Archive of Our Own

I can’t say for certain just how long it took, but I know there eventually came a morning where I no longer awoke to the foul taste of Bumbler venom antidote lingering in my gullet. 

This was monumental. Each morning, the sun would rise over Bastion, fighting through the green smog above as best it could, and I would rouse myself from bed and make my way to the throne room before our honorable King. And by the time the sun fell, his majesty would have me dragged back to my quarters. I was not ready to fight, he said. 

Well, I disagreed with this sentiment, though a sworn sword could only do so much arguing with whom he had pledged his unyielding loyalty. Whenever I left him, I did so with my head bowed— out of respect, yes, though this also hid any grimace upon my face. 

But when I had truly healed, all unfortunate remnants of the now-changed Brood Mother dashed from my system, Pyat, though he wanted to, could no longer deny my request. Yes, I would take up arms again, and do so beside the Spellbinder. 

Oh, my people spoke of her with reverence now. It had taken no time at all for her to leave her mark. Liberating the Bees, returning our drowned King to us, reinstating our admittedly flimsy grip on Bastion— all of this and more had happened while I was frozen between this world and the next. All of this happened because of her. You could not take more than five steps through the market without hearing the stories, and though they had likely mutated when passed from mouth to mouth like all stories worth telling do, those who told them did so with hope. 

Hope for Bastion. For Khrysalis. For the future. It was a currency we hadn’t dealt in generations, now slipped from baker to blacksmith over the babbling of waterfalls. 

Selfishly— and these were thoughts I kept to myself— I believed none of them knew the power of her presence quite like I did. I had been the first of my kind to be knocked off my feet by the simple flick of her wrist. Every move subtle, yet morbidly precise, like she calculated each half-second of motion. And this was without the sketch of a rune in midair, one I quickly came to learn represented Necromancy, her magic of choice. How fitting that she was the one to pull me from the slow-closing jaws of death. 

With all her knowledge of what it meant to pass, she must have known it was not my time yet. Was that why she fought to bring me back? 

I never did get to ask. It was, in the grand scheme of things, a rather trivial question. We focused instead on what would be awaiting us in the Melanos Tower. Then, Dread Fort Rachias, and the acquisition of the Dying Star Stone that would pave the way across the Starfall Sea. 

But between the bloodshed and gravitas of it all, I allowed myself pockets of the aforementioned selfishness. They commonly came in the seconds where our eyes met, the nearby gurgling of a deposed enemy drowned out by whatever I was thinking. 

The thing you must know about the Spellbinder— about Amber, which is the name she eventually gave up to us— is that she carries every war she has ever fought upon her shoulders, and one look will tell you she has fought many. Whether or not they have ended is a moot point, as they are there regardless, and they keep her solemn. She rarely does more than lift her brow or part her lips, but occasionally, her gaze will soften or the corners of her mouth will quirk upward. 

I’ve seen this happen when the ghastly “opossum” that follows her as a pet nibbles worms from her hand. I could have sworn that, when King Pyat presented me to her upon my return to arms, she looked at me like she did that odd creature. I too would have kissed her palm, licked and eaten from it, had she asked. 

She had, over time, become another dais for me to kneel before. Another place to pledge my sword. Wherever she went, I felt the compulsion to follow, a man possessed. Loyalty was sacred, but also much like a fine wine to me. I couldn’t help but overindulge. 

So when she crossed the Starfall Sea and I could not, it was like salt being stripped from water. 

It was, rationally speaking, the wisest course of action. Amber, though I longed to protect her, needed no bodyguard. What she needed was a navigator, a sea captain, and I, despite all my passions, was neither. 

“You may desire to be there,” Pyat said, carving me to the rind so simply. “But you are needed here, on this side of those troubled waters, with your people.” 

And how could I argue with that? With the truth? 

Those months were the hardest. Not because I spent the majority of it overseeing the reallocation of abandoned Umbra supplies in the depths of Tyrian Gorge, but because there weren’t many channels of communication between the opposing sides of the sea. Amber’s exploits went untold for what felt like eons before we finally received word from the mantis city of Sardonyx that they were in revolt. 

Zaltanna the Mirrormask broke the news. I was not present when she did, but when I ran into the heart of Bastion, she was exiting the palace. I think it amused her, as much as a woman like her could be amused, seeing me so out of breath. 

“Is it true?” I asked, chest heaving. “Are your people rioting?” 

“At the risk of jinxing it, yes,” she replied. “And you’ll never guess who sparked the powder keg.” 

I hung my head back in relief, almost laughing. “The Spellbinder…”

As if there was ever any doubt! She had brought that stake of hope to Sardonyx and plunged it into the ground with all the exactitude of someone who’d not only saved civilizations, but watched them crumble. 

For a young man who had dreamed of times like this, it was all rather exciting. Barely able to contain myself, I’d raced to Pyat’s throne and practically threw my body to the cold stone floor. There, I begged to accompany her wherever she went next. It hardly mattered to me where that would be. I was wise enough to know she’d be reaching the final push soon and couldn’t stomach the thought of not seeing her again before then. 

She did not need me, but my desire for her was splintering and now bone-deep. 

The King was generous or, perhaps, worldly and familiar enough with me to know what I was up to. He said she was heading to the Kondha Desert and could use an ally when it came to conversing with the strange Hopper tribes that resided there. The Hoppers were not a topic I was well-versed in, save for fearsome legend— hence my hunch that he simply pitied me. 

I had never been so delighted to be treated that way. 

—

Amber returned to Bastion for an hour at most. She took the time to, at the insistence of a servant, eat a little something from the palace kitchen and wash a layer of dust and dirt from her face in the streams outside. I basked in her presence, ready to see the edge of the world. 

To my relief, we took a portal she’d opened to Sardonyx— which was free of underwater monsters and surly sea captains. We spent one night there in an abandoned home and woke up on the same couch, though neither of us made a point of dwelling on it. From there, it was a short walk to the desert gate.

“It’s quiet,” I remarked, nose twitching in the dry wind. 

“The Umbra Legion wants us to believe that,” she replied. “The Moth Priestess said to search for Hopper tracks. Do you know what they look like?” 

I glanced behind myself at the prints I was leaving in the sand. “Something like mine, I’d assume. But I can’t say for certain.” 

“We’ll follow whatever we encounter. If it leads us to trouble, we’ll be prepared.” 

She crouched low to the ground, sifting through sand with her bare hands. I watched her back and found myself momentarily distracted by the mosaic of fresh denting across the armor that encased her. Her translucent cape, emblazoned with a skull, blew lazily in the breeze— unharmed. 

Once again I wanted to ask her something— Had you wanted me to cross the sea with you? — but found it too inconsequential. We had Hoppers to meet, after all! 

“We should search near the mouths of caves,” I offered. “When night falls, they’ll need shelter from the cold.” 

“So will we.” There was a glint of a smile on her face as she stood. “Though I’ve never minded the cold.” 

“Why do you think that is?” I couldn’t imagine such a thing, warm-blooded creature I was. 

Amber raised a hand to the air and a few flecks of what looked like black powder fell from her fingertips. Upon further inspection I saw something else— a glue-like, dark purple substance clinging to the slight webbing between them. Pure shadow. 

“My magic, I’d imagine,” she replied. “Necromancy— Death magic— sits between that of Ice and Storm. Undeath feels like a chill up your spine. It’s clung to my bones since I was young, and weather-wrought cold feels… mild in comparison.” 

And with that, she shrugged and went about her search. The flecks of shadow blown from her hands mingled with the sand for only a moment before being promptly overturned and buried by the breeze. Still, I sidestepped the spot where they fell, not even realizing I’d done so until I saw the zigzag of my tracks in my wake. 

A little more than an hour of hugging Kondha’s cliffs must have passed before we discovered a distant break in the rock worthy enough to be called a cave entrance. By then, we’d broken the seal on our first canteen of freshwater, but had managed to avoid doing the same to our supply of berries. Based on where the sun’s silhouette currently lingered in the sky, I guessed we had about two hours of daylight left. If we wanted a cave for solitude throughout the night, this one was worth marking. 

I was about to voice this when Amber stopped, a gentle but firm hand flying into the air beside her— meant to halt me as well. 

“Tracks,” she announced. “Do you recognize them?” 

The intensity of her gaze turned to me, and I stepped up beside her, tail twitching. 

“Well, they certainly don’t look like Mantis feet. That means they’re likely Hopper sign. Let’s follow them!” 

I don’t think either of us were surprised when the tracks led perfectly to the mouth of the cave, almost as if they’d been laid there for us by the ancients hundreds of years ago. That was how these things tended to go. And because we were wise to the genre of our story, we both kept a hand on the hilts of our weapons as we entered the dark. 

We were greeted by two burnt-orange Goliaths that garbled pointless threats and, more interestingly, a Hopper appropriately hopping from foot to foot behind them. Amber stared straight through the beasts, but did not acknowledge him beyond that before drawing her wand. In a mere moment, the Umbra scouts were nothing but dust.

The Hopper was not quick to thank her for her heroism. Instead, he looked quickly between us before settling on Amber and holding his swords tighter in his hands. 

“You’re a Hopper,” she greeted him. I knew this was a greeting rather than a mere observation, but ventured to guess he could not parse that same distinction. Thus, I opted to fulfill my duties and assist. 

“Greetings, friend. I am Dyvim Whitehart, Sworn Sword of Bastion, here with the Spellbinder, Hero of the Spiral. We are here to vanquish the Shadow Queen, and are looking for your tribe’s guidance to unlock the secrets hidden here to do so.” 

His suspicion ebbed only slightly, but it was enough to push him over the edge. Not becoming Goliath chow probably had something to do with that decision. 

“It appears I will die another day. Thank you, Burrower and Burrower-Mouse-Friend,” he said. “If not for you, those brutes would have had my skin. I owe you a life-debt.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Amber interjected. “Like Dyvim said, we simply need help traversing Kondha. Can you guide us to the Solar Arc in the Valley of the Dark Sun?” 

Instead of responding, the Hopper bolted from the cave, running for the exit. Still, based on how fast his kind were able to go, I knew he was not running from us. Amber and I were quick on his heels without needing to discuss it and found him a few yards from the entrance. He allowed us to catch up and continued on as if the conversation had been without interruption. 

“The… Solar Arc?” He dragged out each word like he was tasting them for the first time. Then, he shook his head. “That lies in the unknown, deep-deep desert, farther than I’ve ever hopped. But the tribe Elders know the hush-hush lore.” 

“And how far is your camp?” Amber asked.

The Hopper glanced to his right, then back at us. “The tribe at Sandstone Village sent me out to hunt-and-catch some comestibles. Because I was captured, I’ve nothing to show them. Can you help?” 

Amber’s lips pursed with the bitter taste of her question having gone unanswered. Despite this, there was something automatic, almost mechanical in the way she nodded near-immediately after hearing those three words. 

—

For some dissolute reason, the Hoppers had a hankering for Umbra food. 

For as long as the scrolls wrap, Burrowers have lived on a strictly vegetarian diet. Such a thing made sense when you considered the makeup of the Last Wood, in particular. Roots, seeds and berries were once plentiful, and paired exceptionally well with mouse-made delicacies like fine cheeses and breads. Meat-eating had long been affiliated with savagery, especially once the Umbra Legion made it a staple in their meals. I would be lying if I didn’t think of those fireside stories I grew up on that boasted cannibalism as a main plot point each time I saw the glint of Hopper teeth. Were they the barbarous mice I’d been promised by my elders?

The plan, laid out to us by Bolthy, the Hopper we’d saved, was to strike a local Mantis stronghold— Camp Arrow Weed— and swipe their comestibles once the foot soldiers there were impaired. After some perfectly viable complaining, I put my personal feelings regarding the mission aside and followed Bolthy through the desert. 

“I should have known the entrance would be… ostentatious,” Amber remarked flatly. “Morganthe has always been a showboater.” 

She was referring to a mountainous wall embedded in the cliffs of Kondha. An imposing mix of harsh, gray steel and pale red glass, obviously imbued with dark magic, made up what was apparently the gate to the Shadow Queen’s inner sanctum. To see it so plainly from our vantage point at the Mantis camp was enough to make my stomach drop. There was no fanfare, no extra security— as if she wanted us to walk up to the grand door and knock. 

It was a clear declaration of her confidence. Why hide the entrance when you could drop it right in the middle of the desert? It was all hers already, she likely thought. It didn’t matter that we were here. 

“Quite an eyesore,” I added. “Do you think they drop mail here, or around back?” 

Blink and you’ll miss it— the corners of her mouth quirked upward. “Come on now, we have food to collect.” 

To hasten things, the three of us split up for the comestible collection. Amber was initially hesitant to let Bolthy go off on his own after the Goliath incident, but, clearly fiending for a pocket of solitude, took little convincing before trekking away from us. 

Stealth had never been my strong suit, so rather than try to pull off a covert operation, I walked to the center of a series of tents, swung my sword in the air, and hollered Kiai! For Bastion! The Mantis soldiers came swarming not a moment later, but were out of sorts from lingering fatigue. How lucky of me to strike during their naptime! I had my pick of provisions and tried not to think too hard about what I was holding upon procuring them. 

Once it became clear that I could not carry more, I set out to find my partners. Bolthy had flashed us a knapsack before hopping away that he could haul the parcels in, which I was keen to do. Not having both hands free for my sword always made me uneasy. Practically, I hoped to find him first, knowing Amber could most definitely hold her own. 

Camp Arrow Weed was larger than I’d initially anticipated. A trail of unconscious Mantis soldiers, some with a thin film of black dust clinging to their bodies, told me that Amber had quelled the sites I stumbled upon now. The air was cold with the lingering effects of her magic. 

The next site was cooler still, but what struck me was not the temperature, but the way the yard seemed to warp around me. It was as if I’d been abruptly knocked in the head. The comestible parcels in my hands danced, stretching and waving like they’d been plunged underwater. Tents seemed to shudder, moving mere inches from where they once stood and then back again in seconds. And in the middle of it all was a circle marked for a duel, the center of which bled into the atmosphere so brutally that it hurt to lay my eyes upon it. 

I dropped the parcels and brought my fists to my eyes, wiping them fervently. Then, I forced myself to look up into the battlefield. 

“Spellbinder!” I called, to no avail. “Amber!” 

Amber’s heels were dug into the sand, her wand pointed in the direction of the Mantis soldiers on the opposing side. What I found most horrifying was not the collection of pure, reality-bending Shadow magic circling her head, but the way her hands, normally so deathly precise, shook as she drew the rune for Necromancy. It was a symbol I’d seen her sketch a hundred times before. Now, I watched it fall apart in midair, amounting to nothing more than a dusting of black powder. 

It was at this point that I began running forward, sword drawn, to take the Umbra out at the knees before they could seize advantage of her fizzle. Before I could reach her, though, the concentration of Shadow magic began to pulsate dangerously. Despite my persistence, I could not will myself to move further, too stricken by the numbing feeling it emitted to use my legs. Helplessly, I saw the balloon stop and burst into her with such force that both she and the Mantises ended up halfway buried in the sand. Once she hit the ground, the aura enthralling the duel circle faded, gradually bringing the world back into focus.

“Amber!” I cried again. 

She was already stirring by the time I knelt beside her, suddenly unaware of what to do with my hands. Pure want instructed me to brush the sand from her armor and cradle her upper body against my own, but I knew better. Instead, I retrieved her wand for her and placed it close by. Her hand fused with its hilt like a magnet as her eyes fluttered open. They were blurry for a second, and then razor sharp and locked on me. 

“Were you hit?” she rasped. 

“Was I hit? No, I— you were thrown to the ground. There was a burst of… of magic. Are you alright?” 

“We have to go before the rest of the camp wises up.” To my horror, she began to stand. “I can carry the comestibles the Mantises abandoned.” 

“Please don’t rush yourself. Stand slowly, stand—” 

“Don’t fuss,” she ordered. With a slow roll of each shoulder, she was back on her feet. 

Like a good soldier, I did as she said and kept my fussing to a minimum. Or, at least, to myself. Amber’s head remained on a swivel as I ran back to retrieve the parcels I’d dropped. I watched her roll her shoulders thrice more in the time it took for me to do so. The sand where the dueling circle once sat was scorched a nightmarish purple and seemed to bubble like something beneath it was boiling. I did my very best to ignore it, and we inched to the edge of the camp to find Bolthy. 

The sun was sinking further and further into the smog-filled sky. With it went the warmth of the desert and any slight ease I’d felt walking through it. 

–

It is said that the Kondha Forest was once the largest of its kind on Khrysalis— so grand and lush that it made the Last Wood appear as a mere speck of green on a map. I’d heard the legends of how the Shadow Queen torched it and many other forests to the ground in her quest to conquer the land. Bolthy repeated Hopper-lore tinged versions of those stories now as he led Amber and I through the barrenness towards Sandstone Village. 

Though his speech was clunky and repetitive, when I heard him speak of his home, it felt as if I was listening to my own voice. The reverence he possessed very briefly brought life back to Kondha, but it only took a harsh breeze or the distant howl of some suffering creature to remind me of reality. This was a dying place. That is how the Ravenwood scholars had described my world. I never wanted to see the truth in that statement and refused to let it fully become so. 

Still, each time my foot came down upon and subsequently sunk into the desert floor, I missed the Last Wood more. When it became too much to bear, I turned my gaze to Amber. 

She was a good five paces ahead of me as I brought up the rear of our trio. I was happy to follow her and occasionally found myself hypnotized by the strands of hair that had been blown loose from the braid crowning her head and running down her back. Occasionally, she would turn her head slightly to the left to see if I was there. 

Her hands remained in fists. One, as always, around the hilt of her wand. The other clenched at her side. Her fingers were so tight that I could no longer see the dark, gluey Shadow magic that festered between them. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was her goal. 

“The wise-ones, our Elders, will have the knowledge you seek,” Bolthy reminded us as he led us through a secret passage to a separate section of the desert. “They are named Prester the BlazingWind, Edwin the ArcaneArchitect, and Saul the OneWhoKnows.” 

“Thank you for bringing us here,” Amber said evenly. 

Though it was dark, torches illuminated Sandstone Village, which was little more than a series of tents and caves populated with Hoppers. They all turned in unison when we entered— immediately overjoyed to see young Bolthy and the comestibles he’d so valiantly foraged, and then apprehensive at the sight of us, the outsiders. Multiple pairs of swords were drawn as we ascended a dune to the main camp. Amber stopped halfway up, and I followed suit. 

“Patterndancer!” The first of three greying Hoppers called out. “Tell me, boy— Have you quick-hopped into the shade?” 

Amber’s brow arched in confusion. I, too, was unsure of what they were speaking of for a moment, before remembering certain Burrower Knight protocol. This was the elder’s way of asking Bolthy if he had been threatened into leading us here against his will. Simply put, he asked Boy, do we have reason to be afraid? 

Bolthy gave a quick shake of his head. “Nay, Prester. This Spellbinder saved me from the grim-dark grip of the Shadow. I brought her here because she seeks the secrets of the Solar Arc.” 

Murmurs rippled through the crowd that had gathered. Amber acknowledged none but the Elders. The first of them, Prester, stepped forward and motioned for her to do the same. When she moved, I moved. 

“A Spellbinder…” he mused, sunken eyes tracing the skull emblazoned on her armor. “Young Bolthy says you do not hop in the Shadow?” 

Decades of pure disdain for the Umbra Legion passed down by Whiteharts long gone overtook me in an instant. Amber’s lips had only just parted by the time my voice rang out, loud and strong: “We battle the Shadow with every breath!” 

Both she and Prester turned to look at me then. The Elder’s brows raised in a way that made my tail twitch— in a way that silently said he thought me uncivilized. Uncouth. It almost made me lash out again, but the cavernous brown of Amber’s eyes swallowed me whole, and I held my tongue. 

“Be quiet-calm, Burrower-friend,” Prester chided. Amber stepped slightly to the right, placing her just before Prester and nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with me. “There was no intention to boil your blood. But the Shadow Queen has strange-strange allies in these dark days.” 

“I understand your apprehension,” Amber said. “The Shadow Queen is no ally of mine. I have traveled to your world as a representative of a council of wizards working to defeat her. With your help, I am confident I can do just that.” 

“A whole council of Spellbinders, you say?” A second Elder settled in beside Prester. “How quaint.” 

“They go by the Council of Light, yes.” 

“Ah, because Light destroys the Shadow?” 

Amber gave a single, stiff nod. “I believe that was the intention.” 

The second Elder— Edwin, Bolthy had called him— stepped forward and stuck his nose out. He half-circled Amber like a canyon bird, turning around only when continuing meant he would collide with me. Amber herself went on staring straight ahead, her stance almost militant. She had all the natural control of a knight. I, on the other hand, could feel my blood beginning to boil once more. 

“You reek of dark-dark magic, girl.” Edwin said. 

“I am an exalted Necromancer.” Amber replied robotically. I found myself glancing towards her fists— still clenched tight. “Death is what I excel in, but its students being naturally inclined towards evil is an erroneous belief. This stems from the very nature of Necromancy as a class of magic being sorely misunderstood. Or, purposefully misinterpreted.” 

“Bah. Darker than all that. You reek of Shadow.” 

As if on cue, a tentacle of inky purple began wrapping itself around Amber’s fingers. She attempted to relax her hand, which only caused it to spread. Soon, it would be dripping onto the sand. 

“I am also a beginner Shadowmancer.” Amber’s voice was less secure now. “I do not deny this. The magic was thrust upon me. In order to best the Shadow Queen, I need to learn to wield and understand it.” 

“You know,” Edwin sneered. “They say the Shadow Queen was a mere student Spellbinder once. A wizard.” 

This time, the brown of Amber’s eyes did the opposite of soothing me. They propelled me forward into Edwin the Arcane’s face. They, in their subtle exhaustion, their subtle fear, led me to step before her and raise my voice yet again. 

“The Spellbinder is the Light Bringer! She is nothing like the Shadow Queen!” 

The camp fell quiet. The Elders glanced at one another, none too obviously moved by what I had done. I couldn’t bring myself to care. How dare they? How dare they attempt to rouse a cruelty in her that did not exist? After all she had done for their world, whether they knew it or not. Had they ever set foot in Bastion, they would not be speaking this way. There would be no doubt of Amber’s character, of her heart. 

I didn’t dare look over my shoulder at her. I just stood there, chest heaving, as Edwin shrugged. 

“I seek the Solar Arc.” Amber’s voice sliced through the air like a dagger. “After I saved him, Bolthy said you would help me.” 

Edwin sneered. “As you say, World-Saver. Speak to Saul the OneWhoKnows. He will give you the instruction you need.” 

“Thank y–” 

“But know this,” Edwin interrupted, stepping right around me to reach her. “The Shadow Queen came to Kondha when it was lush-green and young to steal the secrets of the Solar Arc, for the brightest light casts the darkest shadow.” 

“I am not the Shadow Queen.” Amber said. 

“Of course you aren’t. You are the brightest light. The Light Bringer.” He leaned in close to her then. If my world seemed to stop, I could not imagine how slow hers was spinning. “Do you have the heart-fire to learn our secrets and triumph over her? What will the world look like if you fail?” 

–

The third Elder, Saul the OneWhoKnows, was undoubtedly the friendliest of them all. Not that such a bar was hard to clear. In any regard, he was quick to give Amber a lead on the Solar Arc, though it wasn’t what either of us wanted to hear. 

“You have helped us, Spellbinder, but…” His ear twitched in the direction of the other Elders. “We cannot help a stranger find the Solar Arc.” 

Amber was swift, unfazed. “What would I have to do to make myself known to you? Worthy of your knowledge?” 

“Well… you must become one of us. Of our Tribe. But that is as lengthy a task as the long hop across the sea.” 

“I’m up to the challenge. How does one begin?” 

Her boldness must have impressed Saul. Before I knew it, we were trekking the outskirts of the village, tasked with finding an unspecified amount of Horned Limes— fruit native to the area— to make the tribe’s ritual drink. Amber did this with minimal complaining. A curt bow here, a decisive nod there— this was nothing new to her.

Busy work, however, drove me to absolute madness. Wasn’t this a dire enough situation to override tradition? Were the Hoppers not aware of what awaited them once the Shadow Queen decided she wanted the rest of Kondha? When I voiced this to Amber, she shoved a bushel of limes into my arms. They were thornier than I thought they would be. 

“I know Burrowers have their traditions,” she said. “Had you not trusted me so generously, I’m sure I would have been met with more resistance from your people. And I would have accepted that. I am an unfamiliar face, and an intimidating one at that.” 

And so we toiled on. After the limes, Prester had us battle wandering Umbra mercenaries for a specific kind of seed. Once the seeds were supplied, Edwin needed jasper gems, and back into the fray we went. 

Each time we returned to camp, the Elders looked between themselves in bewilderment. While it was true that these tasks would take the average traveler weeks, maybe even months to complete, they had come to realize that Amber was no mere tourist. With her magical prowess, entire squadrons of shadowy soldiers were wiped out in a few fell swoops. We dropped bundles of seeds and such at their feet that were, quite frankly, obnoxious in their size. They’d last a little camp like this quite a long while. 

By the time the sun fully gave up its fight for the day, Saul was preparing the ritual Suraldin drink for us. The other Elders flanked him with crudely crafted goblets in their hands. I hadn’t considered there being enough to drink for two. A mouthful was poured into each, and they were handed off to us. 

By Bastion, I would have preferred the Bumbler venom antidote to this! 

There was no cheering as we downed the Suraldin. If Amber tasted the same, rank flavors I did, she did not show it. Her face was the portrait of dignity. The drink did not linger in her cheeks like it did mine. 

The Elders took our goblets then, and as they did, offered Amber a somber mixture of approval and warning. Though they praised her work, both here and back across the sea, they remained convinced she would lose her mind to the Shadow just as the Umbra Queen had. It felt like a funeral for someone who hadn’t yet passed. 

“Now that we’ve reached an understanding,” Amber began. “I’d appreciate some information on the Solar Arc.” 

Saul opened his mouth and Amber practically leant in. To her chagrin, he merely yawned. 

“You are quite eager, Spellbinder. Before you run-fast to the deep, deep desert, I recommend you and your Burrower friend spend a night here with your new tribe.” I stepped forward to speak, but Saul turned to the rest of the Hoppers, voice raised. “We will reconvene to send our new members off come sunrise! Spellbinder and Mouse, would you follow me?” 

With that, the Hoppers funneled into caves and under tents. Some took guard positions at the entrance to the dunes. Amber, despite technically being a Hopper now, didn’t move.

“You’re pouting,” I observed. 

“What?” 

“I know reaching the Solar Arc is our number one goal, but some rest may do us good, eh?” Stars, we’d done so much walking today.

Amber repositioned her wand under her arm, grumbling like a child. It was endlessly endearing. 

“I did not miss you forcing me to rest.” 

“Well, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” A few feet away, Saul called out for us. I gently motioned for her to follow me for once. “Come now, Spellbinder. Some sleep will do wonders for that crankiness.” 

“Yes, I’m the cranky one,” I heard her say to herself. “Though you nearly spat out the Suraldin.” 

That got a weary laugh out of me, I’ll admit. And then, a prompt gag— the Suraldin’s rancid taste still sitting on my tongue. 

—

Since we were Hoppers now, we were granted a cave to sleep in. 

The Elders hadn’t bothered to ask if we needed two caves. And why should they? There was no reason to do so, not when we’d been joined at the hip all day. Still, that was how I ended up in the flickering torchlight, watching Amber poke a stack of quilts with her foot as if the plush was plotting to bite her. 

The shadow she cast against the wall was three times her size, and I couldn’t help but think— That is how other people see her. Larger than life. Something entirely otherworldly. Something dark. And then, my view, the Savior of the Spiral meddling with her bedding. 

I myself was sitting up atop a blanket, sword within reach, as I’d offered to take the first watch. Yes, we were safer than usual within Sandstone Village, but you could never be too careful, we’d agreed. She must have felt my eyes on her, because suddenly, she looked up and pierced me with her gaze. 

“The last time I slept in a bed was at the palace in Bastion.” 

“Me too,” I chuckled. “His Majesty, King Pyat would scarcely let me leave my room while I was recovering. It was as if I was a misbehaving child.” 

“You?” she tsked so naturally that the average person wouldn’t be able to catch her joke. “No. You’re always very obedient.” 

“For the most part, yes. Just a bit gung-ho at times. I’m a big enough mouse to admit that.” 

“Just a bit gung-ho. Like with the elders tonight.” 

A scoff left my mouth before I could stop it. Still, I could see the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. It relieved me. 

“They took wonderful care of me in Bastion,” she pivoted gracefully. “I’m more than used to spending months, even years in new worlds. Very few of them have been so accommodating.” 

“Do you still consider Khrysalis to be new to you?” 

Amber shrugged. “Every day I see something, or learn something new about her. That makes it all feel fresh even with the time that’s passed. Just the difference in your side of the sea versus this side is enough to remind me how much I still don’t know.” A beat. “I enjoy it, despite everything. Visiting new places. Immersing myself in them. Learning from those who already love them.” 

She settled onto the floor and took one of the quilts into her hands. Her eyes flicked across each stitch as if there were pieces of a larger story woven into them and she was trying to get the full picture. Again, I felt struck when she looked up at me— it always felt so sudden. 

“Is it what you expected?” she asked. “The edge of the world?” 

I couldn’t help but laugh— a short, breathless sound. “You know, I have long dreamt of this. When you hear as many stories as I have about… maelstroms and magic and cannibal mice… well, they become hard to measure up to. Which is to say, I could have done without the Suraldin.” 

“I couldn’t tell.” I could hear the smile in her voice, so I took no offense. However, when she spoke again, there was hesitation. “Do you… wish you’d stayed in Bastion?” 

“Oh, no. Definitely not. No amount of sand in my armor or horned lime-thorns in my palm would make me regret joining you. It’s my honor to serve you and be a part of the Shadow’s destruction.” 

“To serve me… Is that what you think you’re doing?” 

“In so many words, yes. I am here on assignment. But… I would come if you called, in any capacity. I didn’t make the journey solely because of King Pyat’s orders.” 

Her soft smile returned. She laid the quilt she’d been handling across the floor, but made no move to lounge atop it. 

Amber had made it very clear to me when fate first crossed our paths that she was not used to questing with company. I, on the other hand, found it hard to operate without someone at my side. We worked together rather seamlessly despite this, but I long wondered if this was simply her tolerating me— her laying in wait for when she’d be able to go out on her own again. I could now say with confidence that this was not the case. 

“I can handle myself,” she mused. I almost told her that I knew this, of course I knew this, but she continued before I could. “But I want you to know that I appreciate… you being here. I appreciate what you said earlier.” 

“With the Elders?” 

“With the Elders, yes.” 

“How they treated you was unfair, especially after what you did for Bolthy.” Even now, irritation snuck into my tone. 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“It is! The way they looked at you, spoke to you like you were here to take up the Shadow’s mantle… they judge you before they even know you!” 

Amber tilted her head to the side. “And don’t you do the same?” 

Her words were a small rock dropped in the pit of my stomach. Still, her delivery was gentle— prompting reflection rather than upset. Old habits die incredibly hard, though, and I am known to be quick to react. 

“I… ah, what are you referring to?” 

“The way you speak of them, Dyvim… you’ve spent a large portion of our journey complaining about what they eat, rather than evaluating why they may have to eat it. Or criticizing their apprehension, when any leader worth their salt would question an outsider, especially one asking for the location of an ancient, guarded magic. Do you see what I mean?” 

I sat back, digesting this. It was uncomfortable. The tribes on the opposite side of the Starfall Sea were not our enemies. We did not loathe them like we did the Umbra. But perhaps, in the midst of a life full of combat and storytelling, I’d failed to consider the scope of who we were fighting for. I had never seen the far end of Khrysalis where they dwelled— so I failed to include them in it. 

And Amber, who did not belong anywhere, never lost sight of this. Her arms encircled the whole Spiral and protected it with a strength hiding silk. 

“It opens your eyes,” she said, “Going to so many different places. Meeting so many people. Never being able to stay for too long. Helping, and sometimes… sometimes, failing them. My heart bleeds for everyone I meet. Even if they laugh in my face or spit at my feet. Even if I can’t show it.” 

“It shows,” I said quickly. “I can feel it. And the way you spoke with and heeded the Elders… Well, I have much to learn from you.” 

“I am no paragon of heroism. The blood of entire civilizations stains my hands. And Edwin’s words, though harsh… They are things I need to hear.” 

She lifted a hand then, staring at it like she was waiting for something to spring out of it. I thought of the way her great concentration of Shadow magic had turned against her, burying her in the sand. She didn’t know how to control it yet. How to hold it all. From across the cavern, I felt fear stir within her. All paths did not lead to becoming the Shadow Queen. Some lead to plainly destroying herself. 

“Do you remember the first night we spent together?” My face grew hot at this wording, so I elaborated: “When we were questing in the Moon Cliffs, and you wanted to keep going, but I insisted that we stop and rest.” 

“I do.” 

“That moment is a lot like this one. The pair of us, both worked to the bone, wondering what’s to come, trying to find warmth in a cave with one fire between us.” 

She sighed. “That feels like a dozen years ago.” 

“It does, yes. But don’t you find it amazing? How far we’ve come since then?” 

“We have crossed the sea. Restored Bastion. Defeated mercenary after mercenary. That is impressive.” 

“And we’ve…” I almost squandered my opportunity, almost said something else, but her eyes met mine and I felt a surge of confidence. “We’ve become friends. That’s how I think of you.” 

Something stirred on her normally poised face. Either that, or the flicker of the torchlight across her features was playing tricks on me. Regardless, she nodded, which made a section of her dark hair fall out of its updo and into her face. 

“Yes, we are. Friends.” 

“Did you want me to cross the sea with you? Beforehand, when you enlisted that surly sea captain and found Radiance Reborn?” 

For some reason, I held my breath after asking— like the answer to this question would change everything. In actuality, no matter what her response was, it would be nothing more than a stone briefly skimming water. The ripples would move through me, only for the warm brown of her eyes to lull me back to a steady baseline. 

She thought about it for a moment. Brushed that pesky section of hair back behind her ear. Looked to the ceiling like the answer was waiting for her there. It probably lasted far longer for me than it did her. But I’d always wanted to know, and could no longer help myself. 

“I missed you,” she said. And that was all she said. 

“I missed you too.” 

The entire time she was gone. From the moment she set off for Crescent Beach, to the moment she appeared again, months later, in the palace throne room. A dozen more questions bubbled up in my throat, but I took a page out of her book, steeled myself— and watched as she finally laid down atop her makeshift bed. 

The closer we got to the Solar Arc, the closer we got to the Shadow Queen. The closer we got to the Shadow Queen, the closer we got to goodbye— in one way or another. 

“Goodnight, Dyvim.” 

As she said— it opens your eyes, never being able to stay for too long. 

“Goodnight, Spellbinder. Goodnight, Amber.” 

Once she was asleep, I draped my blanket over her— even if she didn’t mind the cold.