it?"

"I'm really okay, I'm a fisherman, I have enough fish."

Taylor shrugged. "Yeah, we know. You smell like fish." They place the dried out fish in his palm, closing his fist around it like it's a gift to be treasured, and not a fish gone too soon. 

"Why thank you." Ethan snarked, sighing, and putting the fish in his pocket. "If you really want deliveries, we can get a deal. I'll get you food, you get me scrolls."

Taylor narrows their eyes. "Like, the magic ones?"

"Yes. You have a problem with that?"

"No, I'm fine with magic. Kind of. What kind?"

"Green magic."

Taylor sighed, crossing their arms. "I can't guarantee how many I'll get you. I tend to stay away from places that might contain those."

"That's fine. Just as many as you come across, get them to me. Maybe the occasional iron or coal. I really don't charge much."

They grimaced. "Fine. It's a deal then."

They continue walking. Taylor rubs a spot on their arm. "Man, I got fucking attacked by one of those little bat wielding fucks I don't remember what they're called." It takes Ethan a moment to know who they're talking about, and he says, "Chorts?" at the same time that Taylor rather confidently says, "Chodes?"

Ethan grins at them. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Yeah, Chorts, that's what I said."

He's laughing, curling up on himself and clutching his stomach. "Fucking Chodes. Universe, I'm going to call them that."

"I don't know, I just heard through the grapevine that's what they're called."

Ethan is still laughing as they crest a hill. The sun is nearly set now, and the light it casts on the forest is truly beautiful. He looks around, and sees a small cottage nestled in the woods next to the river. It is lit up from all sides, and glows warmly in the setting sun. Ethan nods. That must be Taylor's cottage. Out of Giredale boundaries so they weren't breaking parole, but close enough that they didn't feel separated from the citizens. 

When he starts down the hill, a sudden, powerful ringing in his ears makes him stumble. There is pain across his skull and back, a pressure between his eyes and an itching under his skin. Through the ringing, he hears a scream. It's so loud, he's sure it's a knife diving into his ears. This is it. This is where he dies. 

But then there's a hand on his shoulder, and Desca's voice pushing through the static. "Ethan? Ethan, are you okay?"

The noises fade. He's alone again. He feels his ears, sure there would be blood there. But there's nothing. He's okay. I'm okay . "I'm okay. I just- I need sleep, I think."

Desca nodded hurriedly, helping him to his feet. As he stands, he makes eye contact with Taylor. Their face is impassive, and Ethan struggles to read them. What are they thinking? 

He stumbles his way down the path with Desca's help. There is a waystone just at the bottom of the hill, half a kilometer up from the cottage. He places his hand on it, activating the stone and feeling for his other activated waystones. He latches onto the one for his house, and opens his eyes to see Desca. 

"Are you sure you're okay to waypoint home alone?"

Ethan nods, forcing a smile onto his face. "I'm sure. I'll be back in Giredale tomorrow, and I promise I'll sleep tonight."

Desca shivers, holding her arms. "Okay. Be safe."

Ethan initiates the connection, and he's gone.

Chapter Text

Hey Rachel,

It's Ethan. I was wondering if you'd like a helper at your shop? I am a golem craftsman, among other things, and I have some ideas for golems that could potentially be of use to you. Let me know! I'm at my stall in the Giredale market on weekdays from 1200-1500.

-Ethan (From Grim)

Ethan finished the note, folding it carefully and placing it in her postbox. He hadn't been able to find her, as hard as he'd tried. Chances are she was with her sibling in their forest, or visiting her aunt. Either way, he leaves her the note and sets off again. His plan for this journey is simple: find rosemary.

He had run out this morning while cooking, and very quickly realized how important that flavor was for his potato recipe. So he stopped by Giredale for this letter, and now he will travel until he finds enough wild rosemary to plant in his garden. Because he's needed to do it for years anyway. But while this journey is primarily to find the plant, he is also going to travel.

Because he loves traveling, and any excuse he finds to do so he will take advantage of.

Last night, in preparation for his journey of undefined length, he finalized some orders. After delivering meals to Rachel, Desca, and Taylor in Giredale, he delivered his local customers. Most notably, Ferg. 

Ferg is the cheating, lying, stealing Ribbit that had taken up residency in Grimwyck several years ago. After being infected with the sculk, he only got worse. Ethan had been coerced into a contract with him. Ethan brings him onions, Ferg…well…

The night before, he had made it to Ferg just minutes before closing. Ferg runs a shady sword shop, where he sells half-price swords that all break within days of using them. He had stepped past the sculk on the welcome mat, and into the dim interior. 

"Good evening. Sorry it's late, I just-"

Ferg creaked. Ethan had learned the Ribbits language after adopting Lily to be in his greenhouse. He had learned most languages in his line of work, and it caused for ease of communication and diversity of trade. This creak meant, shut the hell up.  

"Well put, old Ferg. I hope you're well, I have your onion delivery. I know how you like onions, so do I give them to you? Or do I need to talk to someone?"

In the box.

Ethan looked down at the box at Ferg's feet. The old Ribbit sat on a tall chair behind the counter, surrounded by all manner of flashy swords and weapons. This box would be where he would keep precious valuables. And onions, apparently. 

"Right. In the valuables box."

A rather ferocious creak, which could be translated by even beginners at the language. "No, sir, I'm not questioning you, I just…worry you'll get it mixed up with other important things. I'll just put it in, don't worry sir."

Ethan knelt, deftly opening the box and slipping the onions inside. There isn't much in the box, a few coins, a vial of something red, but he places the tied bundle of onions inside anyway. After closing the lid, he takes a step back. "So, for payment-"

The creak Ferg lets out doesn't really have an English equivalent. It is rather a mixture of every vile and disgusting word there is, used to describe him in particular. "Understandable. A free trial then."

After the door to Ferg's clinic slammed shut behind him, he snorted. "Fifteenth fucking free trial since I started giving him food. He's a goddamn thief."

But today, he isn't worrying about Ferg. He is traveling . And he does love traveling. 

Even while being excited that he was able to return to his greenhouse, he longed for the adventure. He loved seeing new places, new people, and new things. Seasons affected every part of the world differently. He loved seeing falling leaves in Aldwynn and bare trees down south. He loved looking up and seeing Amphithere's fly across the sky.

He travels east for several days. The first is spent walking through the forests east, then walking past Coalhaven. On the second, he reaches the edge of Aldwynn. His plan was to settle with a sleeping bag on the side of the road, trusting in his fireflies to keep him safe, but he sees a light through the woods. Interesting. He sighed, looking at the rocky ground on the side of the road. It was worth a shot to see if they were safe, right?

Most pillagers, the invaders from the east, lived in makeshift towers, shooting down anyone who passed even remotely near. Ethan had run into a far share of those. This building didn't look like any of those. So he tightened his grip on his bag, and walked towards the building. The fireflies around him buzzed in warning, but he shook his head. "Nah, we're good. You guys worry too much."

The closer he got, the more he felt it. A humming in the ground. A current of magic. He wasn't quite close enough to tell what kind of magic, but it was definitely there. This was no pillager outpost. 

He was maybe fifteen yards away when he felt it. That current of magic he was feeling, wasn't any of the magic he was familiar with. It had a slight ring to it that he hadn't noticed before. And he can't help but feel that it is strangely similar to the noise that the sculk in Grimwyck makes. 

It's too late when he realizes that's no coincidence. A dart has already shot out of the trees, hitting his right arm. He ripped it out as fast as possible, but he's already tired. Exhaustion leaks through his muscles against his will, and his knees buckle and collapse. As his eyes shutter closed, he sees several people in dark clothing surrounding him. 

No . 

But the exhaustion is too much. One more blink, and then… he's…

Gone.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

He doesn't dream. Maybe it's a side effect of the drug in the dart, or maybe it's the dark magic thrumming through his system, but his eyelids quiver open what feels like a second later. 

The room is completely dark. He's unable to see a single detail in the blackness. He is unused to darkness, as he had always had fireflies. Since his childhood when he had received his spellbook, the fireflies had been there to light up any room. Even if he left them behind, wild fireflies would always find their way to him. In a dark room, there would be the occasional flicker of light. 

But now, nothing. He can only feel that he is sat in a corner, and there is something against his foot on his left side. There's a pervading scent in the air that makes him sick. It reminds him of when his house got an infestation of cockroaches in his childhood. When his father ripped up the floorboards to find the nest, the smell that it contained lingered for days. Ethan still remembers looking down into the floor and seeing hundreds of scuttling bugs, fighting to get away from the light.

He doesn't know how long it's been since his capture, but it was not recently that he fell asleep. The soreness of his legs and back tell him he's been hunched in this corner for a significant amount of time. The first sensation is prickly rope around his wrists. His hands are behind his back, his arm crooked at a weird angle. His entire right arm from shoulder is completely numb. He needs to get out of these bonds first of all.

Exhaustion lingers, but he pushes through. Taking a deep breath, he shifts and tries to get his tied hands under him so he can have them in front of him. He was not prepared for the swell of nausea as his arm shifts. He immediately leans over and pukes across the floor, shaking and coughing as the pain only gets worse. 

What the fuck did they shoot him with? And what is this place?

It's nearly an hour before he manages to get his hands in front of him. He's only coughing up acid now, burning his throat and making his eyes water. But at least he has his hands in front of him. He carefully shifts to get his feet under him, and pushes himself to his feet, using the wall as leverage. 

With every movement, he stops and listens for sound. But there's nothing. It's completely dark in this room that he is in. If he had any shred of optimism, he'd assume that they'd left him. But why would they do that? Why go to all this trouble of tying him up if they were just going to leave him?

Now that he's standing, he starts his movement along the wall. The first has nothing. Not a single piece of decoration. As he's walking across the second, he hits a bookshelf. He moves his hands and feels the spines of dozens of books, covered with a layer of dust. What is this place?

He continues, walking along the far edge of the bookshelf and back to the wall. Once he has his shoulder to the wall, he continues forward two steps, and hits another bookshelf. 

So it's a library of some kind. Ethan assumes that this must be some kind of abandoned school or training grounds for magic. These books, while he can't see the titles, have a magical air about them. And the thick layer of dust on every surface is strong evidence for neglect. As he runs his fingers across the spines, he can feel which ones contain dark magic by a strong thrum of power. 

He continues his tour around the room, keeping his shoulder on a surface the whole way, until he ends back where he began. No wall. 

Panic swells in his chest. If there's no door, how the fuck is he meant to get out? Suddenly the bonds on his hands feel tighter, and his skin becomes sticky with sweat. He can't think, can't breathe, and can't fucking see. He's going to die in this room, tied up and alone in the smelly damp of an abandoned library. His legs give out, and he lands back on the ground where he woke, every limb shaking. It's not fear, but an uncontrolled and complete panic. He's hyperventilating. His shirt is strangling him, his boots are far too tight and he can't feel anything on his right arm. The pain on his wrist… is it even there? 

In his travels, he had met a healer far outside of Giredale. During his visit, she had told him about an old blind man who had once come into her clinic. He told her about being unable to feel with either of his hands for several days now. It made life difficult, as the pain that haunted them made sleeping unbearable, but he was unable to feel for healing supplies. As the witch had come out from behind the counter, she had seen that his hands weren't there . 

The man had served in the wars against Old Coalhaven in his twenties. The enemy had captured him and taken out his eyes, with his own hands, then cut each one off at the wrist. As he had grown older, the scars had healed, but his mind had not. His dementia as he'd gotten older had led him to forget about his hands being removed. The man had died crying because his fingers hurt, and no one would help him.

Still shaking, Ethan tries to calm his quaking breaths. This is not like that. He hadn't served in any wars, he hadn't lost any limbs, and he was going to get out alive. But how was it so dark? Not a single shred of light in the entire room. Had they taken his eyes? Would he ever see again?

A sound from below. Ethan hesitated, straining his ears to listen for any more sound. It came again. A light thud against the ground. Ethan tried to stand, but lost his balance. Fuck these ropes. If he was going to die in this room, he would not do so tied up and defenseless. Not caring for his skin, he twisted his arm as hard as he could, dragging his left hand out inch by inch. He felt the fibers of the rope cutting into his skin, and the warm trickle of blood out of the wounds it left behind. But he couldn't care. He would not die here. Not in this darkness. 

His hand was free, and he frantically reached out to his right arm. Still there . Still numb, but undoubtedly there. He allowed himself one minute of deep breaths to steady his racing heart. He had his hands free. That was one step.

The thud from below came again, and Ethan crawled across the ground to where the sound was coming from. As his bare hands traced across the wood floors, he felt a divot in the wood. A trapdoor.

Jesus fucking Christ. 

He had a way out. 

Tracing his fingers along the edge of the trapdoor didn't give him anything. It was about a meter square, almost seamlessly blending into the rest of the flooring. But there was no handle or latch. Well fuck. The thud came again from beneath the trapdoor. What could that be? He imagined his capturers laughing below as they threw an apple against the flooring. Surely they knew he was awake by now. Surely they were down there just waiting for him to find a way out. They would kill him then. There would be no doubt. He had no weapons. They had taken his backpack, and-

His backpack. 

His spellbook .

Fucking shit. 

When a greenwitch received their spellbook, it created a soul tie. For Ethan in particular, this was essential. He had been very sick as a kid, and the tie with his spellbook gave his body the energy it needed. Without his spellbook… 

Fuck fuck fuck. It didn't matter any more. He needed to get out of here. 

With a burst of adrenaline he didn't even know he still had, he pushed himself to his feet and slammed his booted foot against the trapdoor. Once, twice, three times. It shook beneath him. There was probably a latch or something keeping it shut. Good thing about an old building though. Wood degrades. He was on his sixth hit when he felt the wood snap. His seventh sent the planks crumbling beneath him. 

A bright blue light shot through the darkness. To his eyes, it was blinding. But he couldn't see any source for it.

But then, a small, blue fairy peeked around the corner of the hole in the floor. They were small, with a neat dress that melded with their skin. Long hair wrapped around their shoulders, and they met his eyes with a curious look. Ethan could see through them, and their light let him see the room for the first time. He was correct. It was an old library, with crumbling bookshelves and ancient books. 

In another life, with different circumstances, he would be curious about what they contained. But not today. He gave another look at the fairy. They nodded at him, and he let a small smile come onto his face. "Thank you. May the Universe bless you."

Ethan wasn't religious. There were many folktales about the Universe and how it manifested to some in times of need. In his childhood, he had prayed to the Universe with his family, but not since they had left him. This was not the Universe, he was sure. But his frazzled mind and quivering heart forced the words from his lips. The fairy smiled, and nodded downwards. Ethan took a deep breath, and dropped down.

There was no one. The house was empty. He spent hours digging through every corner of the house, ripping out shelves and drawers looking for his spellbook. There are tears on his face and dread in his stomach, and he prays for the first time since his childhood. 

But there is nothing there. 

His spellbook is gone. And Ethan knows. 

As much as he knows that the sky is blue and the grass is green, he knows there are consequences beyond just not having magic. Without the soul tie to his spellbook, he will die. These kidnappers had taken his book, and ran, without Ethan even knowing who they were. He would kill them. Unless he died first.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ End of Part One ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Chapter Text

Andy has had nothing to do but work for several weeks, and frankly they are quite sick of the feeling. After returning home from journeying with their father, they found the family cabin completely run down. Spiderwebs in every corner, leaks in the ceiling, and a minor insect issue. Repairing the cabin has been exhausting. After their constant renovations, they found time to sit down and read their mail, finding a letter from their sister.

Rachel and Andy had been very close as children. However, after an argument had split their parents, Rachel had gone to live with their mother in southern Aldwynn, and Andy had stayed in Giredale with their father. They had been writing letters to each other, but communications had been cut. Andy had assumed Rachel had stopped mailing him, and allowed the conversation to end there. However, upon arriving back at the cabin after journeying with their father, they had found a new letter from Rachel, asking to meet in Giredale at the flower shop. 

Andy was able to return, and they discovered the lack of communication to be a circumstance of chance, and reconnected. They had spent the day together journeying and not worrying about their time apart, instead connecting through other means. The day was tiring, and they are excited to spend several more weeks resting in their cabin.

But before they can do that, there is stock to replenish in their stall in Giredale. Additionally, Andy's father left them many tasks to complete. One of which being a fishing rod for the man that rents the stall next to them. 

Unfortunately, Andy is very familiar with Ethan, and has found him very unlikeable in every short conversation they have had. He claims to be "magic", and his family fed into his delusions since his childhood. Even more, he lives in Grimwyck , which Andy has never stepped foot in and never will. This makes this delivery very difficult. Luckily, he often goes into Giredale for his stock just like Andy, so they are relying on finding him there.

So they travel the distance to Giredale, listening to the trees mutter stories to them on their way. They enjoy listening to the trees, and hearing everything they have to tell them. It isn't magic, like some may claim. It is a connection. Andy has a deep understanding of and connection to the forests, particularly the ones around their cabin. Having a relationship such as that helps with hearing their wishes. 

It isn't until they reach the thoroughfare that they can relax. While they enjoy the peace and quiet of the forest, stepping into Giredale while it is empty is like a breath of fresh air. If they aren't in their forests, their favorite place to be is in Giredale. After growing up here, it is coming home. It is far too late for there to be any bustle that the city is known for. Andy doesn't believe they have ever seen anyone this late at night within the city. It is so late, in fact, it is technically morning.

That is why the presence of another surprises them. After checking the stock of their shop, they are preparing to pick up some food before heading back to the cabin. But a voice stops them. 

"Hello?"

Andy turns, and sees a person with dark hair and green clothes, walking tentatively on the stony ground. "Oh, hello."

Right as they are about to say something more, a sharp pain in their arm makes them jump. They look and see a small gremlin holding a club. These Chorts always disrupt Andy's peace in Giredale. They are greedy little fuckers and haunt the entire city, feeding off the scraps dropped by travelers. The pain makes them take several steps back, and while trying to defend themselves, it's adamant to attack him, and they don't have a decent weapon. Their axe is in their backpack, which they certainly do not have time to grab. 

Then, an arrow is shot from the corner of their vision. The projectile strikes the gremlin dead on, and it falls to the ground. Andy turns to see the person from before, holding a bow and smiling. Andy realizes for the first time they've got a rather dumb looking hat on, which has ridges at the bottom on either side of their head. The person seems to realize at the same time and quickly takes it off. What Andy had previously thought to be additions to the hat, is actually small horns resting beneath the dark waves. 

Before they are able to say something, the person cuts them off. "You're Andy aren't you? I'm Taylor."

Andy furrowed their brow. "How do you know my name?" They turned their head, looking at Taylor more closely. They recognized the name, and now that they think about it… "You look familiar."

Taylor doesn't smile. "Yeah, I've been told a lot about you. You stopped responding to Rachel."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, and she was bloody heartbroken."

Andy sighed. "I didn't stop responding to her, she stopped responding to me, and who are you to tell me what my sister was?"

"I was with her for a very long time, you know."

"Ah, you're that Taylor then. She wrote about you."

Taylor didn't let up. "She wrote you letter after letter and you never responded."

"I did!" Andy waved a dismissive hand, returning to their work. "Besides. I'm busy. You're bothering me, please."

"I just saved your bloody life, mate."

Andy rolls their eyes. "Don't be dramatic, it's a Chort, those things are barely dangerous."

"Yeah and what's that bruise on your arm then?"

Andy goes to respond, but the horns catch their eye again. They gesture to them. "Those are cool. Are they made out of paper mache?"

Taylor looks taken aback. "I beg your finest pardon?"

"They look a bit… I don't know." They shrug and turn, deciding to head up to the cook now before the town wakes.

"They're horns, have you got a problem with that?" Andy doesn't turn, and they hear Taylor running up behind them. "Wait, come back, I have a question."

Andy smiles. "You are a silly little dude."

"What, you don't like the horns?"

"No, I like them. How long did you spend crafting them?"

Taylor huffed. "Crafting them? From my bloody skull?! I grew them."

Andy laughs again, shaking their head. If Taylor didn't want to say that was fine. "Yeah, sure."

"Yeah, okay. Weird bloody take. Never heard that one before. Well, I have a question."

Andy turns, meeting their eyes. "Yes?"

"You're a carpenter, right?"

"Yeah.." 

"Okay, I have a list."

Andy smiles amiably. "A list?" As, Taylor turns to get a book from their bag, they place the funny hat back on their head. "Here, I can look silly too." Andy turns, and pulls out a folded sombrero from their bag. When they turn back around, Taylor's gaze meets the sight of an abnormally large sombrero on the carpenter's head.

Taylor bursts out laughing. "What, is that paper mache too?"

Andy smiles. "Not sure I bought it off a dude today. Traded some good emeralds for it. Do you like it?"

Taylor grins. "Love it. Here, try on mine." Andy removes the sombrero, handing it to Taylor as they take the hat from them.

Andy places the hat on their head, and poses. "How do I look?"

"That barely fits on your head."

"Wow, that's quite rude." 

Taylor puts on the sombrero while they are speaking. Andy smiles again, rotating the hat to the side. "Oh it hides the paper mache."

Clearly frustrated, Taylor groans. "What is your obsession with paper mache? They're real! They're not paper. Do you wanna feel them?"

"No I don't want to feel your paper mache horns."

"You are a strange one, aren't you? I didn't believe Rachel when she told me how you adamantly refuse to recognize magic." Taylor muttered, removing the sombrero and passing it back.

Andy took it, folding it and placing it back in their backpack. "I don't refuse to recognize it, I just know it's not real." They rub a hand across the bandages on their arms. They are itchy today. "Anyway, you said you had a question about carpentry?"

Taylor removes a book from their bag, opening it to a random page. "Yes, well, I heard from Rachel you're good with that sort of thing."

By this point, they had come to a stop not fifty feet from Andy's shop. "I am." Andy nodded, putting their hands behind their back.

"Well I need some supplies for my shop."

"Shop?"

"Bookshop."

Andy nodded. "Right then. Let's go back to my shop then." They walk back in silence. Andy considers breaking it, but the walk is so short there isn't much of a reason too. When they reach the stall, Andy steps behind the counter. "What kind of wood are you thinking then?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Probably Oak. I believe that's what my bookshelves are made out of. I'm not sure. What kind of wood do you have?"

"I'll grab them. Do you need bookshelves then?" Taylor nods, and Andy turns back to a chest on the counter, removing a large bundle of wood planks. "These are the wood I have. I also have more. I have this kind," they place another plank on the counter in front of Taylor, "and this kind," another, "and this kind, and this kind, and this kind-"

Taylor cut them off. "That's a lot of wood."

"I have more."

Taylor grins, still flipping through pages in their book. "Yeah, I believe it." Then a laugh as they speak next. "There's a slight obsession there." They land on a page with several lines of messy writing. "Ah, this is it. Right then, I need a desk. A nice desk, for my entry way. Also oak wood planks. Also, bookshelves,"

"How many oak wood planks do you need?" Andy asks, opening a cupboard under the counter. 

"Not many like… ten?"

Already holding a couple dozen planks, they looks up sharply. "Ten??"

"I said I didn't need many, I've just got a hole in the floor." Andy pulls out ten oak planks, placing them on the counter, shaking their head disapprovingly. Taylor pauses. "Right then. What do you want for them?"

They scoffed. "You can't charge for ten oak planks. That's hardly even ten minutes of work. "That's on the house. First purchase."

"I've got these flowers-"

"No really its okay."

Taylor reached into their pocket and took out a flower. It was wilted and slightly brown on the petals. "Here you are. I stole it from the ground over there."

"You steal?"

Taylor's eyes widened, and they held up a hand. "No! No no no I don't do that anymore. I borrowed it. Got permission and everything."

Andy looked at them inquisitively. "You sure?" 

They grimaced. "Positive."

"Right." Andy put the flower in their pocket, fully prepared to throw it away the moment they were able.

Taylor nods and closes the book, placing it back in their bag. "Anyway, I've taken over the, uh, bookshop over there, and there are some bookshelves that don't have a lot of books. They're kind of rotten, you see."

"I can understand that,"

"I assume you're the kind of person to come to about this? If I provide books will you provide shelves?"

"That is my job, so of course."

"Are you open now?" They looked up at the sun, which was barely cresting the horizon. "It's early."

Andy laughed. "Don't worry about the sun."

Taylor squinted at the moon peeking over the buildings. "What, you mean the lack of sun?"

They laughed, stepping out from behind the counter. "So, a desk and bookshelves. What design are you thinking?"

Taylor folded their arms, hesitating. "Maybe… my shops just down the street there. Did you wanna look at the shop and see? That way you can get a feel for the environment."

Andy nodded. "Right then. Lead the way."

They reached the bookshop within minutes. Inside there was minimal lighting; only a few lanterns were scattered around. The first thing Andy saw were the spiderwebs. They seemed to cover every corner and many of the bookshelves. Books were scattered across the floor and desks, and some seemed to be held up with a kind of string, as they hovered in mid-air. 

Taylor walked in behind them, and skipped over to a chair sat in the entry. "This is the bookshop. It's not in best condition but don't you think a desk here would look so nice? A nice little writing desk." They mimicked writing in the air. "And then you see the shelves here?" They stood up, walking over to a bunch of shelves that were collapsed and full of cobwebs. "I feel like these should probably have books in them."

Andy turned his head, looking at the shelves. The wood looked fragile, but not overly rotten. "Can't you just… ram some books in there to hold up the weaker parts of the shelf?"

Taylor shrugged, picking a book up off the floor. They placed it gingerly on the bookshelf, and the entire thing immediately collapsed. They looked over at them guiltily as if they had done something terribly wrong. "...no." 

Andy turned their critical eye on the bookshelves around. "So we're replacing all the damaged ones."

Taylor looked at the pile of wood on the floor from the broken shelf. "I fear that might be the only option."

Andy nodded, walking around the shop some more. They had to keep stepping over piles of books and paper. "You need some organization and paperwork in here." They reached up, touching one of the books in the air. "What kind of string are you using to hold these up?"

Taylor came up behind them. "String?"

"Yea, string. It's nearly invisible."

A pause. "You mean, the magic? The books floating by magic?"

Andy rolled their eyes. "Oh you're one of those people."

"One of what people?"

They smiled slightly, frustrated with Taylor's lying. "That believe in magic."

Taylor looked completely taken aback. "That believe in magic? What and you don't?"

"Obviously not."

Taylor walked past them, into the back room. "What's this then?"

Andy followed, reaching them as they uncovered a glowing desk. The corners seemed to be made out of diamond, and the base some kind of dark rock, maybe obsidian. A book lay on top, emanating a golden light. It was obviously fake. Andy was sure in just a few seconds they could reveal the mechanics behind the desk. "A magic trick."

Aghast, Taylor stared at them. "What do you mean 'magic trick'? Like for show?"

"Yeah, it's not real."

They scoffed. "Yeah, alright. You ever been to Grimwyck?"

"Nah, I avoid the place. Hate it."

Taylor hummed. "Me too I suppose. Freaks me out a bit."

Andy turned and walked back into the main room. "How many bookshelves do you think you need? Do you think you have enough books to fill all the shelves if we replace all of them?"

Taylor nodded. "To avoid shocking you, there's quite a few books in here."

Andy looked at the cramped shelves and the books on every surface. A lot of them probably had dry rot, but most were probably salvageable. They decided against responding, instead glancing at the staircase. "Can I go upstairs?" 

Without waiting for Taylor's answer, they climbed the stairs onto the top floor. There was even more spiderwebs here, and the bookshelves are in worse condition. Taylor follows behind them. "Sorry for the state of the place. I've been trying to dust, but I don't know what these spiders wove their cobwebs with but I genuinely think it's cement."

"Hmm, yeah." They took their axe from their backpack, removing a bunch of cobwebs in the corner. They are particularly strong, sticking to the walls and their axe.

Taylor came up next to them, hands on their hips. "So, how many books do you think I'll need to replace all these bookshelves."

Andy hummed. "Mm, couple hundred?"

Taylor whistled. "That's a couple of books yeah. Luckily the, uh, previous owner left quite a few. I wonder if I just removed the books on the top floor, and only did the bottom floor. Less to manage as well."

"I mean, it's a library, should have books, right?"

"Ah, no this is a bookshop. I'm gonna make money out of this."

Andy smiled, crossing their arms. "Well, either way, I like the look of the spiral staircase up to more books. It shouldn't be too hard to find more."

Andy was turning, looking down to the first level inquisitively when an idea hit them. They cocked their head to the side, thinking. They couldn't hear the trees in here, but they knew if they could they would be screaming at them to not do exactly this. But they don't care. Not bothering to think twice, they jumped and landed on one of the suspended books.

It, surprisingly, held their weight. After a moment, Andy realized it must be made out of the same things that the spiderwebs were. When they brush their hand through the air, it doesn't hit any thing holding the books. It must be some kind of force on the bottom holding them up then. Tiny pedestals made out of glass perhaps.

They turn, and see Taylor obviously smug. "You're standing on the string. That's some pretty strong string, holding up your entire fucking body weight."

Ignoring them, they jump off the book, landing on the ground. "Right then. So, bookshelves. I can make the bookshelves, you just need to find enough books to fill them. I'm sure some are outdated."

Taylor nodded. "I can get more books. I need to replace the ones with dry rot as well." They turn, glancing at the bookshelves. "Oh right so do you provide ladders? I need a few I think on this far wall to get to the top shelves."

Andy crossed their arms, turning around in a circle. "The ceilings are quite high. Yes, I do ladders." They walked over to the bookshelves, pushing against the wood. It was very delicate and unusable. They would need to rip out and replace most of the current bookshelves. 

"Good. And what about axes? Do you make axes?" 

"I'm sure I have some I can give you back at my cabin."

"Oh perfect. I don't need one now, just eventually."

Andy turns back to Taylor, pulling out their notebook. "And you said you needed a desk? What kind of desk?"

Taylor looked taken aback. "Well, I mean, what do you provide? I assumed it was a one size fits all deal."

"Anything." They walked over to the room with the glowing table again. There were desks on the walls opposite each other. "I can do this kind so they can be uniform across the whole shop, or a different color?"

Taylor eyed the desks. "Do you do anything like… fancier? A fancy desk?"

"I can do anything you can dream of."

"Oh I don't dream of much." They gesture to their head. "Not a lot of thoughts going on up here, I'm afraid."

Andy found themself laughing, and had to hold their arm up to their mouth. Taylor looks over at them, and as if suddenly realizing what they said, laughs as well. It's been a long time since they've laughed this much. Not since...

After a moment, Andy composed themself. "Well, let's go down to my shop. We can check out wood types and then get started on desk designs, yeah?"

Taylor nods. "Downtown we go."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ─── 

They had all intentions to go to the stalls. But instead they end up wandering around Giredale speaking about wood types and textures. They had decided to do a darker wood to give the bookshelves a bit of contrast, when they end up beside the Giredale port.

Something Andy has learned quite quickly about Taylor is their spontaneity. In just a moment they can change what they're doing and not mind the lost conversation. In the middle of a sentence about replacing fiction books with non-fiction, they cut off and head in a completely other direction.

"Oh have you seen this boat down here?" Taylor grabs Andy's arm and stops them next to the water, pointing at the boat tied to the dock. "It's… unique, isn't it?".

And that is certainly a word for it. The hull is a deep teak color, with rusted nails dotted haphazardly across the wood. The rigging appears overly complicated and old fashioned, with ropes laying haphazardly across the deck. There is obvious water damage on the body, and the mast is slightly crooked to the left. From a carpentry standpoint, it is a nightmare.

And Andy knows the man who owns it. He has a fishing rod for him.

"Universe." Taylor mutters, folding their arms. 

Andy smiles, turning to look at Taylor with a gleam in their eye. "So, do you wanna sail it?"

Within three minutes they have untied the boat and pushed off the dock, drifting in the breeze. Taylor heads to the stern and stands behind the wheel, looking off as if they are manning a wildly important boat, and not a stolen fishing boat.

"So where are we going?"

Andy shrugs. "Oh, anywhere. I know the guy it belongs to, I'm sure he won't mind us stealing it."

"Oh you know the owner?"

"I mean, know is a strong word. I know of him, sure."

Taylor gives them a critical look. "So who is it?"

"Just some stinky fish man."

Andy is not prepared for the burst of outrage that comes from Taylor at his name. "The fish man owns this boat?! Oh he's a prick isn't he? And his family, full of pricks. Him? Prick. And this is his boat? Oh we are going to take this far far away."

Andy laughs, and they quietly continue down the river. It is much less a sail, and more of a drifting glide across the water's surface, but it's pleasant. 

Just as they are passing beneath the bridge, Taylor breaks the silence. "Oh, there's someone on the bridge."

"Oh, who is that?" Andy squints at the figure. It's hard to see with the sun, but they catch a glimpse of dark blonde hair and brown shirt. "Oh speaking of-"

"It's the fish man! Oi! Prick!"

Andy looks back at them. "Taylor, quiet!" While they don't like the man, and knows he doesn't like them, that doesn't mean Andy is all too eager to get on his bad side. They would rather continue hating him in peace.

"Nah, he's off, he didn't see us." They're laughing, and Andy sighs. 

"I have a fishing rod to deliver to him."

Taylor grins, turning the wheel so they sway dangerously. "Do you want to do it in the boat? Pull up at the dock with him all angry, 'oh but Mr. Fish Man sir, we have a stick and string for you. It's real nice string so I'm sure you'll love it'. He won't even be mad at us."

"He's an angry person." They put their chin on their hand, looking towards the Giredale castle. "Do you think he'll be looking for his boat?"

"Oh I hope so."

Andy sits up, looking over their shoulder. They've barely passed the bridge now. "This thing doesn't go very fast, does it?"

"No, it's quite slow. Massive fucking boat and it's barely faster than walking." They turn, following the river. "Now where could we leave this? Is there a cave maybe?"

"There's a waterfall just south, past Coalhaven."

"That's bloody far with how fast we're going." They look actually put out at that realization.

Andy thinks, trying to consider options. Ethan needs a new boat anyway. Won't miss this one too much. "We could set it on fire. I have a flint and steel."

Taylor grins. "Oh, we could do that." Then, as if in realization, they set their jaw, and begin to turn the boat around. "Nah, I have to abide by the rules."

Andy furrows their brow. "What rules?" They are nearing an island. Andy doesn't take much notice to it, focused on Taylor. "Taylor? What rules?"

They ignore them, instead pointing to the water. "Andy look a dolphin!" Andy turns to look at the water, and meets eyes with a creature that is definitely not a dolphin. 

"Oh fuck ." 

The creature in front of them is a deep blue color. The black eyes Andy is looking into now are spaced widely, making room for a variation in skin texture on the bridge of the nose. Almost like scales, but more compacted. The tail behind it does look similar to a dolphin tail, but it is wider and with more spikes than a dolphin. Andy turns their head, looking straight into the Siren's eyes. It is swimming along with them, but not singing. Why isn't it singing?

Andy is not a fool. They know that there are creatures similar to humans that can injure them. Like the Chort's in Giredale. They are not magical like many claim. They are just creatures that have been alive longer than they have. They have encountered many beings on their travels with their father. Sirens, Amphitheres, Dragons; they are all just creatures like a cow or a chicken. They may be stronger and more intelligent, but they are not magical. They have been questioned on this many times, especially after being attacked by a Siren with their sister when they were young. It lured you in, Andy. That's magic . 

And they will always say the same thing to the people that say that. It is not magic, it is just the way the world works. Those are natural. Magic is not.

"What is it Andy?" Taylor's voice breaks Andy from their thoughts. They look over, and when they look back, the Siren is gone. Clearly from the mast Taylor can't see beneath the water. The platform the wheel is on is slightly raised, but the boat's edge is raised as well. In order to see down into the water you need to be leaning over the side as Andy is now. Just another failing of this boat. 

"Taylor, keep going. Go back to Giredale. Plug your ears if you can."

They have already turned back, but they seem to get more anxious now. "Why? What was it?"

Andy stands, going to the mast with Taylor. "Not a dolphin."

They pull into Giredale soon after. The wind was stronger, allowing them to get back faster than leaving. Andy is privately grateful. Their head has begun to hurt and their vision has gone a little fuzzy. 

Taylor asks, "Are you alright, Andy?" as they are getting out of the boat. They can only nod. It is not a migraine yet, but the pain is significant enough that they are struggling to focus. 

"Just seasick I think. I probably need some water."

Taylor gestures to a shop across from the pier. "There's a good place just there. Get you some food and maybe a lie down."

Andy nods, looking back at the boat. Something about it isn't right. It makes them feel unstable. They do not like that boat, and they do not like the fish man. Once they give him this fishing rod, they will stay as far away from that man as they can.

Chapter Text

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ part two ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

two days earlier.

Ethan had woken up the morning after losing his spellbook completely defeated. All of his muscles hurt. His wrists throbbed in time with his heart beat. He had walked all night to make it home, fighting off zombies and skeletons. 

He was… tired. That was the only word that could describe his state of being. Completely mentally and physically exhausted. 

He had wrapped his wrists using cloth and antiseptic. There were deep grooves in his skin and scratches all the way up his hand, specifically the left. Feeling had returned to his right arm several hours after escaping, and he had almost cried with relief. 

Opening his eyes the following morning, he felt something. It was faint and hardly there, but a faint thrum like the sound of sculk pulsed through his chest. He had sat up, shaking and breathing deeply, but it was gone in a moment. 

Through the morning, he tried to retain normalcy and complete orders. However with movement, the scratches opened again, and the bandages were overloaded. It was his fifth time changing these bandages before he decided to give it up. He wouldn't be cooking today. 

He took the day as a rest day. His containment had made his knee flare, and he was forced to use his crutch again. He had always had the issue; ever since he was a kid. The spellbook had assisted with his medical conditions, but without it he healed slower, and smaller issues pained him more.

He spent the day in his house, listening to Oakley creak, and allowing his wounds to heal. 

The next day, while his wrists had begun to heal, his pride had not. He remained in his house, organizing, cooking, and feeling very sorry for himself.

However, on the third day, he woke and set his jaw. He was sick of feeling sorry for himself. Today, he would take action. Yes, there was a ticking time bomb on his health. Without his spellbook, he had absolutely no idea how long he would last. He couldn't spend that precious time wasting away in self-enforced isolation. 

Preparation is easy. He pulls an old backpack from his closet. There are various rips across the fabric, and it is coated in dust. It's so old, he's pretty sure this had been his father's. While the idea of carrying a memory of his father around doesn't sit well with him, he doesn't have any other options. He will have to find someone to make him a new one.

For now, he had to find a spellbook and find it fast. To create a new spellbook, he would need a rotten spellbook, and several green magic scrolls. He only had a few, and without all of them he wouldn't have a full range of magic. He did have many scrolls that weren't greenmagic, but he couldn't use those.

All he knew was that he couldn't go alone. That was evidenced already. He would hurt himself going out on his own. Desca would of course tag along, but she probably wouldn't be enough. 

As he was thinking, he could only think of one name. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ─── 

Taylor Cruiks was a very hard person to find. Not only had they built a career (stealing) off of not being seen, but Ethan wasn't even sure that they were allowed back in Giredale. He first stopped at the library in Giredale, remembering Desca saying they had purchased it. There was no one inside, only the musty smell of books and mold. He then walked just up the street, stopping in at Rachel's. She greeted him happily, and he asked whereabouts he would find Taylor. Rachel said they didn't know, and prompted him to stick around town, as she was pretty sure Taylor mentioned coming in today.

He, however, couldn't wait. He made his way to where he assumed Taylor's cottage was. As he reached it, there was only a dog in a pen outside the door. It was massive, with droopy, slobbery jowls and a kind of happiness in its eyes. After knocking and confirming Taylor was not home, Ethan had pet it gently through the bars. "Why hello. Do you know where your parent is? I need a talk with them."

Gratefully, the dog did not respond. Ethan wasn't entirely sure what he would have done if it had. He made his way back into Giredale, frustrated and tired already. Walking with his crutch was hard enough; walking far distances was even harder. 

He made his way into Giredale with a grumbling stomach. Deciding to get food he stepped up to the door of the Giredale cook. Ethan had made a long-standing friend in the cook, and they often traded ingredients and stories over the work-worn counter. 

There is a mild bustle in the room as he steps in, and he barely makes it two steps before he hears the voice. He sighs, and turns, mourning the unnecessary miles. Taylor's voice is notable for its southern twang, the accent adopted from their parents who had immigrated to Coalhaven before Taylor was born. Even living in Coalhaven their entire life, they had kept the accent. Ethan's eyes slide off of Taylor's face, and onto their companion. Sat across them is someone with a red tank top and bandages on their arms. Well shit.

Ethan walks over to the pair, hesitating before clearing his throat. Taylor looks up, and immediately rolls their eyes. "Ah, piss off, we were just starting to have a good time."

The person across from Taylor turns around, and Ethan is met with critical brown eyes scanning his face and clothes, lingering on his crutch. "Well, if it isn't the fish man."

Ethan's heart stops. He had known it was them, of course, but a part of him had wished it wouldn't be. Andy grins, that smile making Ethan's fingers twitch under his bandages. He hasn't spoken to the carpenter in months. In fact, he hadn't spoken to them for months before leaving Aldwynn. They had left a few months ago, traveling with their father. Ethan had liked the man, significantly more than Andy, besides. Even after seeing them on the bridge the other day, he had hoped they were only in Giredale for a day trip. It was impractical, he knew, but he just wished that he didn't have to see them again when trying to speak with Taylor. 

Ethan breaks eye contact, looking instead at Taylor. "Sticky fingers, can I talk to you?"

Taylor raises an eyebrow. They are about to open their mouth, when Andy interrupts. "Why are you calling people sticky fingers? That's very rude."

Ethan glares at them. "I wasn't talking to you." He turns back to Taylor. "I need to talk to you . Can we go to your bookshop?"

Taylor narrows their eyes. After the other day, Ethan is more comfortable with holding a conversation with them. He still doesn't exactly like them, but the discomfort of their past is lessened. They have an extended staring contest, which Taylor loses. "Fine, whatever." They stand and pick up a backpack off the ground.

Andy stood as well, lifting their axe from where it lays on the table. "Am I not allowed?"

Taylor looks at them quickly. "No, you're invited, please don't leave me alone with him."

Ethan rolls his eyes. "Yes, Andy, you can come along."

The pair looks at him, disgust in both gazes. "I wasn't asking you," Andy mutters, and pushes past him as they step outside.

Taylor pats him on the shoulder, grinning. "Tough luck, man." 

Ethan stares after the pair completely taken aback. He hadn't even known that Andy knew Taylor, much less that they got along this well. He is surprised, especially considering Taylor's extended and complicated history with magic.

Ethan steps outside to see them whispering conspiratorially beneath a tree. Once he steps out, they immediately stop, and Andy starts whistling and avoiding eye contact. "You don't need to act like that." 

Andy shrugs innocently. "Act like what?"

"Yeah, let them whistle if they want!" 

Ethan covers his eyes, rubbing his temples. He can already feel a pounding in his head. "Talking to you guys is a headache."

Taylor scoffed, starting to walk towards the bookshop. "You came here, didn't you!? I never said I wanted you here!"

"Do you know where I've been trying to find you??" Ethan followed, Andy lingering behind. "I went to your bookshop, weren't there , went to Rachel's, weren't there , then I went all the way to your bloody cottage and you weren't fucking there!" 

Taylor whipped around, now walking backwards. "How do you know where I live?" Their tone would be menacing if Ethan was even remotely afraid of them.

"You fucking showed me yesterday, dumbass, I connected the dots." Andy came up from behind him, hitting his arm. Ethan winced, holding it. "The fuck is your issue?"

Andy stared at him flatly. "Don't talk like that to them. It's impolite."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "No fucking shit. That was the point, wasn't it?" Another hit to his shoulder. They had a strong backhand.

Luckily, they reach the bookshop then, and Ethan is able to put space between himself and Andy. 

"Anyway, Taylor, sit down, I need to talk to you about a potential trade." Ethan gestured to the chair in the center of the shop. 

Taylor crossed their arms then raised an eyebrow. "I don't need to listen to you."

Ethan took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. "Just- sit down and listen."

Andy had sat on one of the storage chests, and was watching the conversation critically. At this, they scoffed. "You are so bossy."

Ethan puts his hands in his pockets to give his hands something to do, but he finds a small stone in one of the front pockets. It must have gotten in there when he was gardening and he'd forgotten about it. He takes it out and flicks it at the carpenter. "Shut up."

Behind him, Taylor is still muttering under their breath. "Coming into my bookshop telling me to sit down? Bitch you sit down!"

Ethan turned back to them. "I have an offer, do you want to hear it or not?"

Taylor rolled their eyes so dramatically Ethan almost looked up to see if they were looking at the ceiling for something. Then, they sat down with crossed legs on the floor. 

Ethan sighed. "Real mature. Listen, so a couple days ago, I went out at night-"

"Why would you do that?"

Ethan glared at Taylor. This was driving him absolutely insane. "Would you shut up and listen?" A rock hit the back of his head, and he turned to see Andy pointedly looking in the opposite direction. When he turned back to Taylor they were smiling. "Anyways, I have collected scrolls for magic that I cannot use-"

Taylor had stood up while he was talking, and was walking back and forth across the bookshop. At his hesitation, Taylor looked over. "Sorry. I don't like sitting still."

Ethan sighs, and it is about to continue when Andy's voice comes from right behind him. "What are these fantasy papers you are talking about?"

" You -" Ethan turns and pushes Andy back a step, "-are not in this conversation."

Andy shrugs, unperturbed. "Obviously I am, I'm here aren't I?"

Taylor has stopped their pacing, settling in front of Ethan. "Scrolls. What is a scroll?"

Ethan takes one from his backpack. He checks the seal. "This is a healing scroll. Do you want me to try and use one to demonstrate?" Taylor takes a step back. "I won't use it on you, dickhead."

Taylor looks at Andy, gesturing them closer. "Andy, stand still."

"Excuse me," Andy takes three steps back, then looks from the scroll to Ethan. "You are so delusional." They curl their lip, and Ethan stifles another bout of anger. 

"If you have a problem, step out while I do it." Andy shrugs, but stays where they are. Ethan looks back at Taylor. "I can't confirm that I'll be able to use it, but I can try if that's what you'll need."

"Whatever, magic man, work your tricks." Taylor seems pleased with themself at the insult. Ethan just sighs and opens the scroll.

He has used scrolls before. Sometime thousands of years ago, many magicians from all aspects of the practice came together to attempt to make magic more accessible. They condensed spells into the form of a scroll, as a way to practice the feeling of magic, without the necessary practice. They are also how to make a spellbook, which Ethan will need sooner than later. They are single use, but this one isn't particularly powerful, so he won't mourn its loss. 

For those practiced with magic, scrolls are mostly used as a tool within the denomination the spell is from. If someone is practiced in a certain type of magic, they might find resistance from scrolls that aren't their own. For example, Ethan is significantly better with Greenwitch scrolls. Unfortunately, he is fresh out of those. He hadn't needed them until he lost his spellbook.

However, the scrolls can still be used by anyone with the gift of magic, as was their purpose. As Ethan scans the contents, he feels slightly better about his chances of doing this successfully. The scroll has several lines of text citing the creator of the scroll, the purpose, and the potential downsides. This scroll is for minor cuts and bruises. Ethan looks at the instructions. Easy enough. 

Envision the target(s), and move your hand in a star pattern. The scroll would do the rest. Ethan prays to any deities listening for assistance, then does as instructed. Much to his surprise, it works. Red light glows from the ground, and a phantom wind rushes through the room.

Ethan closes the scroll. Its text has seemed to melt, and it is slightly warm to the touch. He sets the useless scroll on the shelf next to him. "Right, were any of you injured?"

Taylor scoffs. "No? Get this light- Why did you put down LED's in my bookshop??"

Andy laughs. "He waves his little hands and thinks it's magic!" 

Ethan's stomach turns. He doesn't want to be mocked by these people he doesn't even know. "Fucking- whatever. I would like to pass these scrolls onto you to sell to people in this shop in exchange for your help to go looting places." 

Taylor immediately loses all interest. "I don't do that anymore. I'm a changed man, I don't do that shit-"

Ethan groans. "Live up to your fucking name sticky fingers! We will only raid bad people, and I'm not going to report you. Please, I'm asking you. As.. a friend."

Taylor seems to consider. "Is it in Giredale?"

He glances down. The light on the floor has faded, and Ethan is privately glad it didn't leave a mark. He didn't want Taylor killing him over that. "I mean, we can go outside of Giredale if you need."

Taylor sighs. "Okay then," They pause, and for a long moment Ethan is sure they'll say no. "Yes."

He's immediately taken aback. "Really?"

Andy steps in again pulling at his sleeve. There is a fierce determination in their eyes. "How do you determine who's bad and who's not?" Their tone is grave and sincere.

"Sorry?"

They set their jaw. "You said you would only raid bad people. How do you know?"

Ethan turns to them, meeting their gaze with a stormy expression. He can see it mirrored back at him in their face. If Ethan wasn't so mad at them, he would appreciate the way the light the lanterns give off looks in their curls. But he is angry, so he instead mutters, "You can see it in their eyes."

Brown eyes meet blue, and both sets narrow. "Can you?"

"Yeah."

Andy's eyes flick back and forth between his own. "Maybe you're the bad one to them."

Ethan doesn't want to break eye contact. That would be losing, and he doesn't lose. Andy's eyes are a deep brown, but now that he's looking closer they have an almost gold cast to them. He would be curious to see what they look like in the sun. "It doesn't matter, okay? I need a rotten spellbook."

Andy scoffs. "Just throw a book into a pond and wait a couple of days." They say these words with such malice, Ethan feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. 

Taylor cleared their throat. "Am I interrupting something? I know y'all supposedly don't like each other or whatever-"

"Supposedly??" Andy breaks eye contact, and Ethan smiles at the win for himself. "Definitely. I fucking hate him."

"Yeah, so I'm right here." Ethan crosses his arms, turning his head to the side. "What are you doing here anyways? Didn't you run off to the woods with your dear old dad?"

Andy glares at him. "You shut the fuck up about my dad." They take a deep, steadying breath. "I have something for you. Unfortunately."

The last word is said like an admission of guilt. Ethan raises an eyebrow. "Really? Why'd you find me here?"

"I was going to wait at your stall until you got there."

Ethan lets a sly smile slide onto his face. "You were going to wait… for me? How romantic."

"Not for you I was going to wait for customers." They shove his shoulder hard. He's going to have to start wearing armor on just that shoulder; his bones are aching a bit. 

Ethan throws up his hands. "Fine. I'll leave. You obviously don't want me here. You can drop whatever shit you have for me at my stall. Sorry I bothered." He tightens his hold on his backpack, and starts out of the bookshop.

He has one foot across the threshold when he hears, "Wait," He stops, turning and meeting Taylor's eyes from across the store. "I'll take the scrolls."

A grin slides onto his face, and he steps back inside. "Good."

"You mean the papers?" Andy has their arms crossed, and obviously is not happy with  Ethan coming back.

Taylor turns to them. "You really aren't fucking with magic aren't you?"

Andy looks at Taylor, desperation in their eyes. "Magic isn't real , Taylor." They pleaded.

"What do you think is on my head then?"

Ethan looks up. The horns that poke out of Taylor's dark waves are obvious in all lighting. That was the intention of their creation after all. Andy sighs. "I told you, it's paper mache or whatever."

"Hey quick question," Ethan steps up, completely amazed by Andy's stubbornness. "Do you happen to believe the Earth is flat as well?"

Andy rolls their eyes. "Obviously not." 

From beside them, Taylor takes a hat off the hook and puts it on Andy's head. "Very fashionable."

"Oh yeah!" Andy turns to Ethan, a grin on their face. Ethan pretends not to notice how their eyes light up when they smile like this. "Put this on." They take a folded square out of their bag, and when they unfold it it snaps into a comically large sombrero. 

Ethan grimaces. "No thank you, I will not." 

"I will!" Taylor takes it, putting it on. They start walking around picking up books, knocking the hat on shit as they go. 

Andy turns to him. "You commissioned a fishing rod from my dad right?"

Ethan furrows his brow, thinking. "I mean, yeah, a while ago. Why?"

"Well, he made you one, but it was flimsy and bad so I made it better."

"Wait, uh, hold on-"

"No it's not magic." Andy cuts him off.

Ethan rolls his eyes. "No shit it's not magic, you don't look like the type that could wield magic, sorry to tell you. But this upgrade you're talking about, is it going to cost me more?"

They look at Ethan like he has said something outrageous. "No, you already paid."

"Right then. I mean, I'll take it, of course."

"It's at the shop." 

Taylor stops Ethan before he can leave. "I want those scrolls before we go."

Ethan gives them a look. "I'll give you half. Know I have more that are more powerful that I'm not giving you."

"Understood."

Ethan takes off his backpack, sorting through his things until he removes five of the scrolls he brought. Taylor takes them from him, looking through them. "These will be perfect." They put them in a chest by the door. 

Andy has already left, walking towards downtown Giredale, apparently to get the fishing rod. Ethan and Taylor stop outside the bookshop, and Ethan turns a critical eye on them. "You knew what scrolls were, didn't you?"

Taylor sighs. "Of course I did. But Andy is stubborn enough that I would rather stay on their good side."

"So you sacrifice my reputation for your own benefit?"

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, that's just about it. You would do the same, wouldn't you?" There is a thickness to the air between them that is only heightened now that they are alone. The longer they go without talking about it… 

But now is not that time. Taylor adjusts the scarf at their neck, then sniffs. "So, where are we raiding?"

"I'm not sure yet. Mostly we'll just explore."

"I can't do Giredale. At all. I'm just barely allowed back."

Ethan nods. "I understand. We will mostly raid magic places to find my rotten spellbook."

"Now hold on," Taylor bit their lip, thinking hard. "I'm not like Andy, I believe in magic. I know it's real; I've learned the hard way that magic is very real. I don't love it, obviously, but, don't you think it's a bad idea? It can do really scary things especially to unsuspecting innocent bookshop owners such as myself-"

"Innocent?"

"I'm changed. I don't do nothing you can accuse me for any longer."

"I never said I was going to. But don't you think this would be a good opportunity? Get your anger out? Steal shit from magic users that aren't me?"

Taylor doesn't seem to appreciate the obvious jab at their history. "Whatever. I could probably do that."

A sharp pain in his back makes Ethan jump. He hears Andy's voice behind him. "Boo."

Ethan turns, meeting the carpenter's eyes. "The fuck did you do that for?" Taylor sighs, and walks into the bookshop, leaving Ethan alone with Andy. He almost protests they stay. 

They have an infuriating smile on their face, tucking the knife they used to poke him between the shoulderblades behind their back. "I scared you, duh. Here is this." They hand him a fishing rod. It has runic engravings along the edge, and there are diamonds built into the weak points for strength. The runes don't mean anything, but they are beautiful the way Andy put them together.

Ethan immediately forgets the affront, turning the fishing rod to feel the balance. "Universe, this thing is insane."

"Also, here's this. On the house, because you smell of fish." They hand him a small, maybe 5 centimeter square block of a pink substance. Ethan holds it up to his nose, and is immediately hit with the strong smell of a cleaning agent. "It's soap. Do you know how to use that?"

Ethan rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I do, fuck off." He looks at it. "Can I eat it? It looks edible."

"Oh please do."

He shrugs, and puts it in his mouth. He pointedly does not let it linger and swallows immediately. His entire mouth is still filled with the strong taste of soap, and he wants to throw up. He holds up the front for Andy though. "Why did it not taste bad?"

Taylor came out at just that moment, and stepped up next to them. "What did he just do?"

"He ate soap." Andy smiles, watching Ethan slyly. 

Ethan shrugged. "I swear like a sailor so-"

Andy cuts him off. "And because I told him to, and he's a good boy, he listens."

Ethan's stomach drops, and he whips his head to look at Andy. "Fucking excuse me??" They still have that sickly sweet smile on their face, and they shrug. Ethan grimaces. "You have some issues you need to address, mate."

Andy laughs, wrinkling their nose and turning to Taylor, who is standing behind them holding a book. They look a bit traumatized, and Ethan shares their feelings. "Right, well, uh, Ethan, is this that rotten spellbook you said you needed?"

Ethan immediately walks over, taking the book and inspecting it. But it isn't right. It's just a rotten book, not a rotten spellbook. "No, but thank you. I really appreciate your help, since Andy is seemingly so against it."

Andy reaches out to hit him, but Ethan is expecting it and steps to the side so they swing at air. 

"Right so for this journey," Ethan says quickly, eager to change the subject as Andy is fuming over the embarrassment of missing (not Ethan's fault, just don't miss next time). "I have a friend, well, Taylor you know Desca."

"You have friends??"

"Andy, shut the fuck up." Ethan runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure if she's home, but if she is, she might be interested in coming with us."

"I thought this was just Taylor's punishment." Andy muttered.

Ethan glared at them. "I wasn't fucking talking to you, piss off."

"I'm a part of this journey too!"

He is genuinely confused by this. "You are? I didn't invite you?" But it is more of a question than a statement. 

"That doesn't mean I won't be coming. Taylor has instructed me not to leave you alone with them, so I will be coming with."

Ethan looks up at the sky in exasperation. Clouds crowd the sky. He's pretty sure it will rain soon. "Yeah, whatever, but that doesn't mean you get a say in who we bring. But Taylor, would you be okay with it?"

Taylor shrugs. "I don't mind company. As long as it doesn't affect my scroll payout." 

Ethan gives Taylor a look. They smile and shrug, but Ethan can see through them. They clearly care more about the scrolls than they will admit in front of Andy. He nods, and starts walking over to Desca's house. She lives just next to the bookshop. Ethan pulls on the knocker, listening to bells sound throughout the house. 

Desca had invented this herself, and Ethan had been there when she had installed it. It had involved a fire in the entry way, Ethan getting a haircut, and a very grumpy town healer. The pair had promised never to speak of it again, but Ethan still looks at it with fondness.

He hears Desca call from inside. "Is that you, Ethan? You can come in!"

Ethan opens the door, and looks around. Desca is in the kitchen stirring a pot on the stove. "It is you!" She skips over, hugging him tightly. "How are you? You look less tired."

Ethan smiles, glancing at Taylor and Andy on the doorstep. "Yeah, I've been… resting." He pointedly does not mention that his version of resting is rotting in his own filth for days.

Desca looks over Ethan's shoulder, and lets go of him. "Who's this?"

He sighs, pointing to Andy. "That's the carpenter. Does shit with wood." After saying that, he realized what he said and twisted his face in amusement. Andy didn't catch onto the innuendo but Taylor did, and they grin behind Andy's back. On the street, it had started raining, Taylor scoots in closer to the door to try to get out of the rain.

Andy steps forward, holding out a hand. "My name is Andy, I live just south of here in the forests. I do make things out of wood, so if you are ever in need of anything, I can be of use."

Desca smiles fondly. "Well, I am an inventor so I will probably need a bunch of wood."

Ethan steps between the two. "Let me talk to my friend, thank you." Ethan looks back at Desca. "We are going on a bit of an adventure. Are you interested in coming?"

"Yeah, of course!" 

Ethan steps further inside, and he glances behind him. Taylor and Andy had run across the street in the rain, and were hiding out under the awning on Rachel's flower shop. It didn't seem to be doing very much, and Ethan could see the rain soaking their clothes.

"I recruited those assholes to help us. I lost my spellbook-"

"You what ?" While Desca is not invested in magic at all, she is still aware of its importance in Ethan's life. Perhaps not the entire importance, but enough of it.

"I did. But I need one to…" He doesn't want to get into it now, so he quickly changes the subject. "Anyway, I need a rotten spellbook."

"Does it have to be rotten?" Desca asks, and Ethan sighs. 

"Yeah, unfortunately."

Desca shivers. "God, this is why I don't like magic."

Ethan smiles stiffly. "I am teaming up with just a bunch of people that don't fuck with magic."

"Listen, I tried okay. Magic didn't like me first." She is referencing another thing that they swore to never talk about. This one had to do with the scar that Ethan sported on his arm after a failed attempt to put magic into an invention of Desca's for cutting carrots. The knife had decided it no longer wanted to be attached to the machine, and had resulted in another sullen trip to the healer in Giredale.

Instead of saying any of this, he smiles. "That's alright, I understand. Do you have a furnace I could borrow?"

Desca lets him inside and they prop the door open to let some of the morning air in. 

"So you do know them?" Desca asks, gesturing to the pair across the street as Ethan is putting some of his sandwiches he made earlier in to warm.

"Unfortunately. My stall is next to Andy's so we have to interact quite often. Then Sticky fingers, I'm surprised they're still here. I had thought they were banned from Giredale for life." Ethan takes one of the sandwiches out, opening it and taking a bite.

"Yeah, they own the bookshop now, and it's for real. I saw the lease they got for it, but frankly it might be forged, I'm pretty sure that they stole it-"

Taylor shouts and comes up to the door. "Hey hey, what are you talking about?" They are soaked through. Rain in Giredale is even worse than rain in Grimwyck.

Desca grimaces. "Uh, nothing, we actually aren't home, currently-"

Andy looks out past Taylor. "Hey, it's raining out here, can you like, let us in?"

"Oh right, okay, come in. Just stand on the mat, don't get the water too close to the cogs there, I don't want them rusting."

Ethan is still in the kitchen, and glances around. He smiles, then abandons the furnace and walks into the entryway still carrying his sandwich. "Hey, Desca, while the carpenter is here, it might be time to get some actual chairs." He gestures to the cardboard boxes that currently surround the table. 

He hears Andy remark quietly to Taylor:, "Oh look, he's doing business for me."

He doesn't comment, and Desca doesn't hear them. "You're probably right. Hey, Andy? Could I commission some kitchen chairs?"

Desca and Andy retreat to the kitchen, and Ethan is left in the entryway with Taylor. They have had civil conversations, but suddenly the air is suddenly thick and awkward. Ethan offers Taylor his sandwich, and they shrug and take it from him. Ethan then follows Desca and Andy, thankfully leaving Taylor and his sandwich behind.

"-don't really do interior design. I can just tell you what furniture would look good."

Ethan steps up to them. "I do interior design. I'd love to help you."

Andy rolls their eyes. "I'm sure you know all about interior design."

He meets their eyes. "Matter of fact, I do. How the fuck would you know? You've never been to my place."

"Of course I haven't, it's in crazy Grimwyck."

Ethan sits on one of the boxes at the table, crossing his arms. "It's actually outside of Grimwyck."

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to make you feel better." Andy remarks. Taylor has walked in, still eating his sandwich.

Ethan rolls his eyes at Andy. "I'm not talking to you anymore." He stands, walking to the furnace and removing the rest of the sandwiches.

As he packs food bags for the traveling group, Taylor comes up behind him. "Here, have a hat."

Ethan looks at the thing Taylor is holding. "I don't want your fucking hat."

"It's very rude to deny a gift, you know that?"

"Fuck off, I don't want your hat." Taylor puts the hat on his head and walks back over to where Andy is. They have conjured a board game from somewhere, and Taylor sits across from them at the table and they start the game. 

Desca comes over to him. "Nice hat, Ethan."

Ethan takes it off. "Fucking take it, I don't want it."

"Oh, wow thank you!" She puts it on over her goggles, which she seemed to have forgotten were on her head. 

Ethan finishes packing, and walks over to the table where Taylor and Andy are. He doesn't understand the rules, but Andy apparently wins in the short time Ethan is watching. "Ah fuck off, yeah I should have seen that." Taylor stands. 

Ethan glances between them. "Are you two ready to go?"

Andy shrugs as they stand. "Ready enough. Does anyone have a light?"

"Yeah," Ethan takes a lighter out of his pocket, and immediately hands it to Andy. They shift their backpack onto their lap, running the flame over a seam where the string had been coming out. 

"Thank you," Andy mutters, and hands it back. 

Desca gives him a look, but Ethan shrugs. He picks up the bags on the counter. "Here is food. I know some of you had deliveries with me, or at least Desca did. This is a free sample if not. I do food deliveries, if you're interested."

Andy looked at him. "What if I'm not interested?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any food?"

"No." Andy looked as if this was obvious.

"Then take the food for this journey, and decide if you want more for the next." Andy reluctantly took the proffered bag, and put it in their backpack. 

As they started out the door, Taylor looked at Desca with her hat. "Ah shit, I need my hat. Wait, I'll go get it."

They waited outside the bookshop as Taylor ran around inside looking for their hat. Ethan yawned, leaning against the wall. When Taylor next came out, they looked very put out. "What's wrong?" Ethan asked.

"I can't find my hat."

"You mean the hat you threw at me?"

Taylor glared at him. "You took my hat? Give me my hat back-"

"I gave it to Desca." 

Taylor looked at her. "Oh, that is my hat. Nevermind, you can have it Desca."

They started with Andy towards the bridge. Ethan hesitates, still baffled by the exchange. Then an inaccuracy strikes him. "Hold on, why the hell would I not be allowed to have it?"

Taylor called over their shoulder. "It doesn't suit you!"

Ethan and Desca catch up to them on the bridge. Taylor is far ahead of all of them, chasing what looks like a dragonfly. Ethan doesn't know much about the creatures; just that they're invasive and Ashlyn hates them. Desca chases after Taylor, and the two end up on the other side of the bridge far before Ethan and Andy.

Ethan glanced at them, and noticed not for the first time the bandages on their arms. Before, he had brushed it off as stylistic, but Andy seemed to run their hands over them often as if ensuring they're still there. "What even are those things on your arms?"

Andy's acid glare makes him regret even saying anything. They quickly reach out and shove him back a step. "Can you stop observing me? Are you obsessed with me or something?"

"I could say the same about you."

Andy scoffed. "I'm not walking around you staring at your arms, am I?"

"I was just looking at the fact that you have those weird fucking bandages on your arms."

Andy's head turned sharply. "Bandages??"

"Yeah, bandages."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I was just wondering. Are you injured or something?"

Andy shoved at Ethan's wrists where the bandages are still tightly wrapped. "You have a bandage there."

"Yeah, I'm fucking injured." As they had been arguing, they had reached the other side of the bridge. Taylor and Desca had left the dragonfly alone, and were now staring at them fighting. 

Taylor stepped up to them, brushing non-existent dust off Andy's shoulder. "I'm just gonna step in as I am uncomfortable with the current tension between you."

Desca sighed. "I'm not good at mediating."

A cleared throat, and then Taylor stepped up next to Ethan. "Where are we going?"

Ethan shoved them off, walking forward to meet Desca. "Wherever the fuck I want."

"Jesus, sorry I didn't know I wasn't allowed to ask a question."

"And we are traveling in silence!" Ethan called over his shoulder.

Andy laughed. "Ohh, he's angry." Taylor shoves them playfully, and Andy shoves them back, significantly harder, and they devolve into snickering. 

Desca caught up to him, and Ethan gritted his teeth and growled under his breath. "I am going insane." His hand was already sore from using his crutch.

"Did you really think this team was going to be a good idea?"

"I don't know what I thought, I just know I regret my previous choices."

Andy called after him. "Hey fish man! Your fly is down!" Ethan checked, and no, it was not.

This was going to be an extremely long day.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

"Fun facts!" Descs was skipping ahead of them, one hand on her hat to hold it on her head. They had only been walking for twenty or so minutes, but already Ethan was exhausted. Desca didn't seem to feel the tiredness even remotely, and her energy almost made Ethan feel better. "I heard that adventuring has a 75% chance of survival!"

Andy scoffed. "I feel like this adventure is going to be a lot lower."

"Oh I hope so." Taylor laughed from behind Ethan. "Let's aim for that one."

Ethan didn't need to look to know that they were pointing at him. 

They had reached a river. Ethan put a hand over his eyes, looking up. On the horizon was what he believed was the Giredale castle, which means the boat dock would be just across the river. He hadn't known whether he had wanted to take his boat or not, but while walking he decided it would be best. Not only was his leg bothering him more and more, but this way they would sail along coasts and stop by any villages found that way. It would be more efficient, and he could sit at the stern and not have to listen to Taylor and Andy griping.

He turned, taking the map out of his bag and tracing the path to the Giredale docks with his eyes. "We're going to cross the river here, my boat is at the dock, we can just take it from here."

Andy groaned. "You're kidding. We could have just taken your fucking boat all the way here but no, we had to go over a huge fucking mountain-"

"It was hardly a mountain."

"Near enough."

"Did we really go in a circle?" Taylor sighed dramatically. They had loosened the scarf around their neck, and tucked their hands into their pockets.

"Of course we did." Andy glared at him, malice evident in every line of their face. "Mr. Fish Man doesn't know where the hell we're going."

Still looking at the map, Ethan kicked out at Andy's leg. "Will you shut the fuck up and let me think?"

After a moment's silence, Taylor spoke up again. "Your boat is really fucking hard to drive by the way."

Ethan looked up from the map slowly, meeting Taylor's eyes. They had driven his fucking boat ??? Taylor seemed to see the anger in his eyes, and took a step back. "Hey, wait, hold on-"

"You drove my fucking boat?" Ethan reached for the knife at his belt. He wasn't actually going to use it. Probably.

Taylor shook their head, holding their hands up in surrender. "Actually that boat has never moved. I've never been on that boat in my life."

Andy smiles, clearly not intimidated by Ethan's posed threat. "We definitely didn't have a bonding experience on that boat.

Ethan's head snapped to look at Andy. " You've been on my boat??"

"Maybe if your boat wasn't so fucking oversized people wouldn't be inclined to go on it." Taylor had (shakily) put their hands back in their pockets, confidence boosted by Andy's presence.

Desca raised her hand tentatively. "I've been on your boat."

He waved her off, still fuming. "Desca, you're fine. I invited you on my boat. Taylor, I expected to steal my boat. I just didn't expect Andy to have been on my boat."

The carpenter's brow furrowed, and they raised an eyebrow. "I never said I was on your boat. I actually rather explicitly said I wasn't on your boat. Are you having trouble hearing?"

A hand on Ethan's shoulder cuts off his next snide remark. Desca smiled, stress in every line of her face. "Let's stop arguing. Come on, Giredale is this way, isn't it?"

They started walking again, and Ethan tucked the map into his back pocket. He couldn't believe this. His boat, one of his most prized possessions, had been in the hands of Sticky Fingers. It irked him to no end.

As they reach the river, one of the fairies that reside in the area shoots down and sprinkle some of their fairy dust on his head. Ethan ducked, brushing it off his hair as quickly as possible, but it was too late. He could already feel the muscle weakness that the fairy dust inflicted on humans. He didn't understand the fucking creatures. Ashlyn loved them, and they were a staple of her tavern in Grimwyck, but Ethan hated to be around them. Especially when they had to go and curse him.

He sighed, muttering angrily under his breath. "I fucking hate these fairies."

Taylor snickered from behind him. "Well, maybe they don't like you either."

Ethan turned, ready to give an awfully clever remark that he had definitely thought of when Andy spoke up. "Wait, what are we talking about? Fairies? You mean the butterflies?"

Taylor and Ethan both turned to look at them almost in sync. Taylor shook their head. "Jesus, pull yourself together mate."

Ethan shakes his head. The weakness in his muscles was fading. Luckily, the curses the fairies administered didn't tend to last longer than a few moments. "Your refusal to see the world as it is is remarkable. I almost admire you for your stubbornness."

"It isn't stubbornness, I'm just not delusional."

"Yeah, alright." Ethan looked away. "We can cross here, the river's not too deep."

They crossed the river with an abundance of complaining from Taylor and Andy behind him. Desca didn't seem to mind at all, running ahead of them all in the knee-deep water. Once they reached land, it was only a five minute walk to the port. Ethan's boat was the only one docked, and he was relieved to see that it wasn't damaged. Desca immediately jumped in, resting on one of the seats and taking several pieces of metal out of her pockets and beginning to tinker with them. Ethan leaned down, untying the boat. 

Taylor walked up behind him. "Man, nothing good happens on this boat."

Ethan turned to look at them. "How would you know?"

"Fine, I admit it, I went on the fucking boat, but I'm telling you, it is a murder machine."

Andy crossed their arms, also looking at his boat critically. "Nothing even happened on it, but I don't like the feeling it gives me."

"The feeling it gives you? That's absurd, Andy."

Andy glared at him. "I'm sorry that I have a bad feeling about something. I didn't know that wasn't allowed."

Ethan waved them off. "Maybe it's because you didn't have the fucking guy who owns the boat steering it."

"I was driving it." Taylor muttered. "I'm not a bad boat driver."

He scoffed, rubbing his thumb across the hand rest on his crutch. "That was the problem. No wonder you didn't make it far."

"Well excuse me, I actually took it very far away."

Ethan sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Where the hell did you take it?"

"Don't worry about it."

Ethan climbs onto the boat, walking easily across the deck and releasing the sails. Taylor and Andy follow him reluctantly. Ethan tugs on the rope, letting the sails flap in the wind and tying them to the deck.

He heard Taylor whisper to Andy, "There's fucking sails on this thing?" Ethan turned, meeting their eyes. "Uh, I mean, I obviously knew that, and I put them out and that's why the boat was moving so fast."

Ethan rolled his eyes, walking up to the stern and steering the boat from the docks. His sails catch the wind immediately, and they sail easily beneath the bridge and out onto Aldwynn seas. He has a faint idea as to where they are going to go. East first, then they'll go down past Coalhaven and into the sea. After that, he has no idea. 

They sailed for an hour or so in silence. As the sun began to set, Desca had set out a lantern so she could see as she tinkered with her gears. Taylor and Andy had laid on the deck together, pointing at the sky and muttering together. Ethan is already tired; first from walking, then from the mental workout it was to communicate with Taylor and Andy. 

The darker it got, the more uneasy Taylor seemed to get, until they got up and came over to him. "I do warn from previous experience being in the middle of the ocean on a boat at night probably isn't a good idea."

Ethan sighed. He was tired, and Taylor probably had a point. Sea dragons got more active at night, and while they weren't necessarily in Sea dragon territory, there was still the chance of one being nearby. "I'll find a place to stop for the night."

Taylor nodded, and walked back over to Andy. They whispered within each other, and Ethan couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about. He felt almost left out in a stupid fit of insecurity. Obviously he didn't want to be included with them, he didn't like them. But he wanted to know what they were saying. 

He saw shore maybe ten minutes later. He didn't think much about the location, just pulled up next to a bunch of rocks and got out the anchor. 

"There are sleeping bags in the hull. Start a fire while I get the boat situated."

Surprisingly, they didn't object, picking up their things and getting out of the boat. Desca had tucked whatever she had made into her pocket, and the three of them recovered his stock of sleeping bags from the hull and set up on the sandy beach. Ethan let down the sails, and set the rudder so it wouldn't turn. 

When he finishes with the boat, Andy had started a fire and the three of them are gathered around on the sand. Desca is telling them about how she became an engineer. 

"It was actually Ethan who inspired me. I saw how he worked with magic, and I was curious how I could make the art of automation more accessible for those uncomfortable with it. I do a lot of work in Coalhaven for the people there."

Ethan settled next to Desca on the sleeping bag on the sand, and ran a hand through his hair. Coalhaven made him endlessly uncomfortable. Not only would he be shot dead upon entry for being a magic user, but they had a long history of war and fighting. 

The original Coalhaven had burned down in a long fight against dragons and the people of Giredale. The wars that had ensued were a staple of conversation for many of the people in Giredale. After Old Coalhaven had died, the Coalhaven now standing was built up around the idea of people looking for a new life. While their rules against magic are strict, it's a good place for those in need of a safe haven.

However, there is further history that only those with much interest in magic know. The establishment of New Coalhaven happened just after the wars, as many people retreated beneath the ground into the coal mines, creating a new society. Not much was known about them, just that they exist, and pose a constant threat. Today, the above ground Coalhaven is nearly empty, its citizens flocking to other places for cleaner air and streets. But the threat of New Coalhaven dwindles in the back of Ethan's mind at all times. 

Ethan blinks and tunes back into the conversation. Andy was looking intrigued by the idea of Desca's inventions. "So, what kind of things do you make?"

"Automation! I've made an automated sorting system, so when I get back from trips I can put all of my things into the sorter and it will automatically put them into different bins according to its use."

"Do you do anything for like, debarking trees?"

Desca furrowed her brow. "I don't think I have. I haven't had any reason to."

Andy shrugged. "If you ever need anything to work on, I would be willing to pay if there's an easier way to do it."

Desca smiled. "Alright. I'll look into the idea."

There's a beat of silence, before Ethan rushes to fill it. He doesn't like the idea of silence with Andy and Taylor, two of his greatest enemies, sat across from him. "Do you wanna tell them about that time you forgot to connect the coolant pipes to an engine and turned it on at full power?"

She groaned, rubbing her face. "No, I do not."

Ethan laughed, turning to Taylor and Andy. "I will. The shit absolutely fucking exploded, it was so funny. She was in Grimwyck at the time, or at least on the edge of it, because she couldn't get the permits to do it in Giredale, obviously, so I get a knock on my door at like eleven, its pitch black out and she is just absolutely soaked through."

"Why?" Taylor looked confused. 

Desca sighed. "I had put the engine in the dirt next to a river, because then if it caught on fire I could just, like, shove it in. I hadn't expected the blast though, so I was shoved into the river. Luckily though, the blast was contained, and it put itself out fast enough."

Taylor turned to Andy. "Rachel told me that you and your dad had a lot of experiences with fire when you were traveling. You should tell us about those."

Andy immediately lost all humor on their face. "No."

Ethan frowned. "Why not?"

They looked at him, and Ethan immediately regretted the question. "Because it's none of your fucking business."

Storytime quickly ends after that, and they all curl up in the sleeping bags. Ethan is up for a long time, staring at the sky. It isn't magical insomnia this time, just too many thoughts running through his head. He is curious about Andy for a lot of reasons. Their refusal to see magic is one thing, but they are so shut-mouthed about their past it confuses him. 

Ethan had liked their father, and had actually spent a lot of time with him designing furniture for his house. When he had told Ethan about leaving to go on a journey with Andy, he had said goodbye like he had expected not to come back. He wanted to know more about what had happened on that trip, but with Andy's current attitude towards him he wasn't sure he would ever get an answer.

Chapter Text

Ethan dreams of Grimwyck. 

He sees it before the sculk infestation, when it was still a strong community. He is young, running through the woods, skipping past mangroves and under vines. The sun is out, and he is warm and happy. He loves his town. He wants to be here forever.

He runs up to the greenhouse, and sees his father inside. He calls out, trying to catch his attention, but his father doesn't look up. There is a prickling on the back of his neck. His father still doesn't see him. He turns, and sees a creeping blue-green darkness from the forest. 

It is suddenly cold. 

He yells again, shouting and screaming as loud as he can. His father is frozen, kneeling on the floor of the greenhouse, caring to a young Golem Ethan doesn't recognize. He's crying, shaking in fear of the darkness coming towards him. 

In a moment, it's like time slows down. He is curled up at the edge of the garden, arms wrapped around his knees. A figure steps out of the darkness, coming nearer. Wherever it goes, it spreads sculk. The vines dig into the ground, humming their dissonant song and shaking the ground. Ethan looks up and meets the eyes of the creature. 

It reaches out, and touches his face. Ethan feels the sculk climbing into him, entering through his mouth and nose, crawling into his lungs and shutting his air flow. He meets the eye of the creature as the sculk makes it into his heart. He is no longer breathing. 

" Ethan! " It must be his father calling out. Finally noticing that he is in danger. His father had never noticed him, never cared for him like he should have. " Ethan, wake up! "

It's a trick of course. He is awake. His consciousness is fading, his heart slowing… 

"Ethan, wake the fuck up!"

Ethan's eyes snap open, and he meets Taylor's eyes. It takes a moment to realize what is happening. It is so incredibly loud. It wasn't this loud when he fell asleep, it was peaceful. He suddenly realizes how hot it is. He's uncomfortably warm. Fire crackles, but they had put out the fire, hadn't they?

He blinks, still sluggish from sleep. Taylor shakes him harder. "Ethan, there's a fucking dragon! Desca is out cold and Andy's gone to fuck all nowhere."

That wakes him up. He climbs to his feet, scanning the area. There is in fact a fucking dragon, as Taylor so elegantly put it. It seems tied to one of the trees by some kind of netting. Unable to move, it is blowing fire angrily into the sky. He scans his surroundings. There is a large tree across their camp, the ash from yesterday's fire scattered across the sand. The tree is on fire, the smoke from the branches a sickly sweet smell in the air. Andy is gone, but their backpack is still laying on the sand. 

Taylor flips around, taking a bow and arrow from their bag and notching an arrow. They've released before they even seemed to aim, but the arrow hits the dragon on one of the chinks in its armor. 

Ethan glances around for Desca. She is lying at the base of a tree, a large bruise on her head. "What happened to her?"

Taylor is still shooting at the dragon, obviously focused, but they still respond, speaking over their shoulder. "Fucking thing woke us up by uprooting a tree." That explains the tree in the camp . "She got the brunt of it, but luckily it was just one of the branches that hit her, not the main trunk or whatever. I have no idea where Andy is, they ran off the second the dragon appeared. You were out like a light, I thought you were dead, so I used one of those scrolls you gave me. Meant to get its head, but I missed and got its feet. The spell said it would only last for a couple minutes though so we don't have much time. I'm just trying to get it down now."

Ethan had run over to Desca, picking her up. She was heavy, but not unbearably so. "Come on, we can look for shelter. Grab my crutch, will you?"

Taylor reluctantly lowered their bow, picking up Andy's backpack and Ethan's crutch and following Ethan as he ran beneath tree cover. There is an old game trail here, and he follows it through the trees. A couple minutes later, they hear the dragon roar as it breaks free of its bonds. "Shit," Ethan mutters, still looking around desperately for any shelter.

A strong wind rustles the trees, and Ethan turns to look into the gust. There is a cottage there, as if by a miracle. Behind him, he hears Taylor saying something about arrows, but he can't focus enough to hear them. 

They reach the cabin in one piece. There is no one inside except items that have been knocked off the counters onto the floor. It seems that someone passed through in a rush. Probably to escape the dragon outside.

Ethan set Desca on the floor, checking her pulse. She's still breathing, and her heart rate is normal, if slow. She should wake up soon. Taylor ran in behind him, slamming the door and leaning against the wall, knuckles white on their bow. 

The dragon roars outside, and Taylor flinches. Ethan decides then that Taylor should stay inside. It's enough that they're anxious from the traveling. The addition of a dragon will do nothing to help. At least the three of them are safe here. Then his stomach drops.

Andy .

They are somewhere out there with the dragon. It has seemingly abandoned the cottage, and Ethan thinks wherever the dragon is is where he will find Andy.

Ethan puts his bag on the ground, then unties his scabbard, putting the sword on the floor next to his backpack. He takes his knife out in one hand, and walks to the door, looking outside. He can't see the dragon. He carefully unlocks the door, and starts to inch it open.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Ethan doesn't turn to look at Taylor. "Stay here and take care of Desca. I'm going to look for Andy."

He steps outside, and hears Taylor's protests behind him as he closes the door. But he doesn't turn. Looking up at the sky, he listens carefully for any sound. He hears a roar near the water, and immediately starts after it, ducking under branches and jumping over logs. The forest has been destroyed by the dragon, and apparently not just from today. 

The dragon seemed to have been residing here for a long time. Interestingly, there isn't a nest anywhere near. If there was, they'd be able to smell it. Dragon nests infamously reek of rotten eggs. The dragon must be lost, or driven out of its home by something else. Ethan abandons this train of thought as he reaches the shoreline, and sees the dragon on top of a large outcrop. It is staring into a cave beneath the rocks, roaring with frustration. 

He hears a shout, then an axe is thrown out of the cave and hits the dragon's scales. Unfortunately, it bounces off. Dragon scales are extremely tough. Ashlyn makes swords out of them, and Ethan has heard of their lasting durability and strength. In order to kill a dragon, you either need to hit the small chinks in the scales as the dragon moves, or go through the mouth.

Still, the axe provides an appropriate distraction. The dragon chases the weapon, following it into the grasses west of the shore. Ethan takes the opening and runs, jumping off the outcrop and into the sand, then crawling into the cave. 

Andy is there, and they are worse for wear. Their hair is wet with sand mixed into the curls. Their shirt is torn, and there is a gash on their side. Ethan quickly shuffles over, holding out a hand. "Are you alright?"

They glare at him, shivering slightly. "I'm fine. The bitch ate my axe."

The cave they are in is small, and the tide is rising. They'll need to get out before long, and Ethan needs to look at that cut on Andy's side. The seawater could get it infected, and he doesn't want an infection on his hands without a healer nearby. Ethan glances back at the dragon. It is still distracted with the axe, tearing the metal off the wood. The dragon does it without catching on the sharp edges, and without snapping the handle.

For a moment, he marvels at the intelligence of these creatures. Ashlyn has always told him that they are smarter than they seem. Sheldon has shown him that time and time again, but Ethan had always doubted the plausibility of wild dragons having the same intellect. Sheldon has been thoroughly trained his entire life, of course he is smart; but as Ashlyn reminds him, the potential is in every dragon, wild or domesticated. 

Ethan turns back to Andy, inspecting their face carefully. They don't seem to be in too much pain. "Okay, we need to get to the center of the island. There's a cottage there where Taylor and Desca are. Are you good to run?" Andy nods shakily, shivering from the cold. "Okay. Follow me."

He wades out of the water, and immediately turns and climbs up the rock. It is rough, so he is able to catch footholds with ease. Behind him, he hears Andy curse as their wet shoes cause them to slip. Ethan gets to the top, and holds out a hand for Andy. Surprisingly, they take it, and Ethan pulls them up onto the rock. 

Once there, Ethan turns and runs carefully through the grass. He is trying to not make as much noise, but Andy doesn't seem to catch that memo, clunking through the dead grass and leaves like an elephant in a china room. The dragon roars, and Ethan grabs Andy's shoulder and drags them beneath cover of grass. 

He turns to them, whispering as the dragon roars and searches for them. "We need to be quiet."

"No shit,"

"You were the one being fucking loud!"

"No I wasn't! It was you and your fucking massive boots-" They gesture flippantly to Ethan's feet.

Ethan scoffs. "My boots are normal sized."

"They're twice the size of mine!"

"I'm twice your height!"

"No, you're fucking-" They are cut off as the dragon roars again, getting close now. They turn, narrowing their eyes at it. "I'm going to make a run for the cottage."

"That is a terrible fucking idea. You don't know where the cottage is, and besides you can't outrun a dragon."

"Sure I can."

Ethan rolls his eyes, amazed at the stubbornness of the person in front of him. "No, you can't. The muscles aren't going to help you there."

Andy shoves at him. "Can you stop talking about my muscles?"

"What the hell else do you think is going to save you? Your ego?"

"I'll be fine." They stand and start running immediately, luckily in the correct direction.

Fucking stubborn bastard.

The dragon, obviously, immediately starts to follow, roaring and shooting fire at the retreating figure of the carpenter. 

Ethan stands, running slightly east of where Andy had gone. He didn't want to follow behind the dragon, in case it turned and saw him. Ideally, he could round the back of the cottage and get in that way. He stops when he reaches a field of flowers. He can see the cottage from here, and will head there if he sees Andy or the dragon. He sits on a rock, resting his head on his hand and breathing carefully to slow his heart. 

A twig snaps behind him.

He flips around, expecting to see all manner of terrifying and deadly creatures. But it is instead Taylor, holding his sword and looking nervous. They still have their backpack on, and it rests on one shoulder. 

"What the hell are you doing here? Where is Desca?"

Taylor looks taken aback at his hostility. "She is fine , thank you. She woke up and told me to come help."

"Help with what?? Now we are all going to die and Desca is going to be alone in that cottage."

Taylor crosses their arms, sitting down next to Ethan. "Where the hell is Andy anyway? You went out to find them."

"I did find them. But they immediately went and ran off being chased by the fucking dragon."

"Trying to get back to the house I assume."

He sighs. "You would be correct."

Ethan looks around, taking a better catalog of his surroundings. There is a river behind them that splits the island in two. On the other side, there are more trees, but no shelter. He stands up, and holds out a hand for Taylor. "Let's go to the cottage. I don't see the dragon and it worries me."

Taylor takes his hand, but before they are able to stand there is a massive roar and heat flares across Ethan's back. 

"Fuck!" Ethan drags Taylor to their feet, and they race towards the river. He jumps into the water the second he is close enough, dousing the fire on his back. He can't tell, but it doesn't seem the fire was able to burn too much of his clothes. They were already wet from being in the cave with Andy, which would prevent full burns on his skin. But there is still irritation there, and Ethan yearns for his backpack which has all manner of first aid that could assist him now.  

The dragon is sitting, looking between the river and the trees, deciding between something. When asked, Ethan responds and says, "It's a fire dragon. It probably can't swim."

"Are you okay?" Taylor shifts in the water, looking at his back. "You've, uh, got a wee hole there."

"Yes, thank you for letting me know, I am aware." Ethan ducks under the cool water, letting it soothe his hot, irritated skin. When he resurfaces, he brushes the extra water from his hair. He looks to where the dragon was, and sees it chasing a figure. "Shit, it's after Andy."

Without thinking twice, he shouts and splashes. The dragon looks around, and they seem to meet eyes. Ethan is struck by the beauty of this creature; deep green scales and bright red eyes, with wide, strong wings and glimmering black horns. When it breathes, smoke escapes its nostrils from the fire pent up in its stomach. It starts towards them, its steps shaking the water. 

Taylor shoves him. "The hell did you do that for?"

"Would you rather it get Andy?"

As it gets closer, Ethan turns and swims across the river, climbing up onto the opposite bank. Taylor climbs up next to him, breathing deeply. The dragon is stuck on the other side of the water, flapping its wings angrily and breathing fire into the air. 

"Why doesn't it just… fly over here."

Ethan cocks his head, looking at the dragon carefully. Now that he is inspecting it, he sees long rips along its wings. One of the fingers in its left wing has broken, curved at an awkward angle.  "Can it fly? Look at its wings."

Taylor furrows their brow. "Those are new. Did Andy do that?"

"I don't know." He searches the field behind the dragon for any sign of Andy, but sees nothing.

"You know," Taylor looks at him curiously, "for someone who doesn't like Andy very much you seem to care a lot about them."

Ethan turns to look at them, setting his jaw. "I'm just watching after my team. I'm not heartless."

Taylor smiles, a strange look in their eye. "Right. I'm sure." After another moment of watching the dragon, they speak up again. "So what do you propose we do?"

He shrugged, resting against a tree and looking at the dragon across the water. "Sit here and watch it, I guess. As long as it's distracted it's not going after Andy or Desca."

They sit and catch their breath. Taylor has taken their backpack off, resting it on their lap and messing with the straps. It catches Ethan's eye. He likes the design of it. The clasps are bronze, and the leather is a deep black. He has seen this design before; Andy's is very similar. He remembers his own backpack, lost to the people that kidnapped him. 

Ethan shifts, turning to face Taylor a little more. "I like your backpack."

Taylor regards him skeptically. "Thank you?" It's more of a question than a statement, and they are obviously confused by his choice of conversation.

"Where'd you get it?"

Taylor sniffs, rubbing water off their face and shifting the backpack towards Ethan. "Rachel. She makes them, and puts waterproofing on them if you ask nicely."

Ethan whistles appreciatively. "I'll have to stop by. I like the design of it."

Taylor narrows their eyes at him. "Why are you being nice to me? Don't you have a blood pact to hate me until the end of time?"

He set his jaw. It has been so pleasant. No one talking about their past, and no one starting arguments. Of course Taylor decided the best time to create an argument is when half their team is missing and possibly at risk of being attacked by a dragon. "No, I just don't trust you. But you do seem to be doing better, so I'm repairing relations."

Taylor threw up their hands slightly, noticeably frustrated. "Can you let it go? I did a bad thing, I served my time. Now let me live past it, please. Stop bringing it up."

"You stole from my family, Taylor, I can't just let that die. We didn't have much to begin with, and-"

The dragon roars one last time, then turns and rumbles off into the forest again. They stop arguing and watch it. Taylor breaks their anxious silence. "Do you think it's after Andy again?"

Ethan sighs, standing. "Probably."

"While it's distracted, let's get on the other side of the river."

They swim back across, and Ethan wrings water out of his trousers and shirt as they hurry to where the dragon went. They see a trail of burnt flowers, then a bit on a tree that's burning. They head through the trees, following the path of embers, until they reach the beach again. 

The dragon is nowhere to be seen, but Andy is resting on the sand. They have removed one of their shoes, and resting their leg in the water while gently washing their ankle. Taylor follows Ethan as he jumps onto the sand, walking over to where Andy is. Now that he is closer, Ethan can see that their trousers are burned. There are streaks of ash on their face, and the ends of their hair are charred. Ethan looks at their ankle, and sees what must be at least a second degree burn.

Taylor steps up, putting their hands on their waist and looking at Andy. "You look like you've had a run in with a dragon or something."

They sit on the beach until Andy has washed the ash off of their face and arms. Taylor had suggested jokingly to cut the singed edges off their hair, but they refused, muttering about Rachel doing it when they got home. 

Taylor looks at Ethan, then back at Andy. "I think you should go full bald."

Ethan rolls his eyes. "You should not do that."

Andy looks at him, obviously not impressed by him sharing his opinion. "You might be onto something Taylor. I'll consider it."

Frustrated with their dislike of him, Ethan gives it up. "It's your love life you're fucking with, not mine."

Andy opens their mouth to protest when the dragon returns. Ethan can't help but wonder where it keeps going. It seems to struggle to focus on one thing at a time. As they run to the cottage, Ethan considers whether dragons can have ADHD, and mentally notes to ask Ashlyn whenever she returns. 

The cottage is dark, but that isn't surprising. As Ethan bursts through the door, he quickly looks around for Desca. She is laying on the floor, eating an apple. "Are you okay?"

Desca nods, leaning her head back against the wall. "I'm not sure it wants to burn the cottage down. It's kind of been avoiding it. I'm glad you're okay."

As Taylor and Andy barrel in after him, they slam the door and crowd into the small cottage. It seems to get smaller the more people are inside. Ethan pointedly does not acknowledge the itchy feeling beneath his skin at the cramped space, and reverts his attention back to Desca. "How are you feeling?" He leans down, placing the back of his hand on her forehead. He is worried about a concussion, but her pupils weren't dilated. 

"I'm good. Just a little dizzy is all."

Ethan stands and walks to the window, looking outside. The dragon is stalking back and forth in the woods. Ethan is sure it saw them enter this cottage, so why doesn't it follow? What frightens it so much about this place? Ethan heard a grunt behind him, and turned to see Andy laying against the wall holding their side, looking slightly green. 

"Are you okay, Andy?"

They avoid meeting his eyes. "I'm fine. Just catching my breath."

"Let me see that cut," Ethan muttered, and walked over to them, holding out a hand. 

Andy pushed him back, holding out their hand. "I'm not showing you shit. You don't need to fix me because you feel sorry for me. Let me be."

"I'm not fucking fixing you, I'm helping you. I won't touch my magic, but if you let that get infected you won't make it out of this adventure alive. You don't want to reinforce Desca's statistic, do you?" Ethan met their eyes. Brown on blue. Light and dark. Good and evil. 

They take a deep breath, and let it out through their teeth. "Fucking fine. But I'm not taking my shirt off."

"Never said you had to." Ethan waited patiently as Andy lay on the floor, and carefully prepared his first aid kit. 

He was no healer. In terms of healing, he was rather inexperienced. But he knew how to sew a cut closed and sterilize an area. And that was better than anyone else here right now. As he doused a needle in sterilizing liquid, he turned to Andy. "The shirt doesn't need to come off, but pull it up. I don't want to accidentally sew your shirt into your skin."

Andy grimaces, and pulls up their shirt to expose the gash across their side. Ethan threads the needle with precision, then shifts so he is leaned over Andy, and looks at the cut. No infection, but there is sand in it. "I need to wash it out. Do you need to bite on something, or can I trust you to not bite your tongue off?"

"Shut the fuck up and do your job, fish man."

Ethan grits his teeth, and definitely doesn't push extra hard with the gauze as he washes off the cut, as that would be terribly petty and unethical. 

He quickly sewed the cut closed, careful to keep his stitches as even as possible. Every so often a muscle in Andy's abdomen twitched that showed they were in pain, but it didn't show in their face or in their voice. Ethan tied off the suture, then cut it, dousing the cut in more antibacterial wash, and taping gauze around their abdomen. When he was finished, Andy tugged down their shirt, muttering resentful thanks and climbing to their feet.

Ethan watched them go, breathing deeply. He had their blood on his hands and an ache in his fingers from the suture. He realized then, with a sigh, that he had been deeply worried about their well-being. They didn't get along, he hated their guts, he would prefer to never see them again, but he had been worried about them. 

With a deep breath, he turned back to the group. "Right. What's the plan now?"

Desca was looking at her map. "I realized I've been here before. There's an interesting place, maybe a day's sail up river from here that I'm pretty sure has all sorts of magic stuff in it. I've never been inside, but I've passed by once or twice and thought about stopping in. It looks abandoned."

Andy scoffed. "You really think we are in the condition to keep going? Taylor has no arrows, Desca was knocked out and probably has a concussion, and you are missing half of your shirt." Andy gestured flippantly at him. 

Taylor met Ethan's eyes. They had a considerate look in their eyes. "Ethan, if we end now, you won't give me the rest of my scrolls, will you?"

Ethan hesitated. He wanted to claim that he would, but he really didn't think they had earned them yet. Not only had he not found his spellbook, but they had barely been gone a full day. The worth of those scrolls was not equal to the trip they had taken. 

"No, I probably won't. You are welcome to go on another adventure with me another time if you really want to go home now, but I'm going to keep going."

Taylor seemed to war with themself, then sighed. "Fine. I'll keep going."

"Are you insane?" Andy exclaimed. "This is a suicide mission. We've all almost died at least twice, and there's still a fucking dragon outside." 

Ethan didn't know what to say to that. While they were right, Ethan didn't really care about the risk. Without his spellbook, all of the 'risk' that Andy was so concerned with with be nothing compared to what would happen to him. He didn't even know if he would make it to the next year. Andy shook their head, and turned, running straight out the door. 

"Andy!" Taylor called after them, but they didn't turn back, disappearing into the woods. The dragon followed, roaring angrily. Taylor stopped at the threshold. "I really shouldn't follow, I'm not gonna be able to do shit."

Ethan sighed, staring into the trees. "No, you won't. Just stay here for now. We'll wait for Andy to come back while we think about what to do."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Ethan spent the next few hours looking out the window, watching the dragon. 

Wracking his mind, he let himself forget about the exhaustion from the last few days and focused completely on the problem at hand. His best friend was a dragonologist. She must have told him something that could help. Ethan leaned up against the wall, looking out the window. The dragon was still pacing back and forth. It was a fire dragon; that much was unfortunately far too evidenced by the holes in his shirt and the minor burns on his arms. But Ashlyn's dragon, Sheldon, was also a fire dragon. 

He had been to Ashlyn's tavern many times and seen the dragon. Ashlyn found him one stormy night on her travels, and they had trusted each other enough to keep one another safe. Now, the creature and her were so magically intertwined that it functioned as a physical booster for Ashlyn's health. When Sheldon was awake, it took some small fraction of power from those in its surroundings and gave it to Ashlyn, to increase her stamina and reduce exhaustion. The place was only open as the sun went down, because that was when Sheldon fell asleep, and people wouldn't become weaker by stepping on Ashlyn's property.

The dragon fell asleep at night .

"Guys, I've got it!"

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "What?" They had made a makeshift bed on the floor using their scarf. They had taken a sketchpad out of their backpack, and was drawing the dragon. Ethan hadn't known that they could draw. 

"The dragon sleeps at night. I'm almost positive. Once it gets dark we can just run out."

"Yeah, one problem with that," Taylor gestured next to them. "Andy's gone to fuck themself."

At that, as if speaking them into existence, Andy bursts in the door, slamming it shut behind them. "Where the hell were you?" Ethan asks, looking them up and down. 

They are smoking. Actually. Their pant legs seem to have caught on fire, and while no longer actively burning, the embers make a trail of smoke leading upwards. 

Andy took off their bag, putting it on the ground. Ethan heard a thunk as it hit the ground. "I was getting supplies." They grabbed a wooden handle sticking out of the bag, and pulled it out. 

Ethan's eyes followed it. "You left to get an axe? Really?" 

They shrugged. "When I was running from the dragon before, I saw a pillager tower. I just stopped by, and they had one of these."

Ethan was about to protest further, but Taylor cut him off. "Ethan figured out how to get out of here, didn't he?" They turn on him, raising an eyebrow and clearly telling him to shut the fuck up . 

Setting his jaw, he made a point to give Taylor a particularly nasty glare. "Yeah, I did. Put out the fire on your trousers, I'll explain."

Chapter Text

They got out of the cottage easily after the sun set. The dragon had curled up on the hillside, wrapping its wings around itself, and huffing a steady trail of smoke into the sky. They were a ragtag group; Ethan carried Desca on his back, as her head was still hurting her, and Andy had to shove Taylor several times to make them walk quieter. They had no idea how fitful a sleeper it may be, and had to be very quiet.

Once on the boat, they sailed away as fast as possible. Ethan looked over his shoulder at the dragon on the hill, and noted how beautiful it looked in the sunset. He would be forever fascinated by these creatures. Perhaps not to the extent of Ashlyn, but their attributes and behavior were beautiful to him. They sailed up the river, and just like Desca had said there was a small house nestled between trees. Desca pointed it out to him, and he nodded and immediately prepared to land.

The boat docks on the shore, sliding up onto the sand just slightly. Immediately, Taylor stumbled out of the boat, collapsing onto the sand and holding onto their stomach. "I'm gonna be sick. I don't like that fucking boat."

"Well my boat doesn't like you." Ethan got out of the boat much more gracefully, ignoring Taylor's huddled figure and walking towards the building half-hidden by the trees. It was tall, maybe three stories, with shuttered windows and large arches across every doorway. It was a deep magenta color, which not only made it stand out against the greenery, but also gave it a sense of secrecy and foreboding. 

The realization comes rather suddenly and aggressively. He knows this building. 

Dark figures in the night, shaky limbs and hushed breathing. Darkness. His hands tied behind his back. Darkness. The pain on his knees from kneeling. Blood, acid, and darkness. A grating pain across his wrists. His spellbook, gone. 

His wrists pang with the memory of pain embedded into his still fresh wounds. "I've been here. This is where I lost my spellbook." 

Desca comes up behind him. "What was that?"

"My spellbook. The people that were here stole it from me."

She looks at him for a moment, then nods and sets her jaw. "Then let's give them hell."

Ethan nods, then holds out a hand. "Wait here. I'll check to make sure the entrance is safe."

Unfortunately, Ethan quickly realized there was absolutely no one there for him to confront. He had ducked his head inside, expecting to see all manner of demons and attackers. While it had been empty when he had left it, he was sure they would be there now. But there was absolutely nothing. The building is almost frighteningly empty and silent. 

What Ethan would give to have them still be inside. They didn't deserve life, and they didn't deserve to escape. He almost yearned to see anyone so he could get out this boiling anger . 

Desca came up behind him as he had stopped, looking into the building herself. "They aren't here, are they?"

"No." Ethan clenched his jaw, feeling the fury running through his blood, hot and sticky beneath his skin. It was a frightening rage. He almost yearned to hit Desca , just to express his anger.

Taylor and Andy, oblivious to Ethan's feelings, push past him into the building. After nodding comfortingly, Desca follows after them. Ethan breathes deeply, then steps inside. 

It is dark. Taylor has lit one of the lanterns on the wall, but the light it casts is green and eerie. Ethan steps back into the bookshelves, looking around. He can see the evidence of his frantic searching scattered across the floor. It's unnerving to see the aftermath of his panic. 

Now in a better state of mind, he is able to take in his surroundings more completely. There are burned inscriptions on the walls in a language he recognizes, but cannot read. The traditional magic script, while dated, is still present in some circles. He needs to get around to learning it; most magic users are fluent, but Ethan has never found the time.

As he is walking, he sees another crack in the floor, similar to the trapdoor that had kept him in the attic. He kneels, leaning heavily on his cane to get to his knees. As he slips his fingers around the crack, he sees a pattern in the wood grain. They all lead to the center. He carefully puts pressure on the middle, and feels a mechanism beneath. More pressure, and then there's a click, and the trapdoor swings open. 

Inside, he finds a chest. He can hear the others upstairs, scraping things across the floor and talking loudly, but in that moment, he swears that the world is quiet. Inside are three tightly bound scrolls and a small pot of enchanted ink. The ink glimmers various colors as he turns it in the dim light. It will be incredibly useful when he finds his rotten spellbook as enchanted ink is needed to activate it.

A loud bang from upstairs startles him and he almost drops the ink back into the chest. Taking a deep breath, he returns to the scrolls. He carefully unravels the first, and feels his heart skip a beat. Green magic . 

With the loss of his spellbook, the task of building a new one is endlessly daunting. Not only will he have to find a rotten spellbook, but he will also have to imprint his spells into it manually. Either he will have to remember the spells and channel them into the book, which could take years, or he can use a scroll to enchant the book automatically, quartering the length it would originally take him. Having green scrolls means an increased variety of spells he will be able to use after creating his book. 

The other two aren't green, but he keeps them anyway. Either he will give them to Taylor, or horde them for a rainy day. Breathing a sigh of relief, he carefully ties the scrolls together and places them in the bottom of his back in a waterproof pouch. This pouch is usually for his spellbook, but now he uses it for the pieces of his new one. 

"Ethan!"

He glances up, listening. That was Desca. She didn't seem to be worried, but it worried Ethan. He didn't know what the hell Andy and Taylor were doing up there, but probably some dumb shit that would put Desca in danger. He quickly slings his bag over his shoulder, and darts up the stairs. 

Desca was, in fact, not being tortured by Andy and Taylor. She was instead holding a small blue fairy with bright wings, laughing brightly. "Look! We found her in the ceiling!"

"In the-" Ethan looked up, and saw a pile of crates leading up to the hole he had made in the ceiling. He could hear Andy and Taylor in the attic, laughing about something. What were they doing?

"Can I keep her?" 

"I- I don't know you're welcome to, if she doesn't mind." He feels itchy. Now that he is holding these scrolls, he wants nothing more than to leave . If the people that robbed him come back, he is dead, and so are his friends. "We need to leave, Desca. Please, get Andy and Taylor out of there."

"Okay, I'll-" As she's about to start climbing the crates, the fairy darts from her hands and shoots down the stairs. "No!" Desca quickly chases after it. 

Ethan sighs. "Right then, I'll do it."

He left his crutch leaning against the wall, and climbed the crates. Once he was in the ceiling, he regretted everything. "Ethan, grab a stack, we're taking these to the boat."

Ethan, not even all the way into the roof, paused on the crates. "Um, sorry?" He avoided looking at the floor, where there was dried sick still on the ground. There was also some of his blood on the walls from the wounds on his wrists. 

Taylor gestured to the ground. "Grab a stack." 

Ethan looks at the books stacked across the entire attic floor. "You're stealing their literature?"

"Well, aren't you negative?" Andy remarked, leaning against one of the bookshelves, holding several of the ancient books.

Ethan glared at Andy. "I'm not negative, just critical. Where are you planning on putting all of these?"

Taylor rolled their eyes. "In the fucking boat."

"You mean my fucking boat? What if I don't want you to put books in my boat?"

"You practically dragged me on this adventure, I want books out of it."

He was about to relent and pick up a stack of books when he saw Taylor remove a scroll from a cupboard on the wall. They looked it over dismissively, then put it in their bag. "Wait, Taylor, what kind of scroll was that?"

The look they gave him was so unimpressed Ethan almost considered giving up right then. "Why is that your business? I found it. It's mine."

"I'm on this adventure for green scrolls and my spellbook. That's literally it."

"Well, you should have found it then."

"Don't take the things I'm here for, Taylor."

Taylor rolled their eyes. "The fuck do you think I'm here for? I found this chest!"

"Can you just-"

"Oh you are so dramatic." Ethan turned to see Andy carrying two stacks of books in both arms. "The end is worlding, Taylor took your little papers."

There is a moment where everyone paused, trying to figure out what Andy just said. Ethan hesitated, then, "The end is what?"

Andy furrows their brow, then, "Wait, I think-"

But it is too late. In a moment Ethan is on the ground, clutching his stomach with laughter. Taylor falls back against the wall, holding the back of their hand to their mouth and slamming their head repeatedly against the wall as they howl. Andy crossed their arms, glaring. "I mean, that is how you sound to me. It makes no sense, like you and your little papers."

Tears beading at the corners of his eyes, Ethan smacks the floor. "I'm fucking crying, the end is worlding."

"Shut up!" Andy stalks over to him, and is obviously about to kick him, when Desca climbs up the crates into the attic. 

"Look at you guys getting along! You friends now?"

"Friends? Don't insult me." Andy shoves past him, and climbs down the crates holding the books. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

After placing all of the books in waterproof bags in the hull, they set off again. Ethan watches the house grow smaller behind them, and feels a looming sense of dread. There is something about leaving this place that gives him a feeling of inevitability about the future. Last time he had left this place, he was defeated. Now, he was taking the initiative and leaving to do something about it. That not only relieved him, but got him excited. 

They had been sailing for a couple hours. Taylor had fallen asleep on the prow, curled up around their backpack snoring peacefully. The exhaustion from running from a dragon must have gotten to them, and frankly Ethan can't blame them at all. In an ideal world, he would be sleeping too. But now, he is babysitting . 

Upon their keeper falling asleep, Andy (the grown adult) had come to bother Ethan instead of doing the sensible thing and leaving him the fuck alone. "Fish just keep jumping into my lap," Andy grumbles, throwing another trout back into the river. Ethan sighs, resting his head against the wheel. Desca was sitting beside him, but wasn't paying attention, focusing on a book in her lap.

"You're gonna smell like fish now. How terrible." He grumbled, rubbing his forehead against the wheel. He had a migraine throbbing in the back of his skull, and exhaustion weighed down his limbs.

Andy shrugged, brushing off their lap. "I'm just saying, I'm a better fisher than you."

"The term is fisherman," Ethan muttered, "And I'd love to see you actually fishing. The muscles aren't going to help you there."

"I'll show you how good I am at fishing."

"I can't wait to see it."

Desca had looked up, and was now turning her head back and forth between them watching their conversation. "Hey, guys, I'm still-"

Andy cut her off. "Can you fish without a fishing rod? Because I can." 

Ethan glared at them, and shook his head, turning back forward. "I'm not speaking to you any more."

Andy managed to shut their mouth for maybe thirty seconds, before bothering him again, holding up another fish. "Look, another fish jumped into my lap."

He sighed, rolling his eyes, and glancing at the fish as they threw it back into the water. "They are called flying fish for a reason, you know that? You're not special."

"Well there wasn't just flying fish."

Ethan busied himself with a rope on the deck. "I'm absolutely listening right now."

"There was an orange one, a blue one, and also a green one – that one kind of looked like you."

"Okay, wow."

Desca distracted Andy by taking out her notebook and asking them about what the ideal machine to de-bark trees would look like. While they talked ergonomics, Ethan was provided some measure of peace and quiet. 

They sailed in relative silence for the next couple hours. Taylor woke as the sun was setting, and immediately suggested they stop for the night. They found a village, and bought rooms for fifty emeralds a head. Taylor insisted Ethan pay for them, since he had dragged them along. Andy tried their hardest to convince him as well, but Ethan pointed out that Andy had kind of invited themself, and if anyone had to pay for them it would be Taylor. Andy let up then, begrudgingly handing the money over. 

That night, Ethan lay in bed with his hands behind his head listening to Desca soft breathing in the bed across from him. His leg ached, but there was a foreign feeling surrounding it now; almost akin to a cold towel wrapping the knee. 

It was temperate in the room, and Ethan was wrapped in blankets, but the coldness was in his bones. He fell asleep shivering.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

"Andy, get out of my boat."

"I'm not gonna go anywhere, I just want to drive it. Taylor drove it last time we were in it."

"That makes me feel so much better. Get out of the boat."

Andy was slowly inching across the water surface, turning the wheel so much Ethan was near positive that was the only thing moving it. They hadn't put up the sails, and while they had untied the boat from the dock, they hadn't actually pulled the anchor. They were just drifting on the surface of the water, with no chance of moving anywhere.

"I feel like you don't believe in me. That's very unkind, you know."

"Andy, I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't get out of my boat."

A cleared throat. "Jesus, good morning to you too." Ethan looked around and saw Taylor carrying their bag with deep lines beneath their eyes. 

Ethan furrowed his brow. They looked ill. "Are you okay?"

Taylor's mouth twitched, and their grip on their bag shifted. "I'm fine. Why do you care?"

He was going to protest that they didn't look fine, when the dock shook beneath his feet. He turned, and saw Andy stepping quickly back from the wheel. Their collision hadn't damaged the boat at all, but Ethan set his jaw. "See? This is what-"

"Yes I do see the sea."

"-I mean. You don't know how to drive the boat." Ethan pointedly did not respond to their outright terrible pun. 

"Yes I do."

Ethan climbed into the boat, shoving Andy out from behind the wheel. Desca had walked up as they were talking, and was standing next to Taylor. The pair were talking about something, muttering under their breaths. As he turned back to them, they looked up. "Come on, we have to get moving or we won't get far before we have to stop for the night."

They nodded quickly, climbing into the boat. Ethan stood and watched them, considering the day ahead. The boat was running out of space. With the amount of books that Taylor had collected from the school and all of their individual supplies, the fishing boat simply did not have the amount of storage necessary. They'd have to turn back soon. He resented the idea of returning home without a spellbook, but they had only found one magical area by sailing around. The chances of finding a rotten spellbook in such a few places. 

He walked across the deck to the front of the boat, grabbing onto the rope on the outside and beginning to drag the anchor out of the water. His knee screamed at him, but he ignored it, focusing purely on the work at hand. Once the large iron weight was out of the water, he hooked it to the peg built into the boat for this very purpose. It strained beneath the weight. He had already replaced the thing several times, but unfortunately the wood surrounding was just too weak to hold the weight for much longer. As much as he hated the idea, he would need to get a new boat soon.

This boat had been a part of his family since before he was born. His father had fished in this boat with his father. They had built the boat together, and it had been passed to him when he had turned 15.

Maybe not passed to him. But he definitely became in charge of the boat when his entire family left him and the boat behind. So he inherited his family's fishing boat, along with a whole host of attachment issues. With their leaving, the cook in Giredale took pity on him and employed him as a gatherer of supplies. Ethan made a livelihood, the cook got food for meals, and everyone was happy.  

He had mixed feelings about this boat. He recognized the history ingrained into every plank on the deck, but the memories that stuck to every surface spread like disease. It infected him, making his body sick with loathing and resentment, his mind filled with cancerous sadness. But he also desperately yearned for his family to return and to reconnect with them, apologize for whatever he did that forced them to leave, and beg them to stay.

There were hundreds of sentences meticulously strung together during cold, sleepless nights floating in his mind, thousands of tears shed for the family he could have loved, and millions of cracks in his already shattered heart for the betrayal that was his relatives abandoning their only son.

Ethan blinked, and only then realized he had zoned out staring down at the anchor peg. Right. He was meant to be sailing.

He stood back up, and started back to the plank. It was only then that he saw the boat was moving. He whipped his head to the mast, and saw Andy holding onto the wheel, grinning with an infectious happiness. It almost stopped him from protesting. Almost.

"Andy, what the hell are you doing?"

Their grin widened. "Driving your boat."

Ethan looked at the water. It was not moving past them very fast. He looked up at the tightly folded sails. "You also haven't opened the sails."

Andy glared at the sails like they could take them down with pure willpower. "Right. Well… it's so easy I just didn't want to, uh, reduce my talents to something as insignificant."

"You couldn't get them down, could you?"

Andy set their jaw. "Of course I could have if I wanted to . But while you were over there fantasizing about your boat, I was taking initiative. You said it yourself, we needed to get going so we could get some good sailing in before the end of the day."

Ethan took out his map, glancing at the surroundings and back. "You are also going the wrong way."

"I don't know what direction you wanted to go!"

"That's why I steer the fucking boat ." Ethan got a hit of deja vu as he shoved Andy from the pilot's stand. It was almost as if he had just done this twenty minutes ago. 

As they sailed easily on the water, Ethan hardly had to even touch the wheel. The boat was pushed in the right direction by the current of the ocean, and the wind was favorable enough to lead us where we needed to go. 

That morning, Ethan had woken early in a cold sweat. His knee was throbbing, his head cloudy, and he desperately needed to get out of his room. He had picked up his crutch and map, and hobbled as fast as his crippled leg could go down the stairs of the inn and onto the street. The air was fresh and cold, dew forming on the leaves of the roses bordering the inn. He walked just into town and found a table and chairs outside a coffee shop that was closed for the night. 

Unlike Giredale, which completely shut down at night, this town still had workers who came home from their jobs late, or were headed to their early shifts. As Ethan sat and studied the map, he said good morning to many passersby. 

There was one, a man in his late sixties, who stopped by Ethan's table. He asked if he could sit, and Ethan quickly moved his crutch off the chair to make room for him. He had been taught to respect elders, especially those who you did not know. The man thanked him, asking if he had been in town before. This town was past Coalhaven, which made it unsafe to openly admit to using magic. So he had provided his sanitized version: he was with a group of peers and was traveling to historical sights around the area. 

The man had smiled politely, and quickly suggested an old witching settlement just past the Dragon Cliffs. "It's a dangerous sail but a good sturdy boat and discretion will get you there without fault."

The man was able to point out the settlement on the map immediately, and even drew the best route to avoid the sirens in the Austere Mountains. 

And that was how they had chosen their route. After this, Ethan planned on returning home. He wasn't even sure they had storage for another enchanted book or scroll, but he couldn't turn back with the opportunity of success on the other side of this mountain. 

They reach the area the man had marked as the sun is setting. After dropping anchor and looking at the area through binoculars, he saw various small magic settlements, all abandoned, and a pillager tower. It's not rare to see them this far from Giredale, and quite frankly he's surprised they haven't yet seen more. While they had originally traveled east, the rivers had taken them up north a bit. Ethan had let the team know it will be safest to sleep in the boat overnight and head over in the morning. 

"Why? Are you afraid of the dark?" Andy remarked, crossing their arms.

Ethan met their eyes, glaring down at them. "We will die if we go there. That's a pillager tower."

Andy rolled their eyes. "Coward." But still, they turn and go to sit next to Taylor. 

"Has anyone ever taught you not to be rude?"

Andy glanced over their shoulder, kneeling on the deck next to Taylor. "Of course. I'm only rude to you. You deserve it."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

After that, no one really talks again. Desca lays down against the edge of the boat, curling around her backpack. Andy lays down beside Taylor, who had already been sleeping. Ethan has worries in the back of his head for how tired they have been. Sickness is no joke, especially away from Giredale like they are. If Taylor gets sick, he's not sure what they'll do. 

Ethan sets his place near the mast, and looks up at the stars. He can hear the sounds of breathing all around him from his friends. Exhaustion lingers deep in his bones, and yet he can't sleep.

His knee throbs with every pulse of his heart. The coldness is still there, an ominous undercurrent to the pattering of his nervous heart. He can't imagine what that coldness is. As much as he hates the idea, when he returns to Giredale he will have to stop by the healer and ask for help. 

Taking deep breaths, he tries to relax. They have a lot to do tomorrow, and if he can't sleep, he will just be exhausted. 

It isn't until there's a faint light on the horizon that he manages to sleep. When he does, he dreams of screaming and figures in the night chasing him, nipping at his heels. He doesn't know if they're human or animal, but they are near and he just can't run fast enough. 

He wakes up just hours later, feeling the chill morning air wash over his exposed skin. He slowly blinks his eyes, looking up at the sky. The sun is barely over the horizon. He slowly sits up, feeling his aching muscles. Just this last day, and then he'll go home. 

He glances around, and immediately sees Andy and Taylor say around a small fire on shore. Taylor has their hood pulled up wrapped around their face, and looks green as they stare into the fire. In a small metal bowl above the flame is one of the soups that Ethan made for them. 

Desca is still asleep, so Ethan carefully steps over her to make his way over. Taylor doesn't look up to acknowledge him, instead keeping their gaze on the fire. Andy does however, and narrows their eyes slightly. "Morning." They mutter, voice thick with sleep. 

"Morning." Ethan looks to Taylor. "Are you alright, Taylor?"

They don't respond, eyes locked on the flickering flame. Andy does however, clearing their throat. "I think they have a fever. I don't really know medicine, but I think that's bad."

That's a light way of putting it. In the middle of nowhere like they are right now, a fever can be fatal. Without proper medicine, an attack from anything can destabilize any system, but especially a weak one. 

Ethan carefully kneels beside them, putting his hand against their face. They're extremely warm, but they are wrapped in their scarf and still shivering. "It's definitely a fever. We need to find a waystone and get them home."

Andy wrinkles their brow. "A what?"

Ethan rolls his eyes. "Magic stone. Makes a person travel thousands of miles in a second."

"Bullshit." 

"Yeah whatever." Ethan looks up. He will need to wake Desca and talk to her. Andy won't listen to reason if it has to do with magic. 

It's lucky that Desca is already awake. Ethan heads back to the boat and is met with Desca sitting up and rubbing her face. Ethan explains the situation quickly with a hushed voice, and Desca nods along.

"So we need to get Taylor home."

"As soon as possible. And Desca, do you think there's any way you could go with them to make sure they get help? Then when you're coming back don't take a waystone and instead take a boat. We're running out of space and another boat would help immensely."

Desca nods slowly. "I could do that."

He meets her eyes. "We just need to find a waystone then. Andy won't be of any help."

Desca nods. "I'll look around."

The two of them eat on the boat separate from Andy and Taylor. They sit around their fire on the beach eating soup, quietly talking, while Ethan and Desca sit with their feet in the water, listening to the calling of birds above. As they eat, Ethan considers. They could go home now. It would be better for Taylor's health, and better for the storage of the boat to go home now. But something in his head screams at him to stay. It's an overwhelming force pushing him backwards, insisting he disregard all sense and remain in this area. 

He doesn't know why, but he wants to listen.

After eating, Desca, Ethan, and Andy head up the hill to the tower. Taylor remains in the boat, not only to ensure their possessions are safe but also for their own health. Andy gives them their axe before they leave, which surprises Ethan. He hasn't seen Andy leave that axe from their possession once on this entire journey, especially after the original one was eaten by the dragon. And yet there they go willingly handing it to Taylor. It dismantled every assumption Ethan had made about them being selfish and prideful. 

They reach the group of houses as the sun nears noon. Ethan is leaning heavily on his crutch, exhausted and sweaty. It's hot, and dry. He's not dressed for this weather, especially with his long sleeves and trousers.

He turns to Desca and Andy. "We're checking for a rotten spellbook. It could be in a chest or on a bookshelf, or even beneath floorboards. Just look super carefully."

Andy shook their head. "I'm not here for your so-called 'magic' book. You and Desca can look for that. I will be getting things for me." And they push past him, walking straight to the pillager tower. 

"Jesus," Desca muttered. "They've got one hell of an attitude."

"Tell me about it."

Ethan follows Andy, stepping into the damp dark of the entry way. Pillager towers are built with little regard for longevity, so there was water damage all across the edges of the building. Ethan glanced around, opening cupboards and drawers, trying to find any evidence of magic. There weren't often magic things in pillager towers, but sometimes they'd steal things they didn't understand and store them. He just hoped they stole someone's rotten spellbook. Or maybe he'd find his own. 

After thoroughly searching the ground floor and listening to Andy moving things on the upper floors, he climbed up to the second floor and repeated the process. He could see evidence of Andy's superficial examinations; an open drawer or a line in the dust where a picture frame used to be. But there wasn't anything that would be actually helpful. He scaled another floor, and this time found some enchanted books that Andy had left behind. He shoved them into his backpack, dreading storing them later. 

He heard a loud thud and a shout above. Then Andy cursed, and there's a shuffling of feet. Quickly, Ethan moved to the ladder and climbed up, opening the trapdoor above him. Andy is shoved against a wall, a knife to their throat held by a pillager. They fight against the arm across their torso, but the pillager has too strong a grip, and it's impossible for them to move too much or risk being stabbed. 

Luckily, the pillager didn't hear Ethan climb up the ladder. It is so focused on the knife at Andy's throat that it also doesn't notice that Andy has stopped struggling. Andy meets Ethan's eyes over its shoulder. A quick nod is all Ethan needs to take action. He removes a knife from the sheath at his belt, and tosses it with precision straight at the back of the pillager's head. Andy ducks at the same moment, narrowly missing the splash of blood that accompanies the pillager's death. 

Andy brought their hand up to their throat, feeling the shallow cut across their neck. Ethan takes a step closer. "Are you okay?"

They meet his eyes, and there's something there; he swears it's gratitude. But then it's gone, and they're turning away. "Fine. Thank you." Their voice is so quiet Ethan could have convinced himself they hadn't said anything.

Desca breaks the tension by climbing up the ladder. "Everyone okay up here? I heard yelling."

"We're fine." Andy cuts off Ethan's attempt to respond, and turns to climb up the ladder to the top floor. Desca looks between Ethan and the corpse on the ground, Ethan's own knife sticking from its back. Ethan shakes his head, and follows Andy up.

They've already found a chest at the top, and are sorting through it. "I found a shiny book with a bunch of scribble stuff on it"

Ethan's stomach drops. That's probably an enchanted book. "Don't touch stuff you don't understand."

Andy shrugs, picking up another book to put in their backpack. "Well, I just touched it, so," Ethan doesn't even get time to protest. "I found a bunch of these books in this tower."

Of fucking course they did. "Are you going to give them to me?"

"No."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Do you want them then?"

They balked. "Obviously not. I'll give them to you… for a price. What do you have?"

Ethan shrugged, knowing he didn't have much of anything. "Bread, apples, soup… a headache?"

They had turned away, continuing to take things from the chest. When he stops talking, Andy looks up. "Oh sorry, I wasn't listening." 

He threw up his hands. "Whatever. Keep them." He wanted to just take them from Andy's bag, but it wasn't worth the inevitable argument. If Andy wanted them for whatever reason, they could fucking have them. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The entire town ended up being abandoned and mostly empty. Besides the tower, there was really nothing in the buildings. They did find a waystone though. Ethan activated it quickly, and they returned to the boat to begin sorting things that they would send back with Taylor and Desca.

As they headed back to the boat, Andy darted ahead of them, holding onto their notably full bag. Ethan was sure that they had taken more enchanted books and scrolls, and he couldn't imagine why. It confused him to no end. Andy supposedly hated magic, so what were they doing with a store of magical items?

He sighed, twisting his shirt around his wrist. "I swear, it's the muscle that makes them more stubborn. They've got no critical thinking skills."

Desca hums in assent. "I mean, it's very interesting listening to you guys argue. I was the floor below you when you were arguing, sounded kind of like an old married couple."

Ethan curled his lip. "God, don't say that."

At the boat, Andy had already removed most of the books for Taylor's shop and hauled them over each shoulder. They were speaking to Taylor, who was sitting up, wrapped in their scarf. As Ethan got closer, he called out. "Are you feeling a little better, Taylor?"

Andy got out of the boat, trotting past him with the books on each shoulder. Taylor looked up at him, eyes red and watery. "I think it's just a fever. Maybe combined with the seasickness it's presenting a little worse. Some rest and I'll be just fine."

Ethan nodded, carefully stepping into the boat and checking their temperature. "It's definitely gone down. You're probably right about the rest." Desca had followed after him, and was packing up her things. "Luckily, we found a waystone, so we can get you home right now without needing to sail any more."

He knelt, removing some soup from under the boat. "If you can, get some rosemary for these. Warm it up and eat it morning and evening. Rosemary is good for your immune system."

Taylor nodded and took the containers, tucking them into their backpack. Andy returned then, picking up two more bags. They looked between Ethan and Taylor. 

"Are you ready to go, Taylor?"

They nodded, standing on shaky legs and steadying themselves on Ethan's shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

Ethan and Andy walked back with Taylor and Desca to the waystone in the town. They said goodbye as the pair disappeared, Taylor clutching a bag of books in one hand and Desca's shoulder in the other. Desca smiled kindly, nodding to Ethan. He was grateful Taylor was going home to rest, but he couldn't help but feel dread at the idea of being completely alone with Andy. 

And he was right to be anxious. After their departure, the tensions between him and Andy had been turned up to 100. Andy didn't look at him once as they loaded the items from the village from their backpack into the ship hull. 

Ethan sat on the prow, resting his chin on his hand and deciding the plan of action. No, Andy didn't like him. No, Ethan didn't much care for them either. But it is important to build relations, especially considering that they are helpful on these journeys. And Ethan fears there may be many more to come. 

Andy pulls several scrolls out of their bag, and Ethan turns his head to get a better look. "Are any of those green magic?"

They glanced up, and met his eyes. "How am I meant to know that?"

Ethan stands, walking across the boat to where Andy sits. He holds out a hand for the scrolls, and Andy places them gingerly in his waiting palm. "I don't know why you care for those papers so much."

Ethan ignored them, checking the seal on the base of every scroll. None are green magic. He sighs, gathering them up and putting them on the deck next to the Carpenter's feet. 

"You can keep those."

"Sorry?" 

Andy pushes them back toward him. "I don't want them, you can have them."

"I can't use them, Andy. Give them to Taylor or something."

They rolled their eyes with a sigh, took the scrolls, and placed them in the hull. "Right then. Shall we head off?"

Ethan nodded, standing and walking over to the mast. He took out his map, examining the surrounding islands. He was so focused that he didn't hear Andy coming up behind him. 

"We're going straight back, right?"

Ethan jumped at their proximity, then glanced at their face. They were serious, but Ethan didn't know which he would prefer. Andy confused the hell out of him. They would go from criticizing his every movement to being civil and respectful.

"Yeah. Just meeting Desca halfway."

Andy nodded, and settled onto one of the benches on the far side of the boat, pulling out a knife and sharpening the edge. Ethan righted the wheel, pulling out the sail and beginning to head towards Giredale. It was nearing night when Andy shouted. "Ethan, there's a whale!" They were headed into Sea Dragon territory, and Ethan was more preoccupied with trying not to crash the boat into the large stone monoliths.

"What?" Ethan looked, but he couldn't see much in this light.

"Hard left, there's a fucking whale you're going to hit it!"

But it was too late. With a thud and a crack, Ethan felt the boat hit something hard. Andy turned to look at him, fear stark on their face. They both stood in silence for a long moment, listening for any noise. 

Ethan grimaced. "Maybe it got knocked out?"

Then as if in defiance of his assumption, a massive whale reared out of the sea, landing flat across the boat.

Chapter Text

Ethan felt the hull crack beneath his feet, and immediately slid down the deck as both halves of the boat tilted inwards at the force. Grappling for any hold, he scratched his fingertips raw on the deck before he was able to grip onto a ridge on the edge of the boat. He heard Andy shout as they were dunked into the ocean.

Shit shit shit . 

He was at a complete loss for what to do. He had no idea if this whale was hostile, and he knew they were in Sea Dragon territory. If he jumped in after them, he had no idea what would lie beneath the surface. But he had to ensure Andy was alright. He pushed off the ledge, sliding down the deck and hitting the water with a crash. 

There was first a whirlwind of bubbles. He couldn't see past the white torrent. He swam down, eyes burning, and saw the whale retreating. Evidently, it had decided that they weren't worth its time. Noting all of their bags floating to the sea floor below, Ethan was suddenly very overwhelmed. 

What a fucking nightmare. He'd had this boat since he was extremely young; his grandfather had built this boat. He remembered all of the trips onto the seas east of Giredale, fishing rare finds for his father to sell at the stall.

This boat had meant everything to his parents, and its destruction was like the final nail in the coffin. His family was gone. They had left him this boat, and he had destroyed it. And he supposed he deserved that as well. 

Just like his family leaving, this boat being destroyed was always meant to happen. He had held onto it out of desperation. His family was not coming back. And that realization struck him beyond words. 

His family was not coming back . 

And he was alone with a carpenter who hated him for reasons he could not determine. His spellbook was gone, and he was useless. Useless . 

And so what was the point of swimming anyway?

A hand on his arm brought him back to his senses. He met Andy's eyes beneath the water, and realized where he was. 

Right. 

They had dozens of enchanted books in their storage along with stone, iron, diamonds, and emeralds. He couldn't just die . At the very least he had to help Andy recover their things. 

Once apparently deciding he was alert enough, Andy let go of his arm and kicked up towards the surface. Ethan followed, cresting amidst waves and pieces of his beloved boat.

Within Sea Dragon territory, there are large stone arches that cross across the water. Historically, Sea Dragons make their nests at the bases of these arches. They cast a shadow to protect young Sea Dragons from flying creatures, and a ready source of food through barnacles and sea stars. 

Now, with Sea Dragon populations declining, most arches are abandoned. The population of sea stars has tripled, and most arches provided safe resting places for passersby. But the chances of an angry mother Sea Dragon coming up from below are generally still significant enough that travelers don't risk it.

Andy had already made it to the nearest stone arch, and was setting up piles of their things. They had removed the flannel wrapped across their body and their shoes. They looked up and glared at him. Their hair was completely soaked, curls extended with the weight of the water. "You and your fucking adventures. First the dragon and now this. I don't know why I ever agreed to come."

Ethan pulled himself up onto the ledge just as Andy jumped back in, swimming down to the bottom of the ocean and retrieving one of the bags. He was too exhausted to even argue that Andy had invited themself.

When Andy surfaced, he realized they were doing all of the work on their own. Sighing, Ethan took off his belt and pauldron, placing them in a pile at his feet. Then he kicked off his shoes, and dove into the water. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

It was an agonizing hour of diving, collecting bags, swimming up to the surface, then repeating it all over again. By the end, Ethan was so cold he could no longer feel his fingers. His nose and ears ached, and his chest was tight from lack of oxygen. 

He collapsed, breathing deeply with his legs pulled up to his chest, listening to his heart pound. Andy didn't even seem fazed, and had begun to sort their recovered supplies. Ethan started at the pile. So much shit . He had no idea how to even begin to take all of this home. 

Andy has barely acknowledged him since they had started collecting. It wasn't until Ethan shifted his weight against the rocks that they looked up at him. "Do you mind looking around? We need to find a boat or something."

Ethan nodded, standing and wincing at the strain in his knee. Andy glanced at him, then sighed even louder, standing. "Fine. You sit here and organize these. I'll climb up."

"Are you sure?" He didn't want to force Andy to continue hiking around. Frankly, they had done far more at collecting the materials than he had. And also, he wasn't weak. He could go looking for materials to help. He had overextended himself, sure, but it wasn't as if he was useless because of it. He was about to protest this to Andy when he realized they were already gone, stepping carefully up the incline. 

Ethan walked over to where Andy had been, sitting back down and organizing the materials into separate piles. Luckily, Taylor and Desca had taken most of the books with them, and the remainder were in two waterproof bags. Ethan found various flowers that had been placed in a small pouch, obviously meant for Rachel. He wasn't sure if the seeds would still be recoverable, but he placed them in Andy's pile regardless. By the time Andy returned, he had finished with the majority of the sorting and the sun was rising. 

He looks up at them. "What did you find?"

"On the arch? Not much. Just a bunch of rocks. There's a village across this river though, through the forest." Andy points to the shore 100 metres or so away. There was indeed smoke rising above the trees. "Chances are they have a boat we can buy."

Ethan nodded, standing up. The pain was better now, dulled after rest. He began to tie his shoelaces together to put them over his neck. Andy walked over to where he had been. "I'll stay here and man the fort."

Ethan glanced over at them. "No way. You're coming with me."

"Why?" Andy folded their arms. "You just want to leave our stuff here where anyone can get it?"

"Yes. No one comes this way, don't you know? It's Sea Dragon territory. If you stay here, you will die. And I don't want Taylor blaming me for the rest of my life for your idiocy." Maybe he was dramatizing the chances of being attacked by a Sea Dragon. Maybe.

"I'm not- idiocy??" But they were already doing the same as Ethan, tying their shoelaces together and looping the shoes over their neck. "It's not idiocy to want to protect my things."

"Sure it's not. Come on." They got back into the water, swimming to the bank.

By the time Ethan pulled himself onto the grassy land, his entire body ached. But he stuffed it down and glanced at Andy. They were watching him with a critical eye. He kept his breathing calm, though it meant he wasn't getting nearly enough oxygen. 

Ethan smiled in what he thought was a relaxed way. "Right then. You lead the way." The second Andy's back was turned he let out a deep breath and dropped all his weight on his left leg. He hadn't been able to find his crutch in the wreckage.

They made it to the village as the sun was nearing noon. His clothes had long since dried; stiff and uncomfortable around his limbs. His boots however, had not dried, and the water still squelched with every step. It would be comical if Andy's boots also hadn't dried. Now he just squelched behind them and they looked over their shoulder every few steps with a look of annoyance.

When they enter the town square, they are mostly ignored aside from the occasional glance. They must be used to travelers this close to the ocean. They make it to the town hall, and Ethan glances at Andy. Right as he is about to suggest he go in, Andy cuts him off. "I'll go and negotiate. I don't want them learning where you're from and changing their mind about helping us."

"Grimwyck isn't evil, Andy, you have the wrong idea."

"It seems pretty evil to me." And with that, they turned and walked inside.

Ethan sat on the town hall steps, chin in his hand. He wanted to sleep more than anything. He wondered absently if he'd be able to convince Andy to let him sleep in the village. Maybe once their things were recovered. 

It is maybe an hour before Andy returns. Their face told him they bore no good news. "No boat?"

Andy shakes their head. "No, there's a boat."

Ethan hesitated. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes and no. I'll show you."

The "boat" is approximately a metre long and two wide. There are holes along the bottom, and algae coating every surface. The hull has no storage, so they will have to leave most of their supplies behind. And there isn't even a sail; just paddles. Ethan stared at it for a long moment before sitting down on the pier, exhausted and frustrated. The boat was also on the wrong side of the island. So either they would have to carry it to the other side, or row all the way around the island.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, letting his legs hang towards the water. The tide was low, and barnacles were crusted on the wooden floats just above the water. He allowed himself a moment of contemplation of life. 

Life flourished in the most unexpected of places. Where there is light, there is life. Where there is dark, there is life. When it is cold, and wet, and seemingly no way for life to persist, there is still life. He considers the oceans endless depths, and the majesty that must lie within them. Millions, maybe even billions of species all live within the abyss. Life on this planet began in the oceans. Life persists where no light can get through, and that to him is beautiful.

Maybe it is particularly dear to him because of how difficult it has been to live these recent years. Persisting through the darkness of the sculk has been a trial in and of itself, not including his family leaving. 

As he is thinking, he hears Andy sigh and walk over to him, sitting down gently on the edge of the pier beside him. Ethan stiffens only slightly, mostly in surprise than anything.

Now broken from his reverie, he takes a deep breath. "I can't believe I lost my fucking boat, dude."

Andy cocked their head curiously. "I guess you'll have to get a new one, yeah?"

"I can't fucking build one. I've never done that before. That boat was… passed down."

They scoffed. "Well maybe you're not meant to build one. Boats are made out of wood. Maybe you should get a carpenter to do it."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. Surely they weren't offering . "What do you mean?" They shrugged, turning away from him and looking out at the water. Ethan hesitated a long moment, then spoke again. "Did I do something?"

They turn back to him. "Sorry?"

"I just- I can't help but feel that you don't want me around."

"Because I don't."

"But why ? What did I do? As far as I can tell, I've never done anything to you, and I'm getting more and more frustrated the longer we go acting like we want to kill each other."

Andy let out an indignant huff. "I would take no joy from killing you; that is not my intention. I dislike you, and the… things you surround yourself with, but I would never wish to seriously harm you."

Ethan stared at them in amazement. "Andy, that was almost a compliment."

They curled their lip. "In what sick fantasy do you live in which that was a compliment?"

Ethan let a grin slide onto his face. "You have no imagination."

Andy was still avoiding his gaze. They stared at the water, kicking their feet aimlessly. After a moment, they opened their mouth, then closed it again. Ethan let them consider, not wanting to interrupt what must be a rare occurrence – critical thinking.

When they finally spoke, it was quiet. "I do not like the things you pretend you can do."

Ethan furrowed his brow. "What, you mean my magic?"

They rolled their eyes. "It's just that: it's not magic. Magic isn't real. The things you pretend to do, it is a delusion. I don't feel safe around you, especially when you're pretending to do shit that isn't real."

Ethan just shook his head, all humor gone. "That's bullshit, Andy. Magic has saved my fucking life, do you realize that? Without my spellbook as a child I wouldn't be here with you today."

They laughed, rubbing a hand through their hair. "That's all just fucking delusions! You're not well , Ethan. I understand that, but you have to give up this fantasy of yours about magic!"

Ethan stood up, setting his jaw. "I thought we were getting along. I'm sick of arguing, but your fucking prejudice is worse. Talk to me when you're done being a fucking asshole." And he turned and walked away.

Tears stormed behind his eyes. There was a roiling pit in his stomach, and a tightness in his chest. He'd never felt this defeated. Andy was so infuriating. He would get along with them one moment and absolutely hate them the next. It was frustrating to no end. 

And the worst part? He desperately wanted to get along with them. He saw how they interacted with Taylor and Rachel; they could be a good person. But now, they were just so fucking stuck in their ways. And his blowing up on them definitely wouldn't help. Now they would think him deranged.

He had brought some emeralds with him from the boat. He paid for a room in town, locking the door firmly behind him and collapsing on the bed the second he had removed his filthy clothes. But there was something about being alone that exacerbated the pain.

His knee flared with every movement, and that cold feeling still lingered in his bones. It had been bothering him all day, but differently than it had earlier in the week. It felt like it was on the surface now, crawling across his skin. 

Once the thought was in his mind, it wouldn't leave. He attempted to sleep with no luck, instead staring at the ceiling and willing himself to be tired. After what felt like hours of no luck, he cursed, sitting up and lighting the candle on the bedside table. The dim flame cast a warm, unsteady glow on the room. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, before breathing out heavily and looking at his knee.

He hadn't looked at it in days. He wore long trousers, and when he changed he usually avoided his reflection anyway. But now, he was faced with the sight of his kneecap. 

Blue-green tendrils wrapped around the surface, curling in a disgusting way. It followed his veins, jutting out in spikes around several focal points. It would be beautiful, but, he knew exactly what it was. 

He was well familiar with the phenomenon. Before his family had left, the Greenwitches of Giredale had been the people the townsfolk had come to when the virus first spread. Desperate knocking on their door had woken his family on many occasions. Thousands of tears had been shed in his family's home from desperate people, begging his father to save them. 

Ethan had a certain memory. He must have been eight or nine, looking down the staircase into his kitchen in the dead of night. His mother had been frantically mixing a calming mixture, sweat pouring down her neck. His father had been kneeling on the rug, holding the hand of a young girl. 

She had been completely mutilated. 

There was blood pouring down her face, soaking her shirt and dripping onto the rug. She was screaming, and the contortion of her skin only made the bleeding worse. His father was applying all sorts of plant pastes to the deep gashes in her skin, made by her mother when the sculk had first appeared on her chin. Apparently as her mother had attempted to remove the sculk, it had only spread faster. She had taken out one of her eyes. Now, the sculk lined every cut and chunk of missing flesh, twisting and convulsing beneath her skin to assist in the repair. 

But the infection of the sculk reached her brain, and she died right there on their rug. 

The stains hadn't come out, and the rug had silently disappeared from their home the next day. Ethan had had nightmares for weeks, waking up screaming, clawing at his skin. 

And now, it was on him. Sculk. Somehow, it had made its way into his bones. It made no sense; he hadn't been in Grimwyck for extended periods of time for weeks. But there it was. Now that he was looking at it, he could almost hear it. Tantalizing whispers in the darkness and a frequency that grained at his ears. Pain. Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pa

He woke up the next morning, startling out of sleep in a cold sweat. 

His bones were heavy.

He groaned, sitting up and pulling back the covers. His eyes were immediately drawn to his knee. It had not been a dream. The sculk remained in his skin. He bathed in the water the innkeeper had supplied, and scrubbed at his skin until he bled. He let out stifled sobs and pounded his fist into his knee until there were bruises. 

The sculk did not move.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

He sat outside in the sun, breathing deeply and trying to relax. He had washed and dried his clothes, calming his racing heart. The sculk was nowhere near his head. It had taken his knee, and would spread from there, but as long as he found his spellbook soon, he would be able to reverse the infestation. 

Hopefully.

He heard a cleared throat, and it broke him from his thoughts. Glancing up, he met the eyes of the carpenter. Andy had their arms crossed, the bandages that had been dirtied yesterday replaced with fresh ones. Once again, Ethan pondered on the bandages. They actively avoided speaking about them, and the one time he had questioned them about it they had been immediately aggressive. 

It only served to make Ethan that much more curious.

"I've been speaking to the mayor a bit more."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, hope rekindling in his chest. "Really?"

Andy nods stiffly. "He says we can stay in the town hall for as long as we need. Free of charge. Also, He suggests we get our things off of the rock. Apparently Sea Dragons like to steal things."

Ethan had heard that, but had dismissed it as an old wives tale. But if the mayor said it… Well it wasn't worth the risk. "Alright, then. So today we bring our stuff back."

Andy nodded, then turned on their heel, stalking towards the pier. It did not slip Ethan's attention that Andy hadn't brought up their argument yesterday. Anger still curled in his stomach, slowly compounding itself into hate.

But he disregarded that, instead following them to the pier. As he walked up behind them, his eyes met the hole in their shirt. He had forgotten that they had been injured with the dragon. He wants to ask how it is feeling now, after being doused in salt water on several occasions.

But there wasn't time. After picking up the boat, Andy turned to the water and began to walk, but they stopped in their tracks. "We need to get our things. Look."

And when Ethan looked in that direction, he saw the fins of several Sea Dragons in the water. 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

As it turns out, taking a shitty boat out onto open water as various hostile creatures are swarming is a terrible idea. 

Several massive holes were carved into the boat by various Dragons nipping at the boat. None seemed very interested in actually trying to sink it, just curious. Still, Ethan and Andy  were forced to jump out of the boat the moment they were near enough. The destroyed boat had been filling with water the whole way, and (luckily) after both Ethan and Andy had exited, it sank. 

But now they were left alone in the middle of the ocean with no boat and no way to bring their stuff back. The Sea Dragons were jumping out of the water, almost in a display of strength. Ethan took out his sword to try and knock them back, but one of the creatures immediately grabbed it, retreating to the depths with it in his mouth. 

Andy grabbed his arm, pulling him back from the ledge. They handed him a spare bow that Taylor had brought, and pointed up. "Get to high ground!" They shouted, and Ethan could barely hear them over the calling of the Sea Dragons. "Go up and shoot them from there."

Ethan brandished the bow, feeling useless. "Why can't you?"

Andy shook their head immediately. "I'm shit with a bow."

Ethan set his jaw, and nodded, looping the bow around his shoulders and grabbing a quiver. "You're okay down here?"

They nodded, brandishing their axe. It was tied to their arm. If a Dragon tried to take it, Andy would be going with it. Ethan considered momentarily telling them that was a terrible idea, but the look on their face convinced him to stay silent.

Ethan turned and scaled the outcrop, catching hand and foot holds. His arms were shaking. Whether it was from the morning chill, nerves, or exertion, he didn't know, but it made it extremely hard to climb. He was barely on the first ledge when he heard Andy shout. 

He flipped around immediately, looking over the edge to the ocean below. He wasn't quite high enough yet that he could get a clear view, but he saw enough. Andy's axe was embedded in the side of the Dragon, and they were holding onto a vine for dear life so they wouldn't be dragged into the water. 

Ethan quickly nocked an arrow, aiming down at the Dragon. Sea Dragons didn't have the same amount of scales like Dragons did. Their scales were primarily centralized around their head, and the rest of their body was covered in a thin, wiry kind of fur. Ethan aimed carefully, shooting several arrows along the Sea Dragons back. Ideally, he would hit one of the nerves in the spine and render it helpless. He hated the idea of killing these creatures, but Andy needed help.

Luckily, Andy was able to wrench their axe from the body of the creature a moment later, and quickly scrambled backwards. They glanced up and met Ethan's eyes, nodding slightly. Ethan took that as the most gratitude he was going to get, so turned and continued climbing. 

He had managed to climb twenty more feet when he saw it. 

A fucking waystone.

He stared at it dumbly for several minutes, before springing into action. He ran over, and activated it, feeling the magic flow through his arm. There had been a waystone here the whole time?? He distantly remembered what Andy had said.

"What did you find?"

"Not much. Just a bunch of rocks."

This was not just a rock though. This was a key straight to his front door. And Andy had just fucking ignored it.

He heard another shout that broke him from his reverie. Ethan scrambled to the edge, looking over. Andy was kicking at the Sea Dragon, which had gotten a hold of one of their bags and was trying to drag it under the water. It seemed to be extremely heavy, and the Dragon was having a hard time getting it off the ledge. Ethan lifted the bow again, aiming and shooting an arrow into the Dragon's left eye. It retreated into the water, dragging the bag with it. Andy stomped their foot, looking upwards. 

"You couldn't have waited? I almost had it?" They shouted.

Ethan scoffed. How dare they? "Start taking shit up here." He didn't mention the waystone. It was obvious Andy was stuck on ignoring their existence. "What did that Dragon get?"

"Only the most important fucking bag. All of my emeralds." They followed his instruction, hefting a bag over one shoulder and climbing the rock. Most of their things had been condensed. Other than the two bags of Taylor's books, and the one bag of enchanted books, there were only two backpacks. 

Andy reached his small ledge, dropping the bag on the ground. "What's your plan?"

Ethan clenched his jaw. "You don't want to know."

"What does that mean?"

"I-" He looked between Andy and the waystone. "I'm going to leave. Just for a minute. I should be right back."

Concern was immediately evident in Andy's brow. Their voice was surprisingly small when they responded. "Don't leave me here alone."

"I'm going to try not to. I promise. Keep getting things up here, and I'll get everything off this stupid rock." He grabbed the bag, dragging it to the waystone. He reached out, putting his palm flat on the waystone. He searched for the waypoint to his greenhouse, and found it easily. 

"Ethan, what-"

Andy was cut off by a sharp wooshing sound as Ethan disappeared in a flash of light.

He landed on shaky legs in the front yard of his greenhouse. He immediately collapsed, puking on the grass. The dizziness he gets from waypointing to Grimwyck has been the predominant reason he avoids it. Now that he's here, he wishes he had waypointed to Giredale. 

Ethan managed to crawl a few inches to the left before the pain in his head forced him to lay back down. The pain in his knee has flared again, and he feels sick rise in his throat again. He almost passed out, but the knowledge that Andy is alone on that rock waiting for him forces him to get to his feet, walking back to the waypoint. He shoves the bag of books to the side, and puts his hand back on the stone.

He reappears with another flash. The sickness doesn't get worse, but it doesn't get better either. He barely manages to stay on his feet after landing on the rock. Andy is climbing back up the side as he reappears. They look at him and frown. "What kind of trick was that? How did you disappear?"

Ethan shook his head, breathing deeply. He didn't even want to argue it. "Don't even worry about it."

He took the bag from Andy, stepping back to the waystone. This time, he braced himself as he teleported. It still wasn't enough. The wave of nausea as he stepped foot in Grimwyck forced him back to his knees, and he had to rest his forehead against the cool grass, breathing deep, gasping breaths. It was like he couldn't get enough oxygen no matter how much air he took in.

This process repeated twice more as he waystoned back and forth between his greenhouse and the location on the rock in the ocean. It got progressively worse as he went, eventually landing on the grass and being physically unable to move his limbs. He felt incredibly feverish, and a cold sweat soaked his shirt. 

He managed to get to his feet after a few minutes, stumbling to the waystone and bringing himself back to the rock.

Andy was nowhere to be seen. 

They had finished transporting the supplies on his last trip, and had just been sitting on a rock, avoiding looking in his direction. But they had disappeared. And now that he was paying attention, he couldn't hear the Sea Dragons anymore. 

Shit. 

Had they gotten ahold of Andy, and retreated after getting their fill? Was he alone?

But then he heard a shout. A familiar shout. 

He furrowed his brow, walking to the edge. "Desca?"

And there she was. It must have been akin to cavemen seeing fire for the first time, or a cloudless day after months of storms. Sitting on a small fishing boat, holding one of Ethan's own picnic baskets, smiling up at him. "Come on!"

Ethan stuttered, at a loss for words. "Wait, but- There's a waystone."

Desca set her jaw. "I don't think Andy will take that."

Now reminded of the missing carpenter, Ethan frantically looked around. "Have you seen them?"

Desca nodded cheerily. "They've just gone to town to pay the mayor for his hospitality. We were waiting for you. I took the boat, so we can go home now. Andy said you were, 'doing something delusional and getting everything home', so I assumed that was a waystone."

All of his problems seemed to leave him in a moment. He didn't need to convince Andy to take the waystone back, he had a boat. And he didn't need to waystone back himself, sacrificing his health for another trip. 

Ethan quickly clambered down the rock, meeting Desca in the boat and hugging her tightly. "Thank you for coming back. You are so wonderful."

She pulled back, feeling his face. "Are you okay? You're warm."

"I… did a lot of waypointing to Grimwyck. I- think I just need to lay down."

She nodded gravely. "You can lay down in the boat."

They picked Andy up from the village. The whole time, Ethan rested with his head against the rim of the boat, staring at the water. He felt drained. The high had worn off, and now he was left with his problems. 

No spellbook, sculk in his leg, and now a fever. Even more, Andy wasn't speaking to him again. They had holed up next to him (more by necessity than anything; the boat wasn't very big), but they were actively avoiding eye contact and any form of communication. Instead they had taken a block of wood from their pocket, and had started whittling it down into a shape. 

Luckily Ethan didn't have to do much. The boat Desca had taken was nearly completely automated. She explained to them the mechanics behind it as they were heading out onto the sea. It had an engine , which apparently let the boat move without a sail. All she had to do was sit at the back and steer, not worrying about wind or ocean currents. 

All this thinking about boats had him pondering how he was going to get a new boat. Andy had offered, but Andy was helpful with fuck all. Apparently his expression was visible to Desca. "What's wrong, Ethan?"

Ethan looked up. He had been zoned out, thinking about the engine and his boat – or lack of. "Just- I can't believe I started out on this adventure with my amazing fishing boat, and now we're heading back with this – no offense – puny ass boat."

Desca nodded, understanding his frustration. "Would you like me to make you one? I'm not the best, but I think an engine would be nice for you."

"I worry it'll scare off the fish." He had noticed that as they sailed across the water, fish darted away from the loud engine. It wouldn't be very practical for a fishing boat, and his sails worked just fine.

"Well… would you want me to lend you this one? Even if you don't use the engine always, it has sails at home I can just put in for you."

Ethan smiled, more to make Desca feel better than anything. "That's alright. Andy offered to build me one."

Andy looked up for the first time at that. "I didn't offer shit."

Ethan gaped. He distinctly remembered their offering. "You said I should hire a carpenter to build me one rather than build one myself."

"And? There is more than one carpenter in Giredale."

"Is there?"

"Probably."

"Well would you like me to ask you?"

"Who says I want to build a boat for you?"

"I'm fucking paying you, I assume you want money."

"I don't want your delusional money-"

"I didn't fucking conjure the money with magic, Andy."

"You guys are awfully close while arguing about this." Desca interjected, shrugging when they looked in her direction.

Andy huffed. "Don't mention it. I will jump out of this boat."

Ethan put on an expression of mock sympathy. "Aw, are you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

They rest the night in a small village across from Coalhaven. Ethan took Desca's jacket and kept the hood up as a precaution, avoiding accusatory stares of anyone who looked like they had something to do with magic enforcement. 

After the night, they got back in the boat and made it to Giredale by evening. Ethan felt better after resting, and especially after setting foot off the water. He'd never considered he might resent being in a boat, but now he wants nothing more than to get the fuck out . 

Ethan climbed out of the boat at the pier, helping Desca after him. Andy shoves his proffered hand aside, getting out on their own. Well fine. If you don't want my help, have it your way . He turned his back on Andy, meeting Desca's eyes. "I have a few things at my greenhouse for you. I'll come drop them off this evening, if that's alright with you?"

She smiled. "You don't need to give me anything. I came on this adventure as your friend, not on a contract like Taylor."

He shook his head. "I can't use them anyway. It's a couple blaze rods and some cog grease. I also have your food delivery as well."

Desca nodded slowly. "Alright then. I'll take your gift."

Ethan turned to Andy. They were standing with their hands in their pockets, acting uninterested. "I also have things for you."

Andy met his eyes, brow immediately furrowing. "I don't want your-"

"It's your food delivery. I noticed you finished all of the things I brought for you. I assumed you wanted more?"

Andy set their jaw, looking him up and down. "Fine."

"Fine." He didn't expect how easy it would be to convince them. "I'll come by your cabin later tonight."

Their jaw clenched. "Do not come by my cabin."

"Where the hell else am I meant to take it? Rachel's?"

They stiffened. After a moment, they seemed to make a decision in their mind. "Fine. Take it to my cabin, but don't come to the door. Drop it at the entrance to my forests."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Fine." They turned on their heel, storming off.

After saying his goodbyes to Desca, Ethan followed the paths back to Grimwyck. He was tired, and his knee throbbed, but he didn't want to risk taking the waystone again with his health so fragile.

He made it to his greenhouse as the sun set. He quickly took the bags of books and supplies from outside on the grass into the greenhouse, setting them up against the wall. He would deal with all of that later. When he wasn't so bone tired.

He slept upstairs in his lab. Usually he avoided it. A couple of years ago, he had taken a sample of the sculk into his lab to study it. He had done everything to keep it from spreading, but it had been for naught. Since then, the entire attic had been completely overrun. No matter what he did, the sculk had kept growing back. It was like the second he had allowed it into his greenhouse it had permission, and decided to stay with him for the rest of time. 

But he had no other beds in his greenhouse. He wrapped the cold, slightly damp blanket around himself, pretending he didn't hear the ringing in his ears that the sculk left. 

The next morning, he cooked several of his orders. He couldn't remember if Taylor had requested or not, but since they were sick, he made them one anyways, and added a note asking for a written request of deliveries. He included the remainder of the scrolls in their basket as well, feeling bad that they had gotten ill on the journey he had forced them on. 

He finished his orders for Desca, Rachel, and Andy, then packed everything into his bag and carried it all into town. He reached the Grimwyck waypoint, placing a palm on the cool stone and muttering an enchantment. There was a rush of air, and he landed in Giredale. He barely even felt sick, which gave him some peace of mind. 

It was noon, so people were everywhere. Luckily, he was able to push through the crowds with ease. He first stopped by Rachel's, checking on how she was doing. She mentioned hearing about their little journey, and suddenly he was sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of tea white she arranged a bouquet. "And I just- how is it that they are so stubborn that they insist on pretending I was doing a magic trick taking all of the supplies home? That doesn't even make sense!"

Rachel smiled kindly, cocking their head and shifting a flower in the vase. "It doesn't. I've given up on pretending to understand everything my brother does."

"But that's the thing. They should listen to you! You're so sensible about this whole thing. I mean, I know you don't like magic, but-"

"I never said I didn't like magic." Rachel looked up sharply, tutting. "I'm trying to figure out how to be a healer myself."

Ethan was floored. "Really? I didn't know that."

She shrugged. "I mean, I can't exactly shout it from the mountaintops. Andy would never speak to me again, I think."

"That's not true."

They sighed. "You're probably right. I'm just wary of taking any real action, in case."

Ethan nodded. "Well, I can't help much , but if you ever need anything let me know? I can be your magic mentor while knowing absolutely nothing about the magic you're trying to get into."

She smiled sarcastically. "You're too kind."

He glanced around the shop, drinking his last few sips of tea. On the far wall, there were a few backpacks of the same style as Taylor's. "Oh yeah. Rachel, could you make me one of your backpacks?"

Rachel glanced over her shoulder to where he was pointing, and turned back with a bright smile. "You want one?"

He nodded. "I saw Taylor's, and I really like it."

A smile he couldn't quite place slid onto her face. "You and Taylor are getting along?"

Ethan sniffed. "Hardly. It's a friendship of necessity more than anything."

"A friendship is a friendship. I'm glad. But anyways, of course I can make you one. Do you have a color preference?"

Ethan left Rachel's shop twenty minutes later with a receipt of intent in his pocket. Rachel promised she would get the backpack to him in the next few days, and Ethan felt lighter. Everything was… okay?

He didn't want to walk all the way to Taylor's cottage, so he left the food in their mailbox outside the library. There wasn't anything that seriously needed an icebox, and the cooling charm he had placed on the basket would tide it over until Taylor returned to the library.

He stopped by Desca's to drop off the blaze rods and her food. She didn't respond when he rang the doorbell, so he stepped inside anyway and put her things on the table. She was probably upstairs sleeping through her doorbell. He didn't want to wake her, so he left quickly. 

He followed the path into the forest, headed towards where he knew the carpenter lived. He had visited the Carpenter's Forests many times with Ashlyn. She had somehow gotten close with Andy even with her magic, so she often went down to their cabin. Ethan had only been in the near vicinity to meet with their father, and never close enough to see the actual cabin.

This time however, he was determined to at least see it. Andy's family was so protective over their woods, the least they could do was allow him to snoop every once in a while. 

He made it through the woods, and reached a plaque on the side of the path. He leaned down, squinting in the dim light to see. It was old, with a thick ebony wood and letters burned with a poker. 

Pinefall Family Home
For carpentry inquiries, please contact the stall in Giredale.
Magic users are not welcome past this point.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. While he didn't put it past Andy to have put this sign here themself, he did think that this had actually been the work of their father. While more reasonable than Andy, their father had also been very adamant in his dislike of magic users. Probably the main reason Ethan and him had gotten along so well was that he had never actually known Ethan used magic. It had all been superficial conversations about commissions. 

Andy had never given him a fighting chance. They had always known something was wrong about him and hated him since. However, when they had seen Ethan levitating a pumpkin to Giredale for a project, their anger had grown unchecked. 

He didn't go past the sign. His curiosity didn't override his manners. He placed the parcel on the ground next to the sign, and turned back from the Carpenter's forest. 

He made it back to Grimwyck as the sun set. He walked into the town feeling exhausted, but rewarded. He had finished all the orders he needed to, and that was enough for him. 

It was a five minute further walk to get to his house, so he decided to camp out in the greenhouse again. He stumbled into his lab in the greenhouse feeling drunk with exhaustion. As he looked around the shelves, he saw a small vial of dreamless sleep tucked behind one of his plants. He only fought against the idea for a moment, before he decided it would be best. The stuff was strong, and if he took it he wouldn't be up for days. But his body was exhausted, and needed healing, and he had enough leeway with orders that he could spend a few days knocked out. 

He downed the bottle in one, and laid beneath the covers, listening to the ringing of the sculk on every surface. When his eyes finally closed, he could only feel relief at the idea of sleep without dreaming.

END OF PART TWO

Chapter Text

After being welcomed back into Giredale with completely open arms and absolutely no restrictions on their activities, Taylor has found life to be horribly dull. They had expected it all to be more exciting now that they weren't stuck in their cottage day in and day out, but it is now as if they have lost all sense of purpose. Where was the adventure in breaking their parole and sneaking into Giredale if they were allowed?? That was no adventure; going into Giredale was what everybody did.

Searching for that same sense of adrenaline has led Taylor into some odd situations these last few weeks. First it was contacting a very suspicious vendor of used furniture on the edge of Grimwyck. After purchasing a deep green couch for the bookshop, they had spent an entire afternoon scrubbing eerie stains out of the fabric. Then, it had been stealing an apple from the market for the hell of it. However, the fear of being reprimanded had led them straight back to the vendor to pay. 

Still, holding a leashed young emu while standing outside of Ethan's house in Grimwyck had to make it to the top ten. 

Taylor held the leash tightly, looking at the door. They could knock. That would probably eliminate the potential ramifications. But that would also eliminate the adventure, which is the entire point of this trip. So they stepped forward with intent, ready to open the door.

"Hello?"

Taylor turned, their heart falling straight out of their ass and skittering away to escape the consequences of their actions. But, the voice did not come from Ethan. It was instead a girl with blond hair and bright purple eyes. The eyes are almost the surprising part of her, and were nearly enough to distract them from the blinding pastel pink that was her entire outfit.  

"Hello…" Taylor tucked the leash behind their back, as if by hiding the fact that it connected to their own wrist, the emu would disappear. 

This girl was unfortunately not fooled. "Why the hell do you have an emu?"

Taylor sighed, revealing the leash. "I found it, and I know how much Ethan just loves emus so I wanted to drop by and give him it as a gift."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

That look made Taylor hesitate. "I… do I know you?"

A pause while she looked Taylor up and down. "Um… I don't think so. I don't know you."

Taylor furrowed her brow. Their mind spun. "I swear. Your eyes- I recognize them."

The girl shrugged, scratching her arm with manicured fingernails. "There's a lot of people with purple eyes around for you to recognize." Her tone was rich with amiable sarcasm.

Taylor snorted. "Yeah, yeah. What's your name?"

"Ashlyn Thorneveil." She smiled. "Oh I suppose that could be it: have you ever been to the Snoring Dragon Tavern?"

Taylor hesitated. "Maybe like, once? Several years ago?"

"I run the place. That must be it.." Ashlyn nodded to them. "What about you, then?"

"Taylor."

Ashlyn smiled. "Any last name?"

A tight feeling grew in their chest. It wasn't uncommon not to have a last name, particularly in Giredale and up north, but Taylor did have one. The idea of sharing it, however, made them sick. "Nah. M'from Giredale."

Ashlyn clearly didn't believe them, but dropped it, glancing at the emu again. "And you know Ethan how?"

Taylor shrugged. "Long story." They stared at each other for a moment, then Taylor gestured. "Well, would you like to come in?"

She smiled awkwardly. "You say that as if you own the place."

Taylor opened the door – tentatively – and stepped inside. They were pretty sure that Ethan was not home. None of the lanterns had been lit along the stairs, and the greenhouse lanterns had. Taylor had used their very skilled deductive reasoning and decided that if Ethan was home they would face the consequences then. They answered Ashlyn's question as they stepped inside, holding the door open. "God, no I do not. I'm leaving him a very nice gift, and in return I will steal some of his food."

"Steal?" Ashlyn questioned, following them inside. 

Their stomach dropped. "No no, borrow. I'm very nice like that. Polite, even."

"So it's like a trade system?" She didn't seem too sure.

"I mean he doesn't know that it's a trade, but that's okay." Taylor looked around, and their eyes landed on a small creature in the corner. "Oh my, who is this?! He is so cute!!" Taylor rushed over to the thing, kneeling in front of it. It had a body made out of a bookshelf, with two arms on either side that rock back and forth. It was on wooden wheels, and its arms pushed it along across the floor. This must be one of the Golem's that Ethan makes. They have heard that he does that now. Apparently it's a big deal, Taylor isn't really sure. "I must have one."

They hadn't realized they said that out loud until Ashlyn was responding. "He does commissions. Just write him a letter."

So Taylor set up on the floor next to the Golem, pulling out a notebook and ink, scribbling down on the pages. Ashlyn walks over and reads over their shoulder. There was a moment of silence as she read their words, then: "I- are you literate?"

Taylor shrugs, dusting the wet ink with sand and shaking off the excess. That was a complicated question. They could read just fine, owning a bookshop and all it'd be impractical not to, but that was about the extent of their literacy. Writing was another matter entirely. "Somewhat. Right then, what next?"

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

They left their letter in the mailbox and the emu tied up in the center of the kitchen. Ashlyn asked them a few times why they were giggling like this wasn't the sweet gift Taylor had indicated. Taylor didn't answer. 

As a matter of fact, Taylor had it on very good authority that Ethan was terrified of emus. Desca herself had told them when Taylor had stopped by their shop that morning. So Taylor had gone on a little adventure to the deserts north of Giredale, found a nice emu that wanted to follow them home, and transported it back. Animal cruelty? Maybe. But if anyone should be allowed to do it the one with horns should be first on the list. 

They started back from Ethan's house, walking along the Grimwyck paths. Taylor kicked a rock, then looked at Ashlyn. She had been very quiet since they had left. Taylor was worried that meant she would snitch on them. "So, are you around Giredale often?"

Ashlyn hummed. "Hm, not really. I only go when I'm working on my museum."

This piqued Taylor's interest. "Museum?"

"Yeah. The dragon exhibit. Have you seen it?"

Taylor thought very hard. As a matter of fact, they had noticed a dragon exhibit in Giredale. Or at least the shell of one. There were a lot of warning signs and barriers keeping them from investigating closer, but they remembered the feeling of looking at the bright pink building with the words "DANGEROUS" across the door and wondering who had chosen pink for the color of such a dangerous building. 

Now looking at the owner in her baby pink skirt and slightly dusty pink corset, it all made sense. 

"Yeah, I have. Is it going to be opened soon?"

Ashlyn hummed. "I just got back, but maybe, yeah."

"Where have you been?"

She got a faraway look in her eyes. "I was… traveling. Only came back because, well." She never finished her sentence. They continued down the twisting path, headed towards Giredale. 

Taylor broke the silence after a few minutes of awkward silence, broken only by the crunching of leaves. "So, do you live in the Tavern? You said you owned it."

"I do. The Tavern has been in the Thorneveil family for many years, or generations technically. Except, I never actually learned how to take care of it. I just did my own thing. That was sometimes with Ethan, because we grew up together kind of. Anyway, I left when I was a bit younger, and had to come back only recently to run it. I'm doing a rather terrible job at it." She shrugged, laughing under her breath. Now that Taylor was paying attention, she looked exhausted. "I've only been back, like, two days, but I still feel like a failure. I haven't actually learned how to make wine, and everything I cook has absolutely no flavor. Business has been really down. I would rather be out traveling still, but I can't exactly sell it."

Taylor nodded, trying to find their empathetic brain. "I was going to say. You don't seem the kind of person to run a tavern. No offense."

"None taken. I just… I'm a Dragonologist. Always have been. I've been out exploring different types of dragons and their surroundings and attitudes, while also drawing nearby ones away so they aren't shot down by Coalhaven. Also, Sheldon doesn't really get along with other dragons."

Taylor furrowed their brow. "Who the hell is Sheldon?"

She smiled sweetly, tucking her hands behind her back and a little skip starting in her step. "He's my dragon! He lives near the Tavern, you've probably seen him."

It clicked. Right. In their travels around Aldwynn, they sometimes passed through Grimwyck. Once a few months ago, they had come through and seen a dragon poking its head above the trees near the tavern. It had scared the hell out of them, however, it hadn't attacked. While Taylor hadn't investigated further, it did make sense that it would be Ashlyn's. "Oh yes, I've seen Sheldon. He's big." Understatement of the century.

Ashlyn didn't seem to think so. She just lit up like a lightbulb, joy in her bright eyes. "He is! He's a fire dragon, which means he has a lot of attitude. He would fight anyone if I let him."

Privately, Taylor hoped Ashlyn never felt so inclined. "You're right about the attitude. I was attacked by a fire dragon the other day. Many times."

She looked startled at that. "You were?" Taylor hummed in assent. "How was that? You'll have to tell me everything. There's not many that encounter a wild fire dragon and survive."

"Oh yeah, well, it wasn't pleasant. I really just hid inside a cottage. He didn't seem too keen on attacking us, luckily. He was green and breathed fire. Kind of like your Sheldon. Not as big though. Not near as big,"

"Well, Sheldon is what Dragonologists call a stage five dragon. So he's one of the biggest of his kind."

"So most dragons don't get that big?"

"Gods no. Most don't live that long. They're such big predators they need more protein than they are often able to obtain. Most dragons in the wild actually starve to death if you would believe it. A lot of my funds go straight into Sheldon's stomach."

"Ah, I see." 

They had reached a fork in the road, and Ashlyn stopped. "I've got to go to the Tavern. You're welcome along if you'd like."

Taylor considered. Chances are Ethan would discover the emu in his house soon, and Taylor would rather be on the other side of Aldwynn when that happened. "I've got… very important things to do."

Ashlyn nodded, obviously unbelieving. "I'm sure. Now that I'm here to stay, I'll see you around?"

"Yeah. I own the bookshop in town, if you are ever in need of magical literature."

She smiled. "Alright. Have a good day, Taylor."

Taylor walked back to Giredale with a slight skip in their step. Adventure completed. And they hadn't even been caught. This could shape up to be extremely fun.

Chapter Text

Eli once heard a tale of a young man who traveled for years across the land to reach a place of safety. The man faced many trials and tribulations throughout his journey, and it eventually changed him to be a master swordsman, possessing good will and humor. 

That tale was very familiar to him. Probably because he had actually been the one to live it. 

Maybe he had tweaked a few details in his retelling. For one, he wasn't a master swordsman; he was definitely learning. It was unfortunate, but if he was honest with himself, he really wasn't all that great with a sword (he was actually quite terrible).

Secondly, he hadn't really been a young man when he had taken his journey, more a young boy. He had been barely twelve at the time. Definitely not old enough to venture out on his own. He didn't remember where he had come from exactly, but he knew it had been bad enough to force him to leave. 

His parents hadn't gotten out.

He didn't have a lot of memories from his life before traveling, but of the ones he did have, there was one he avoided. 

Flashing lightning and rumbling thunder shaking the ground. Fire all around, and a man in scraggly clothes, holding Eli's shoulders tightly and instructing him to leave. "Go south. Make it over the mountains. You will be safe in Coalhaven."

He didn't have a last memory of his mother. Maybe she had been taken by whatever his father had been taken by. Maybe she had never cared enough to say goodbye. Either way, Eli supposed it didn't matter. They were both gone now, and he was alone.

It was difficult at first. He had met many people who either hurt him or tried to hurt him. It had been several years of getting lost, sleeping under trees and in abandoned buildings, and fighting with robbers to keep them from taking his shit.

He hadn't walked the whole time. Most of the years had been finding a good village and staying there for a couple months to rest his aching limbs. The village inhabitants had always been cold to newcomers, and rushed his departure.

But near the end of his journey, it had gotten a bit better. He had met Rachel for one. 

They had been the first person he had met that he had really liked. She had been working as a seamstress in the south with their mother. When Eli had stumbled past their property, Rachel had taken him in, fixed his clothing, given him a bit of money, and pointed him in the right direction. She mentioned that she was moving back into Aldwynn in the next couple of months, and if he was around Giredale in late summer she would be at the dye shop in the plaza. 

With the way his father had urged him to Coalhaven, when he made it to Coalhaven just two months later, he had expected there to be hundreds of people there to help him, rush him to a comfortable bed with fresh linens, and give him all of the food he needed. But there had barely been a soul in sight. Except for the occasional worker skirting on the edges of the dirty town, Eli seemed to be the only one in the place. 

He was determined to give it life. His parents had sent him here with thoughts of refuge, and he had to ensure he achieved their wish. 

There had been one man to help. He supposed it was more out of curiosity than anything. Why was a child wandering Coalhaven with no protection and no parents? But this man, who he called Sir. Henry (only since he had refused to give his name when prompted), had taught him to hold a sword, defend himself, and complete quests.

Eli supposed he had a lot to be grateful for. He had something to do every day, and something to look forward to in the mornings. The first day of every week he woke up, met with Sir. Henry, got his quests, and went on with his day completing them. 

He hadn't always been this self-sufficient. The money from quests was sparing and minimal, so he had had to save up. It had taken months with a stolen roof over his head and stolen crops from the farms on the other side of the hill, but Eli had completely created a life for himself. He was 17, and he had a mortgage.

Or something of the like. It was really more of a general "pay-whenever-you-can" kind of deal. Particularly because the clerk who took his payments was usually out of town, and never happy to see him. But he had put his first payment down on a place by The Ravine, and moved into his house that he had earned.

He wasn't against thievery. He had done his fair share of it after moving to Coalhaven. In fact, he had done enough that saying anything but neutral things about it would be enough hypocrisy that the universe would probably strike him down immediately. But he was trying to change by getting rid of old habits: growing his own food, finding his own clothing, and repairing his house with actual wood that he had purchased with actual money. It was almost unnerving how much of an adult he was now. He still felt like he was twelve, running from his burning family with nothing but the clothes on his back.

But he didn't want to think about then. He wanted to think about now, and the day he had planned. Because today he was going on a mission. 

He took a long drink out of a wine bottle, tucking the cork back in and shoving it back in his bag. He pretended he was drunk, stuttering his step and swaying a bit on his feet. The pleasant taste of apple juice was in his mouth, but he puckered and pretended to gag. That's usually what drunk people did when they drank alcohol. 

Stumbling up to the counter, he looked at Sir Henry with heavy eyes. "'Ello."

He glared at him. "Are you drunk, Eli?"

"Nah. Js' sleepy." Eli had put on a strong accent from the east, something that was gruff and harsh. He expected Sir. Henry to cower in fear any minute now…

"Why are you talking like that?"

Eli rolled his eyes. "Like what? V'always talked like this, innit?"

Sir. Henry raised an eyebrow. "That is not how you use that." His accent was disgustingly posh. Eli was sure that Sir. Henry had come from Giredale castle, but he just couldn't prove it.

Eli groaned, letting go of the accent, reverting to his own northern twang. "You've always have to go and ruin my facade, don't you? I was having fun."

Sir. Henry took a piece of parchment from under the counter. "These are your tasks. Due next week."

He took the parchment, holding it an arm's length away and squinting. "Ah, m'sorry my vision ain't what it used to be." His voice had taken on what he considered to be a distinctly grandpa quality. He had stolen this accent from the guard at the entrance to the Coalhaven mines. That man hated him, but he had a nice accent.

Sir. Henry shooed him away. "Get to work. There's some hard ones."

Eli climbed the ladder out of The Ravine where Sir Henry lived. He would stop by his 'mostly-kind-of-paid-for' house, and pick up some supplies before he set off. 

Only the important things, of course. An extra bottle of apple juice, a few pieces of crusty bread and apple, and his hat. 

He absolutely loved his hat. Not only was it fancy, it was technically a fishing hat. Which, when he needed to pretend he was a fisherman, was perfect. It did reek of blood and rotten fish, but it looked amazing.

After leaving his 'mostly-kind-of-paid-for house', he unlatched his bicycle from the fence and started down the trail. He hated this fucking bicycle. It was old, and creaked when he turned, and was falling apart. He needed a new way to do these quests, because this bicycle was getting terribly boring. 

His first quest was easy enough. He needed a bunch of feathers. 

But apparently, every single chicken that has ever existed ever has gone and disappeared off the face of the entire fucking planet. 

He rode his bike until the sun literally set and he was forced to give up. It was of course then that he realized he had no idea where he was. He couldn't see the river, which was what he usually used to get back home after traveling. The moon hadn't risen yet, so he couldn't determine which way was east, and he was bone tired. He looked around in a full circle, and saw a light on the horizon. It wasn't the sun, and it probably wasn't Coalhaven, but it was probably a town or something of the kind. That was a better plan than staying out here looking for his town. 

He resettled on his bike, guiding his steering wheel towards the lights. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

As it turns out, small towns don't make the kind of glow that you can see from miles away. As he got nearer, he was able to see the towers of Giredale. It was a bit too late to turn back now, so he sighed and continued. He hadn't planned on going to Giredale today, but as long as he was this close he would stop by Rachel's shop and see if she had made it to Giredale yet.

He rode into Giredale with a creepy, sick looking man-thing quite literally nipping at his heels. Eli had seen many of these when he was traveling. He had only heard people call them 'zombies' which didn't make a lot of sense. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that they weren't human, he had a sword, and the man had a head.

After that was taken care of, he shoved the corpse out into the moat, and headed down the street. The moon had risen on the horizon, so there were few people still in the city. He walked down the streets, looking up and down for a dye shop, but he couldn't find it anywhere. What he did find though was a library. 

He liked books. He also liked reading, though his love for the idea of books was far greater than his love for the act of reading itself. But this library didn't have a door; it practically begged young, impressionable, questmasters such as himself to enter.  He glanced around the edge, and saw only a small placard that had Quill & Ink Bookshop engraved into the wood. No warning signs, nothing that said, 'DO NOT ENTER' or 'if you are a 17 year old from Coalhaven do not come in or we will kill you'.

Impressionability aside, the books inside were all odd looking. They covered weird topics, like "dragons" and "spells". Eli realized this must be the kind of place that sold bullshit books on fake topics, but the energy of it was enchanting. The glass on the lantern cages was dark, so minimal light reflected on the bookshelves. Many were rotten, but there was wood stacked in most of the corners, obviously the beginning of plans to repair. 

Eli kept walking around the shop until he reached a doorway in the back.  There was a curtain hanging across it, and when he drew it back, there was an entire other room. There were more bookshelves, but these ones looked weird. The books shone with a translucent glow. A faint humming in the air made the hair on his arms rise, and Eli shivered as he looked around, seeing a small table with diamonds on each corner. It was beautiful, but gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. 

He quickly backed out, deciding not all adventures were meant for brave adventurers such as himself. Now standing in the quiet library, he was suddenly just very sleepy, and he very much wanted to lie down on one of the couches in the corners of the library. 

Every part of his sensical brain told him not to fall asleep in strange libraries with stranger books. But somehow he landed on the couch anyway, curled up around a pillow. 

He didn't dream. When he dreamed they ended up being disturbing, so he had trained himself not to. Instead, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them the next morning, it was straight into someone's face.

"Ah fuck!" Eli scrambles off the couch, retreating to a corner of the library. "Hello?"

"What the hell are you doing in my bookshop?" This person had a very strong accent; something from the south. He immediately locked into it, listening to their inflections. He wanted to steal this accent; he'd never heard anything like it.

"Uh…" Eli glanced around. "The door was open, I just-"

"I like your hat." 

He hesitated. That wasn't right. "My… hat?" He reached up, feeling for it. His fishing hat was in fact, still on his head, and still smelling of fish. "Why thank you." They had their arms folded, and had an inquisitive look on their face. "Uh, so… are you going to kill me? Or,"

The person started. "No I'm not going to kill you, Universe, who do you think I am? How old are you and what is your name? Do your parents know where you are?"

Eli sighed, pointedly ignoring the question about his parents. "I am seventeen, thank you. My name is Eli. And who are you?"

"I'm Taylor, the owner of this bookshop that you are currently trespassing on."

"Well there isn't a door, it's literally open to the outside!! There's more bugs trespassing in here than I've ever trespassed in my life. No door means no boundary to the public street which means I can't trespass."

Taylor had a slight frown, clenching their jaw and looking at him closer. "Are you sure you're seventeen?"

"Yes, I am. Are you sure you're not?" 

There was a moment when they stared at each other for a little longer. Eli could have sworn that there was a rustling of pages from the books on the shelves. Taylor sighed, then flicked their head. "Right then, get up. Follow me."

Eli dragged his feet as he followed Taylor out of the bookshop. Apparently it was illegal to take a nap now. There was no goddamn door and the place had looked practically abandoned. It wasn't even his fault.

But Taylor didn't take him to the Giredale Guard. Instead, they led him down the street, and knocked on the door of a small shop. There were flowers everywhere, up and down the door and in the flowerbeds on the windows. The door was painted a dusty purple, and there was a large green bear design in the center. 

It was only when the door opened that Eli realized. A dye shop would probably need flowers, and Rachel had had a huge garden in their home up north. The shop was covered in colors, with dyed glass and the awning is made out of colorful woven cloth, and while it didn't explicitly say it was a dye shop…

Eli eagerly looked at the figure in the doorway as it opened, wishing to see Rachel more than anything. 

Unfortunately, it is instead a rather burly looking person with dark curly hair, a scar across the bridge of their nose, and a five o'clock shadow. They are faintly grimy, and Eli is immediately hit with the smell of woodsmoke. Not only do they not seem to be the type running a dye shop, they are also wearing exclusively red and black, which Eli supposes isn't the kind of colors people go to a dye shop for. 

But when they see Taylor, they immediately brighten, a grin sliding onto their face. "Taylor!"

Taylor smiled right back. "Hello Andy. This is Eli. He was… sleeping in my shop."

The person, Andy, turns a critical eye on him. "You have a home, kid?"

Eli straightened. "First of all, I'm almost eighteen. And yes, thank you, I do have a mortgage and I pay it almost on time every whenever-I-want."

"Eli, is that you?"

Another voice came from inside behind Andy. They moved out of the way, and Rachel stepped out of the doorway. Her hair has been dyed purple since the last time he'd seen them. It's faint, but the curls shimmer lavender in the sunlight. Eli relaxes immediately. He was right.

"You know him, Rachel?" Taylor asks, but Rachel doesn't answer, instead taking the steps down from their shop and wrapping him in a quick, but firm, embrace. 

"How have you been?"

"I've been good!!" Eli grins as she lets go, feeling light. Seeing Rachel again is more relieving than he had originally thought it would be. He never appreciated how important Rachel had been to him. She had been the first person to ever be kind to him after fleeing his home. "How have you been? How has the shop been going?

Rachel smiled kindly. "Very good. It's a lot of work renovating to make it more mine, but it's going very well so far. You look so good! I'm glad you've been well. I will admit I've been worried." 

Another head pops out of the dye shop, and Eli looks up to meet the vibrant purple eyes of a young woman with bright blonde hair. She smiles, and steps out, and Eli takes a moment to appreciate the shades of pink. He hadn't properly considered different shades of pink as compatible before. 

"What is going on?" The girl speaks, and Eli is startled to recognize his own accent on her lips.

"Oh, yes, Ashlyn, this is Eli." Rachel gently pats Eli's shoulder. "He traveled from the north as a child, and stumbled into my mother's property a few months ago. Then he had to leave and head to Coalhaven, but I let him know he was welcome in my dye shop anytime."

Eli smiled awkwardly, putting his hands behind his back. Now that the original rush of excitement at seeing Rachel was gone, he knew he wasn't safe. While Ashlyn didn't seem menacing, he didn't know anything about her and those eyes were unnerving. Then even worse, he was left with Taylor, who was mad at him, and Andy, who was scary as hell. Eli glanced between the two, and his eyes caught onto something that he previously hadn't noticed. "Are those… paper mache?"

Taylor's brow furrowed, and as it did the small horns poking out of their hair shifted slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

Eli points at the horns on their head, and Andy lets out a shout. "Ha! I told you!!" They shove Taylor's shoulder, who still looks vaguely confused. "I told you they look like paper mache!"

"No, no, hold on."

Eli held out a hand. "Wait, I don't want to offend, like they look good, almost real, but are they for like… a cosplay?"

"A cosplay??" When they get angry, Taylor's accent becomes exacerbated. Eli mutters their repeated words under his breath. He's adamant to steal this accent perfectly.

Andy laughs, stepping over to him and looping an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, you are my kind of person!"

Eli smiled nervously, glancing between Andy and Taylor. "What are they for?"

"They're not for anything. They're real, I grew them-"

Rachel interrupted, stepping between them. "Eli is from the north, aren't you, Eli?"

There was a moment of silence, then understanding dawned in Taylor's eyes. "Ah, I see."

He felt uneasy. He hadn't really known he was from the north. He had known he had traveled south to make it to Giredale, but he hadn't known the north was a society that was well known. He didn't really know anything about where he had used to live. 

Andy grinned. "Ah, the north! If it weren't for the pillagers I'd live there. I love that place."

"Oh, that's not-" Ashlyn spoke for the first time in a while. She had sat down on the steps up to the dye shop, resting her chin on her hand and looking between the group.

Taylor grimaced. "Yeah, that is an interesting opinion." They glanced away, looking to their bookshop. "Ah shit a customer, wait." They jogged down the street, stepping into the dim room after the customer that had just entered. Andy let go of him, patting him on the back before hurrying after Taylor.

Eli looked at Rachel. "What did you mean, I'm from the north? What does that matter?"

Rachel smiled kindly. "The north is a very… conservative place when it comes to magic. Here in Giredale, it's a lot more normal, but up north it's kind of dismissed as theories and hypotheticals."

Eli had already opened his mouth to respond. "But magic doesn't exist."

Ashlyn stood up, stepping over to him. "That's not what many here believe." She smiled, obviously trying to be as comforting as possible. "But that doesn't mean you aren't free to believe what you follow most closely. Andy, who you just met, is very against magic but they don't separate themselves from those who believe in it. Giredale is a safe place for all."

Eli was still trying to wrap his head around Ashlyn speaking as if magic was real and he was a minority. But that wasn't correct. Nobody believed in magic, magic was for children. And Eli was no child.

Rachel cleared her throat gently. "Do you want to come in? You look very tired. What brought you to Giredale?"

He wanted to press further, but he knew it was no use. Rachel seemed to believe themself that magic was real, and that wasn't someone Eli wanted to converse with on the subject. "Well, I was looking for chickens last night because I need feathers, but I can't find any."

Rachel laughed lightly, touching his shoulder and beginning to walk down the street. "I think I saw some yesterday. I'll show you, follow me."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

They found the chickens easily enough after that. Rachel took him to a forest just north of Giredale and there were several wild chickens amidst the bushes. Eli took care of the chickens, cutting up the meat clumsily and tucking the feathers and meat into a pouch in his bag. He'd clean everything later.

The entire time, Rachel told him about their time traveling back to Giredale. Apparently, their mother had died a couple months ago. At this, Eli was quick to console them, but Rachel didn't seem too broken up. She smiled sadly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "It's okay, Eli. I've… come to accept it. It's hard, but I'll be okay. With time."

Eli was surprised by that. He still found himself tearing up when he thought of what happened to his parents. Maybe it was in the unknown. Rachel knew what happened to their mother. Eli could only assume from the flashing flames and screaming. Rachel had closure, and the ambiguity of his situation still haunted Eli.

They got back to Rachel's dye shop with plenty of time left in the day. Ashlyn recommended giving Eli a tour of the city, but Eli found himself exhausted. Rachel offered their room to sleep, but Eli couldn't accept. That felt like encroaching on her space, and he didn't want to be a burden. However, Ashlyn quickly recommended their rooms.

"I have so many. Not many people use them anymore, and they're going to waste."

"I don't have anything to pay you." Eli twisted his hands behind his back. Ashlyn's eyes gave him an odd feeling, and she also radiated a kind of energy that he couldn't place. He would say it was magical, but that would be absurd. 

She smiled. "Don't worry about money. You're a friend."

Andy and Taylor had returned from the bookshop, and were sitting in Rachel's kitchen. Rachel was at the stove, stirring water and rose petals over a low flame. As he stood up to follow Ashlyn, Taylor stood up as well. 

"I need to talk to you about some things, Ashlyn." Taylor gave her a look, and Eli furrowed his brow. There were so many secrets intertwined in these people. He couldn't understand it all even if he tried.

"I'll drop Eli off then we can talk."

Ashlyn showed him to what was apparently called a waystone. She walked him through activating it, then put a hand on his shoulder. "It's used for immediate transportation. Now that you have this one, you can come to Giredale whenever you'd like. However, you need the other connection as well. I'll backpack you to the Tavern, but once you activate that one you won't need my help again."

Eli nodded slowly, and braced himself as Ashlyn set her other hand on the stone. There was a woosh and a flash of light, and he was jerked through space and time. 

He landed at the Tavern and his knees immediately buckled. He stumbled, but Ashlyn's hand on his shoulder steadied him. "Most people's first trip does that to them. It will get better the more accustomed to it you get."

Eli couldn't completely believe that. Maybe it was his prior exhaustion, but he still was struggling to keep himself upright. Ashlyn had to guide him inside because he couldn't force his eyes open from the light of the sun. Once he was inside, it was a bit better, and he was able to open his eyes and glance around.

The Tavern was a cozy place. Pink banners spanned the distance between walls. Fairy lights were pinned in the corners, flickering gently in the dim. It smelled like smoke, but not the kind that brought back flashes of screaming and his father's face. A comfortable smoke, like a warm fire crackling in the hearth. 

Eli didn't get a good look at the place. Ashlyn took him upstairs and into the first door on the landing. Eli carefully walked inside. It was a small room, but Eli didn't get a good look, immediately walking to the bed and sitting down.

"I'm heading into Giredale to speak with Taylor, then I'll just be in Grimwyck; I've got to meet with Ethan. Will you be okay?"

Eli nodded carefully. This bed was so comfortable. His eyes immediately began to flutter. He didn't even care about who Ethan was, he just wanted to sleep. He carefully shifted on the bed, pulling the covers over himself and curling up. "I'll be okay, yeah."

He wasn't even able to see Ashlyn leave before he was asleep.

Chapter Text

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ part three₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Consciousness returned slowly. 

It was little things first. The sheets twisted around his limbs, a cramp in his arm, pain in his neck. There was an obnoxious ticking somewhere in his room. He wasn't sure why, only the greenhouse had a clock. There was also a ringing in his ears, faint humming and creaking…

Ethan's eyes snapped open and he sat up. He wasn't in his house, but the greenhouse. He had taken a vial of dreamless sleep, and had slept for…

Fuck. How long had it been?

He swung his legs off the bed slowly, feeling the painful creaking on his joints. He had surprisingly managed to remove his trousers before falling asleep, but this forced him to catch sight of the sculk across his leg. 

It was getting bigger.

He knew it was. It had been centralized on his kneecap before, and it was creeping up his leg now, wrapping around the muscle. It had grown at least ten centimeters since the last time he had looked at it. A shiver ran down his spine. If it reached his brain…

Ethan didn't allow himself to sit and ponder that much longer. He got up and changed, planning out his day in his head. He needed a boat. He couldn't build one himself, so he would have to ask Andy. Unfortunately, Andy was a fucking ass. He would need to ask Rachel how to best communicate with them because trying by himself would be impossible.

He makes it over to his house somehow, climbing up the stairs. He would need to pack some supplies, then head into Giredale to find Rachel. His hand was on the doorknob when he noticed that the flag on his mailbox was up. He hesitated, and glanced around. Who had been to his house?

He opened the mailbox slowly, looking inside. There was a small piece of parchment in the center, slightly crumpled. It looked like it had been ripped out of a notebook. 

Ethan took it out, glancing at the words. 

hi fish man,
can i reckwest fod delivry pls?
and also i dont no who this litle book man is but i like him very much and also may i pls have my own litle book man?
thank,
taylor :D

It took him a bit to decipher the message past the spelling and grammar errors, but when he did a smile lit up his face. Oakley had a home. The little Bookshelf Golem needed a friend and a job, and Ethan had been planning on giving him a home when he had made him. It had just happened faster than planned. 

Ethan was so distracted by this development that he walked into his kitchen without looking up from the letter. He closed the door behind him, and immediately heard a low purr.

What the fuck?

He didn't have a cat. And that hadn't really sounded like a cat… more like…

Ethan raised his head slowly, meeting eyes with a small, fluffy, brown and white bird standing on a chest in the middle of the room. The young emu and him stood in a staring contest for a long moment. It cocked its head at him, and Ethan felt his stomach drop. He lowered his bag to the ground slowly, then started to move backwards. He tried everything in his power to keep the emu from charging, maintaining eye contact, taking slow steps, no sudden movements…

Unfortunately, the emu doesn't seem to give a fuck. 

The second he took a step, it charged straight at him, making that odd purring noise again. Ethan shrieked, darting around the emu and jumping up onto the countertop. In a moment, he crawled up the cabinets onto the top of the cupboards. Upon further consideration, he's lucky that he recently had these replaced, otherwise they would have given out under his weight. But he hadn't thought about that. He had only thought, "fuck", "emu", and "run".

It stands at the base of the cabinet, staring up at him. Oakley makes his rustling noise, shifting across the ground over to him. The emu hops on top of him, then off, jumping around his home. 

Ethan took a moment to stare at its bouncing figure, and consider what the hell is happening here. It must have been Taylor. If they had mentioned seeing Oakley, then they had been in his house, and if Taylor hadn't put his emu here he didn't know who would have.

He stayed on top of the cabinets until the emu settled down, pecking at the vines by his door with its back to him. Ethan took a deep breath, and swung his leg over, lowering himself to the ground. 

The second the emu heard his feet land on the wooden planks, it ran at him again. Ethan screamed again, jumping to the side and climbing on top of his desk. He is worried that the emu will be able to jump up on the desk, as it isn't quite as high. The emu takes several steps back from him (out of kicking range damn it) and stares at him with those beady black eyes. 

Ethan has always hated emus. He isn't sure when this started, as he generally loves all animals. However, there is something about these large feathered beasts that make his skin crawl. Even the baby ones make him sick. Now staring at it, it makes that low purring noise, he gags. "Ew, why are you making that noise?? Never do that again, get the fuck out of my house." At the sound of his voice, instead of getting further away it got closer, and Ethan let out another ungainly shriek. "Ew ew ew stop it!"

The door across from him opened, and a voice sounded. "What is going on?"

Ethan looked up at the familiar voice. "Ashlyn? What on earth are you doing here?"

Ashlyn smiled as if nothing is off, and Ethan thought back. It has been several months since he has seen her. Not only has she been traveling for a couple of years collecting information on dragons, but Ethan has also been traveling. They had been very close as kids, and now that it has been so long there is a kind of awkwardness in the air. It doesn't look like she's changed much. She still wears all pink, though with maturity the palette shifted from bright pink to more pastel and dusty pinks. Her eyes are still the purple that he remembers, and she still has that bright smile on her face.

Ashlyn stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "I heard screaming. What's going on?" Her accent has shifted in the years that she's been gone. While it was never truly the accent of Aldwynn, and has always had the soft pronunciation of northern cities, it has shifted even further north. That's the most unrecognizable part of her; for the most part she's the same friend he always had.

"This motherfucking thing was left in my house-" At his voice, the emu sprung at him again, and Ethan screamed and jumped back. "I hate it!!"

Ashlyn laughed, skipping over to him and picking up the emu. "The emu? What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know, just take it away from me please, I don't want it."

She sighed, taking a few steps away from him. Ethan glared at the emu as he slowly got down from the counter. Ashlyn glanced between him and the emu, "I don't want it either."

Ethan groaned, glaring at the emu. "Who the hell put this in here?"

She smiled sweetly, petting the emu's neck gently. "Oh, well, I recently ran into someone named Taylor. I was here looking for you, but they were already here and wanted to drop this gift off for you. I stayed very quiet because I was very confused, but-"

"Yeah, don't fucking start with Taylor. So they left this here?" Ethan waved a dismissive hand, but the emu didn't like that, jumping out of Ashlyn's grip and running at him again. Ethan jumped back up on the counter with a single leap, demonstrating mobility he hadn't known he possessed. "I hate how it moves, Universe, please get it away from me."

"I think you're its dad now." Ashlyn remarked, walking over and dragging it away from him again. 

"Fuck, no. That is not going to happen. I'm going to deliver it back to Taylor with Oakley."

In a powerful show of bravery, Ethan assisted Ashlyn with locking the emu in his storage closet. He placed a chair under the handle and a large stack of cookbooks on top of the chair before he decided that it was locked in there firmly enough. 

With a sigh, he turns back to Ashlyn. "Well, how have you been?"

She smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a gentle hug. "I'm great. I've learned so much."

"I feel like I haven't seen you in fucking ages."

"It's been forever." She smiled, then hesitated. "Though, I kind of made a little oopsy that we should probably discuss later. But it's more of a show you than a tell you thing."

Ethan furrowed his brow. "What does that mean?"

Ashyln grimaced. "I don't know how to explain. I'll show you in a bit, yeah?"

He nodded, still unsure, but turned back to the stove. "Do you need any food? I've started doing deliveries."

"I have been living off cooked rats for a few months now."

"Universe above, so I'm making you food."

"That would be ideal, yeah."

Ethan rummaged through his pantry. "Do you like cabbage?"

"Yeah! I like anything really, as long as I don't have to peel fur off of it."

"Disgusting, thank you." Ethan put a large pot on the stove, and started slicing vegetables. He allowed the silence between them to linger as he cooked. It was the slightly awkward silence of friends long spent apart. It wasn't until he placed a bowl in front of Ashlyn at the table that he spoke again. "I have some things that I need to go over with you."

She glanced up at him as she sipped at the soup. "What things?"

Ethan sat down across from her, tucking his legs underneath himself. "I went on a journey a couple of days ago and found a fuck ton of magical books. A lot of them are fire based, and I can't use those, so…"

Ashlyn nodded slightly, still eating. She took another sip, then sighed. "I'm not sure if I can use them"

Ethan frowned. "Why? Did you lose your spellbook?"

She gave a stiff smile, glaring into the vegetables like they had done her wrong. "I have lost so much. As it turns out, running off to study dragons isn't the safest career path."

Ethan smirked. "Oh really? I had no idea."

Ashlyn kicked him beneath the table, but it wasn't hard. There was another beat of silence as she ate several spoonfuls of soup. Ethan took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction when he broke the news. While Ashlyn losing her spellbook was bad, it wasn't catastrophic. Ethan was in a…unique situation. He cleared his throat in the silence, then spoke. "I… also lost my spellbook."

The look she gave him was a mix of disbelief and shock. "You did?"

He gave a stiff smile, tracing the patterns made in the wood grain. "Yeah. A week or so ago now."

Ashlyn shook her head, putting her spoon down completely and crossing her arms. "How have you been feeling?"

Ethan avoided her gaze, looking down. "I am… okay. My knee has gotten bad again, and there have been other side effects."

"Side effects?" Ethan nodded, and she cocked her head slightly. "Like what?"

Ethan shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention on him. "Nothing bad yet. Just sounds no one else can hear and dreams."

She narrowed her eyes, meeting his. Ashlyn could read anyone like an open book. It had bothered him so much as a kid that he had tried to learn to counteract it. He fixed his posture into one of confidence, and unclenched his jaw. She was not fooled, and opened her mouth to probably nitpick the topic further. 

He didn't give her a chance. "I lost my boat as well while traveling, so maybe it's not the dragons and more our luck."

This shocked her out of suspicion about Ethan's claims. "You lost the boat? What happened?"

"Whale." Ethan let out a quiet laugh. "I don't want to talk about it."

"How are you going to fish? You aren't going to resort to pier fishing, are you?"

Ethan shuddered. "Only if I absolutely need to. I am – unfortunately – going to attempt to commission the carpenter in Giredale. The only problem is: they hate me."

"Don't sound so meloncholy. I know Andy, they're alright."

"Maybe to you." Ethan muttered. 

She sent him a knowing smile, before finishing the rest of her soup, standing with the bowl, and placing it in a bowl of water by the counter top. "Let's see these books you've got then."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Ashlyn ended up taking the vast majority of his enchanted books. He didn't really need any except for the ones for armor and his farming, so he allowed her to restock after her travels. While she sorted through the books, Ethan pulled up one of the planks on the floor to access the secret chest beneath. Inside, there weren't valuables, rather memorabilia from his family. Among the various items, there was his father's garden shears, his mother's pocketwatch, and a rolled up piece of parchment. 

He removed the parchment, unrolling the delicate paper carefully. There was a schematic inside. After building the boat that Ethan had destroyed, his father and grandfather had come together to plan out a schematic for a boat that they would build in the future. 

His grandfather had died soon after, and his father had run from Grimwyck before ever building it. 

That brought up memories. A shouting match between a father and his child.

'You're just going to leave me here?'

'You were always welcome to come with us. Instead, you decided to stay here and play the hero.'

'I'm not playing the hero, dad, I'm doing everything I can-'

'What could you ever do? You're just a little greenling!  I'm the strongest greenwitch in the family, you're just-'

'All this place has! Because you're running like a fucking coward!'

Ethan closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He didn't want to think about the last weeks before his family left. He refocused. Boat. Spellbook. Anything but his father. Anything but his scathing words and abandoned bedroom. 

He blinked and relaxed, wiping it from his mind. Nothing had happened in those last weeks. Nothing.

Ethan opened his eyes and looked at the schematic, and yearned. He wanted to give his family one last benefit. They would probably never return, and they would definitely never forgive him for destroying the last boat – among other things – but the very least he could do was build the boat they had dreamed of. 

Once Ashlyn was finished with the enchanted books, they packed their bags. Ashlyn took the emu from the closet and put it in her satchel, its little head sticking out of the top. Ethan explained to Oakley what was happening, then put a gentle levitation spell on him to make the trip to Giredale easier. 

As they walked down the stairs from his house, Ethan wanted to ask Ashlyn so many questions about her trip, but her return confused him. She hadn't ever wanted to come back to run the tavern. The fact that she was here meant that something happened. And Ethan didn't want to bring up anything that would hurt her. 

Ethan kicked a rock, and decided his safest bet was ignoring the fact that she had been gone entirely. If she wanted to talk about her trip, she would bring it up. For now, he would ask about more current events. "So have you met anyone else besides Taylor since you've been back?"

She nodded slowly. "I saw Rachel, it's been years since I've seen them. I also briefly ran into Andy." He grunted, not wanting to acknowledge them past that. "They like calling Sheldon a giant lizard."

His foot caught on a rock in the ground, and he stumbled slightly. He was forced to catch himself on his bad leg, and a sharp pain echoed up his bones. He winced. If only he still had his crutch; it had been lost after the boat had been destroyed, and he didn't have spares lying around. "Yeah, they have a fucking weird thing about magic. I don't get it."

She laughed, petting the emu absentmindedly. "I thought it was a joke at first, but as it turns out they are quite serious."

Ethan nodded solemnly. "That's the thing about Andy. You have to take them seriously. They're unable to make or take a joke."

It was an hour's walk from Grimwyck to Giredale. Ethan made small talk the whole way, commenting on the weather, or the adventures he was planning on taking. He actively avoided Ashlyn's trip, and his health. Whenever it seemed that Ashlyn was attempting to steer the conversation that way, he quickly diverted. He didn't want to tell anyone about the sculk until he understood it better. 

They made it to Giredale at noon. His leg was aching, and he triednot to limp. If Ashlyn saw anything, she'd ask about it, and he couldn't let that happen. The bridge is busy at this hour, and it takes almost twenty minutes to cross. But once they are in the city, the streets open up and they are able to breathe freely again. 

Ashlyn had tucked the emu completely in the bag for the cross into Giredale, but she let it out again to look around the city once they were past the guards. 

They made their way up the bustling streets onto the street with the Quill and Ink Bookshop and Rachel's flower and dye shop. While the eventual plan was to speak to Rachel and Andy, Ethan had to deal with this emu and Oakley first.

The two of them duck into Taylor's bookshop, glancing around. Ethan let Oakley down in the back of the shop, and watched him for a moment as he trotted around the books scattered across the floor. 

Ashlyn pet the emu, and glanced into the enchanting room. "I don't think they're in here."

"You don't think who's in here?" Rachel's voice made Ethan snap his head up. She was standing on the second floor, looking over the railing at the two of them.

"Oh, Rachel, hello. We are dropping a present off for Taylor. Unless you're interested. Would you like a pet?" Ethan smiled, gesturing at the emu. 

Rachel furrowed their brow, then hurried down the stairs to look at the bird in Ashlyn's bag. "Is this an emu?"

"Unforunately, yes." 

She glanced at the it again. "I think I'm actually okay without for now." She turned to Ashlyn. "How is…" There was a moment of silence. 

Ashlyn seemed to understand what she meant. "He's good. Passed the fuck out in the Tavern. I'll go back in a few hours to check on him."

Ethan glanced between them. "Who?"

"A new friend. If you want you can come to the Tavern as well to meet him."

Ethan nodded. "Sure, yeah." He was diverted from questioning further from another purr from the emu. He sighed. "Back to our original plan then. Where do we find a place to hide this bird?"

Rachel hesitated, then cleared her throat. "I actually was looking for you, Ethan. You do green magic, right?"

Ethan hummed, still glancing around. Ashlyn was walking around the bookshop with the bird, looking at the various tomes on the walls. "Yeah, that is generally what I'm known for."

They smiled at his sarcasm, then gestured to the second floor. "I need your help then. If you can, of course." 

Ethan followed her, taking the steps two at a time. As they reached the top, Rachel led him into a back room. This area was minimally decorated, and only had several piles of rotten wood and a small bed shoved into the corner. Rachel gestured at a pile of blue flowers growing in the opposite corner from the bed. "Those apparently keep growing back. Taylor has completely replaced the planks several times, but they continue to grow. It won't do to have them remain, as they're trying to rent out the room on occasion for more business, but they can't with these weeds there."

Ethan hesitated from saying that he didn't know and Rachel should ask someone else. He could probably figure it out if he thought hard enough. To provide a buffer for more inquiries, Ethan walked across the room and bent down, feeling the leaves. They were oddly smooth, unlike any plant that he had seen. There was also a faint haze around the flowers; not necessarily blue, instead giving off a blue kind of light. 

And that was when he knew. He smiled, reaching into his pocket and taking out a coin. He held it out in front of the supposed plant. 

"Do you like this? It's shiny, isn't it?" He was sure that Rachel was staring at him like a crazy person, but he refused to be diverted. The 'flowers' seemed to shudder, and Ethan's suspicions were confirmed. This was no weed.

Ethan tucked the coin back in his pocket, and reached out to Rachel. "Do you have any flowers on you?"

They quickly reached into their hair, where they usually had various daisies tucked into her hair. They removed a small blue daisy and handed it to Ethan. He took it gently, and held it out. "What about this one? This is nice isn't it. A bluie- or no, blue daisy." He had stumbled over his words, but the mirage had immediately reacted to it, seeming to quiver in excitement. 

There was a long moment where Ethan sat holding out the daisy, before the weeds melted together. Behind him, Rachel gasped, but Ethan didn't look at her, instead holding his ground. The flowers merged together into a small blue sprite, with bright eyes and small blue wings extending behind him. He reached out and took the flower, inspected it, then buzzed around in the air before landing on Rachel's shoulder.

She started, and glanced nervously between the sprite and Ethan. "What is this, Ethan?"

"It's a sprite. They like to pretend to be different things, especially if they have an attachment to it or if it's really shiny." Ethan tucked his hands in his pockets, glancing back at the spot. "This one must like flowers."

Rachel smiled, looking back at the sprite. "What was that you called him? Bluie?"

The sprite buzzed happily, and flew in a quick circle around Rachel's head before settling back on her shoulder. Ethan hadn't considered that since the flower had been Rachel's, the sprite would bond itself to her. Ethan nodded, glancing around the room. "He seems to like it."

Rachel smiled at the sprite which was now flying up and down in quick succession. "Do you like that? Bluie?" The sprite flew again in a circle, landing back on Rachel's shoulder and nosing into their hair.

As Rachel and Bluie were bonding, Ethan found himself walking back to the corner. While sprites tying themself to a location was generally random, it was odd to him that it had chosen this in particular. It wasn't by any means a hidden location, and it definitely wasn't uninhabited. 

He knelt in the corner, placing his hand on the ground and performing a simple seeking spell. If there was anything here to draw sprites in, the spell would reveal it. However, as the magic rushed through his arm, he felt a sharp pain in his leg and for a moment his vision went black. 

"Ethan? Are you okay?"

Ethan blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes. There were still dark spots remaining, a faint buzzing in the back of his head. He hears a faint whisper in the back of his head. He can't hear it clearly, but he knows it's saying something to him. Something important.

A hand on his shoulder. "Ethan?"

Ethan pulled his hand back, letting the spell go and taking deep breaths. His vision cleared the rest of the way, and he blinked up at Rachel. Her face was a mask of worry. 

"I- I'm okay." He swallowed, feeling that coldness start to creep in around his knee again. "I'm okay. Just…"

Rachel leaned in, checking his eyes. "Are you sure? Your pupils are completely dilated."

"Yeah." Ethan realized he had completely collapsed, and was now sitting against the wall, one hand clutching at the fabric of his trousers. "I'm okay."

Rachel didn't seem to believe him, but voices from downstairs distracted them. Ethan quickly shoved himself to his feet, only taking a moment to steady against the wall. "Are you positive you're alright, Ethan? You don't look well."

Ethan nodded distractedly, and made his way to the door. His leg didn't hurt anymore. There had only been that flare of pain, and now nothing. That made no sense.

He stumbled past the staircase and retreated to a corner of the bookshop behind a shelf. He heard Rachel exit the room and climb down the stairs. There was voices from the bottom floor, but Ethan didn't pay attention. He carefully rolled up the leg of his trousers, and stared at his knee.

The sculk had grown immensely. This morning, it had barely been creeping past mid-thigh. Now it was reaching up even further. The lines of sculk were darker and thicker, and glowing with an ominous light. 

He dropped the leg of his trousers, breathing slowly. He would handle this. Just not right now with everyone downstairs. 

Ethan stood and glanced over the railing. Ashlyn and Rachel were talking with Taylor and Desca, but she wasn't holding the emu anymore. It had disappeared from her bag completely. Andy was also there, sitting at the desk with a book in hand, flicking through the pages disinterestedly.

At their footsteps, Taylor glanced up. "Ah, Ethan. I see you got my letter about the bookshelf then?"

Ethan climbed down the stairs, and gestured to Oakley who was sitting in a corner, a faint rustling that Ethan had come to realize meant he was sleeping. "Yeah. This is Oakley, he's been my companion for a few weeks, but I've been meaning to find a home for him."

Rachel walked over to Oakley, bending down in front of him and touching the wood gently. "So you make these, Ethan?"

Ethan nodded, crossing his arms. 

She hummed, looking at him with a gentleness in her eyes. Ethan noticed that Bluie had disappeared somewhere. He was probably lingering, just not expressing his corporeal form. The other people in the room probably scared him. 

"You sent me a letter a while ago, about a Golem, but I never got back to you about it. Could you make me one? For my shop?"

Ethan hesitated. If he was struggling with the simplest of seeking spells, the magic involved with making a Golem could kill him. Also, making Rachel a Golem would probably mean that Andy would be around it often, and he didn't exactly trust Andy not to hurt them. "I would be careful. They really only have one instinct and that is to protect. So you just have to be very careful about who you bring in, because they will sacrifice themselves to protect you." He met Andy's eyes, imploring them to hear his underlying message.

Andy glanced between Oakley and Ethan. "You mean the dog?"

Ethan hesitated. "What dog?"

"Oh yes, the dog." Rachel patted Oakley's shelf gently, then stood back up.

Desca nodded as well, meeting Ethan's eyes. "Yes, right Ethan? The dog."

"What fucking dog?"

Taylor had walked over, and quickly shoved his shoulder. "Just go along with it, Ethan."

Ethan looked between the four of them, then it clicked. "You mean the Golems? Shit, your delusions confuse me more than the real thing."

"Delusions?" Andy stepped forward angrily, but a blue light interrupted their argument. Both of them looked over at Rachel, who was standing with Bluie next to her. The sprite looked nervous, but the fact that it had reappeared was a good sign. 

Andy furrowed their brow. "Where did that butterfly come from?"

Ethan scoffed. "Are you fucking well? That's not a butterfly, you have got to be kidding me."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'am I well' I'm fine you're not." Andy shoved him hard.

Ethan stumbled, back hitting the bookshelf. His hand knocked against the bookshelf roughly, and he winced, holding it to his chest. He could feel blood rush to the area, and a bruise started to form. Ethan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It didn't work.

"Lay another fucking hand on me and I'll break your fucking fingers off."

Andy rolled their eyes, putting their hands in their pockets. "I'm scared." 

Ethan stepped forward, shoving Andy in the center of their chest as hard as he could. Andy only faltered a step, but they immediately began to fume. However, a hand on his arm kept him from arguing further. "Calm down, Ethan" Taylor muttered, pulling him backwards roughly.

"What the hell was that for?" Ethan muttered, rubbing his arm where their grip had chafed.

"Don't hit Andy."

"Stop fighting, you're scaring Bluie." Rachel said softly, backing up. Ethan felt terrible for involving her in their argument.

Taylor gestured to Rachel. "See? This is why you don't fight, Ethan."

"Me??" Ethan exclaimed. "What the fuck did I do? Andy threw the first fucking punch?"

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Who did?!" 

"Andy!!"

"Well you deserved it."

Andy nodded along, smiling sweetly. Ethan glared at both of them. "I don't even remember what I did."

"You called me delusional." Andy grumbled, crossing their arms.

"And you've never called me that?"

"Not today."

Desca stepped forward, putting a polite hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Which is an improvement to be fair."

Rachel stepped forward, Bluie still lingering behind their shoulder. "Anyway, as I was trying to say, I have a few different Golems in mind."

Andy coughed loudly, and said, "Dogs,"

"Andy, shut your fucking gob."

"Don't tell me what to do."

Ethan pointedly turns away from Andy, meeting eyes with Rachel. "Anyway, they can also be helpful and not just defensive." Ethan hesitated, and remembered a certain grumpy golem at home that he very much would like to get rid of. "I have a Dirt Golem, he spreads flowers, and if you can find a flower he likes better than his current red tulips he can spread those. There's also a Honey Golem, who throws honey at attackers. They're very helpful, while the Dirt Golem is pretty much completely peaceful."

Rachel hesitated, tapping her feet and glancing at Andy. "I think a Honey Golem could be very helpful around the shop. Especially if I want to really work in the shop in town."

Andy groaned. "Rachel, it is very cute that you want to play into his delusions, but really?"

"Andy…" Rachel sighed, glancing back at Ethan. 

He clenched his jaw, glaring at the carpenter across from him. "Andy, think about what you're saying. If Rachel supports my delusions, maybe they're not fucking delusions."

Rachel touched his arm. "Why don't we go to the shop to talk about this? I've also finished your bag, so you need to pick it up anyway."

Ethan nodded, glancing at Andy as he followed Rachel out of the bookshop. They had sat back in Taylor's desk chair, arms crossed and dark eyes following him out of the shop. He pretended not to feel their gaze burning the back of his neck as he walked across the street to Rachel's shop.

Rachel held the door open as he stepped inside, ducking his head slightly to avoid the flowers hanging above the door. "Ah, sorry I've been meaning to move those." Rachel reached up, unhooking the flowers and moving them to a hook above the stove. Bluie had disappeared again, probably off doing sprite things. However now that he was bonded to Rachel he would come back.

"How soon would you want this Golem?" Ethan sat at the table, resting his chin on his hand.

They sat across from him, holding a square of leather. They were sewing patterns into it, testing new sewing techniques. Small flowers lined this particular swatch of leather, in colourful thread. Rachel tugged the needle through and glanced up. "Whenever you're comfortable. It would be a convenience, not a necessity. What are you looking for in payment?"

Ethan nodded, tracing his finger across the wood grain. He didn't need much right now. He always hunted his own supplies, and had a good stock of money from building Golems for Aldwynn. "I think I just need companionship really. I've lost my spellbook, so I'm looking for a new one. If you agreed to come with me whenever you were able, I would accept that as payment."

"I'd love to help. Just let me know and I'll go with you." She was embroidering a flower pattern in the leather, connected by a small chain of stitches.

Ethan nodded, then sighed, fidgeting with his sleeve. "Can I ask for your advice?"

Rachel paused, then glanced up. "Of course. What do you need?"

"Andy's your sibling, right?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Twin, technically."

"Ah, I see." He actually hadn't known that. He didn't see much of a resemblance between Andy and Rachel. "We get along fine, right? But Andy and I just do not." Rachel hummed, tugging their thread. "So if I needed to ask them a favor, what would be the best way to go about that?"

Rachel sighed, then put down what she was working on. "What exactly would you need help with?"

"When we were on an adventure a few days ago, my boat got wrecked. With my line of work, I don't know how to build a boat, really. And without my magic it's just impossible. So I need a carpenter, and I don't know anyone else in the area."

They nodded slowly, and crossed her hands. "I think…" They paused, then continued. "The best way would just be to ask them directly. I mean, at the end of the day, despite how stubborn they can be… I mean I know they have a bit of an ego-"

"That is one hell of an understatement."

She smiled. "They took after our dad, for sure. But when you really get down to it, they are a very sincere, loyal, and honourable person."

Ethan shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "I haven't seen much of that." 

Rachel pursed their lips, thinking. "They are very hesitant with magic. That's why I believe they don't like you."

"Really, they just refuse to see it."

"That has to do a lot with their childhood. But hopefully they can get past that to assist you in this."

Ethan crossed his arms looking down. There was a bruise on his hand. It went all the way across the back of his right hand, and was sore to the touch. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "But what I do with fishing and cooking is so far from my magic. I've been away from it in recent years and focusing on Golems more. I just don't understand why they can't accept anything from me."

"They're just scared." 

Ethan looked up. That didn't seem right. "Scared? Andy?"

She shrugged. "They are terrified. I'll deny this if you question me about it in front of them, but they are. Maybe not of you in particular, but magic. But if you are honest and ask for help, I'm sure they'll come around. They're an amazing carpenter, and they've been practicing for years. They've always had such a passion for it. And I may be biased, but they are fantastic at it. They will definitely be able to help."

Ethan nodded, closing his eyes and rubbing his face. "I think I'm just going to stand my ground. I'll swallow my pride, and I'll just ask."

Chapter Text

Rachel gave Ethan the backpack that she made for him before they head back to the group. Ethan spends that buffer period examining every inch of it, fascinated by Rachel's work. Small patterns were woven into the green leather, the edges neatly sewn closed. 

"It's beautiful, Rachel. You have such talent."

She shook her head, smiling. "You're too kind, but thank you."

When they got back to the bookshop, Taylor and Andy were standing in a corner arguing. Ethan glanced around. Where was the emu? This distracted him from looking where he was going, so he accidentally kicked one of the books on the floor. It made a loud thud, and Andy immediately looked up. 

They plastered a smile on their guilty face and kept their hands behind their back. "Oh, Rachel, hi."

Rachel raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Hello."

Taylor hadn't even tried to look less guilty, and is pointedly avoiding eye contact with Rachel. Ethan rolled his eyes, glancing around again for the others. Desca was missing as well. As if on a cue, a loud thud and voices indicated they were upstairs doing something.

"What is happening here?" Rachel inquired, drawing Ethan back to the conversation. She was looking between Taylor and Andy, arms crossed. 

"Nothing." Andy mutters. But unfortunately, at the same time Taylor spat out, "They stole Bluie's flower."

"No!" Andy shouted, shoving Taylor back a step. "No, I was just noticing that the butterfly was carrying a flower, and I wanted to look at it but when I took it it got really mad and went and hid behind the bookshelf."

"Andy!" Rachel's stern voice wasn't one that came out often, and now that Ethan was hearing it he made a point to stay on their good side.

"No, it was an accident, and it's okay we got it back to him. He came out and stole it from me."

"So you didn't actually give it back to him, he had to steal it from you?" Ethan's voice made Andy's eyes turn back on him. 

"You can stay out of it, Fish man." Andy glared at him, indignation in their eyes.

Ashlyn interrupted their conversation, skipping down the stairs and landing on the floor. Ethan's eyes followed her as she came over to their group. "What are you doing, Ashlyn?"

Ashlyn smiles, raising an eyebrow in Ethan's direction. "You know."

Ethan narrows his eyes. What could she mean? Then it hit him. He slowly turned back to the group, a broad smile on his face. "Oh yeah, Taylor, I returned your… friend."

Taylor meets his eyes with a concerned look. "My friend?"

"Don't worry about it." Ethan turned to look at Andy. "Considering you fucked up my hand-"

Andy rolled their eyes. "It wasn't that bad."

Ethan held up his arm. "I've got a fucking bruise."

"Maybe you bruise easy, I don't know." As they were talking, Desca came down the stairs behind Ashlyn, coming up to stand next to her. 

He set his jaw. They were so stubborn. "You're going to help me build a boat."

Andy groaned. "Universe, no I am not."

Desca spoke up, raising her hand slightly. "That sounds fair enough."

"Yeah." Ethan agreed, nodding to Desca in appreciation. 

"What? That's not fair!"

Desca shrugged. "What do you suggest he do? Build the boat with a broken hand?"

He knew it wasn't that serious, but he went along with it anyway. If he had to guilt trip Andy to get them to listen, he would. "Yeah, I have a broken hand. You think I can build a boat?"

"Come on, it's not fucking broken. And you're breathing aren't you? You're fine."

Ethan sighed. Taylor and Ashlyn had gone oddly quiet, obviously pretending they weren't arguing. Rachel however was looking back and forth between them nervously twisting her shirt in their hands. 

He turned back to Andy. "Weren't you the one to originally discuss that you could make boats?"

Andy shrugged. "Of course I can make boats, I'm a carpenter."

"Right, so what's the issue?"

Andy smiled, and Ethan didn't like the twisted look it gave their face. "I want you to build it, and then it's really bad, and then your boat sinks and you fucking die."

Taylor looked up sharply. "Andy, calm down."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ethan is raising his voice now. He can't help it. Arguments make him physically angry. It's as if all the trauma of his childhood compiles itself into heated words. 

"What makes you think I should make shit for you?" Andy responds, voice equally rising in volume.

"You owe me!" Ethan shouts, stepping forward. 

"Fucking how?? You're the one who took us on that fucking adventure-"

"You fucking invited yourself I didn't take you on shit!"

Rachel puts themself in between them. "Andy, can you come here, please? Let's just stop arguing, alright?" She tugs on Andy's arm, and basically pulls them out of the bookshop. 

Ethan raked his hand through his hair, pulling on the ends. "What the fuck is wrong with them?" His head swam. His hand hurt, and his knee was throbbing for some reason again, and he wanted to fucking kill them.

Ashlyn walked over, putting a delicate hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry they said that, Ethan. They'll come around, I'm sure."

"I'm not." Ethan muttered, sitting down on one of the shorter chests by a couch. Immediately, a faint purring noise echoes in the shop. He stands up immediately, backing up to the opposite wall. 

Taylor looked at him. "What was that?"

"Uh…" Ethan glanced at Ashlyn. She grimaced and nodded. Ethan turned back to Taylor. "Why don't you look for it?"

"Look for fucking what?"

"Wait, what are we looking for?" Desca glanced between Ashlyn and Ethan. He had forgotten they didn't know about the emu.

Ethan looked around the bookshelf. He couldn't see the emu anywhere. It had to be in one of the chests. Could it even get air in there?

Ashlyn grinned. "I'll give you one hint: quills."

Taylor narrowed their eyes, and turned slowly towards the chest that Ethan had sat on. They walked over slowly, bending down and gently opening the lid. They immediately let out a cackle. "Ha! Who the fuck is this?" They grinned, bending down and taking the emu out of the chest. 

It ran straight at Ethan.

He yelped and leapt onto the table. glaring at Taylor. "Come get it."

"So you liked your present, did you?" Taylor grinned, skipping over and picking the emu up. They held it up, raising an eyebrow. "Look how cute it is!"

"I don't fucking like that thing." Taylor smiled wider, and waved it closer to him. Ethan screamed again as it nipped at him.

"Are you finally dying?"

They both looked towards the doorway as Andy stepped through. "Andy! Look Ethan gave my emu back!"

"Your emu?? You left that thing in my kitchen. That's not very good parenting!" As he'd spoken, Taylor had brought the emu closer to him and the syllable had been more of a screech.

"What in the Universe is going- oh you found him!"

Ethan turned his gaze onto Rachel who had just walked in behind Andy. She was smiling at the emu. "Rachel, please help, make Taylor stop."

"Nah, come here, look at him." Andy stepped over, taking the emu from Taylor and brandishing it in the air. Ethan hated how its ugly head waved in the air as it moved.

"Get that thing the fuck away from me." Ethan backed up. 

Desca took a hold of his arm. "Ethan, could you look at one of the cogs I'm designing?"

Still trying to get away from Andy, Ethan glanced at her. She raised her eyebrows in a meaningful look, and he got what she was trying to say. She didn't actually need him to look at anything, she was trying to save him. He felt a rush of relief. "Yeah, alright." He turned back to the others. "I'll be back in a bit."

Ashlyn called after them. "Come back quick! There's someone for you to meet at the Tavern!"

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

They were back within minutes. Desca hadn't actually needed to show him anything, just wanted to give him a break from the bustle of the group. When they arrived back at the bookshop, they quickly realized that the group had left with only a note on the front desk in Taylor's scrabbled handwriting, 

clozed for bisness. come 2morow

Ethan sighed, putting the note down and stepping to the door. So Taylor was gone, and the dye shop looked empty as well. The group, Taylor, Andy, Ashlyn, and Rachel, had probably left together. The only places he could imagine would be Taylor's cottage and the Tavern. But the cottage was far north, and Ashlyn had planned on going to the Tavern anyway.

Ethan and Desca headed to the Tavern. He didn't want to take a waypoint; yesterday had caused him to be wary of them, and it wasn't too long on foot. By the time they crested the hill above the Tavern, his leg was aching and he was missing his crutch dearly. In the distance Ethan could see Grimwyck, but more so he felt it. There was a tingling beneath his skin being so close to the sculked town, and a small part of him wanted nearer. It made him uncomfortable, so he quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Sheldon was immediately visible to anyone who looked towards the Tavern. He had his head above the trees, looking out at the sky and watching birds fly. 

There were also pixies everywhere. Ashlyn had always been interested in the creatures, and when she had moved into the Tavern she must have invited much more in. As they came up to the Tavern door, Ashlyn and Taylor stepped outside.

Ethan put his hands on his hips, looking up at the massive dragon shadowing the entire area. "You have got to find a better place to put him." 

Sheldon was sitting contentedly next to the tavern. Every so often, he would look through the windows into what he assumed were customer bedrooms. He would huff and then stand, circling before sitting back in the same spot.

Ashlyn sighed, walking up next to him. "I didn't even put him there. He put himself there."

The wind rustled the trees, and Sheldon roared with his head thrown back. Taylor, who was currently hiding behind the door, laughed as Sheldon put his nose back on the window and huffed onto the glass. "I imagine sleeping in the tavern would be rather uncomfortable in those rooms."

"Unfortunately, that is my room."

Taylor snickered. "If it wasn't, imagine someone from Coalhaven stopping by and waking up to see-"

"Did someone say Coalhaven?" Ethan started at the new voice, but before he had the chance to look around, it yelled, "Wait, what the fuck!?" 

Ethan turned, and saw a child standing in front of him. He must have come with Andy and Rachel, who stood a few steps behind. The boy had blond hair, and eyes that were stark blue and wide with surprise.

Ethan hesitated. "Who the hell is this?"

"What the fuck!! Can that thing like, back up maybe?" The boy stepped further back, going to crouch behind Rachel. 

Andy, who wasn't yelling, muttered, "Fucking lizard," to themself before turning and trying to calm down the boy. 

Ethan held out a hand, pointing at the boy. "Okay, hold on, who are you?"

"I don't know! I just got here!"

Rachel smiled stiffly, anxiety evident in the lines of their face.  She placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Eli is from Coalhaven. I helped him out a while ago, and he stopped by Giredale to say hi. He was very tired after his journey however, and was camping out in the Tavern to rest. Apparently he didn't see the dragon on his way in."

While Rachel was speaking, Andy had walked around the group and towards Sheldon. At a roar, they went running in the other direction. "Shit, shit shit-"

"You scared Andy? Scared of a big lizard?" Ethan grinned, looking back at Sheldon. He could feel the weakness affecting him now. Whenever Sheldon was awake, he took a bit from each attendee to feed Ashlyn's spirit. She was a bit more energetic with all these people, and Ethan just felt more drained.

Andy walked over to him, glaring, and moved to shove him, but Sheldon interrupted by standing up on his hind limbs and blasting fire into the sky. 

"Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with it?" Eli muttered, one hand blocking the sun. He groaned, obviously overwhelmed with the dragon in front of him. "What is that thing??" He started backing up further. Upon closer inspection, Ethan supposed Eli wasn't a child. He was probably in his late teens; 17 or 18. 

"It's just a really big lizard, don't worry Eli."

Ethan turned to Ashlyn, pointing to Sheldon, who had finished blowing fire but was now blowing hot smoke into the ground. "You need to hire someone to get rid of those trees. It's a fire hazard." 

Ashlyn flushed. "I know, I just need to figure out where to put him in the meantime. Let me…" She trailed off as she walked over to Sheldon, her skirt blowing behind her, probably by magic, to avoid getting caught on the bushes. 

At the snap of a branch, Ethan turned back and saw Andy walking away, hands in pockets. Ethan quickly followed, to the sound of who he thought was Eli saying, "what the fuck is happeninggg" and Rachel comforting him. 

"Andy, come here."

"Don't tell me what to do." The carpenter continued walking, and maybe even hurried their pace. 

Ethan hurried and caught onto Andy's arm. They turned with an indignant sigh, glaring at Ethan through their eyelashes. "What do you want?"

"Did you get the chance to talk to Rachel about the boat?"

"Yes." Their tone was clipped, and they broke eye contact to look at the ground. 

"So what are your thoughts?"

Andy took a deep breath, then closed their eyes, rubbing their temples. "Show me the schematic."

That took him so by surprise that he forgot to move. Andy cleared their throat and Ethan quickly took his bag off his shoulder and handed Andy the schematic he had taken from his house that morning.

Andy unrolled it carefully, looking over the notes in his father's scrabbled handwriting. They are silent for so long that Ethan starts to shift on his feet, twisting the sleeve of his shirt in his hands. 

"I'll make it."

"You will? You understand it?"

"Yes."

Ethan hesitated. "Do you need any help?"

"No."

"I just feel like I should guide you on this, and-"

Eli's scream cut him off. "CAN IT STOP GETTING CLOSER TO ME?"

Andy let out a stifled laugh. They glanced over their shoulder, and Ethan swore there was fondness in their eyes. 

Ethan gestured towards Eli. "Do you know him?"

Andy shook their head, turning back to him and the familiar glare settling back on their features. "Not any more than you, probably. I just know that he doesn't believe in magic either, which makes him my kind of person."

Ethan ignored that, and glanced at the schematic in Andy's hands. "Anyway, about the boat, I just feel like it would make more sense for me to help you with this, because I know what I want. Especially since I'll be paying you."

"Fine. We can start now." They weren't looking at him, instead studying the parchment in their hands. 

"That was… easier than I'd thought." Ethan glanced at where Andy was running their finger across the words, 'keep the hull thin enough to ensure speed but not too thin that it becomes susceptible to breakage'. Ethan let them think for a moment longer before interrupting their thoughts again. "So where do you build things?"

"My cabin."

"Does that mean I have to go to your cabin?"

"I would rather you not come at all if that is what you'd prefer. You'll have to stay for several days to watch the whole process, and I would be very grateful if you can't manage."

Ethan rolled his eyes at Andy's tone. "That's fine, I'll come along. I'm going to tell the others I'm going with you."

His mission was quickly intercepted. As Ethan was walking back, he was met by a still frightened Eli. As he spoke, he kept glancing over his shoulder at the dragon. "You're…magic, right?" He had said that word like it was physically painful. Magic. You'd think he'd held him at gunpoint.

"I mean, yes?"

Eli shook his head nervously, before looking behind him. "I just… one question, right? Dragon. What is up with that?"

"The dragon's not mine. That's Ashlyn's."

"I know, but… aren't we supposed to do something about it?"

"Do something about it??" Ethan grabbed Eli's sleeve and pulled him to the side, holding a hand up to quiet him. "What do you mean 'do something about it'?"

Eli looked stressed, and kept glancing back at the dragon. "I mean… they're not supposed to be there… here… or anywhere near us. Dragon's are-"

Ethan cut him off, trying to calm his shaking voice. "You're from Coalhaven, right?"

"I mean, I'm not from there, I just live there. But Ethan, dragons are extinct. I read books, like I know dragons are extinct."

"Are they? really?"

Eli shrugged, chewing at one of the nails of his hand. "I mean, yeah?"

"What the fuck is that then?" Ethan pointed at Sheldon, who was currently roaring into the sky and flapping his massive wings. Ashlyn was darting around his feet playing with his tail. Andy was sitting with Taylor watching her. 

Eli watched them for a second then frowned. "I don't know." His voice was terribly small. A strong breeze ruffled Eli's hair. Ethan watched as he blinked several times, then looked back up. "I-I don't know what to believe."

Ethan put a comforting hand on Eli's shoulder. "Outside of Coalhaven, dragons are very much a thing. Just a few days ago, my team got attacked by one multiple times over."

"See that's why they're not supposed to-"

"They are dangerous, yes, but not all of them. This one is harmless."

Eli rolled his eyes, and put air quotes around his words as he said, "Harmless."

"No I swear. He just makes you feel a bit weak around the Tavern because he makes Ashlyn stronger, but-"

"I thought I was just hungry!"

"Do you need food?" Ethan quickly reached into his bag. He always packed several good meals for traveling, and he removed a cellophane wrapped sandwich. "Here. If you ever need food, or anything, I am your guy."

Eli took the sandwich with a grateful nod, and started eating. Ethan glanced back at Andy, Ashlyn, and Taylor, who were now talking while glancing over at them. Ethan nodded to them. "Don't worry about this dragon, okay? Sheldon is very safe."

"If you say so." Eli mumbled around a bite of food. He seemed to see something over Ethan's shoulder, and perked up. "Was that a raven?"

Ethan turned, watching him as he skipped into the woods, chasing a large black bird. Ethan sighed, thinking. Eli seemed like a good kid. He was confused and nervous, and that wasn't his fault. If Ethan was faced with a dragon after assuming they didn't exist for his entire life, he would be unnerved too. Eli needed to see more of Giredale and Grimwyck, get a feel of a society that doesn't ostracize magic and the like.

A roar from Sheldon made Ethan look back over. Ashlyn had obviously heard, and was pacing back and forth trying to keep the pixies from stressing. Andy, Rachel, and Taylor had moved further away from the dragon, sitting next to the door to the Tavern. Ethan quickly jogged over, and caught Desca's attention, who was sitting in the shade of a tree and fiddling with gears from her pocket. 

"Hey Desca?" 

She glanced up and smiled. "Hello."

"Could you perhaps take Eli out? He's nervous around here, and I think he'd like to be just about anywhere else."

She paused. "I mean… where?"

"Maybe show him Grimwyck."

"Ethan, I don't want to go to Grimwyck."

He let out a long breath. "Then just go on the outskirts. Show him the greenhouse. Just take him somewhere."

"How am I supposed to propose that? I don't know the kid."

Ethan hesitated, then glanced back. Eli was trekking back over to the group, still holding the half-eaten sandwich. 

Ethan called him over, taking in Eli's outfit, which was obviously built for travel. "You look like the kind of person to go on quests, am I right?"

"I mean, yeah, that's my job."

"So consider this your quest. I want you to get a feel for this region. If you're going to be coming here more often, I'd think you'd like seeing all sorts of places nearby. Desca can be your guide. You guys will have a lovely time."

Eli sighed. "Alright. As long as I'm not near the dragon."

Desca smiled, and stood up, leading Eli away from the Tavern. He glanced over his shoulder a few times at Sheldon, still with that anxious expression. Hopefully he'd relax and be able to come to the Tavern more often. It's a great place, and Eli could gain a lot from coming here often.

Ethan then walked over to Ashlyn, where she was still with Sheldon. He had lain down, curled up around a tree. She was applying something to his scales, painting it on with a thick brush. Ethan stepped up to her, smiling. "I'm having Desca show Eli around so he'll be more used to this place. He was a bit overwhelmed."

Ashlyn took a deep, shaking breath. "Thank you. I worried about him waking up and seeing Sheldon, since he didn't mention it before. Coalhaven is such an interesting place."

Ethan hummed in agreement, then paused. "Well, I need to help Andy build my boat. But maybe later this week we could go on an adventure?"

She nodded, brushing her hands across her skirt. "Yeah. Just, at some point I need to show you the thing I did upstairs."

Ethan remembered what she had said in his house. I kind of made a little oopsy that we should probably discuss later. But it's more of a show you than a tell you thing.

"Is that here?"

She nodded, glancing up at the window Sheldon was breathing into. "You can just look at it and debate it quickly. Won't take too long at all."

"You're worrying me now. Is it that bad?"

"No, well, I mean kind of."

Ethan sighed, rubbing his face. "Let's just go inside."

Ashlyn guided him through the Tavern and upstairs. Ethan glanced around. He wasn't used to seeing the Tavern this empty. It was usually crowded with people from all edges of Aldwynn. Except maybe Coalhaven, because of the dragon.

Ethan walked up the stairs behind Ashlyn, passing the rentable bedrooms and up another flight of stairs to Ashlyn's quarters. Here, she closed the door and showed him down the hallway to where there was a small door behind a curtain. There was a large plaque that read: 

Staff Only, Do Not Enter

As Ethan waited for Ashlyn to unlock it, he heard a rush of magic. He reached out and took Ashlyn by the shoulder. "I recognize that sound."

She gave a lopsided smile as she opened the door. "Is it that obvious?"

Ethan took one look inside, and grabbed the handle, slamming it shut. "What the fuck are you doing?? You can't have that here, Ashlyn!"

"Hey, what the hell are you two doing!" Taylor shouted from downstairs. Apparently the walls were thin.

Ethan ignored them, glaring at Ashlyn. He hadn't needed to see details to know what was inside that room. A flash of purple rimmed with black, dark particles flying through a purple field. A Nether portal. "Explain."

"I- I didn't think anyone would notice."

"Are you kidding me? That's the loudest fucking thing I've ever heard. And if anyone gets up here and hears anything a lock won't fucking stop them. If anyone finds out you have that here-"

"I have to find another place to put it-"

"Yeah, no fucking shit!"

"-I know that, but that's why I said it was an oopsy."

Ethan groaned. "I don't think you understand. Someone could miss their room and end up in another fucking dimension!"

"There's a sign on the door!"

"Yeah because people read signs!" Ethan was partially shouting, more with indignation than anything. "You have a fucking goat person downstairs that can't fucking read!"

"Beg your fucking pardon?" Taylor's voice sounded again, closer this time. "I can read bitch!"

Ethan pulled Ashlyn out of her quarters, and down the stairs. "Find a different place to put that. Far from here. We can inspect it further then."

Ashlyn nodded, and the two of them tracked back downstairs. Taylor was standing by the staircase, arms crossed. Ashlyn darted ahead of them, making her way to the front of the Tavern before Ethan could recognize that she had left him alone with Taylor. Ethan stiffened his jaw. "Taylor?"

"Ethan." 

"You can read?"

Taylor shrugged. "Kinda. Sometimes."

"Convincing." Ethan muttered, then pushed past them.

As he walked up to the door, he heard Andy's voice. "-materials are at my cabin, which means he has to go there, and I don't want him there."

"I haven't had any bad interactions with him, Andy, I think you're being too harsh-" Rachel's voice was soft, and she seemed trying to convince Andy to trust him. 

Ethan opened the door, glancing out. Andy was standing close to them on the path, angrily gesticulating as they spoke. "Have you seen the things he pretends to do?!"

"He's not pretending! Universe, Andy, you were never like this when we were kids."

Taylor stepped up next to Ethan, folding their arms and watching the conversation happening just down the path. Ethan sighed. "I love how discrete their conversation is."

Andy flipped around. "Shut up!"

"You're just so good at being subtle, Andy."

"Maybe I'm not trying to be subtle." Ethan had stepped fully out of the Tavern now, closing the door behind Taylor. Andy marched up to him, pushing a finger into the center of his chest. "Maybe I'm trying to let you know how I feel about you."

Ethan curled his lip. "I fucking know how you feel about me."

"Do you?"

They stood like that in silence, holding eye contact, until Ethan pushed Andy backwards. "Are we doing this or not?"

Andy set their jaw, then turned. "Rachel, if I don't come back, I'm dead." They sent Ethan another glare over their shoulder, then stalked off east.

"Have fun!" Rachel called after them. Ethan glanced behind him, and she waved kindly at him. There was apologeticness in her eyes. 

Ethan allowed a silence to linger for maybe five minutes before he couldn't stand it any longer. "What all do we have to-"

"Shut up. All you have to do is be quiet."

Ethan stopped in his tracks, staring at the back of Andy's head. Who the hell were they? Fucking asshole. Ethan rubbed his face, dragging his nails into his hair. This was going to be a long couple of days.

Chapter Text

As they walked towards the cabin, Andy stayed several feet ahead of him. It was almost an hour before a single word was uttered. And of course it was because Andy was being an ass. 

They had to cross a bridge spanning a cave to make it into the Pinefall forest. Andy crossed before him, and turned with their arms crossed watching Ethan. The bridge was old and frail, and Ethan worried only slightly for his safety. However once he was on solid ground, Andy's face made him think they would push him in themself. 

"I kind of wished you would fall in that."  They spoke with a completely straight face, arms crossed and head turned slightly to the side as if he was an interesting lab specimen that they couldn't quite figure out. Ethan gaped as they turned and continued walking as if they hadn't just wished for his death. 

Ethan scoffed and started walking after them, hurrying his step. "Excuse me? What the fuck, Andy?"

They turned, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Are you kidding?" Ethan let out an indignant laugh. "I can't believe that someone who is this much of a piece of shit is related to Rachel."

Andy's eyes went completely dark. "You like Rachel?"

"I'm sorry?" Ethan took a step back. They looked fucking murderous.

"Do you like Rachel?" Their voice was completely cold, acid sitting with every word.

Ethan hesitated, glancing behind them at the crater that was uncomfortably close. "As a friend, yeah."

"You better not fucking like her more than that." They shoved his shoulder. It wasn't hard, but his stomach still dropped. He was so close to the edge. 

"I'm sorry, who the fuck are you to tell me that?"

"Rachel's brother." Andy growled, and they held up a finger to his chest. "You are not good enough for Rachel. She is safe where she is right now. If I had the ability I would keep you away from her forever.

"It doesn't even matter. I don't fucking like your sister like that."

Andy didn't respond, instead turning around and walking in the opposite direction.

They reached Andy's cabin soon after. Ethan is still walking behind them, fuming at the absurdity of it. Rachel was nice, sure, but she was almost like a sister to him. He'd never even considered her in a romantic way. And here was Andy acting like they owned her?? Who the fuck where they? Rachel was an adult who could make their own decisions. The idea that Andy considered entitled to her private life told him a lot.

Andy went inside, and firmly shut the door behind them. Ethan sighed and stood on the porch, allowing himself a moment to take in the cabin. It was obvious that their family had put a lot of work and love into this cabin. It was structured in dark wood with a green roof. Designs were carved into the wood around the doorway and on the pillars holding up the portico. 

Ethan walked up close and ran his finger along the grooves. He could see that these had been hand carved. It must have taken hours. Something about them reminded him of the carpenter. They were organized in a way that was free; collected in a way that was individual.

The entire cabin looked cozy and warm. Ethan could imagine that coming back to this cabin after traveling must be like a breath of fresh air. If this was where Rachel had grown up, no wonder she was such a sweet person. This place was magical.

Then he realized Rachel hadn't actually lived in this house. Andy and Rachel had lived in Giredale as children, then when Rachel and their mum had moved north, Andy's father had worked on building projects in the residential part of Giredale. The King had gifted the Pinefall family the forest as a thank you; as long as they promised to protect it. 

And Ethan had to believe that a family that devoted so much time to a house so complex would raise their children to be better than how Andy had turned out.

The door opened, and Ethan turned around, looking at Andy. They had a large bag of supplies looped over their shoulder. Ethan braced himself, and spoke. "Genuine question, though." Andy looked up, and Ethan met their eyes. "How are you and Rachel so wildly fucking different?"

"We aren't different."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ethan laughed. "You are bitter and fucking self-centered."

Andy balked. "Self-centered?" They glanced at his feet. "Get the fuck off my porch."

Ethan rolled his eyes, but stepped off the porch anyway. "How do you want to do this then?"

Andy followed onto the grass, walking to the side of the cabin and dropping the bag of tools onto the ground. It made the loud sounds of metal on metal, and Ethan was curious what kind of tools Andy would need to build a boat. Was it different from houses? Had they ever done this before?

Andy finally spoke, meeting his eyes. "I bring the materials here. We will build it here."

"Fucking fine. Go get your materials." Ethan sat on one of the wooden longs lined up along the edge of the cabin. 

They watched him. "What materials do you need?"

"I don't fucking know! You're the one building it aren't you?" He hadn't really realized he'd shouted until Andy fumed. 

"What kind of fucking wood do you want?" Their voice was cold, and they spat their words like poison.

Ethan realized that he wasn't really swallowing his pride. He was actually being an asshole. Yes, Andy was being an asshole to him, but that didn't justify being rude back. Ethan was better than that, surely.

"I'm not sure. Dark?"

They narrowed their eyes at his change in tone. "Dark oak?"

He shrugged.

Andy removed the flannel that was tied around their body, throwing it onto one of the stumps. "Sit. Leave me alone. If I need you I'll ask."

Ethan sat back down as Andy turned and stormed off into the trees. They reappeared ten or so minutes later, carrying several two metre planks of dark oak on one shoulder. Ethan had settled comfortably on the stump, pulling out one of his notebooks. He was drawing mindlessly, tracing the shapes of the Pinefall forest on the horizon. 

Andy glanced at him as they set the planks down. "Is this mainly going to be a travel or fishing boat?"

Ethan twirled the charcoal in his fingers, shrugging. "I'll probably use it for both anyway."

The carpenter bent down, picking up Ethan's schematic from where it had rested beside the tools. "I have some modifications to the design then." They bent down beside him, taking the charcoal from his fingers without asking, and beginning to draw lightly on the schematic. "If we switched the current hull from displacement to planing, it would be faster, but still provide storage space beneath. We could also add more storage here," they drew a small box behind the prow, "which would make your adventures easier. You don't have to worry about storage like last time."

Ethan glanced at Andy's arms as they were speaking. The bandages were so confusing to him. They wrapped from mid-bicep down all the way to their fingers on the right arm. For the left, the bandages disappeared beneath their shirt. It made no sense. What were they hiding? What was so shameful about their arms that they had to wrap them in cotton bandages?

Andy looked up expectantly at him, and Ethan realized he hadn't comprehended a single word. of what they had said. He had tried to pay attention to their modifications, but the concepts gave him a headache. He didn't know anything about boat building. He just knew how to sail one.

"Uh, you're probably right?"

They narrowed their eyes. "Were you listening?"

Ethan grimaced. "Kind of?"

Andy let out a long sigh. "Right. A displacement hull, which was your old boat, is fast enough for what it's used for, which was primarily fishing. That's a big reason it took us so long to get where we were going. The hull fucked us over, along with the crudely built mast."

"Hey-"

They cut him off. "But a planing hull, while harder to get up to speed, and less stable in rough waters, maintains a faster pace than traditional displacement hulls because it is further out of the water. While it sacrifices some underwater storage, that's why we build this separate compartment." Andy glanced at the schematic. "And either way, I'm planning on making this entire design significantly bigger so we'll have plenty of room."

Ethan raised his eyebrow. "Really? How much bigger?"

"I want this to fit six people comfortably with room for more. That way we will have enough storage space for week-long journeys."

"We?" Ethan grinned. "Are you planning on coming along for the next one?"

Andy shrugged. "I am predicting inevitability. You have a hold over Taylor, and I can only assume you will need them more. Also, I heard of your deal with Rachel. A dog for adventures? Really?"

He held up a finger. "You can stay out of that. That's none of your business."

"I was never going to stop you. But if she goes with you I'm going also. I don't trust you."

Ethan glared at them. Apart from the overtly patronizing tone, they had explained boat mechanics to him as if he was supposed to know. It made an itch start up beneath his skin. And this statement only made it worse. He decided to quickly change the subject before he got the urge to hit them.

"How long will this take?"

"Couple days." They muttered, glancing back at the schematic and drawing more on the parchment.

Ethan sighed. "In that case, I need to go and get some things." Andy didn't answer. They had settled against the house, looking at the schematic with furrowed brows and writing notes on the corners beside Ethan's fathers'. 

With a clenched jaw, he turned and stalked into the trees. If Andy wanted to do whatever Andy wanted, he would let them. He would just go back home and get his things. He didn't even care that Andy obviously didn't want him there. 

Ethan stormed through the forest, not even trying to avoid the various shrubs. He didn't give a fuck about Andy's stupid forest. It could burn down for all he cared. 

As if in retaliation, a large blueberry bush sliced the absolute shit out of his leg. He let out a stifled yelp, and backed up into a tree, hopping on one foot with his hand covering the opposite leg. "Fuck." Andy had probably put them here just to spite him. 

He wasn't even sure where he was walking until he stumbled across a waystone.

It was a literal stumble. He had been jumping over and around blueberry bushes for his entire walk, and he was cursing one out as he walked backwards, running into something. He slowly turned, recognizing the feeling of cool stone against his back. 

And there was a mossy waystone, surrounded by vines and weeds. It was completely grown into the undergrowth. It must have been, or else the Pinefall family would have removed it long ago. Ethan reached between the vines, and placed his palm on the top. It hummed, and Ethan felt the connections immediately. 

He grinned, and made the connection to his home in Grimwyck. 

Ethan felt his stomach drop as he landed on the grass. His knees immediately buckled, any gratification he may have felt immediately abandoned him. He clutched at his chest, choking out gasping breaths. He couldn't breathe. There was a ringing in his ears. His knee was throbbing again.

Then in a moment everything was gone. He blinked, and every pain he felt dispersed. He took a deep shaky breath, then pulled himself to his feet. 

He had things he had to do. He stumbled around his house, gathering books and supplies for several days out of the house. He packed a few meals that he had in his ice chest, just to make eating easier at Andy's place. They probably ate wood chips in place of meals, so there wouldn't be much for him there. 

Once that was done, he slung the bag over his shoulders and trekked back up the stairs to the waypoint. He didn't know who in his family had put this waypoint here, but it made getting in and out of his house super easy. He appreciated them for that, at least.

He reappeared in Andy's forest in moments, rubbing a hand through his hair and breathing through his nose. He would not pass out, not right now, not in Andy's forest. 

He had only been gone an hour or so. With amusement, he thought that Andy probably wouldn't even notice that he had left. As he walked back to the cabin, he picked blueberries off the bushes, piling them into the palm of his hand. They were very ripe, healthy, wild blueberries. That was rare, though he supposed this forest was the perfect place for them. When he was within earshot of the cabin, he noted that there was no sound of building coming from it. He glanced around, instinctively looking for Andy. 

And there they were, leaning against a tree with their arms folded. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

Ethan shrugged. "I've just been picking berries."

"You need berries to build a boat?"

He didn't answer, ignoring their snide remarks. They followed him out of the tree cover, and watched as he sat back against the tree. With an indignant huff, they turned back to their work and left him alone. 

A part of his brain thought that he should probably study. He needed to learn more about different historical magic buildings if he wanted any chance at getting a spellbook. But no matter how large the textbook on his lap and how much he averted his gaze, his eyes kept drifting back to Andy.

They were completely in their element. Ethan had never realized how unnatural it was to see Andy in cities. They belonged in the forests; in particular this one. Here, with an axe in their hand and covered in sawdust, they looked most comfortable. Even with the bandages on their arms and sweat soaking the back of their shirt.

Unfortunately, right as Ethan was watching them, Andy looked up. "Why are you staring at me? Do you want to help?"

Ethan cleared his throat, brushing his hand over his hair. "I wasn't watching you. And I don't know, is there anything I can do to help?"

They were sitting on the ground beside what looked like the shell of his boat. It was massive. Ethan dragged his eyes over the curves of the wood. It was beautiful already. If this was what they could do in just one day, he couldn't imagine what it would look like at the end of it. They were a brilliant carpenter, he couldn't deny them that.

Andy glanced around, then pointed to a pile of planks they had dragged from their warehouse. "Cut those to be the same length as the one beside them."

Ethan stood reluctantly, closing his book and walking over to where Andy sat. He stared at the planks for a long moment. "And how exactly am I meant to do that?" Andy grunted dismissively, and stood, walking over to their tools and picking up a saw, handing it to him with a cheeky smile.

He could already feel the exhaustion, but Ethan refused to lose this game Andy seemed to have set up between them. Ethan knelt and got to work. 

A couple of hours later, Ethan pulled himself to his feet. He brushed dirt off his trousers and looked down the hill. There was a river just there. He glanced to Andy, who was still measuring and cutting boards. There was sawdust in their hair and on their clothes. Ethan felt the odd urge to brush it off. They seemed to feel his eyes on them, glancing up. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. I was just-" He gestured wildly. "Nothing. I'm going to see if I can catch fish for dinner."

Andy hummed, turning back to the wood. Ethan sighed, tracking his way down the hill to the water. He didn't have his fishing rod on him, he'd have to do it by hand.

Ethan didn't actually end up fishing at all. He made it to the water's edge, glancing through the water to see if there were any fish, but was immediately distracted by what looked like an attempt at a farm.

Random crops planted with no organization, no access to water besides the lake twenty feet away. They had planted tomatoes without anything for them to climb, causing them to be particularly small and shrimpy. There was squash directly beside pumpkin – which would be a nightmare for cross-pollination – and it looked like they had been tending to weeds as if they would grow fruit.

He looked at it for a long moment, assessing these traits of an awful garden, and slowly a grin slid across his face. This could be fun. He jogged back to where Andy was working. His knee was aching, but not too bad. Knowing he had something to tease Andy about made him feel that much better. "Hey Andy?"

They looked up, glaring and glancing down at his hands. "That was fast. Did you not manage to catch anything? I thought you were supposed to be a fish man or something."

"It's fisherman, and yes, I am. But I couldn't help but notice the garden you've got going on." The carpenter immediately reacted, blushing furiously and looking away. Ethan's grin widened. "What's wrong, Andy?" 

"Can you shut the fuck up about my garden?" They ran the back of their hand across their forehead, wiping sweat and sawdust away.

"No, it's lovely, really. I'm a big fan of the pathetic looking tomatoes."

They let out a long sigh, putting down their tools and looking up at him. "Can you shut the fuck up? I'm building your boat, aren't I?"

Ethan shrugged, raising one eyebrow. "Sorry, I didn't know it was such a sensitive topic."

They rolled their eyes dramatically, flipping to turn the other direction. "Piss off, I'm busy."

He did cook dinner then. Taking some small amount of pity on them, he even made extra so Andy could have leftovers. They wouldn't be cooking their own food anytime soon with a garden like that.

The two of them ate in silence. Andy finished before Ethan, standing and stomping back to the boat. Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples. Perhaps he had gone too far. Really, he didn't know why it was such a big deal. Sure, they had a shitty garden, but Ethan was right here. He could help them with anything they needed, they just needed to ask. 

But no, their pride was too significant. They wouldn't ask. And so Ethan wouldn't offer his help. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

After the garden incident, Andy refused to let him help with the boat any further. He cleaned up after dinner, and tucked himself up in the makeshift bed he'd made beneath the trees – Andy still refused to let him inside. He woke up the second day so sore he couldn't move his arms without wincing. Andy had even worked through the night, and rolled their eyes at his complaints. Gratefully, they allowed him to leave the work that he was paying them for, and return to his studies.

On the third day, while he was feeling better, he still wasn't up to helping. Andy accused him of dramatizing the pain so he wouldn't have to help, and Ethan made a show of accusing them of assuming their opinions as fact (they had technically been right in a way; Ethan definitely didn't feel good, but definitely could have helped. But again, he was literally paying them, he didn't need to do the physical work involved). 

He fell asleep on the fourth day to the sound of Andy piecing the hull together. They were getting close. After finishing the hull, they would only need to add the masts and complete the mechanics of the rigging, then they would be done. The fact that they had accomplished so much in so little time was mindblowing to him.

It was odd to wake to the sound of woodworking. He opened his eyes on the fifth day to a sunrise shedding its golden light across the cabin and Andy's workstation. Ethan turned his head, laying his eyes on the beautiful dark oak hull that Andy had completed overnight. 

It was massive. About 25 metres long, it curved delicately from the flat stern up to the pointed bow. It was made of a thick dark oak, with iron nails precisely holding it together. It was truly a work of art. Compared to this, his old boat was shit. 

He rubbed his eyes, and sat up. At his movement, Andy looked over. They had several tools in their hands that Ethan didn't recognize, and was chipping away at the boat in a rhythmic pattern. 

"You're finally awake." 

Ethan stood up, shoving the thin blanket off his legs. He stumbled over to Andy's area, bending down to inspect the hull. They were carving designs into the wood. Just like the designs on the cabin, these were unique and symmetrical in a style that was so explicitly Andy. 

He ran his thumb along the grooves. They were so cleanly carved. They had so much talent with this. Why did they spend their time building when they could do such intricacies as this? 

"This is so beautiful, Andy." Then, as much as it pained him to say it, "Thank you for doing this."

They didn't respond, continuing to tap away at the wood. Ethan inspected their face closer. "Did you sleep?"

"No." They took a deep breath and blew gently on the wood, banishing the wood shavings from their work surface. "I'll sleep later. Just need to finish this hull."

Ethan nodded, carefully standing and turning away. "Well, is there anything I can do for you other than the boat?"

Andy took a deep breath, continuing to carve the wood. After a long moment – when Ethan was sure that they wouldn't respond – they muttered, "Food."

They actually looked disappointed in themself. As if it was shameful to ask for food from him. "Do you have a stove in your cabin?"

It was only then Andy stopped chipping away at the wood. They looked up at him with resentment in their eyes. "Maybe."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Well I can make you soup if you allow me to access the stove."

Andy stood up, and walked across the grass to a back door. They opened it, and turned to hold out a hand. "Stay here." Ethan glimpsed the inside of the cabin before the door closed behind them. It was homey, with amber lighting and dark wooden flooring. There looked to be large storage chests on the far wall past the kitchen. The kitchen itself was tiny, at least he wouldn't have to cook in there.

Andy returned a moment later holding a large pot. They brought it over to a makeshift campfire with rocks scattered in the charcoal. Andy placed the pot on top of the rocks, and gestured to it. "There. You can make your soup out here."

"You're not serious."

"Works just fine." They turned and went back to the boat. 

Ethan closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Why wouldn't they just let him inside? What was so secretive about their house? Maybe they just wanted to keep him out for the pleasure of having that kind of control over him.

He used the supplies he brought, heating the soup from his back on the pot, then peeling and dicing tomatoes on a stump. It wasn't exactly clean, but he didn't care and Andy didn't give him much of a choice to do anything else. 

At least the cooking was soothing. He was able to sit by the fire and stare into the flames, considering his own frustration. He'd always found that cooking helped him process the emotions he needed to regulate. Around Andy this was particularly necessary. 

Every once in a while, he glanced up to watch them. They'd moved on from carving, and now were measuring out a mast for the boat. Every time he had to stand, he winced. The days spent on the forest floor weren't good for his bones. Andy's eyes track his limping figure. They didn't seem to be judgemental, just curious, but their attention unnerved him.

He finishes the soup as the sun is nearing its peak. Andy walks over as he pulls bowls and cutlery from his bag. They sit down across from the fire, looking expectantly at him. Ethan tries not to feel resentful. They are building him a boat. The least he could do is make them food for it. He scoops out a portion for Andy, and hands them the bowl, carefully not letting their fingers graze around the porcelain. 

The two of them eat in silence. Ethan had watched Andy's face carefully to gauge any sort of emotion, but they're just impossible to read. However, they did finish the bowl quickly and got a second. So they must have liked it. Ethan notes in his head that they like cabbage stew. 

Ethan was still eating when Andy got up and went inside. He glanced behind him as the door slams, and furrowed his brow. If they were going to sleep, why didn't they say something? It was fine, but what was he meant to do now? He felt useless just sitting here. 

However, Andy came back out almost immediately holding a large bundle of thin woven rope. They walked over to him and held out the rope. "Do you know how to weave?"

He took it hesitantly, confusion creasing lines in his face. "I- yes?"

"I'm going to lay down. You can weave your fishing net while you're here."

Ethan nodded slowly, and Andy turned back around to go inside. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Andy slept until nightfall. When they returned, Ethan had finished the majority of the fishing net, and his bones ached from exhaustion. He wanted to be doing things. He probably needed to be making orders, but instead he was chasing a petty grudge with the carpenter. He should have just let them do this alone, but now it felt like he needed to stay. 

Ethan finished the fishing net as the moon rose. He walked over to Andy, dropping it beside where they were working. They had installed the first mast, and now was working on the second nearer the front.

When Andy didn't look up, he cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you need before I sleep?"

They gave him a single head shake, not even looking up from where they were hammering holes into the deck to make space for the mast. "Fine." He muttered, walking back to his bedding. 

He didn't sleep well. He dreamt of his father shouting, his accusatory tone blaming him for the fate of Grimwyck. It was always the same. Who are you Greenling, to save the city? What can you offer? What did you think would happen?

Ethan knew it was a dream. His father was long gone, had been done tormenting him for several years. And yet, the memories lingered. They found him at his weakest, attacking him when he least expected it.

He woke the next morning to a soft brush of wind across his face. He blinked slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was alone. Not even the boat was there anymore.

Where had Andy gone?

He sat up, the sheet falling from his frame. Ethan's bones felt stiff, and he struggled to stand unsupported. He would need to find a new crutch before they went on another adventure. 

Once he was standing, he was able to see down the hill to the river. And there was a huge two masted sailing ship resting in the water. 

"Holy fucking hell." Ethan managed to unconsciously pack up his things, walking down the grassy slope to the river. Andy was kneeling on the pier, fiddling with a plank. They pulled a hammer from their belt and a nail from where they had been holding it  between their lips. 

As he walked up behind them, Andy glanced over their shoulder. "There you are." They muttered, settling the nail in the wood with the iron hammer. "I was beginning to think you were dead."

Ethan glanced up. The sun wasn't… that high.

It was. 

It was nearly noon. 

"Sorry. Nightmares."

Andy hummed. "Usually those keep you up, don't they?"

Ethan furrowed his brow. What did a carpenter know about nightmares? "Mine keep me down. I can't wake from them unless I'm physically shaken usually."

They nodded, then slid the hammer back into a sling at their waist. "Well my work is done. I didn't get you a sail, but-"

"Nah I've got plenty of those don't worry." Ethan crossed his arms, and couldn't help the smile that slid onto his face. "This is magnificent. I am so happy with this. How the hell did you get this down here?"

Andy gestured to the shore, where there were two rolling carts that had obviously been beneath the boat. That must have been hell to get down the hill. He silently applauded Andy on that, though he would never tell them.

He truly was happy with it. The boat was clearly made by a master of the craft. He couldn't wait to get his hands on a sail and get a real sense for what this boat could do.

Ethan climbed over the edge, feeling the balance. There was hardly any shaking from the addition of his weight. The distribution was perfect. 

"By the way, Ethan?" He glanced around, and met eyes with the carpenter. They held out what looked like a bundle of polished wooden sticks. "Noticed you lost yours, and I had some spare time while you were sleeping."

Ethan took the bundle from them, and raised an eyebrow as he held it up. "What is this?"

They sighed, then took it back from him. He thought they might have muttered, can't do anything for yourself under their breath, but decided to pretend he hadn't heard that.

As if they had practiced, they separated the sections of wood and started piecing them together. Now that he was looking at the finished product, he realized how obvious it was. But really it wasn't until it all came together that he fully processed what they were doing. 

They handed him back a perfectly crafted wooden crutch, exacted to his height and arm length. Ethan turned the cane slowly, tracing the patterns of carving with his eyes. They seemed to really love doing this on all of their projects. It was admirable.

"You… made this?" Ethan looked up, and Andy avoided his gaze. 

"Well you've been pathetically limping everywhere. You probably played it up just to get my attention."

He sighed. "Really?"

They shrugged, then took a step back. "Now get off my property."

Ethan hesitated, fingers tightening on the smoothed wood grain. "What?"

"You heard me. Sail your little boat back to Giredale, and get out of my forests. In case you don't remember, you aren't welcome here." They were serious. There was no humor in that face. It was infuriating. 

"What the hell, Andy? I thought we were getting along. Aren't you going to come with me? You built this boat, I feel like you'd deserve a ride in it."

"I'm sure you'll force me into it sometime very soon. I will stay on my own feet until then."

Ethan laughed unbelievingly. "You're actually serious?"

"Yes."

Another forced laugh. "And to think I thought you were doing better. How are you going to give me something like this and then just switch and start being an asshole again?

They rolled their eyes. "That's me trying to get you to stop looking so pathetic. And I was just putting up with you; you were on my property, weren't you?" Andy gestured to the water beneath his boat. "And you're not anymore. So I can now tell you to fuck off."

Ethan's mouth fell in a hard line. "Fine." He turned and started to untie the boat. "I'll drop off your payment soon."

Andy didn't respond. When Ethan glanced back, they were already most of the way up the pier. Because he couldn't let a dead thing go, he called after them. "Thank you again, even though you're clearly too bigoted to accept my thanks."

"Whatever. Leave. Please never come again." 

Ethan watched them until they closed to the door to their cabin. He groaned in frustration, turning and pushing off the dock. Andy had also put a long setting pole along the deck. It would be a slow trip home without sails, but he would get there. As he sat on the slow moving boat, he considered the entire experience. Andy had been better. He had to believe that. 

He makes it into Giredale when the sun is on the horizon. It was completely smooth sailing. He didn't encounter a single hiccup, and that slightly unnerved him. He tied up the boat to the dock, picking up his new crutch and feeling it in his hand. It's perfectly made. It's as if Andy had studied crutches of the like to find the most ergonomic solution. The thoughts take him down a path he doesn't want to consider, so he moves on.

On the pier, he stops, leaning on his crutch and taking another minute to appreciate his boat in the Giredale port. The sunset cast golden rays of light across the oak. It was something out of a dream. A master example of Andy's craftsmanship. It sucked that they were such an ass.

He turned to walk up the pier into town, but his leg twists. Pain flares, and he had to catch himself on the fences to stop from falling. He braced himself for a long moment. It was hard to keep consciousness, and he had to close his eyes to stop the world from spinning. There's a prickling cold feeling, and then as if at the snap of fingers the pain stops.

Ethan lets himself sit there a moment longer, trying to think. Then he forced his legs to move. He made his way into town past the bustling citizens heading home for the night. He needed to make it to the waystone.

He barely makes it up the stairs to the waystone. He takes the direct route to his house. Usually he would go to his greenhouse first to check on Lily, but he can't even think beyond the creeping coldness in his leg. 

After taking the waystone, he snaps back into existence in his house. He immediately pulls off his boots and changes out of the grimy clothes he's lived in for the past few days. Before he can pull new trousers on, he forces his eyes down to his knee. 

The sculk has climbed from around his kneecap up his leg, settling around his hip. He can see where the main body of the sculk lives, because it glows with a foggy green light. He can see its path as it leaves a trail of blue-green where it used to be. 

It's getting closer to his head.

He barely manages to sleep that night. When he finally drifts off, he dreams, and that is never good.

It's dark in this state of unconsciousness. He can only feel slime coating his arms and legs, and a ringing in his ears. He frantically searches his pocket for a light, desperate to expel the darkness. When he does find it, he breathes a sigh of relief as the comforting click sounds and his immediate surroundings are lit up. 

The slime he had felt is sculk, its sickly color unfortunately familiar and convulsing with an inhuman desperation. He can tell it hates the light. 

But it's everywhere. All over him. And climbing upwards. 

Ethan drops the light when he feels a tendril crawl into his sleeve, inching towards his face. He slaps at it, trying to get it to slow down. The flame hits the ground in an explosion of fire. With a startled scream, he takes several steps backwards. 

His back hits the wall. The flames are still too close and getting closer. The sculk must be highly flammable. It catches fire as easily as dry leaves and old parchment. 

As if guided by an invisible hand, his head is tilted up and he meets someone's eyes from across the wall of fire. 

Andy.

They are tied to a pillar, a red and black flannel tied across their mouth to keep them quiet. Ethan recognizes it easily as the flannel they wear daily. Their eyes are desperate, tear tracks lit up by the flames. They are also coated in sculk, and it's nearer to their face than Ethan's. 

He has to help them. He has to do anything.

But he can't. His arms and legs are moving against his will. He's reaching for a bow and arrow leaning against the wall. He's knocking the arrow and aiming. Andy is screaming. He can hear their muffled cries over the roar of flames and ringing in his ears. 

They're fighting the bonds now, thrashing in the ropes. Ethan does everything he can to still the movement of his hand, but he can't. 

The arrow flies straight towards their face.

Ethan sits up in bed with a ragged gasp, choking on his breath and coughing. He rolls and lands on the floor, arms and legs shaking. On his next breath out he pukes. 

He coughs and coughs, trying to clear the taste from his mouth. 

He doesn't fall back asleep after that. He sits downstairs in front of the fire with his legs crossed, staring into the flickering flames and hearing phantom sobs of the carpenter from his dreams. 

END OF PART THREE

Chapter Text

"I don't know how long it's been now. Since I got rid of my old strings." Mossie closed his eyes. He was kneeling on the hard stone, hands flat on each of his legs. He could feel the power rushing through his fingers. The strings he mentioned digging into his flesh. They are clear, but to him more visible than the hair on his head, or the grey caste to his skin.

"My hands lay unbound now, only knowing the remembrance of an old blade. My mind… is fogged with memories. They reflect only in this pendant of mine." He opens his again, looking at the slab of stone he faces. It's polished to reflect his image back, and he can see his reflection. He hasn't been questioned on his appearance since landing in Giredale. It's a city full of foreigners, they probably just assume he comes from across the ocean. He can't say if they are correct, as he doesn't know.

His face is dirty, smudges of ash across his cheeks from the ritual he is currently performing. Behind him, he can see the ancient wooden doors of the chapel he lives in. He has made a bit of a business out of the shelter. He welcomes merchants and adventurers and allows them a place to stay in exchange for their best stories and secrets. Those have always been his passion.

He tilted his head back down. He tried to channel the memories from the pendant, but they refused. You aren't ready yet. The moss along the stones whispers to him. It always has. Telling him secrets and instructing him on what to do. 

"Within the shadows of a merchant city, I found an abandoned church. I found a recluse in it, for if it is enough of a home for the old and whispering plants within, why should it be too worn for me?"

He can feel the pressure of the Universe looking at him now. He tries to update her regularly on his journey, but hasn't in a few months. She must be curious now.

"I've become this place's solitary monk, but I've found myself as a wandering pilgrim with a new journey." He let out a long breath. "I see why you directed me here. I must upkeep the balance within Aldwynn. The growth in these lands… I can feel it in my hinges. It lies rotting and sick. Not like moss or natural decay, but reeking of foul magic." 

Golden light lit up the crumbling stone and remnants of decomposing leaves on the ground beneath him. He looked up slowly, and saw the figure of the Universe resting above the stone. She was in her feline form – the most respected of her avatars – golden light emanating from her eyes, whiskers, and a star on her chest. "I know you quieted my memories on purpose, but I am struggling. I don't know what I am capable of, nor do I know the full extent of what I have done in the past. But I know you will be here for me." He smiled slowly, a grin creeping onto his dirty face. "To help an old puppet monk that's gone and lost his strings… Hm. That does sound like quite the story to tell. Perhaps we can write our stories together, yes?"

He removed his hands from his legs, the prayer over. He heard a faint hum, and the Universe slowly faded from his sight, but as she left him, he swore he saw a nod of approval. He closed his eyes again, that smile still lingering on his lips. This would be interesting. The Universe seemed to have a personal stake in his journey if she was appearing as he prayed. 

Interesting indeed.

Chapter Text

After moving back to Giredale, Rachel had quickly realized just how small her world had previously been. Her memories of her childhood living here were limited. They did remember the little things; a lot of Andy, a lot of chasing birds in the forest and attending her father at the carpentry stall. 

After their parents divorce, Rachel moved north with her mother, and learned a completely new place. Moving back after their mother's death has stirred up a lot of emotions that she doesn't quite understand yet. In her time back, she had taken to walking around Giredale, seeing flowers and animals that her mother would love, and having to accept that she'll never see them again. 

There have been some things that have helped her accept this; reuniting with Andy has been very helpful. They have unlocked a piece of her soul that remembers being a child, and taught them very important lessons of valuing personal relationships. It was probably because of Andy that they were able to forgive Taylor so readily. After returning to Giredale and running into them on the street, there had been a lot of feelings around it all that Rachel would have rather ignored. 

The main one had been hatred. Rachel hadn't known they were capable of hatred that strong. How dare Taylor leave Rachel and her mother wondering? How dare they walk around Giredale like nothing had changed? Why were they fine while Rachel was still processing it all?

But after speaking with them and understanding their emotions and process of thinking, they were able to accept that Taylor didn't do it out of malice, more out of fear and guilt.

Still, their walks across Giredale did not stop with seeing Andy and Taylor again. This day is no other. 

They've headed north for the first time, climbing a ladder out of Giredale and heading towards the river. Taylor lived just past an abandoned church there, and they were planning on meeting up to speak about the adventure yesterday. They would avoid all talk of their mother, as usual, and act like nothing happened.

There was never really the option to properly mourn her. It felt like Rachel wasn't able to. The stress of having to move back to Giredale to take up their aunt's old dye shop had created a divide in the time for grief. She had always known they'd have to come back to Giredale, but they hadn't been ready to do it amidst the death of her mother.

They shoved their hands deep in their pockets, looking at the scenery as they walked. It was because they weren't looking where she was going that she ran straight into him. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Rachel reached out a hand to help the man she had knocked over back to his feet. He looked up at her, and she realized suddenly he wasn't exactly… human.

His skin had a distinctly grey caste, and it looked almost rough. His ears were slightly pointed, poking above his hair. His eyes were a deep green, and as Rachel looked at them she felt distinctly unsettled.

"Why, hello." And then he smiled, and all trepidation was gone. "So sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." 

He hopped to his feet, brushing the grass of his robes and glancing up at them again. His feet were bare, she realized. How did he manage walking distances without shoes on? The ground wasn't exactly soft, and there were far too many sharp plants in the area for Rachel to even consider the idea.

After a moment, Rachel smiled back, realizing this was a conversation. "No, that was on me. I hadn't realized you were there either." They glanced around. "I haven't seen you in Giredale before. Are you new to the region?"

"Kind of." He smiled, secrets glinting in his eyes. He pointed behind him. "I live in that church just over the river. Have you seen it?"

Rachel frowned. "The abandoned one?"

"Yes, the abandoned one." He nodded shyly. "I have been attempting to revise it and make it more appropriate for living. There are many vines and weeds that are damaging the structural integrity of the place. But I, unfortunately, seemed to have misplaced my shears. I was heading into town to perhaps purchase some from a vendor. Do you know of any?"

"Well, you're in luck." She smiled, copying his elegant way of speaking. "Of all the people you could have ran into, I am probably the most likely to own gardening shears." She reached into her back pocket, where indeed, they did have gardening shears. "Here you are."

"Ah! A gift! Thank you very greatly, you are much appreciated." He frowned at them, then back up at her. "I am Mossie. It's truly lovely to meet you." He stuck out his hand. 

Hesitantly, she shook it. "Rachel." They paused. "In the kindest way, I must say that is a very unique name."

"Ah, it just makes me special, doesn't it." He grinned. "Well, I've got to head back, don't I? Now that I have my shears." Mossie hesitated. "Would you like to see the church? It's a lovely place."

Rachel paused. "Well,"

"No, I understand. Bad idea."

Rachel shook their head. "No, I'll go. I was just going to meet my sibling."

Mossie nodded. "By all means, bring them with! It will be a lovely meeting."

They smiled, entertaining the idea. Taylor would probably really like Mossie. "Alright then, I'll go fetch them."

"I will be at the church, cutting the vines with your very fancy shears!" He waved and skipped off in the other direction.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ─── 

Taylor met them halfway. They had been walking with their hands in their pockets, bow on back, and a smile on their face. 

"Rachel, it's lovely to see you."

Rachel hugged them tightly, closing their eyes. Yes, it was nice to have Taylor back. Even if they refused to talk about anything of importance.

"What's the plan for today?" Taylor asked, as they set off again. 

"Well, actually, there's a bit of a diversion we must take." Rachel explained her chance meeting with Mossie, and Taylor slowly adopted a bemused expression. 

"I see. Let's see this Mossie then."

Rachel led Taylor to the abandoned church, and they stood outside of it for a long moment. Taylor sighed, crossing their arms. "I've passed by this church every day for years. I almost grew to hate it just because it is the boundary between Aldwynn and the northern cities." They sighed. "Never thought I'd see the day I'd be voluntarily going in."

Rachel put a hand on Taylor's shoulder. They didn't know what Taylor had gone through while they had been away from Rachel and her mother. Taylor's descriptions had been vague and unassuming. But now she wondered. Why was it so important that Taylor lived out of the city? What were they not telling them?

Rachel led Taylor to the church door, reaching up a hand to knock. There wasn't any noise coming from inside, so she could only hope Mossie hadn't left.

Before they were able to knock, the wide church doors swung open. Mossie was there, that same cheery smile on his face. "Ah, you've returned." He bowed slightly to Taylor. "And you've brought who I assume is your sibling?"

Rachel smiled back. Mossie's attitude was infectious. "Yes, this is Taylor. They've been my sibling for such a long time now, it's practically biological."

Taylor nodded, shaking Mossie's proffered hand. "Uh, lovely to meet you?" They looked a bit confused, and were shifting where they stood. There was something here that Rachel wasn't getting.

Mossie raised an eyebrow, leading them into the church. "You are not biological siblings?"

"No, not really." As Rachel answered the question, Taylor started looking around, obviously entranced by the building. Rachel felt the same. Twisted vines hung from the rafters, sheared carefully to still give the illusion of abandonment. Dark oak benches were set up in rows, facing towards the front. Glowing lichen and dim lanterns were the only source of light in the room. It all reminded Rachel of her childhood home in Giredale.

"If you don't mind, I'd love to hear the story." Mossie smiled, walking to the front of the room and settling on one of the benches. "I love stories."

So, Rachel entertained him.

Really, it wasn't much of a story. Rachel didn't exactly know the details of how Taylor had found themselves at the house all those years ago, but she did know the way Taylor had acted in those first weeks.

Taylor had arrived on their porch in the dark of night, rainwater coating their face and clothes, shivering and helpless. Rachel's mother had immediately taken them in, feeding them and giving them new clothes. No one mentioned the horns that poked out of the curls on Taylor's head.

Rachel had been excited to have Taylor in their house. After leaving Andy back in Giredale, they were excited to have a sibling to talk to again. Unfortunately, talking to Taylor at that time had been like talking to a wall. Taylor would sit, solemn and quiet in the corner, arms wrapped around their legs and avoiding eye contact. Rachel and her mother had been hoping that once Taylor adjusted to the house, they would start to open up. But as weeks passed and Taylor's injuries had healed, they still refused to speak outside of the occasional 'thank you' when given food or water. 

Rachel and their mother then devised an idea. Rachel's great Aunt Thelma had taught them to sew as a child, and Rachel had continued the practice as they'd grown. Over the course of a week, Rachel worked tirelessly in between the magic lessons with her mother and her duties in the garden to work on a project. It was made without the use of magic, but Rachel had always thought love had more magic anyway. The project practically buzzed with it, care and time laced into every stitch and piece of fabric.

As they had sewn the last seam together, Rachel had placed a small dried flower in the palm of their hand, whispering a charm for happiness and comfort. The warmth that had bloomed was something she still could recall with exactness. She had placed the flower into the body of the project, right where the heart would be.

That night, Rachel had found Taylor in the corner of their bedroom. Carrying the plush behind her back, they had knelt in front of Taylor, trying to get them to look up. Rachel remembered the desperation, please look up, please be better.

As expected, they hadn't. 

But that didn't stop Rachel. They brought the plush from behind them, extending it towards Taylor. For the first time, Taylor's eyes had met hers, and a smile played at their lips. The plush was a goat, with small horns mirroring the horns in Taylor's own hair. Taylor's small hands had reached for it, taking the plush delicately, and running their fingers along the fabric. Then they looked up again, and it was definite this time. A smile. Rachel had smiled back, and that had been the beginning.

Since that moment, Rachel and Taylor had been closer than siblings. It was a bond born of the companionship of loneliness. Rachel had missed their brother, and Taylor was alone. So they learned to overcome it together.

As Rachel finished their story, Mossie had leaned back in the chair, threading his fingers together, and watching the two of them kindly. He sat up with her last words, taking a deep breath. "That's a beautiful story. Thank you for telling me. You came to Giredale together then?"

Rachel looked at Taylor. Their eyes were glued on the floor again, and Rachel was reminded of the weeks she had spent trying to get Taylor to look up. They had reverted to that fearful child. This was not a topic they'd broach now, much less with Mossie.

"Not exactly. That's a story for another time, I think." 

Mossie noted Taylor's body language, and nodded. "Well then," He stood, taking the shears from a table in the corner of the church and handing them back to Rachel. "It was lovely to meet you. I'd be very interested in getting to know the pair of you better."

Rachel paused. "Well, we often go on adventures. If we were to ever go, you'd of course be welcome."

Mossie smiled. "Just invite me and I'll be there." He bowed his head slightly, and Rachel couldn't help but think that Mossie was hiding something.

Chapter Text

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ part four₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

There was a development.

It had been weeks since he had been to his greenhouse. Really, he'd been avoiding the place, lingering around the house and avoiding all of his problems. Specifically the ones that revolved around Andy and their time working on his boat. Even more specifically, the ones from when they had parted.

Stepping back in the greenhouse made him very uncomfortable. It had been about two weeks since he'd last been in here. In that time, the sculk had barely spread on his body. It had managed to reach his hip, but that was it. He had almost begun to wonder if he had more time than he'd thought. 

But being back in the greenhouse again made him think otherwise. It felt sick. The air was damp, and the whispers were louder here. Confused, he looked around. There was no more sculk around than there had been before. Ethan spent nearly an hour scouring the place before he found the source of the humidity.

The family tree. 

He hadn't noticed it before. Honestly, he avoided the area completely. The tree held too many memories. Too much sadness. Too much resentment.

And yet, here it was. 

Sculk covered it. From the roots to the branches stretching across the ceiling. His mother had spent months lovingly caring for the sapling. Growing it from barely alive to flourishing – even indoors. When she had left him, she'd given no instructions for care of the tree. Luckily, it had seemed to be able to live on its own. So he had put it out of his mind.

Now, it was no longer flourishing. The humidity was worse here. It smelled too; like rotten compost and soiled meat. Ethan stared at it for a long while, holding back tears. This tree was the only thing left of them, really. 

If he couldn't save this, he couldn't save anything.

He could talk to the carpenter, but that would involve explaining his condition. Somehow, he knew it'd circle back to himself if they saw the sculked tree. So he refused to go to them. 

It was with finality that Ethan decided he could no longer take time off for leisure. With every step, the flaring pain up and down his bones reminded him exactly where he should be focusing. Every time he went back to the greenhouse for supplies, he was reminded of the state of the tree upstairs. So he needed to find this fucking spellbook, and he needed people to come with him. 

Desca was in Coalhaven for several weeks, trying to spread the combustion engine she designed to the people there, so she wouldn't be available for an adventure to look for the spellbook any time soon. If he was stupid, he'd go alone, but the fact that he was untrustworthy to adventure alone is evident in the entire reason he lost the spellbook in the first place. 

So he came up with a plan. It wasn't an awful plan. It had its problems, but so did anything else he could have come up with. The plan had worked before, so chances were, it would work again. 

He spent a few hours earlier sorting through the enchanted books in one of the chests upstairs searching for one in particular. He had picked it up a long time ago, before his parents had even left. He hadn't ever used it because he hadn't needed to, but now he tucked the book into his bag.

Ethan then walked with Andy's crutch down the pathway into Grimwyck. This crutch had quickly become one of his favorites. Not only was it nice to look at, it was comfortable. It wrapped perfectly around his arm, and the wood wasn't rough at all. Ethan couldn't imagine Andy spending any amount of time on this for him. The fact that they had poured hours into carving these designs into a crutch that he hadn't paid them for… it confused him. 

But he avoided those thoughts. Instead heading past the town square onto the path to Giredale. He didn't take the waystone. After the other day, he was terrified of hurting himself from waypointing. He seemed to be developing a sensitivity to magic, and this worried him. He needed to be careful, and not make rash decisions.

Ethan made it into Giredale as the day neared noon. He ducked into the bookshop, glancing around as his eyes adjusted to the dim. Compared to the sunny streets, the bookshop was so dark. The mood was ruined a bit from the fact that they still had no door. Inside, Taylor sat at their desk, writing in a small notebook. When he walked in, they glanced up and sighed. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"That's no way to talk to a customer."

"You're no customer."

"Rude. What if I was?"

They waved air at the ink on the pages, carefully drying it, then tucking the notebook into the desk. Only after they had gently closed the drawer did they fold their hands and meet his eyes. "What do you want, Ethan?"

"I have something for you."

They folded their hands delicately, meeting his eyes with an even stare. "I am not going on another adventure with you."

Ethan smiled slowly, refusing to lose this fast. "You sure?"

Taylor sighed, standing and picking up a stack of books. They walked to one of the bookshelves, beginning to do inventory. "I'm fucking positive. That last one was bad enough. I get sick when sailing and I'm not interested in fighting another dragon."

Ethan felt a twist in his stomach, but didn't let his anxiety show. "How many arrows do you have?"

Taylor stopped mid shelving a book, and slowly turned to look at him. "Why?" 

"How would you like having infinite arrows?"

"What? What do you mean infinite?" They placed the stack of books on a shelf, carefully walking over to him.

Ethan removed the enchanted book from his bag, holding it up so Taylor could clearly see the shimmering cover. "I picked this up while traveling a few years ago. Put it on your quiver and you'll never run out of arrows."

Taylor glared at him, and crossed their arms. "I don't like coercion."

"It seems like you do." Ethan shook the book in the air. "I know you want it, Taylor. Arrows are hard to find. As long as you have one arrow, when you reach for another, one will always be there."

"You are a tricky bastard." Taylor muttered, then sighed. "Fine. I'll go. But I want a promise that if I lose anything you replace it, no cost."

"That's absurd. I'm not responsible for your mistakes."

"Then I'm not coming."

Ethan sighed, leaning into his crutch. It relieves some of the throbbing pain in his leg. Being in Taylor's bookshop is like hell. From every side there is a magical something trying its hardest to attack his leg. 

He doesn't have a plausible explanation for this sensitivity to magic. It must just be the sculk – it's never liked cleaner magic – but that doesn't make sense. This has never happened to anyone else. He's never seen infection lines like this sustained for so long. And why his knee? Why did it start there? There were so many questions left unanswered, but those were for another time. Ethan bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the pain. "Okay, fine. Anything you lose I will replace, in time."

"Deal." Taylor smiled sweetly, walking past him and sitting back at their desk. "Now leave me alone."

He sighed slowly. "It'll be in three days."

"Yes, whatever, I'll be there."

As Ethan left, he glanced at the still empty doorframe. "You really need a door, man."

"Leave me alone, Ethan."

Afterwards, Ethan went across the street to visit with Rachel. He carefully pushed the door open, glancing around. He knew that technically, this was a shop and anyone was allowed in at any time, but it felt odd. However Rachel was sitting at her desk, painting on a large banner, and smiled as he walked in.

"Oh, Ethan, hello." She dipped their paintbrush into a small ceramic dish filled with water. "What can I do for you?"

Ethan glanced at the fabric. She was painting a large tree with a bear in front. It reminded him vaguely of the trees in Andy's forests. He glanced away from the banner, meeting their eyes. "I've been thinking of going on another adventure." He raised his eyebrow, leaning against the counter. "Would you want to come?"

She grinned immediately. "Yes!! Oh my goodness, I would love to come. Andy told me all about the last one-"

"And you still want to come?" Ethan, completely perplexed, interrupted their rambling. 

"I mean I'm sure the majority of their descriptions were dramatic."

Ethan grimaced. "As much as I would like to believe that, I'm not sure."

She waved a hand, picking her paintbrush back up. "I don't really mind how awful last adventure was, this one will be better."

He furrowed his brow. "And why is that?"

She grinned. "Because I'll be coming."

And so, Ethan left Giredale with another member on his ragtag team. It was nearly complete, but he still wanted one more, and there was one person left that he could go to.

The Tavern had lost a lot of popularity after the infection of Grimwyck, and since it was nearing night it was almost completely empty. Ashlyn was meticulous in her cleaning, ensuring no sculk got within fifty feet of the Tavern. While Grimwyck residents were welcome in, they had to remove their shoes before entering to reduce risk of spread (the sculk was thought to attach seeds onto the soles of shoes, spreading that way. However, Ethan wasn't sure. That wouldn't make sense for how it spread so smoothly, and it seemed to move as if alive).

Ashlyn was setting up the wine counter, putting out various jars of authentic Giredale stock. Usually the Tavern was stocked with wine made in-house, but Ashlyn was notoriously awful at making wine, and had resorted to spending most of the Tavern budget on third-party wine. He had offered to assist her with this, but he was struggling to find a free day. When he wasn't doing orders, he was farming, and when he wasn't farming he was sleeping. He really needed more employees at the greenhouse, but there weren't many people left in Grimwyck for him to turn to.

Ashlyn greeted Ethan cheerily as he came in, and agreed without complaint to accompany him on the journey. 

And that was that. 

So, Ethan headed home that night with a plan in mind. He would spend tomorrow cooking and cleaning, preparing for the journey in three days time.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Ethan underestimated the amount of time he would need.

Maybe he got a little distracted studying the sculk. He had found himself down a rabbit hole, inspecting the duplication of sculk cells. He had thought for a moment that it was possible that it was showing asexual reproduction, but realized he had close to no idea what that would look like at the end of it all, and truly had no idea what he was doing, so he abandoned the project. 

However this only left him with a day to prepare food for the journey tomorrow. He had planned on making sandwiches and soup for the trip, but the amount of preparation required meant he didn't have near enough time for the meet up tomorrow. 

He was still cooking at the meetup time, but didn't think too much of it. They could wait a few hours for him to finish with their food, right?

Apparently fucking not.

It had barely been an hour when Ethan heard voices chattering as they climbed the staircase. He didn't hear exact words for the majority of their trip up, and it wasn't until they knocked on his door that he heard them clearly. "That is a long ass fucking staircase."

"You really don't think about it until you're climbing it, but genuinely it's so bad. I keep telling him to just get a ladder or something like a normal person."

"Hello??" Ethan stepped to the door, swinging it open on Ashlyn and Taylor, standing on his doormat. 

Ashlyn smiled sweetly at him, eyes glittering in the noon sunlight. "We were sent to you to tell you to, ahem, 'get your stinky ass in Giredale before I slit your fucking throat'."

Ethan furrowed his brow. "Who the hell said that? Rachel?"

"Universe, no." That was Taylor this time. Ethan let his gaze move to them. They looked nervous. Ethan glanced around, and immediately noticed that there was sculk growing from the doorway. Shit. "No, that was Andy."

"Andy? They're coming?"

"When they heard Rachel was coming they insisted. Anyway, we've been gathered for like forty minutes-"

For the moment, Ethan ignored the part about Andy coming, crossing his arms. "Did you guys prepare food?" Ethan glared at the pair of them. 

Taylor shrugged sheepishly. "I have cookies."

He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. "That is not enough."

Ashlyn glanced inside at the kitchen. "I don't have anything."

"Exactly." Ethan turned back, and stalked into the house. "So let me cook, will you?"

Unfortunately, they didn't get that he had meant leave me the fuck alone, and followed him into his house. Ashlyn settled beside the fire, writing notes in a small notebook, and Taylor leaned against the counter beside him. 

"So this new boat of yours…" Taylor cleared their throat. "It is much easier to drive."

Ethan slowly turned, glaring at them. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Taylor held up their hands. "Andy convinced me. They did build it after all."

"Yeah, I commissioned them. That means it's mine." 

Ashlyn spoke up from the couch, leaning forward to dip her pen in the pot of ink on the desk in front of her. "For the record, it didn't take much coercion."

"Nah, Andy didn't coerce me into anything. I just kinda wanted to. They encouraged the bad thoughts to take action, the original thoughts were my own."

Ethan sighed, leaning to grab a pot of dried rosemary from above the stove. He had had to purchase a large stock from a vendor. After his last attempt to find rosemary, he hadn't wanted to repeat the experience. "I swear to all that is good and holy, if you crashed my boat-"

"I just said it was easier to drive, didn't I?"

"Where the fuck is it now, then? You didn't sail it all the way to Grimwyck, did you?"

Ashlyn coughed loudly from her place on the couch, and Taylor adopted a nervous look. "Uh…"

"Are you kidding me, Sticky Fingers?"

"Hey, I thought you were over calling me that. And no, we didn't drive it all the way to Grimwyck. Andy and Rachel are still on the river just outside the city boundaries."

Ethan tilted his head back slowly. "Universe help me."

Taylor moved from their place beside the stove, skipping over to sit by Ashlyn. They settled down, and hummed appreciatively. "This is a very comfortable chair you've got here."

Ethan ignored them, deciding the soup was good enough and removing the pot from the stove. Desca had designed the stove so when he removed the weight from the metal supports the supply fueling the gasoline flicked off. It made his movement in the kitchen much faster, and more convenient. And without his magic recently it kept a bit of magical flare in the kitchen. 

He carefully packed the soup into individual containers. He had commissioned the glassware from a very talented glassblower in Grimwyck before the infection had spread too far. They had given him a mass discount for the sheer quantity he had ordered and paid for, but he was running out now. He'd have to start requesting them back – which felt wrong – or find another glassblower in Giredale who would surely overcharge. 

He finished packing the food, then placed it into one of his bottomless bags. He had also commissioned this from a witch in Grimwyck before the infection, but luckily it wasn't something he only used once. While he liked it for its ability to store any amount of food without worry, it only took off some of the weight, so it was rather heavy.

He slid the straps on his shoulders, adjusting his neck so it was comfortable and turned back to Ashlyn and Taylor. They were looking expectantly at him like two needy puppies wanting attention. He sighed. "I'm done."

Ashlyn immediately stood, clapping her hands together. "Perfect. Off we go, I really don't want Andy to kill you, it would be awful to try to remove the stains from my clothes."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ─── 

Taylor and Ashlyn ran ahead of him as they headed down the staircase. Ethan was carrying his bag full of food and leaning on his crutch, so it wasn't easy to keep up with them. They were both full of energy, and recently, he had found himself lacking. 

He watched as they made it to the mossy floor below, and Taylor pointed at the lake full of catfish behind his house. He had been meaning to do a bit of fishing in there and get rid of the larger ones. They were becoming far too large for the pond, and he needed the meat anyway. Ethan smiled for just a moment before the reality of the situation hit him.

The catfish were right fucking next to Bud. 

It had been weeks since he'd checked on the creature. He knew that he should be more attentive to him, but building a pen was a daunting task, and he was too overwhelmed with finding a spellbook to devote time to it. It pained him, but it was true.

However the unfortunate side effect of not properly containing Bud was that he was in the open. Anyone who looked too close at the trees on his property would notice that one didn't look quite right. And if he moved… well. 

"Taylor!" He shouted, immediately hurrying his step to stop Taylor from getting any closer. 

They, luckily, flipped around. Ashlyn followed suit, meeting his eyes. He saw worry in her gaze; she could always tell when something was wrong with him.

"What's wrong?" She asked as Ethan walked up to them. 

"Nothing, we've just got to get going." 

Taylor looked confused, but didn't press the topic. They just shrugged and turned away from the lake and Bud's enclosure, walking along the moss to the path leading to the centre of Grimwyck.

Ashlyn stopped him and met his eyes. "What was really wrong?"

"Taylor was extremely close to seeing Bud."

"Fuck." She muttered, and glanced behind her. "You're right. Let's get them out of here."

They reached the outskirts of Grimwyck as the sun reached its peak in the sky. Taylor lost their readiness to be ahead as they left the main thoroughfare, dragging behind now. Ashlyn had been telling Ethan about her troubles at the Tavern, complaining about whiny attendees and her inability to keep up with orders.

"It's just- if you want better wine, go to Giredale! The Tavern has always been loved for its community, not the quality of the wine. I swear this bald fucking man talked to me for hours about how the level of maturation of these grapes is obvious in the lack of depth to the flavor- what the fuck do you even mean?" Ashlyn threw up her hands. "And don't even get me started on the complaints I've gotten about Sheldon-"

"He is right in front of the Tavern."

"It's fucking called the Snoring Dragon's Tavern. What are they expecting? A kitten?! Of course there's going to be a fucking dragon – I'm a dragonologist!"

Taylor stepped between them, putting their hand on Ashlyn's shoulder. "As entertaining as this is, I must interrupt to mention that Andy and Rachel are not where they said they'd be."

Ethan groaned. "Why the fuck did Rachel stay back anyway? They don't mind Grimwyck, do they?"

"I don't think Rachel minds Grimwyck much, but they stayed with Andy."

"Why??"

"Buddy system?"

"Uh huh." Ethan sighed, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "So where are they if not here?"

Ashlyn glanced around, then made a surprised noise. "There's a note."

"A what?" He turned to see Ashlyn step off the trail to where a rock had been placed on top of flower pressed paper. She scanned it quickly then handed it to him. There were small flowers inked above the writing and Ethan thought he recognized Rachel's handiwork with a fountain pen. 

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
We're heading back to Giredale and taking the boat with. I tried to convince them to stay, but Andy didn't want to wait any longer.
– Rachel ✿

Their script was beautiful, but it didn't distract from the absurdity of the contents of the letter. "This is just absurd. Why do they let Andy get away with everything?"

Ashlyn sighed. "Yeah, I know. But hey, at least I get to tell you about the man who threw up on the bar."

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ─── 

They were not in Giredale.

Ethan, Ashlyn, and Taylor stood at the docks looking out at the inlet, markedly absent of his boat. He let out a long sigh, trying to calm himself. "It's fine, right? No big deal. Just an entire fucking ship in an unknown location with an untrustworthy carpenter."

"It's technically in the hands of their more trustworthy sister, so I'm sure it'll be okay." Ashlyn patted his arm disparagingly. 

Taylor had tracked down the pier, and was now looking down the river. "Right, so it's just under the bridge there."

"What??" Ethan walked over to them, looking out across the water. And indeed, there was his boat, safely nestled in the shadow of the bridge into Giredale. "By the Universe, please give me restraint not to throttle them the second I see them," Ashlyn patted his shoulder again. She was doing that a lot. He wasn't sure how to feel about it; it felt rather patronizing. 

They ended up walking across the bridge and climbing down to the water. They could have rented one of the boats from the pier manager, but chances were that taking it back would be a nightmare, and it was easier to just walk. 

"Look who finally got here!" Andy's voice sent an immediate flare of anger down his spine. 

"Get your manky fucking hands off my boat."

They smiled that obnoxious smile of theirs. "I'm sorry, you are driving us on this adventure right? And yet… you're late."

Ethan stepped into the boat, shoving Andy out from behind the wheel. "Fuck off, I was making food."

"I'm sure you were."

"I was, dickhead."

"And that's all you've been doing?"

"Leave me the fuck alone, Andy, I'm sorry, alright? And besides, I didn't even invite you. Shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

They furrowed their brow. "That is an interesting way to say that." They muttered, but turned and left him alone anyway. 

Rachel stepped up to him once Andy was gone. "It's alright, Ethan, don't worry, Andy's just grumpy. They didn't really want to come, anyway."

"Then why are they here?"

"Didn't want me to be alone, I suppose. But don't worry, they've promised not to be too much of a bother."

"They started bothering me the second they stepped foot on my boat."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I will never understand your thing with Andy."

Ethan balked. "Thing?? We don't have a thing."

They held up an accusatory finger, pointing straight at him. "There's your thing again." When he opened his mouth to protest, she jabbed her finger into his chest. "And before you protest, I do want you to realize that you contribute to this 'thing' as much as they do. Fix yourself before you blame them."

With that stunner of a sentence, Rachel turned and began speaking with Ashlyn. Ethan was left like a fish out of water, gasping for air. What did she mean, fix himself?? He was fine. Andy was the one contributing to the problem. He did nothing but try to be kind to them. Ethan shook his head. She was probably just confused about his place in all of this.

He settled his hand on the wheel. It was beautiful; smooth and polished with engravings of fish along the edge. "Are we ready to go?"

He asked the group in general, but only Taylor responded. "That's for you to decide, you're the one who planned this adventure." The rest of the group had settled along the sides of the boat, in their own worlds. Rachel was tying a daisy crown, Ashlyn was still scribbling in that notebook of hers, and Andy was carving something out of a block of wood. Taylor was reading, propped up against the side. 

Ethan let out a long sigh, sitting down on a small stool and staring out onto the water. This was going to be a very long trip.