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"What'd I tell you?"

A voice struck out from the darkness like a snake agitated by an unexpected intrusion. "The next time you dared step in here, without my cut, you'd be — "

"Oskar—" Axion took a step forward, the blade aimed at his throat quivering as it scraped flesh. "Must we do this?" He glanced at the shadows circling them like sand vultures, eyes hungry and desperate to feast. "Here and now? In front of my guests?"

The lead shadow, this Oskar, extended his body, matching Axion's height, its eyes spearing the dark with their crimson color. "You have debts to settle, Lordling."

The other shadows took wobbly steps forward, weapons hefted, the tension thick enough to be cut with a cheese knife.

Plucking a bit of twig from his lapel, Axion replied, "We don't have time for such games. My father's making a mess of the realms again."

"Don't care."

"You should." Axion's fingers, ringed in stars and planets, danced across Oskar's blade, much to the shadow's chagrin. "You live in one."

"Got my money?"

Axion took a step back, glancing between Oskar and Abby. Between the other shadows. Sebbi and Margo, all the while dismissing the threat of violence as promised by the bevy of weapons drawn and aimed his way.

Finally, with a belabored sigh, he held up both arms. "Yes." His hand traveled down his chest and over his coat. Oskar watched intensely, his gaze narrow, his fury nowhere near being quelled.

When Axion's hand came away from his jacket, a dozen strips of metal hung between his fingers. "I believe this is enough to smooth the troubled waters between us, yes?" Axion said. "It'll prevent any pesky swords from attempting to cut off my head and lodge themselves in my heart?"

Oskar moved fast, faster than a creature the consistency of chilled pudding ought to, lurching forward at a mountain hare's speed to snatch them from Axion's fingers. "It'll suffice."

Then, with a snap of his fingers, which were more like smaller, pointed masses jutting out from his sides, the other shadows lowered their weapons and began to disperse. Overhead, a series of lightbulbs flickered on.

Abby stood there dumbfounded, the abrupt change of scenery, the threat of violence, and the squashing of said violence with a transaction of metal scraps too much for her to handle.

Eventually, as her eyes adjusted to the light and she had somewhat processed what had happened, she realized they stood in a tavern. A run-of-the-mill tavern by all accounts, save for the shadows huddled around tables and leaning on pillars, drawing light from floating lanterns and burning candles.

"Whose second home," Sebbi said, slapping his thighs as a pair of shadows squeezed themselves into a booth at his right, "tries to kill them?" He snorted, elbowing Abby in the side.

She blinked. Then looked at Axion, who had perched himself on a stool at a the bar. Behind the counter, Oskar stretched, until he was able to retrieve a bottle of spirits off the top shelf.

When she looked back at Sebbi again, something hot had solidified in her chest. It felt like coals burned in her mouth. Her hands tightened as tension flooded her muscles and she grew clenched. She whirled, angry at Sebbi and not knowing why she felt like she did.

He gazed back at her, eyes wide, mouth lax.

"Yours," she hissed.

"What?" He dragged fingers through his hair, his entire face deflating. Had he had his tail, it would have hung limply between his legs.

She took a step toward him and poked his chest, and found she was able to put more of her anger into words. "Your home tried to kill us. Remember?" Sebbi had no right to talk about others like he knew them, like he understood their circumstances. How could he when he'd locked himself up in Darkmoore Castle away from the rest of the world? From her?

"Abs, I--"

"Aelurus took everything from me." The words seared Abby's throat, but she spat each and every rotten syllable Sebbi's way. Despite knowing how it would hurt him. Especially coming from her.

"I — " He hung his head. "I...know."

"Come." Axion called out.

Having said what she wanted to say, Abby turned away. Axion beckoned to her from the bar, a glass of glittering gold liquid in his cup.

Giving the stool next to him a good pat, and causing an explosion of dust to coat the front of his shirt in the process, he shook his glass. "It'll make me look bad if I drink alone."

Not wanting to stew in the awkwardness she'd created with Sebbi, she was quick to take up Axion's offer. She moved to a stool on his left, nearest the wall, ensuring there'd be distance put between herself and Sebbi.

Margo sat down second, on Axion's right, leaving Sebbi the seat on her right, farthest from Abby.

"Drink?" Ice cubes clinked in Axion's glass as he raised it to Abby's nose. She politely declined.

"No? You won't, you don't or you never?" He held the glass to his lips, a musky perfume coming off it reminding Abby of a forest. Of tree sap and needle, decayed leaves.

"I wouldn't say I'd never, but I haven't yet."

"No time like the present."

Flashbacks to an elderly Mister Applebraum instantly played in Abby's mind. His yellowed teeth and rounded gut. The dusting of hair atop his wrinkled, tan head. Faded inkings from his sailor days. His offer of cigarettes, because in his old eyes, he saw no difference between candy and tar.

She shook the resurfaced thoughts of Applebraum back to their depths. That was so long ago now, it barely felt like it had happened. And Applebraum was probably dead, or on a ship traveling south, or chasing after someone else's maid. Hopefully, whoever was made his next target had a sturdy pair of shoes and didn't abide by a lady's normal delicacy. Applebraum needed someone in his life willing to kick his wobbly bits every now and then when he got out of line.

Axion inferring her silence for her answer, brought his drink to his mouth, and tipped his head back, showing both rows of teeth. Within seconds, the drink had disappeared down his throat; the liquid illuminating him from the inside. Abby watched the whole thing in shock. The way it glided from his throat to his chest, the light softer as it became muffled by his clothes, but still it was there, coiled in his stomach.

"What kind of alcohol glows?" she asked.

Axion split into a smile. "Light brew. Sun. Star. Twilight and Morning. Oskie has it all."

At having heard Axion's words, Oskar snorted and slammed a glass he'd been cleaning down on the counter. Axion leaned in, his shoulder brushing Abby's. "He hates that nickname."

She chuckled, and then he turned to face the disgruntled shadow.

"My dear, Oskar, got anything that will sate these hemma?"

"And hemma-similars?" Margo added, twirling a whisker between her fingers.

Oskar shrugged. "Don't know. Got mushrooms in back," he gestured toward a partition of rotted wood behind him. "Guess I could fry em' up or something."

"They poisonous?"

His eyes boiled to an orangish-red before settling into a simmering scarlet. "It a problem if they are?"

Margo shook her head. "Yeah." She stabbed the table. "Big problem."

"Poison, dear Oskar," Axion said. "Does not mix well with our flesh and blood friends here. Anything else?"

Oskar smacked his lips together, though his 'lips' were really more like two flattened bits of black, pressed together like fancy linens. "Got worms. You eat worms?"

Sebbi stuck out his tongue and shook his head. "No."

Annoyance rippled through Oskar's form as his eyes flashed blue. "I see." He turned to Axion. "You finally come with potential customers and they're finicky and frail. There ain't no end to what you'll do to torment me, huh?"

"We're neither finicky nor frail," Abby interrupted, straightening on her stool. She pointed to Sebbi and Margo and shook her head hard enough her temple throbbed. "It's just..." she plucked her robes, "we can die, and eating bad food is one way to make that happen. I'm sure there are things that make a shadow die, yes?"

Oskar narrowed his eyes. "You asking?"

Abby shook her head while Sebbi shrugged.

"Fine." He tottered around, tremors traveling from his top to his bottom. "I'll see what's in back." Before reaching the partition, he whirled his top half around, directing his gaze at Axion. "Stay outta trouble while I'm gone."

"And what, pray tell," Axion's stars aligned themselves so dimples accompanied the grin he flashed, "would I get up to?"

An angered hiss erupted through the room from all the shadows in the place. They each squirmed, sandwiched in booths or perched on stools, all of their eyes narrowed and skeptical.

"Uh-huh," Oskar said, his head shaking. "You? Why you'd never get into trouble." He scoffed before disappearing behind the doors.

The other bar patrons returned to their brews or companions while cold suddenly fell over Abby. She shivered involuntarily as Axion grabbed her hand. "Shall we," he said, slipping off his stool, "indulge in some mischief?"

Abby rose to her feet, glancing at the partition. "Didn't Oskar say — "

"Oh, he says a lot of things." He leaned over her, his cheeks coral-stained as the planets rearranged themselves - a blush conjured from the cosmos. "Best to ignore him." His smile threatened to split his head in two and with it so wide and toothy, resistance proved futile.

He led her to a far wall, where a mass had set up shop. Crockery and kettles, potions and scrolls spilled from three sacks thrown in the corner. The mass stood at attention, his table littered with stones, beads, braided silks and salted meats. It tipped the corner of a four-edged cap at them. "Abby," the shadow's head split in half, smack dab between its eyes, "meet Gregan."

"L-lord Axion," Gregan bent over, sweeping two smaller, slimmer masses — arms, Abby guessed — over its table. "It's been a while."

Axion reached up and pretended to tip the corner of an invisible hat. If this was a greeting for the shadowy jelly blobs of Axion's second home, Abby'd feel rude, not doing the same, so she did, a blush sweeping across her cheeks as she imagined tilting the brim of a felt hat.

"Ah," Gregan's eyes drifted over her, its mouth widening, "and who is this charming hemma you've brought with you?" He leaned over his table, his arms displacing the bottles he had on display. "You mean to sell her to me?"

Axion shook his head. "Afraid this one's not for sale," he slipped his arm around Abby's shoulders, "though, I am here because of her."

Abby blinked.

Axion pointed at her feet, bare and muddy and aching after all that tiptoeing through the Evernight to avoid the hungry tree roots. "You wanted shoes, remember?" He turned to Gregan. "Have anything in a size—" Axion stared at her feet. "Big?"

Abby's elbow rammed into Axion's ribs caused his stars to flicker. Ignoring his lordship's pained expression, she addressed Gregan directly. Clearly, an outsider who knew little about human shoes had no right dictating what she wore. Or how big she needed something to be. At sixteen, Abby was of legal potion-making age and was, as she'd proven throughout her entire life, quite capable of talking for herself. "I'm a size eight."

"Isn't that big?" Hand pressed into his side, Axion's eyes watered like rain on the Royal Back. An urge to elbow him again possessed Abby, but she thwarted it with a restraint she never knew she had. Dealing with Lucy and Crum and the crying denizens of Ean never required such delicacy.

"I don't know much about humans' walking thingies." Gregan jiggled in the direction of Abby's legs before doubling over. When he righted himself, he was dragging a bumpy sack onto his booth. "I do got these though—" After a few seconds of rifling through the bag's contents, and casting a pair of gold candle holders, a lady's stockings, two mughound fur, winter coats, a rotted wooden plate and serving bowl aside, he tossed a pair of boots onto the table.

Abby studied them, more so than she'd ever studied for a test in her life. Learning history or exact math didn't matter as much as a good pair of shoes. After all, as her dad had told her, good shoes carried you toward good things.

Gregan's shoes were leather, cracked, and worn, but there weren't any holes or places for water to slip in, or cold to burrow through. They were made of an iridescent hide that had Abby conjuring to mind what animal could have glittering skin. Boars? Tuskers? A hare or cat of some kind?

"Will they suffice?"

Abby looked up. Constellations swum lazily across Axion's face.

She nodded.

He slapped three slim, silver scraps onto Gregan's table. "I'll take them." Then Axion pointed at Sebbi, slouched over a bowl that smoked. Grey mush dribbled off a spoon he held in his hand. "What about him? Got any hemma clothes that'll fit?"

Gregan shook and disappeared beneath his table. Shadowy spikes shot outward in all directions, rummaging through each of his sacks. A flurry of stockings, slips, and trousers took to the air.

Finally, the shadow held a blue tunic before them.

"That's fine," Abby said.

"It's got holes in the elbows."

"Sebbi won't care."

"But I will." Axion snapped his fingers. Gregan bowed, his arm dipping below the table again, his whole body contorted when next he resurfaced, three tunics held against his wobbling chest. Green, white and grey. "Too shabby," Axion said, tossing the green to the ground. "And white, such a simple color to stain." Over his eyes, his stars aligned, giving him the appearance of a furrowed brow.

As Gregan threw that tunic aside, Axion's gaze settled on the grey. It had fitted sleeves and a low collar, gold thread accents, and zero holes. Axion slapped five silver pieces onto Gregan's table.

The shadow opened its eyes wider. If it had had eyebrows to raise, and a hairline for them to jettison into, they would have done so right about then. He shook. "It's ten, my Lord."

Axion snorted. "And I'll pay ten when a king cries for another. You know that's an outlandish asking price and I'm not in the market of making miracles occur for price-gougers." He took out two more metal pieces and tossed them onto the pile. "Seven. No higher."

Gregan shifted its weight from one side to another before grunting and scooping the money up. "Cheapskate. Dredden would have given me ten."

Axion gathered up the shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. "Dredden would have killed you afterward and taken his money back."

"Who's Dredden?" Abby asked, grabbing the shoes off the counter. 

"My brother, unfortunately."

"You have a brother?"

"Brothers," Gregan corrected. "His Lordship's one of twelve."

"One of nine," Axion added. "Cavis killed Rion, remember? Kedem fell to his death and Sevris drank too much and implicitly trusted everyone."

"Ah, you and your family," Gregan waved him away. "Always killing each other."

"That's the way of it. If only one of their daggers or poisoned goblets had killed our father."

"You know combat's the only way to succeed His Highness on the throne."

Axion cocked his head. "I never said I wanted any of them on the throne. I just wished they'd killed him."

"Axion—"

Gregan sighed as Axion plucked up the trousers and shirt and headed back toward the bar. "And there he goes again. You best get going, Miss. His Lordship's fickle. Might leave you behind."

She shook her head. "I don't think he would."

"You think? He left his mot--"

"Abby!" Axion waved her over.

She hugged the boots tighter to her chest. "Bye."

He lifted several swaying limbs. "Good eve, little hemma. Take care."

At the bar, Margo had an empty bowl at her side as she dug her spoon into grey mush bowl number two. Sebbi remained on his first, reluctantly sipping at the lumpy gruel.

The memory of the porridges from Abby's past punishments - the paste-like texture and blandness, made Abby's throat tighten.

But when Oskar set a bowl before her and her stomach growled, she realized how hungry she was. How long had it been since she'd eaten last? An hour? A day?

Surprised her stomach wasn't screaming at her, Abby shoveled the food into her mouth, without asking what it was — at this point, she thought it was better she didn't know—and swallowed quickly. She never let the stuff linger on her tongue, afraid the taste, if it had any, would destroy what appetite she had.

"Where will we go from here?" The skin between Sebbi's eyes pinched as his hand wavered mid-air, the grey paste slick under the light like an eel's skin. He frowned, closed his eyes, and chomped down on the spoon. His nose crinkled when he swallowed. Next to him, Margo licked her second bowl clean.

"To get your antidote." Axion didn't have a bowl in front of him. Instead, he had one of those lanterns, his fingers grazing the bulb, light streaking over his fingertips like lightning.

Margo tapped the door top.

Oskar's head mass throbbed. "Another?"

She raised her bowl. "Never knew hemmas could be so hungry."

Margo shrugged. "Magick takes a lot out of me."

Abby put down her spoon to stare at her. "You okay?"

Margo's hand found hers. "Yeah."

"What about—" The Cloude? The war?

A squeeze brought Abby out from the dark places her mind always seemed to drift toward. "It'll be fine. We'll cure Sebs and then go back to Aelurus and find the Cloude intact." Her fingers tightened around her spoon, a blush creeping up to her cheeks, her radiance a soft, petal pink, "for some reason I trust that stupid cat of yours to keep everyone safe."

Abby perked up. "You trust Lucy?"

She nodded, stabbing the spoon against the counter. "A little. I mean, he's not so bad. But," she wielded her weapon like a sword and stabbed the air between them, "don't you dare go telling him I said that."

"Me?" Abby pointed at herself. "Tell Lucy that? Oh no," she shook her head, "I'd never. Such a compliment would have him grinning like an idiot for weeks. He'd be insufferable. More than he already is."

Margo's radiance flared, her body wreathed in ruby.

After the fourth bowl of gruel for Margo, seconds for Abby, and Sebbi slogging to finish his first, they settled into a table at the back to discuss how to proceed.

Axion told them the cure to King's Viper grew in the Hollows. When Sebbi asked if that was the forest of mist he'd seen when he'd awakened, and Axion agreed, Sebbi sprang to his feet and slammed his fists on the table. He couldn't believe Axion had walked them through the carnivorous forest, and toward the Dying City, only to shadow us here and be threatened, all to have us go back to where we started. Once Axion explained he wanted to get Abby something to eat and clothe her, Sebbi calmed a bit.

The Hollows, as Axion explained, was dangerous. Its mist made it easy to get lost, and all its trees had insatiable appetites. Worst of all, spirits were fickle. Sometimes they didn't mind living things, other times, jealousy stoked their rage and called them to action. Very few who traveled into the Hollows came back.

"I'll take us there once we're ready." Axion drained the last of the bottle he'd been nursing while discussing things.

Abby finished lacing up her boots. They felt big and weighted at first and she'd stumbled a little when she walked, but thankfully Margo'd been there to catch her.

"I think we're ready." Sebbi ran a finger down the table, blunt nails cutting paths in the dust. No doubt he wished he had his claws to do actual property damage.

Axion looked at Margo, then at Abby. They both nodded. He then got up and held out his arms. Sebbi was reluctant to take his hand. Margo hooked an arm around his, her radiance matching the same icy blue of a meteor trekking across his earlobe. Abby grabbed the sleeve of his coat, hesitant to get too close, but his lordship proved too quick. Axion pulled her into him, sandwiching her between himself and Sebbi.

"I think it's safer if you're here," he whispered. One of his shoes slid across the floor, catching a shadow under his toe that he pulled toward them. "And Abby?"

"Ye-yes?"

"When we get there, let me know if you feel anything."

She narrowed her gaze, questioning Axion's intent. "And why would I feel anything?" People only said words like that when they were suspicious. Of something, or someone happening.

"The Hollows is concentrated magick, far exceeding anything you've experienced before. You saw how it keeps the rest of the Evernight out? Refusing to bend to the wind, rejecting the stars? It doesn't like trespassers, especially those living. It only responds favorably to magick."

"So Margo's safe?"

Axion nodded. "And—" he looked down at her, his gaze impassive. Again, whatever he was thinking, he let it get swallowed in the deepest, blackest pits of his eyes. "Let me know if anything happens."

Abby nodded. And then she was falling again, and it felt like she and Sebbi were on opposite ends of the world. Thankfully, Axion held her close, and with her ear pressed to his chest, she heard his heart, its song soothing her trepidation as they plummeted through the unknown.