It's too dark for this to be Helheim.

The hallucinations have finally ended, the grand finale being a replay of what I thought had been my end.

How many times have I come within touching distance of death? It's a wonder that I've never counted them before. Let's see. One, when I was placed in a cremation furnace as a baby. Two, when I was four and dropped the egg that was my Bind. I had to have it Severed before it killed me. Three, my first fistfight at the Foundling Hospital. Four, when those Secondary School boys killed Adr. And this? I suppose that makes this Near-Death Experience Number Five.

Poisoned by Dolan, on a mission to poison Dolan.

It's too quiet for this to be a deathrealm. Maybe I'm a ghost. The proper burial for Norse is cremation, but the lowlier among us are typically buried or thrown in the ocean. None of which happened to me, I guess, so now I'm bound to Midgard for eternity. It's a better fate than Helheim, at least.

But what are these echoes? Screams, perhaps? Or battle cries?

No, singing.

A song, in Old Norse. I haven't heard a single word of my native language since leaving Nidavellir. I've had to learn Midgard tongues, like Milovian and Roh and Pasifikin. But this song is pure Norse, in a voice so familiar yet so far away, like a siren song underwater. I recognize it from my youth. The lyrics describe the heartbreaking grief of a blind boy who was tricked into accidentally killing his brother.

My awareness gradually returns, as if I were deep underwater and slowly floating back to the surface. My heartbeat is in my throat, and the ground is absent from its place under my feet. I hear muffled voices, airtight with tension. I break the surface of unconsciousness to find that the song in Old Norse is wafting from my mouth.

My mouth. My mouth.

What the Helheim am I doing?

The song dies in my throat, and I try to force my eyes open. I can barely move my body, and it takes at least a minute for me to finally drag my eyelids to a point where I can squint. I'm disoriented by the unfamiliarity of the room around me, and the fact that I'm being held. In human arms. The closest I'll ever get to being airborne, I suppose. I raise my eyes upward to meet the albino eyes of none other than Fox Silny.

"You alright?" Fox asks me.

"I... I think so." I wince at the croak that breaks out of my throat, but it doesn't deter me from questioning further. "Why was I singing? Where are my weapons? Why am I not dead?" Pain suddenly flares in my head, and I grasp it to keep the shattered pieces from falling apart. "Dolan... what happened, Fox? And why are you carrying me?"

He puts me down on a couch and sits down on the other side. "From what I recall from the conversations, you were poisoned by Dolan. He's dead now, but you were taken to Isis to get healed. For some reason you started acting weird, and now you're here."

'Here' is a room I don't recognize, but it strikes a bout of dejá vu. There are wooden tiles on the floor and walls, a red-hued door on the far side. Overhead and around us is a transparent, golden dome. We must be in one of Fox's pocket portals.

I try to sit up, but pins and needles shoot through every part of my body, and I fall back on the couch. How many times had I shifted? And how long has it been since then? Blinking excessively to clear myself of the lingering daze, I look up to see Abasi, his jackal, and Rhys, who is gazing at me cooly from the floor. "Please... Forgive me for failing you. You were right, Abasi. I couldn't handle it after all."

Fox lays a tentative hand on my shoulder. "You did fine."

Abasi simply shrugs, wholly unconcerned. "It's alright, just a good thing we were watching."

I give a startled jerk when Fox puts a hand on my head. "This might feel weird, but it'll heal you."

A sensation as queer as fox fur on my skin spreads from his hand through my being. I shiver from the feeling, unused to such magic as this. But he's right about its effect; I can feel my bruises fade as the blood vessels heal from the power of the magic. The torn skin on my hands knit back together, leaving behind streaks of dried blood.

I'm still trying to grasp the situation, picking apart Fox's words to me. I was poisoned by Dolan, then I started 'acting weird', and was later healed by 'Isis'. Who the Helheim is Isis? A dim memory consisting of Kane telling me that he was taking me to a god of healing surfaces in my mind like a patch of tangled seaweed in the ocean.

A god, he said. Not a Norse one, because our goddess of healing is Mengloth, not Isis. Thank Jormungandr for the resilience of Midgard. Had Midgard not been the world that connects all worlds, such aid would be impossible to receive.

I try to at least turn my head to look at the others. This weight on my chest--this devastating feeling of shame--is another handicap. But I can't afford to let it hold me back, so I promptly address it despite the croak and rising octave in my voice. "Whatever happens, and whoever it is that wants the Book of Silny, they are a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps even armed with the power of the gods. I hate to admit it, but I did indeed have to rely on luck this time."

Fox runs a hand through his hair with an irritated expression on his face aimed at Ama. "I still can't believe no one ever told me about finding the book. I'm pretty pissed off."

Abasi shudders as he considers my point. "If it's any god, it's Set. He's the god of war and desert storms. But he was banished to the Duat ages ago, so it can't be him."

Fox throws his arms up in frustration. "You know, I've been trying to figure out who's behind this for years. I've been stuck, because there was one thing I could never understand: Why is the Silny blood so important?"

Finally, a question I can answer! The one lesson that I payed attention to at school, and the only subject I bothered to keep learning after my escape from Svartalfheim:

Magical Theory.

I sit up straighter, feeling the familiar witchlight blaze in my eyes. "As for the Silny blood, it is common knowledge that magic comes from genetics. However, the fact that it's being sought could indicate that one without magic could be using the blood of witches to cast spells. This would explain Dolan's lack of a book."

Fox's eyebrows shoot up at my explanation. "Witch blood, eh? It's impressive that anyone can actually obtain the blood of a witch like me."

"So someone is using the help of some strong being to hunt these witches," I deduct. Simple logic: if someone can't do something themselves, they get someone more capable to do it in their place. I stretch out my hand, groping for my staff and knives from the floor. I manage to snag and retrieve them before raising my head to Abasi. "Possibly Set, you say. Perhaps, though he cannot escape the Duat, he can still convene with people outside of it in order to give them instructions for spells and such."

"Perhaps," Abasi drawls, though his voice is rimmed with doubt. "But it's unlikely. He is tricky, but we have taken several precautions."

"Such as...?" I ask skeptically. "People have escaped prisons in the past. If Set is a god, then I doubt that he'd just sit in a cell and take his punishment like a man."

If a nobody from Nidavellir could escape the dread prison of Svartalfheim, why couldn't a god break out of this 'Duat' dimension? It makes perfect sense to me.

"He is bound with magical chains that strip him of his godly powers, and he isn't even allowed to move. I think we're good," Abasi insists.

I'm not entirely convinced, but I decide to let it go and accept that Egyptians are either better at making prisons, or they're just bad at escaping them. "In that case, the only leads we have are that the ones after the book have no magic and are targeting witches. I think that one of us should go to the Tridentia Islands and try to find a trail there. There are more witches over there, and maybe they can give us some leads."

Fox nods. "Ace of Tigers. The guild leader and I used to date... I don't know if that makes us on good terms."

A mix of exasperation and deadpan twists my face into a peculiar expression. "Somehow, I'm not surprised. I suppose this means that you'll be making the trip?"

Fox scrutinizes everyone in the room, meaning me, Abasi, Rhys, and the jackal named Siwa. "Who here knows where to find the islands of Tridentia?"

"I do not," I confess. "In fact, I'm not even sure if I can trust my own abilities anymore."

"Stop acting like you're useless, Dirt Girl," Fox groans. "I'm just asking because, well, I guess I'm the only one who knows the way to the Islands, so I guess I could go."

I give him a sharp, studying look as I analyze the situation. If Fox is going to visit his ex-girlfriend, then that doesn't bode well for him. "The last time someone went on a solo mission." I motion at myself, my arms heavy from shifting so much. "...It didn't go so well. Perhaps Miss Ama should accompany you."

He raises a brow. "Why Ama? You know, I'm starting to suspect you have a crush on her, or something," he sneers with a teasing smirk.

I glare at him and try to rise from the couch to my feet. But my limbs shudder, pins and needles running through my nerves and nearly forcing me to my knees. I fall back down on the couch, cursing snakes everywhere for not having simple accessories like limbs.

"How many times do I have to say that I am not a fighter? I am an infiltrator. You and Ama seem well acquainted with each other, thus you can be sure of each other's actions." My teeth grind together as I glower at him. How hard is it to understand? Taking an experienced assassin with him makes a whole lot more sense than dragging me along. "I respect Miss Ama. This 'crush' you speak of is nonexistent."

"But... someone needs to watch my kid, though." His smirk fades as he puts my arm around his shoulder, helping me stand. His voice fills with worry, which sounds... alien when coming from his mouth.

I look up at him, surprised to see that, for once, he isn't messing with me. I lean my weight on my staff, my shaky grip clenched like cold chains as I bite my lip in consideration. I wasn't thinking at all about the child when I suggested that Miss Ama go with him. I'd forgotten, somehow, that she was the kid's caretaker. But that's the reason I'm here, isn't it? To keep the Dead Man's Oath. And still, he's in danger.

And somehow, walking away has become a whole lot harder.

Rhys climbs the length of my body, settling back into his place around my neck. "I suppose... I can go, since I know how to get information in more ways than one," I concede.

"Well, you can go if you want to. I have to visit my ex anyway," he says as he carefully lets go of me, allowing me to lean on my staff for balance. "Oh, and if you do happen to have a crush on Ama, I'd like to watch you guys make out." He says with a sly smirk.

"I am not—!" I spit at him with a scowl, barely able to bite back a stream of fury. "You are infuriating."

"And irresistible," he says with a sly smirk as he walks past me.

I hobble behind him, cursing under my breath and using my staff for support. "By Jörmungandr, I will enjoy my peace of mind when this is over."

The shakiness of my legs cause me to trip over Siwa, do two unintentional front flips, and smash into the wall in front of me, barely missing the door by a few inches and giving me a large welt in the center of my forehead.

"G... Good job, Dirt Girl," he chokes out as he walks over, not even trying to hold back his hysterics as he shakes with laughter. "Geez, you're so clumsy. I feel like I'll have to carry you."

I scramble to my unsteady feet and straighten. "It's these limbs. I'm a snakeshifter, so while I'm able to walk, it takes some getting used to after I shift. Unfortunately, I shift quite a lot." I immediately prove this by taking a single step and slipping on the smooth, wooden floor and giving myself a matching welt on the back of my head.

Fox pinches the bridge of his nose, his laughter turning into exasperated groaning. "Ugh, I don't really have any other option, and I don't want to waste any magic levitating you." He promptly picks me up again, in the same way I woke up, with one arm cradling my legs and the other supporting my back.

Nope. I've had enough of being carried, and I struggle in his arms. 

"Or I could shift. I'm fine with crawling. Perfectly fine. I don't need to walk." I transform as I squirm, trying to slip out of Fox's arms.

Abasi sighs, and I look up in surprise. I'd forgotten that he was still there. 

"Just let her go, she can handle herself," he says as Siwa sits down beside him. "I know a good warlock who may help us. He is young like me but knows a lot, every nook and cranny. He goes by the name of Eldrin, and he's kinda hard to deal with, as he will question every word you say. But he probably knows the guild's location."

I finally slide down to the floor, shifting back into a human and nodding eagerly at Abasi. "That sounds good, actually. We need all the help we can get, and someone else that knows magic can make up for my lack of it." I stretch my leg out with a wince. Several bones crack as I test out my limbs to make sure that they won't hold me back as much. Shifting again probably wasn't a good idea. "I'm surprised at how many useful people you know, Abasi. You're well acquainted."

He shrugs. "Lots of people have helped me in my harder times, and I have helped many people. It is simply a matter of luck on my part. There is a problem, however. Eldrin is hard to find, since he's constantly going places, and I don't have a plain way of contacting him. We will have to track him."

"I know someone that can help with that. My siblings, Sabian and Nydia. They're both birdshifters, and will be able to find this 'Eldrin'." I walk to the wall and pull out the Othala rune Nydia gave me. I place it on the wall, and its magic causes it to melt into the wood, warping it and making something akin to a smooth, circular mirror with blue tones.The Blood Summon should work even in this pocket dimension, since it's a sort of portal magic itself. The problem is that I've always hated the incantation on the Othala rune. The first time I used it was the worst, and Rhys never let me hear the end of it.

"I had better not hear about this later, Fox," I warn him before putting my hands to my mouth. "I AM A HUGE IDIOT AND MY FACE IS A BLIMP!" I shout at the top of my lungs, and I feel my face burn from my cheeks to the tips of my ears in pure embarrassment. Stupid Nydia. Why'd she have to pick something like that as a Summons?

Abasi raises an eyebrow. "So I see."

"Shut up," I respond automatically, my face flushing even deeper.

"I'd rather not, it was quite funny," he chuckles in a way that draws my eyes to his face. His hood isn't as low as it was when I met him, and I can see some of his facial features. The skin on his face is dark, and his stone-gray eyes glimmer with amusement. My eyes flit away when I realize that my blush has not yet faded. 

A parrot flies into the room from the Summoning Window, landing on the floor next to Siwa. Rhys flicks his tongue at him halfheartedly from his spot on my neck, and the parrot inches away on its small feet. A small screech owl swoops in, pecking me on the head before flipping gracefully and materializing to form a small, eleven-year-old girl. The parrot grows, its feathers shrinking into his body as it turns into a teenage boy. The Summoning Window closes and shrinks back into an Othala rune, clattering to the ground. I pick it up and pocket it before turning to face my half-siblings.

The kakahamr--parrotshifter--has dark, curly hair and bright, wide golden eyes. I barely recognize him to be Sabian. He must have hit his growth spurt since the last time I saw him; he's a full inch taller than I am. His limbs are lankier than I remember, and his thin arms look like sticks.

Nydia is easier to recognize, since she looks so much like I--like Razan did. Wild, shoulder-length brown hair. Gleaming, laughing yellow eyes that match Sabian's. Her resemblance to the way I looked before Svartalfheim is like looking into a mirror that reflects my past self. Her knees are even covered in bandages like mine were, from climbing trees.

Both of my siblings wear large, stone pendants around their necks. I wore one of those myself, when I was younger. Inside the stones are eggs, where the creature that becomes your Bind resides until they hatch. At least for the ones that do hatch; other Binds are already given to their Wards from the moment the animal is born, to siphon off the humanoid energy so that they would be able to talk when they matured. I had my own egg pendant at an early age, most likely because of my lifespan.

"Hi, Sis." Sabian grins at everyone in the room and gives a little wave. "You called?"

Abasi rolls his eyes at Nydia, who has changed her head to an owl's and started clicking her beak and hooting at a confounded Siwa. "We need you to find someone called Eldrin, he's a tricky one and hard to find."

Nydia, who I'm proud to say is an uglahamr (owlshifter), cocks her head. "Are you Sevi's friend?" she asks, shifting her head back into human form.

I cough, changing the subject hastily. The last thing I want to say to my long-lost sister is 'Actually, I'm a juvenile delinquent that's also a loser with no friends.' Out loud, I say, "Abasi, can you describe Eldrin to my siblings so that they know who to find?"

"He is about my height, has brown hair, and often wears robes. He will most likely be reading," Abasi describes.

"I can find this guy, no problem," brags Nydia, her egg pendant swinging on its silver chain. "I can fly so quietly he won't even know I'm there. I have good eyesight, too."

"Eldrin won't be found with just eyesight, unless you're lucky," Abasi warns, but I doubt that Nydia is listening at this point, since she's changed one of her feet to an owl claw and started poking an irritated Sabian in the side with it.

"Why don't we use some kind of magic to track him?" suggests Fox, ignoring the semi-bird miscreants.

"Yep, exactly what I was thinking," Abasi asserts.

"Well, we could either go to Ace of Tigers or track him down. Which one is more reasonable?" Fox looks at us, and our numbers and strength, which has actually increased with the arrival of my half-siblings.

Nydia and Sabian may be younger and a lot less mature, but they received training that I missed in my time in prison. Hatchets hang on Sabian's belt, one on either side. When Nydia turns her back to me to look at Fox, I get a good glimpse of the axe strapped to her back. Unlike me, these two went through the combat training in Nidavellir.

Unlike me, these two are fighters. Warriors.

And they can fly, which is a definite plus.

"We should track him down. His magic leaves a very specific trace," Abasi says. "You can probably track him with magic."

Fox thrusts an open hand at Abasi. "A'ight, give me the leaves then. You'll have to pay me a bag of coins for this."

"Really?" Abasi asks, his stone gaze darkening with anger. "We're trying to help you, and you demand payment? You know what? I'll do it myself." He makes a move for the red door, and I quickly step aside to let the angry demigod pass. Nydia and Sabian, who can also smell the power coming off of him, move away from him as he nears.

"Ugh, fine." Fox wears an indifferent expression that fails to convince me. Abasi's power is too indispensable to let him just walk away, and Fox knows that as well as I do. "Give me a lock of your hair or something, I don't know."

The valuable tool in question, Abasi, raises an eyebrow. "My hair? Is there something special about demigod hair?"

"I need your hair to grant me a little more strength when I track him. A guy like him would've probably prepared spells to block us from tracking him."

"My hair gives power," Abasi paraphrases skeptically. "Well, whatever. Take it." He lifts his hood off of his head, revealing a head of dusk-black hair as well as the whole of his face. He pulls a dagger from his cloak and slices off a handful before holding it out to Fox.

My eyes follow the hair's path from Abasi's hand to Fox's, and they narrow as I consider the exchange. Trading body parts isn't a new concept for me, being a hamr. Skinning a hamr alive is a means of execution in Nidavellir, and the skin is sold to merchants in Midgard. Armor made from shifter skin can be bought for a reasonable price at Einar's forge, where I got my staff.

"Well, let's go track that sucker," Abasi says as he puts his hood back over his head.

Fox's book emerges from his pocket, floating in front of him with its pages turning. He digs into his other pocket and pulls out a handful of leaves. He closes his eyes and stretches his arms out, one hand holding hair and the other leaves, both of which proceed to glow with magic. He opens his eyes when the light fades and puts the items in his pockets. "He's at Ace of Tigers."

"Really?" Abasi inquires. "That's surprising."

"Yup. We could teleport, but I want to make a dramatic entrance."

"Can we please just teleport?"

"Fine," Fox groans. "I guess we can make a dramatic entrance while we teleport. We could do poses."

"I wanna do a pose!" pipes up Nydia.

"No, thank you," Abasi says firmly. "Let's just go."

"Alright." Fox summons another door that hovers above the ground, and Ama emerges from it. Her hand rests on the hilt of her rapier, and her gaze briefly studies my siblings before going back to Fox. "Ama, you're coming along," he says, and she responds with a curt nod.

"Wait, what?" What happened to his concerns about the kid needing to be protected by her? Wasn't that the reason why he asked me to come along?

Dammit, he tricked me! Again!

I fuming with anger as Fox starts to chant in a language I don't recognize, light radiating from the space under his feet. All of the shifters, myself included, jump back in surprise. Shock causes my anger to evaporate, leaving behind only wonder. Magic such as this is never seen in Nidavellir, where our magic draws on the power of the gods using special runestones, like my Dagaz rune.

"Sevi, what's going on?" Nydia asks me warily, her arm reaching back to where her axe is.

"We're being teleported by a witch, Nydia. Don't distract him," I reply quickly, before she can draw it. The last thing I need right now is a full-out attack from an uglahamr and her really, really big weapon. My strength is critically low, and I wouldn't be able to hold her back if she decided to start swinging it.

Fox's chanting reaches a new pitch, and the floor beneath us glows painfully bright. The light burns through my eyelids, and for a split second I'm Razan again, tied to a table while mirrors reflect the glare of Helheim. But I'm not, and my hands are free. I press them to my eyelids until my feet find ground again, taking deep breaths and reminding myself that I escaped, that I'm fine, and that I'm Severin now.

Your heart is too faint, Severin. It is acceptable to fear the light, but to hide from it like a child after everything you've seen? Rhys scorns in the Serpent Tongue. Don't be pathetic.

Shut up. Do you forget who watches? I answer him without really answering, instead opting to take in my surroundings.

All I can think, as my heavy-hearted gaze brushes over the sight, is that the sky can barely breathe here. Bridges made of wooden planks connect high, rickety buildings that press against the clouds like skeletal fingers. Under my feet is a dirt road, exhaling dust with every movement. I lean heavily on my staff, ignoring the jarring of my legs as my eyes trace the length and angle of the jutting shadows. It's midmorning, I conclude. It must be several hours since my last frenzy, which was in late afternoon. It is only now that I realize that it has been a but day since I met Fox Silny, and here I am now: In a dusty back alley, under a building-choked sky, looking for a warlock on an island full of witches.

My gaze skips over a shimmer in the back wall of one of the ramshackle buildings, and my eyes shoot back to where I'd seen it. I squint, and the image of a boy that wasn't there before fades into focus. He wears a hoodless, gray-brown cloak that appears to have been designed for traveling rather than for concealing himself. He's reading a book, and the bend in his neck causes his dark brown hair to fall in front of his eyes.

"Well, hello, random people." The warlock raises his head and greets us amiably, as if he were expecting our arrival.

"Ha! Found you!" Nydia crows, ecstatic about how how easy it was to find him. Wings burst out of her back in an explosion of brown-and-white feathers, and she swoops to him and snags the edge of his cloak. The warlock's form shimmers once before disappearing, revealing itself to be an illusion. More illusions form in the air, surrounding us with copies of the warlock that smirk as they study us.

Unperturbed, Nydia pulls her large, double-bladed ax out from its strap with an excited grin. My mouth opens to yell at her not to attack them, but I snap it shut when she raises the pommel of the ax instead of the blades, swinging wildly at the clone warlocks.

"Calm down, kid." Fox gets out of his pose, stretching his hand out to her. Nydia whines loudly as she's dragged back by his magic, but Fox ignores her and instead studies the warlock look-alikes. "Hello, Eldrin," he greets the illusions warmly. "Eh, I'm just gonna call you Ed."

"Typical Eldrin," Abasi tersely remarks at the clones, his gaze shifting from one to the other. "Reveal yourself. This is no time to mess with people."

Sabian and I hold Nydia back as she struggles to fly at the apparitions. For someone so young, she is surprisingly hard to restrain. That, or shifting took more of a toll on me than I thought.

"Calm yourself, Nydia! I can smell the real one." I nod at the source of the magic, who looks no different from his apparitions. He doesn't change his expression at my words, but I feel the air shift as Eldrin distributes his magic and scent evenly among his copies. My lips stretch in a slow smile of amusement. The positive aspect of this tedious mission is that my abilities are being tested, which is as frightening as it is exhilarating. "I appreciate the challenge. I'd shift, but I want to be able to walk by the time this little game is finished," I say as Nydia gives up on her attack. When I'm positive that she's not going to beat someone into the next Realm, I slowly let go of her arm, watching her carefully from the corner of my eye.

"Come on, Eldrin. This is not the time," Abasi urges the warlock, and the illusions around us vanish.

"What do you need, Abasi?" comes a voice directly behind me.

I give a startled jump at the sound of the voice, my heart pounding as the staff in my hand nearly splinters under my tightened grip. "I'm certain that I'm going to have a heart attack one day, if I keep hanging around magicians," I mutter wearily.

Eldrin answers with a smirk, "Now, who would your friends be, Abasi? Perhaps they should introduce themselves."

I put my hand in my pocket, rubbing the sheathed hilt of my dagger. My heartbeat patters down to a smoother beat as I respond. "I am Severin of the Dirt, a snakeshifter. These are my half-brother and sister, Sabian and Nydia."

"So I see." Eldrin glances at them before turning to Fox and Ama. "Who would you two be?"

"Fox Von Hotstuff," Fox claims with a grin.

"I'm Ama Keymaker." Ama rolls her eyes at Fox's supposed moniker.

"Your real name, please?" Eldrin doesn't seem amused in the least by Fox's remark.

Fox's grin remains as he replies, "Fox. Just Fox."

"How did you know we were coming?" I blurt out, my curiosity achieving victory over my tongue.

"I have wards against location spells," the warlock answers in a clipped tone.

We're studying each other as if we were books of mysterious content, impossible to read simply at a glance. Eldrin's book doesn't leave his hand, but his other hand goes into his pocket as if to draw a weapon. Still-grinning Fox doesn't break his stare, watching for any slight change in his face. My grip tightens on the hilt of my knife.

I break the tension by speaking out loud, inquiring, "Do you know anything about the disappearance of witches? Or perhaps the location of the Witch Guild?"

"That," Eldrin drawls with a glint in his eye, "--is a most curious question. I struggle to remember."

"How can you not remember something like that?" Sabian asks suspiciously, crossing his arms.

I nod at my half-brother, at first not understanding Eldrin's meaning. "Our mission is of the highest importance. Take heed of the fact that withholding info would have a devastating effect."

Eldrin smirks. "Maybe something could spark my memory back up."

I narrow my eyes at him. Now I understand what he wants. He's something like an informant, it would seem. In that case, I know just what this process requires. 

"What do you suggest?" I inquire warily.

"What do you have to offer?"

I take the Dagaz rune from where it hangs on my neck, pulling the string over my head and holding it out to him. "I cannot pay you now, but you can take this runestone as collateral until I can."

He holds out his hand, and I drop the rune into it. "What rune is this?"

"Dagaz. The rune of transformations."

"As I suspected." He hands it back with a shake of his head. "Keep it. You seem trustworthy, so there's no need for collateral."

My downcast eyes jerk upward in surprise, and I catch myself before I can stare at the warlock. My hand is stiff from efforts to keep it from trembling as I take up my rune—that accursed, bloody, hard-earned fruit of my crime—from Eldrin's hand. I put the black cord over my head, returning the Dagaz rune back to its home around my neck.

Is it pathetic, how shaken I am by such easy trust? The short answer is yes. The long answer is also yes, and that it's the same kind of pathetic as that of a starving beggar offered food by a random passerby. I wasn't expecting it. I had lost hope of things being easy or simple for me. But it was such a relief—such a surreal feeling of comfort that was too good to be true and yet not ludicrous enough for it to be a lie.

I have lived, for so many lonely, grey years, a ghost's existence. A ghost with a blight, a continuously darkening shadow stretching over me, blacking everything else out under a screen of distrust and frustration and despair.

Rhys the shadow laughs silently under my hood. 

A snake that walks in human skin, trustworthy? How sweet. How flattering.

—Rhys's next hiss inspires a wince that I keep inside (always, with Rhys, I have to keep things inside). I know what he's about to say, I've known him so long. I know what he's about to say because of how often he uses it to speak of me. I know what he's about to say and, Gods Almighty, I hate it—

What a joke.

There it is. Rhys's hilarity, his entertainment: Trust. Blind, pure, selfless trust.

"So, are you gonna tell us what you remember?" Fox asks Eldrin impatiently.

"Indeed." The warlock looks up from his book with an unreadable expression on his face. "Some witches have been found dead in this area, to the northeast of here, with their blood drained from their bodies. Oh, and I'll take that demigod hair as well, if you don't mind."

--

Hey, guys! This took way longer and took a lot more effort than I'd expected. But hey, I did it! A whopping 5,354 words, not including the author's comments in bold. You can thank ToastyToast218 for guilt-tripping me into another chapter. I was planning on spending the time used on chappy-writing for editing instead. So, there you have it.

Anyway, if any of you would like to provide feedback, I'd really appreciate it! Please?

Am I forgetting something? Oh, yeah.

Snakes... is IN DA HOUSE.