The last time Feyla had seen someone run that fast, was when she had chased down Sedgewick after the water in Vacia's aqueducts had swept him away. Being several inches taller than her, Delia's long-legged strides made Feyla's sprint look leisurely.

The other healer flew past Daydrel and Feyla, weaving through the darkened streets puddles of lamplight. Delia's white cloak flapped in front of them like a defiant flag as she dashed toward her dangerously unaware husband.

Feyla ducked under a woven rug hanging from a building above her. Daydrel matched his stride with hers, each pounding of his footfalls as even as a heartbeat. Delia was right to run as she did. Jaerick wasn't a battle healer. The most he could manage was a simple subduing pinch and his speed at that wouldn't beat a blast from Desden. Feyla and Daydrel passed under another lamp, its yellow light reflecting their matching fear back at each other.

In some street off to her right, Feyla thought she briefly heard the sound of Sedgewick cursing. Daydrel's ears flickered back worriedly. "We'll beat them," he said anyway. "They don't know the way like we do."

Feyla vaulted over a table abandoned from the day's market. Her feet buckled uncharacteristically on her descent. She wasn't just deceiving Sedgewick now, she was actively racing to undermine him and something he cared about, something she'd supported him in.

He'll forgive you, she repeated to herself again. Sedgewick might—would—come around. Her mother wouldn't.

By the time they reached the guild house, Feyla's lungs felt like they'd burned to ashes in her chest. Delia burst through the gate and began pounding on the door. "JAERICK! Arilla! Someone open this door!"

The door clicked open and the three of them nearly ran over the sleepy-eyed apprentice who let them in. "Maybe he went home?" Feyla asked hopefully.

"I wasn't here. He always stays late when I'm not here." Delia's voice cracked right at the edge of angry tears.

A blast blared from the opposite direction. The healing house shook and the doors above them slammed open, panicked voices carrying through the healing house like the blast had been a music cue. Delia froze. Her ears twitched toward the sound, resembling a panicked doe.

Feyla grabbed her sleeve just before she bolted. "What if it's like your healing house? A distraction?"

Delia gripped Feyla's hand, her own shaking in spite of the firmness. "What if it isn't?" No other words were needed. Delia wouldn't risk her husband lying bleeding from the blast.

"I'll check the blast." Daydrel insisted. "Go search the research room! We need to secure anything the Carrows might want anyway."

Delia smiled gratefully at Daydrel. She gave Feyla's hand a final squeeze before dragging her toward the research center.

They crossed the empty side courtyard, nearly stumbling in the dark before reaching the door into the separate research center. Feyla slammed on the outdated glowlights. They flickered ominously, magic slowly filtering through them before the light finally leveled. The hallway split, and heavy, nearly soundproof doors lined the walls running down each direction. On the left side, records and healing books, on the right, rooms for brewing medical potions and performing research.

"He was supposed to be in his lab today," Delia whispered. She shut her eyes hard, her brow wrinkled in focus. "He's close, I can feel it."

Feyla allowed herself a brief sigh of relief. Assuming the relationship was good, bonded feys could sense the general direction of each other. Jaerick was still alive...for now. Delia went to the right. Feyla swerved left. She pressed her ear to doors and jiggled locks. Nothing, nothing, nothing! Where was he? Had Delia already found him?

A shout finally escaped a heavy wooden door further down the hall. Feyla broke into a run.

She slammed down on the handle but it was bolted tight. "Jaerick! Are you in there?"

"Feyla!" Jaerick cried out from the other side. Then he let out a pained scream and went silent.

"Delia! Over here!" Feyla screamed as loud as she could. Her hands shook as she dug through her kit still hung at her waist, pulling out her lock picking tools. The door was far too heavy for her to force her way through. She'd have to be Beryn or even Fenroy's size to hope to break it. Feyla inserted them into the lock and struggled to keep her hands steady.

Before she could truly begin picking it, the door flung inward.

"I want you to repeat what I say. Got it?" Desden asked. His dark brown eyes looked black against the deepening night. They were right across from the healing house. Lamp lights flickered, illuminating the outlines of a few guardsmen patrolling the street in front of the healer's guild house, the capital's precaution since Desden's first attack.

"Got it," Reiden whispered. He wiped the sweaty hair sticking to his brow back. Humid night air choked his lungs but that was nothing compared to the nerves choking his throat.

"Your name is Dormaeus Carrow."

"My—my name is Dormaeus Carrow."

"You're a wizard."

"I'm a wizard." Reiden clenched and unclenched his sweaty hands. Laryssa hadn't seemed to like that part but how else was he going to get back to her? Back to himself? What would it be like to have a brother he loved instead of a shadowing picture of a brother he vaguely remembered loving? Or to find the woman whose effect on him lingered as much as the memory of her perfume and ask her to forgive whatever had torn them apart?

"And you're going to act like a wizard. Got it?"

"I'm going to act like a wizard," Reiden, no, Dormaeus repeated. His name was Dormaeus. If he wanted to grasp those taunting glimpses of his life them he needed to start claiming it.

Desden smiled a real smile, not the sharp glint of teeth Reiden had become familiar with. For a moment, he looked like the kid from Reiden's flashes of memory. "Good. Now do what I showed you."

Reiden held his hands together. He screwed his eyes shut and found that pulse of magic he'd learned to ignore. It reached the tips of his fingers, tingling them like the ghosty touch of a forgotten friend. Opening his eyes, Reiden pushed that magic outward until a wavering ball of red magic cast a glow over both of their faces. Desden had tried to get him to cast black magic, but Reiden couldn't take it yet.

Desden grinned at him conspiratorially. "Let's get started." He patted his shoulder. "Just follow me and keep it stable."

Reiden glanced over at the guild house. A guardsman's head had twisted their direction, a shout already rising to the burly man's lips. His mouth went bone dry at the sight of the man's hand on his sword. "Des!"

The spell formed in Desden's hand before he could say more. It shot at the guardsman and hit the center of his chest. The man slumped to the ground. His eyes blinked in confusion before rolling back into his head. Desden grasped Reiden's arm and dragged him forward.

The second guardsman had already drawn his blade. He let out a single shout before Desden's second blast struck him as well. "Blast it at the gate lock before they come to," he said, pushing Reiden forward.

Reiden stared at the magic in his hands. He shifted his fingers the way Desden had shown him. The magic twisted into a firmer, brighter ball and flew towards the lock, knocking Reiden back and nearly off his feet. The blast ripped the lock from the gate. Desden kicked it open and waltzed into the healing house. He flung a rune disc back at Reiden swerved to the right. Light glinted off the disc as Reiden caught it between his hands. "What's this for?"

"The distraction."

It had taken precious seconds to set the rune discs but Desden had patiently walked him through it in between blasting healers drawn by the noise with the memory spell. They'd crept along the edge of the courtyard toward what Desden described as a building for records and research. "What if this guy isn't there?" he asked.

"I've lived in her head. She knows him well. He'll be here," Desden insisted. They snuck in through the back and down the dim halls. A whistle, the sound lithe and cheerful, carried through the air. Reiden dropped behind Desden who pulled his staff from the back and plowed on ahead.

Light spilled out a cracked door. Desden swung his staff off of his back and pushed it open.

"Delia, is that— Oh gates."

Reiden locked eyes with a tall, pale man who'd just become several shades paler. A beaked leather mask dangled in his hand and the very sight of him sent a hot spike of pain through Reiden's head.

"Carrows." He let the mask drop onto the book-covered shelf behind him. His throat clenched like it held back a great many words. Reiden couldn't discern what they were but as the healer's attention drifted from his brother to him, his first guess would have been an apology. His second would've been pity.

Desden lit his staff red and immediately darkened it to black. "You know what I'm after."

Jaerick swallowed and the words seemed to unclog. "I could make guesses. My death? Jaerick paused and his hands fell to the bench beside him. Not relaxed, but reposed, resigned. "I've stared at death many, many times and watched it do its work. You don't want to be part of that, boy. Trust me. Vengeance? Although vengeance is wasted energy. We live but a short while and all die in the end so why waste precious time ensuring the inevitable is by one's own hand?"

"I'm fixing things." He stepped deeper into the room and locked the door behind them. "You're going to help." Swinging his staff forward, Desden positioned the crystal tip inches from Jaerick's throat. Magic writhed above it like a twisted mirage. "Give me every scrap on the memory spell. Need it to fix this."

Jaerick blinked in surprise. "You've learned magic. The reversal spell shouldn't be—"

The sickening sound of magic hitting flesh sent Reiden's stomach reeling. A pungent burning stabbed at his nose at the same time Jaerick clutched his leg and let out a scream. The man crumpled to the ground at Desden's feet, his face right by where Desden had lowered his staff.

"Try this again. Where's the memory spell notes?" Desden growled.

Jaerick hissed out another pained cry and said nothing, but the clenching of his fists revealed his silence wasn't from pain alone.

Desden cocked his head to the side and his smile became all beak-sharp teeth and madness again. Whatever bit of boy that had been there earlier had vanished. He beckoned Reiden closer with a crook of his finger. "This is the man who stole your life. Stole you from me. Going to ask him again. If he doesn't answer right, you need to blast him for me."

Reiden's head spun again. Bile built in the back of his throat and choked all words but one. "No." He wasn't a wizard. He could never be a wizard, no matter how much he wanted to see Laryssa, no matter what part of him longed to know himself and even to know the strange young man who claimed his blood.

"You're a wizard, Dormaeus. So am I. It's the way things are supposed to be."

Reiden shook his head. He took one step back. Then another.

The doorknob shook behind him. "Jaerick! Are you in there?"

"Feyla!" the man cried out. Desden kicked his foot into Jaerick's injured leg, silencing him with a cry. His hand gripped the knob and the door flung open.

************

Author's Note: I almost thought I wouldn't get this out today but here we are! I decided to keep writing until I was satisfied instead of cutting it short so y'all get an extra 800ish words! Were the transitions between scenes clear? Were you surprised when Desden blasted Jaerick? When will Sedgewick and the gang arrive?