At the crack of dawn, Judson was roused by droplets of water caressing his nose ridge. His eyes shot open and traveled up, where cold dew trailed down from the leaves like mini streams and fell all around him. He had spent the night outside because he was anxious about sharing a tent with Ayariel. Moreover, she was a total stranger. A generous stranger, but a stranger still.

She was yet to recover from unconsciousness and slept throughout the night without so much as a flutter of her eyelids. He had brought her into the tent for comfort and to shield from the cold then taken her place beside the fire outside. When it began to drizzle, he scurried to the tree for shelter and had unknowingly fallen asleep there.

His back ached as he detached it from the trunk, regret filling him for resting against the tree at all. He stretched, inspecting the environment for any oddities. The stack of firewood had turned into heaps of blackened, wet ash; the sky was a faint cyan as a result of films of white clouds draped across them, morning mist lined most of the atmosphere, and distant flashes of lightning warned of a possible downpour.

Letting out a sigh, he rose and suddenly noticed something queer. Little dewdrops were collecting to form a clear pool at his feet – the tiniest pool he ever saw. He squatted to peer closely at it and saw that it was starting to trickle on, like a running stream. A strange urge to discover what the phenomenon was all about pulled at him to follow the trail. The further it went, the bigger the stream became.

At the edge of a cluster of bushes, the waters spilled over a rocky cleft that led down into a brook surrounded by bulrushes, growing fern, and flattened reeds. On the other side of the silent waters was the prominent stump of a tree, and he halted at the sight of a lady seated on it. Thin, translucent wings, like those of a butterfly, were sticking out of her back, which was the part of her he could see better.

He almost let out a frustrated grunt as soon as he recognized her.

She rose, petals dropping to her feet, and stared straight at him then questioningly at the stream between them.

"You could either walk into it, or fly right over," He said, shaking his head. The sight of her was inexplicably agitating. "Because I am not coming to you."

Her sigh was audible. Suddenly, she broke into water and materialized in front of him. "There is absolutely no need to use such blunt tones with me."

He scoffed. "Would you rather I coat my words to please you?"

"No," Her head tilted. "But you can be nicer."

He studied her for a bit, then spoke in a gentler tone. "What is it you want?"

She came forward and cupped his face. "For you to listen to me."

He politely took her hands away and hurt flickered across her tiny features for a moment. Somehow, he had known they would meet again, but was as unprepared for it as he was the first time. Unexpectedly, she gripped his thumbs, her bright eyes clouding with emotion.

"I know I have failed you," She whispered. "And there is nothing I might do to redeem myself, but you have to listen to me. If it were not so important, I wouldn't have come."

He wriggled his thumbs free. "Exactly."

Stepping back, he glimpsed her extending a weak hand. "I did not mean. . ." She faltered and let out a breath. "There is something you must know."

"You made that clear before, but I am not. . . I do not want to hear it."

A mild frown curtained her face. "You speak as though you have an idea what I am about to say."

"I do not," He glanced at the tree stump and spotted pieces of jasmine and buttercup around it – the flowers she had dropped. "But I have lived long enough to know that whatever it may be, it is not good."

"I will say it nonetheless." She proclaimed authoritatively.

"Have you no conscience?" He asked, leaning back in order to stare at her full form. "No sense of self-reproach?"

She was ridiculously small in stature, like a tall preteen. Lucky enough, her face was not as young.

"This is not the time—"

"It is the time." He cut in, anger creasing his forehead. "Now or never. . . mother!"

Her stare communicated a warning. "I am aware of how furious you are, but I want y—"

"You have no idea what I feel." He snapped, his heartbeat quickening. Adrenaline pumped in his veins. "You have no idea. Not in the slightest. And you claim to know everything, but that is untrue. You do not!"

She came forward and he inadvertently moved away, maintaining the gap between them. "I cannot go back and change what happened. It was out of my hands. I had to give you up."

He stared wide-eyed. "I have little care for your decisions in the past. It is the now that I bother about. Why did you not come to me all those years? Why did you neglect me? Were you so ashamed of the mistake I was—"

"You are not a mistake." She came forward again and cradled his face. Her eyes were quickly turning moist. "You never were. I. . . I wanted so much to see you, to nurse my own son, but it was not to be. I was paying for my sins, and the compensation for that folly was to be separated from you."

A swift sense of calm washed over him and his anger was replaced by curiosity. "What sins?"

She blinked softly and tears trailed down her cheeks, as sparkling as spring water under the silver glare of moonlight. He watched with interest as it rolled further, and felt very tempted to touch it, until her skin absorbed it like a stain.

"It would take too long to tell you of them." His cheeks were smushed as she pressed her hands tighter on either sides of his face. "I am not deserving of your forgiveness, but I want you to know that my decision was never personal. It was a form of reparation. I was torn from the one thing I love the most because that was the only way I could prove I was sorry. A day has not passed that I. . ."

Her reddening face alarmed him and he was vaguely aware when he locked both arms around her back in consolation. Her wings felt alluring and soft when they brushed against his skin.

"I regret all that I've done." She whispered. "I am so sorry."

On impulse, he drew her in and buried his face in her neck, tears spilling out of his own eyes.

For a long time, they held each other in a tight embrace.

All the anger that had been cooking on the inside at the sight of her – accumulating over the years to the point of exhaustion – suddenly simmered down. He was yet to mold the part of him that would be willing to forgive her since the love he first felt for her had progressively turned into resentment. Still, he was grateful that the gap between them had at last been bridged. Estrangement was no more, and he no longer felt left in the lurch.

As a matter of fact, he felt more at peace.

At last, she ruffled his hair and reared to look into his face, her eyebrows wiggling gently as if there was something there that she found difficult to understand. A small smile parted her lips.

"Lica was right."

His own brows lifted.

She chuckled almost heartily. "You still smell like your bathwater."

He was not sure what she meant, but smiled nonetheless, briefly. "Why did she also have to give me away?"

Juniper sighed. "To keep you, my messenger could have given up her job without question if the permission were acquirable, but there was. . . much she needed to do; much that she could not afford to ignore. Besides, it was not her fate to play mother to you."

He thinned his lips, reluctant about voicing his preference of Lica as a nurse than any other. "Why does she call me nemethil?"

A wide grin broke across the goddess's face. She stepped back unsteadily given how the ground sloped toward the streamside. It was an awkward gait and brought a sense of normalcy to her godliness. Her attention seemed to have been snatched by something in the bushes.

"I believe your Elven friends can better translate that for you."

He wanted to object, then thought the better of it. If there was a reason she could not tell him anything, he had decided it best not to prod. They were not particularly close enough to foster such generosity.

As her eyes swept the surrounding, the silent stream suddenly swole and began to rush with heavy currents. A cool, moist wind blew strong and every flattened reed, twig, and branch straightened. Little by little, the whole environment refixed itself, until it was vibrant with more life and beauty than when he had first met it.

But, the tree stump stayed as it was.

"Why do you not raise the evergreen too?" He questioned, half pointing.

He turned to Juniper, who had gone to stand nearest the revived vegetation. The faces of lovely purple and bright yellow flowers peeked from within the bushes, beautifying the view in the background.

Instead of a response, her face became grave and she said something else. "The girl."

At that, Judson's mind snapped back to Ayariel, and his gaze fell. He thought he was being chided for taking care of her rather poorly. "Oh! She fell very ill last night. I am yet to find out the cause of—"

"Not her." Juniper calmly interrupted. A meaningful pause followed. "The one you search for. Alluña's mortal daughter."

Slowly, he looked up – straight at her, pulse quickening.

"Enough time has been wasted." She went on. Her simple dress began to shimmer as she walked to go around him. When he spun, he found her clad in magnificent green. Sight of the attire suddenly reminded him the true weight of her status as a prominent god. It dawned on him that her small stature only but played the part of a mask for the surfeit of ancient power she wielded. Energy rippled about her that he could feel, but not see and he felt the earth vibrate under his feet, as if it would collapse into itself. Colors sharpened and his senses felt overridden so much that he fought to maintain his balance.

For the first time, he felt intimidated by her and got the gnawing feeling that she had transformed on purpose.

"What do you mean?" He absentmindedly took note of the foreign gems dotting the beautiful sash around her waist.

"You must call off your search." Her tone was gentle yet firm. "The young hero has gone beyond help now. It has been three years already."

The inside of his mouth tasted like something bitter. "I cannot do that, you know this. I care little for how long it has been. I will search for her for the rest of my life if I have to."

"I cannot allow you do that because even you do not even have such time again." Juniper admonished. "There is a greater purpose for you. The time has come to accept your heritage."

He paused, taken aback. "My. . . what?"

She strode forward and stared full in his face. "I did not let go of you all those years so that you could squander your days forever. That era is gone. You were not born to wander – although you have been made to for years – but the time for it to stop has finally come."

He blinked on repeat, hoping that it would clear his brain enough to understand what she meant. "What are you talking about?"

Going around him, her hands trailed gently against his wings, leaving tingles in their wake. He wanted to ruffle their feathers in satisfaction, but unbethought. It would make him look like a helpless pup.

"Your destiny has always been different, and no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape it." She came to stand before him again. "Let go of the girl."

"Never!" He frowned in disbelief. "How can you ask that of me? You know what she means to me."

"I do." She agreed with a curt nod.

"Then you know that I cannot give up on her, not when she has sacrificed so much. I will not stop, no, not until I bring her back. I thought you came to offer hel—"

"What if it's fruitless?"

"I have not lost hope yet."

She sighed with obvious difficulty. It seemed that she fought with self-control. "You must understand, son."

"Unfortunately, I do not. What you are asking of me is impossible, and I do not understand why you would. Tell me why I should do such a thing. I love her!"

Juniper lifted a hand and touched his temple with her index. A shocking sensation traveled into his brain and flashed thousands of images in his mind within a split second. He looked away with a sharp exhale and a wince, shutting his eyes tight. Warmth filled his nostrils. He touched it and was shocked at the sight of blood.

"What was that?" He queried.

Juniper wore a frown of disapproval. "Hone your strengths better than this. Think on what I have shown you. It cannot be done unless you are willing. I will return soon to hear your decision. Until then."

He looked at her and was a bit surprised to see that she was smiling.

"Sometimes, I wish. . ." She faltered, head tilting again and eyebrows deeply furrowing. Without another word, she soared skyward with intense speed and vanished from sight.

Had the bright rays of a harsh sun not chased him, Judson would have stood there much longer, pondering over what he had seen in his mind's eye following his mother's touch. But he despised the burning light and turned to find his way back to his little camp.

As he returned to the tent, a soft sonorescent sound pinned him to a halt. He inched closer and was stunned to find Ayariel standing in a cocoon of colorful light with her eyes closed and both arms spread out. Her dress soaked in the colors in a fast sequence and the environment stored the charged up energy issuing from her fingers. Her powers seemed to be fueled by sunlight because it shone with remarkable intensity and spotlighted her in a giant ray.

The moment he crossed into the circumference of power, he became engulfed in strange euphoric sensations that seeped into the deepest parts of him, as if there were openings simply waiting to be filled. Strong impulses carried from his brain to every part of his body, numbing and shocking. For a second, he was greatly alarmed by the feeling, but when he realized that it was doing more good than harm, he calmed.

Gradually, all returned to normal and the lights dulled until they evened out.

Then, he released a big breath he had unknowingly been holding back the entire time.

At that moment, Ayariel's eyes flew open.

"What. . ." He began, "were you doing?"

She exhaled in relief and stepped forward. Her face was twice as bright as when he had first seen it. "Recharging."

His eyebrow went up in query.

"That's how I stay alive." She stated, gesticulating. Her voice fell. "How I've lived this long."

He grimaced with a thoughtful squint. "The light reinvigorates you."

"Yes." Her expression revealed slight embarrassment and sorrow.

"Is that why you fainted last night? The absence of light is—"

"I was born with a very horrible illness." She explained, busying with the firewood. As she worked, she looked nothing as helpless as she sounded. "My mother did not wish to lose me, so she gave me a means of sustenance. I could feed off light. It keeps me from dying."

She looked at him and laughed, and he suspected she did so because of the look of sympathy on his face.

"I'm fine, alright." Using a finger, she directed a spark onto the firewood and a startling flame licked them.

"What about during the nighttime," He asked, going to sit opposite the blazing hearth. "When there is no sunlight?"

She disappeared into the tent and returned with a small sack. "Well, the sickness isn't always there, thank the stars. It comes and goes, like the seasons."

Generously, she prepared breakfast, all the while filling him in on anything worth telling about her past life. Afterwards, she repacked her traveling baggage, excused herself and returned minutes later, looking refreshed. It was evident in her wet hair that she had washed in the stream.

"Off to Orhaven." She hyped, pointing onward.

His navigation instincts geared to full power and dismissed hers. "Orhaven. Northwest." He pointed elsewhere. "That way."

"Oh!" She exclaimed with a small laugh.

The roads branched and broke off, curved and derailed, presenting newer landscapes and fewer settlements. Orhaven was located in an awfully underdeveloped region, according to Ayariel's account, that could be reached by river, a fact she only mentioned upon their arrival to a massive body of water.

Judson stared at the currents, feeling himself getting devoured, bit by bit, by rising stress. "You could have warned of this bit much sooner."

Ayariel gave a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry."

He glanced about the area that was strewn with rotted logs, palm branches and unidentifiable wreckage. "There are no boats." On the other side were wild looking bushes and no turf. "Do we swim across?"

A helpless whimper from the corner made him turn to Ayariel. She looked pale again and her eyes had grown bigger.

"Are you alright?" He asked in concern.

Her lips thinned and she fidgeted in mild discomfort. "Um. . . I-I can't. . . swim."

He deflated in relief. "Oh, alright. There must be another way to get to the other side."

Surveying the visible length of the river, he discovered that his statement had sounded a tad foolish. Orhaven was a creekside village thus surrounded by water and no possible roads. He massaged his forehead to get rid of the brewing ache inside.

"Can't you. . ." Ayariel trailed off.

He turned and saw her demonstrating flight.

"We'd get there quicker." She shrugged.

For a count of seconds, he studied her, assuring himself over and over that his decision to let her take him to Orhaven to find the Alchemist had been done from a place of logic than sympathy. Nothing about her proved she was as committed to the cause given her jovial and carefree persona. Also, the feeling that she had orchestrated the river crossing made him begin to doubt her motives. He could smell coquettery from a thousand leagues away. However outrageous the thought was to him, it was the only way to get across the river.

With a little sigh and his stomach churning with edginess, he spread out his arms.

Surprisingly, there was no smile on her face when she began to advance in cautious steps. She watched his face for any trace of disapproval, but he maintained a blank expression. With the proximity, he became vulnerable to the sweet smell oozing from her hair and skin. She locked both arms around his neck and kept her face forward. He gently squeezed through the gap between her baggage and the small of her back to get a good grip, and, without wasting a moment, took flight.

Orhaven was frighteningly small from the sky and given how much water flowed through it, made landing a difficult affair. But Judson found a makeshift bridge wide enough to contain two and, there, he touched down.

"That was delightful!" Ayariel exclaimed with a little contented laugh. "If I had wings, I'd never want to walk again."

"If so, you would be born without legs." He contributed, regarding the landscape. "Imagine the sight of that!"

"I know," She shuddered. "I'd be horrifying."

"No, I mean, look at the houses."

A lot of the living structures – which appeared more dead than living – were on the verge of collapse. He doubted anything more than a gentle wind could tip them all over. Not only were they unfit to live in, they were half buried in dirty water and surrounded by trash.

"How do they survive?" Ayariel lamented.

"I doubt a lot of them have." He countered.

"The last time we met, Yndry told me Orhaven was close to decay," She muttered. "He just didn't say how close."

"Are there no Lords to take care of this?" Judson pointed. He felt truly disturbed by the living conditions in Orhaven, and although it seemed impossible, he was already working out ways to remedy the situation.

Ayariel scoffed in pure disdain. "All they care about is how much gold they can suck out through taxes. I doubt they're even aware this place exists."

Together they strolled down the bridge with extreme caution because of its frail structure that swayed with every step.

"Who is Lord of this region anyway?" Judson queried as the bridge sloped toward a little harbor, where few people were being loaded into canoes meant to cross into the village.

"Kestkaal Kazan, I heard he was called."

The name sounded very familiar, yet he could not place why.

Progressively, the little harbor grew less and less crowded as canoers rowed their passengers farther out. The water was blackened and murky, with waste of different kinds floating on the surface. As he watched the very first canoe, he took note of a child leaning dangerously toward the edge in an attempt to prod a floating object toward himself.

Before an alarm could escape Judson's lips, the child toppled into the river.

"By thunder!" Someone shouted. Screams followed, yet no one made any hurried attempts to dive in after the victim.

"The child's going to drown!" Ayariel yelled at the people in the second canoe, pointing aggressively to the accident spot. "Someone go get him!"

"Where did he fall in?"

"Hurry!"

"It was just a kid!"

"Tiberius!" A man, probably the child's father, shouted from the canoe.

Just then, the air hummed with a strange aura. The river began to stir itself into a vacuum, issuing shouts and screams from the onlookers in the canoes as they gripped each other. From the center of the disturbance, the child began to levitate, supported by a rising stream. He was unconscious, but appeared unhurt. The stream guided him all the way back to the harbor, where Judson stood, watching, with a few other locals.

As soon as his back touched the wooden floorboard, the child was surrounded.

"Dear me, is he alive?" A woman cried in a small voice.

"He's breathing." A local responded. He was positioned over the child, trying to revive him.

"Tiberius!" The shout came again and again.

"What was that?" Another asked in fear.

"Yndry." Ayariel whispered to Judson and took his hand. "I think we found him."

"You said he was an Alchemist." He reminded, but she was barely paying heed.

They returned to the bridge, which connected to more bridges – some higher than others – and formed an easy pathway between different locations in the village. Most houses were tall, built from bamboo and hay, old timber, and other materials that looked to have weakened overtime.

As they rounded one of such, Judson felt the hairs on his nape stand on ends. He ducked in time to avoid a swinging firebrand.

"Elhli. Iras, Yndry!" Ayariel cautioned, stretching out both hands. (No. Stop)

Yndry hefted his firebrand and swung the hair out of his eyes. Immediately he recognized her, he lowered the torch.

"Aya!" He exclaimed, near breathless. "Arma duni." (I apologize)

He stared at Judson shortly. "Who is the yveli?"

She straightened. "A friend. We came looking for you."

"Me?" Yndry sounded flabbergasted.

Ayariel smiled. "It was heroic what you did back there, saving the boy's life. It was a good thing."

The man twirled the torch in a rather professional fashion, but his eyes were nonchalant. "Yeah. Not from where I'm standing. I have to play modest guard dog – without any form of compensation – to a bunch of careless, lowlifes who can't even watch their own children. Try that for a career."

He turned and walked away.

"It's good to see you too, Yndry!" She called after him, then stared at Judson. "Let's go."

"What? He does not look like he wants to be followed." He stated out of concern, still aware of the searing heat behind his eyes that would have been grilled off had the firebrand touched them.

"I told you he's a sourpuss, but he's also quite lonely. He wouldn't mind some friends." She started down the shivering planks.

"Nor some target practice." He retorted in a mutter and towed.

Yndry's home could have looked decent – if he had half a mind to keep it tidy.

Nearly every second, Judson found himself knocking something down and not just with his wings.

Atop a wide wooden table stained with soot were bottles surplus enough to store wine for a decade, and more arranged in rows underneath. Two passerine birds occupied an open parrot cage – a goldcrest and a firecrest –  and had they failed to communicate, Judson would have had little trouble believing they were trapped. Little to no ventilation came into the room as a result of the absence of windows, except for one barricaded with pieces of wood bars nailed together in a crisscross pattern. The air smelled like burning rubber and a century old cesspool, courtesy of the poor condition that marked the surroundings. The floor was wet and slimy in some places, strewn with what resembled fish scales and traces of animal blood. Judson retched silently at the sight of a slaughter table tucked somewhere at the extreme end nearest the window. A dead piglet was sprawled on it with a bloodstained knife still embedded in its skull.

The absolute disregard for nature and life itself made him conclude that Yndry was a penniless, slovenly fellow.

"What've you been up to, do-naught?" Ayariel casually asked.

Until Yndry strolled to an unmade bed and plopped in it, Judson did not realize a bed was even there. 

"Fixing up the leaks in my roof." He crossed one leg over the other and sported a blank grin, pointing above with his index, where numerous silver rings flashed.

Together, Ayariel and Judson looked up and found multiple holes in the ceiling, all wide enough to fit a finger.

"Finest work I saw in ages." Judson muttered dryly.

Yndry hummed in what was either satisfaction or impatience. "Who is this young man, Aya? Dragging him off to show your parents you found a friend? Don't torture the fella. He looks miserable already."

Ayariel's chuckle was quiet. "I can tell you missed me. He's here to see you, Yin."

The man's intense gaze clocked to Judson and he studied him piece by piece for a very long while before a slight exhale escaped him and he beamed. "To what do I owe this unseemly pleasure, yveli?"

To a degree, Judson was wholly fed up with being called names he could not understand, but unheeded his displeasure for formality sake.

"I seek a man. His name is Gzrel."

Yndry's glance moved on occasion from one person to the other. "And you assume I can tell you of this Gzrel because. . ."

"You traveled a lot." Ayariel filled in. "I'm sure you'd have heard something about him."

Again, Yndry hummed, shifting only by a grain on his bed. He adjusted his hands, which were flattened against his belly. Nothing about him or his environs gave away the idea that he indulged in a study as high-profile and practical as alchemy. He looked ragged and sluggish.

"I might have heard something of such a fellow in the past," He divulged. "But, as you know, no information is free."

Judson glimpsed Ayariel's prodding stare from the side, yet kept his gaze fixed on Yndry. He had come across such people in more instances than he could count – greedy people with nothing to give and a clawing eagerness to take all.

"I am aware, and I am willing to pay." He lifted a finger. "Just one question."

"Go on."

"If you heard of Gzrel before, surely you must know the name he goes by the most. What is it?"

Yndry broke into laughter. "You insult me. Are you implying that I make empty claims?"

"No," Judson replied coolly, crossing his legs at the ankles. He was beginning to feel relaxed despite the acridity in the air. "I am saying it."

Then, Yndry rose and began to stroll forward, grimacing in slight anger and humor although it was hard to tell which held more sway over him.

He shot Ayariel a subtle glare. "You come all the way here, into my house to accuse me of being a liar." His tone was low. His stare was keen. "Do you know who I am?"

"I assure you – I have no intentions of finding out. All I wish to find out is if you can tell me what I want to know. Given your profession, I presume you have may dined with several Lords in their court, but none of that really benefited you, did it?"

Yndry's eyes narrowed. "I've had my advantages, Shade."

"But they were hardly enough." He put out. "You are as desperate as I am. I know. So, why not help each other?"

"What are you going on about?"

From the pocket of his coat, he provided a glowing gem – one he had moved in a fleeting moment, unsuspectingly, from Juniper's sash.

At the sight of it, Yndry's face went slack.

"What is that?" He stared, spellbound by the purplish hue of the gemstone.

Judson rotated the stone. He did not know neither did he know its name, but he confirmed it as being absolutely rare. Its base was snow white while the surface glowered purple. Atop his mother's sash, it had looked even more brilliant.

"I swiped it off a goddess." He revealed.

Yndry scoffed, but his heart was not in the contemptuous words he spoke. "Who's the liar now? Or what are you supposed to be; a professional petty thief? Supernatural cupbearer? How could you get close enough?"

"None of that matters." Judson dismissed and impulsively broke the stone in half, though surprised that it could break. "One half to tell me all you know of Gzrel, the other half as compensation for when I find him."

For the first time since, the man's eyes left the gem. "How do I get the second?"

He gestured to the bird cage. "I will have your firecrest deliver it to you."

"She's not a messenger, and besides, she only answers to me."

Judson felt very tempted to roll his eyes, but thought otherwise. Instead, he held out a finger and the firecrest darted to perch on it.

Yndry blinked in astonishment.

"Think nothing of it." He comforted. "I simply tend to attract females a lot."

"I see. Fine!" Yndry sighed. "I indeed heard of Gzrel, but that was some six to seven years ago. They say he is an invisible wanderer. A thief. Many mythologize his presence when priceless belongings go missing without explanation or proof of loss. But none ever saw or heard him. Rumors are he only leaves footprints and nothing more."

Judson's eyebrows went up. "How then am I supposed to find someone who cannot be seen?"

Yndry's hungry eyes shifted to the gem. "I believe there is a way to draw him to yourself. You just have to think of a brilliant one."

"Where can we do such a thing?" Ayariel added, stepping into the spotlight. "I doubt he would settle in these parts or this realm for that matter."

Yndry's sigh told of his obvious frustration, but when Judson wriggled the half gem, he swallowed hard. "Last I heard, he paid visit to a large military base in Sigoric."

"Sigoric?"

"Second Outcast capital, west-northwest of the kingdom of Adwys in Ezkaliepton." Yndry explained. "I would want to make haste if I were you. The Grump is said to never go by the same way twice."

Judson glanced at Ayariel. Prompted by her encouraging nod, he handed the half gem in payment. "Many thanks for your help."

Yndry observed him for a while with flickering smiles, rotating the stone in between his fingers. "May I ask why you seek the Grump?"

"The same reason I sought you." He replied, stroking the firecrest.

The man gave a half suppressed laugh. "You intend to interrogate a lowly thief?"

"Should be a trifle. I interrogated an out-of-pocket magician."

"What makes you think I am a magician?"

Judson smirked. "The attire sort of gave it away."

Yndry shut his eyes and laughed, seemingly pleased. "I've met many people, but can't say I ever came across a Shade with such quick wit and clever fingers."

"There is always a first time for all." He shrugged.

"Thank you, Yndry." Ayariel said, straightening from her position. "You've been a great help. I hope you can finish fixing your roof now."

Almost to the door, Judson was suddenly halted by swirling mist that clicked the locks into place and overshadowed the entire frame.

"Yndry!" Ayariel warned, veering about.

"What do you say your friend lets go of the other gem and my bird? I'm gonna need both."

Examining the mist, Judson tried to reach for the knob, but withdrew with a wince after he received the strongest shock. It felt like he grabbed a flash of lightning.

"You can't get through, yveli." Yndry advised with a snigger. "You'll be sorry to try."

"And here I thought you were an honest magician." He mused, turning as well. "Although, it was quite the irony."

Yndry's smile fell. He conjured up more mist. "Put the gem down before I lose my patience."

"Yin, what is wrong with you?" Ayariel snapped quietly. "We had an agreement. Don't be stupid."

"My business is not with you, Aya."

She stepped in between. "I know whose it is and his business is as much as mine. Now, unlock the door!"

"Oh, you don't frighten me, twinkle." The man assured. "I have powers mightier than yours. You should be wise to stay away." He looked at Judson. "The gem!"

"I will give it," The latter conceded. "If you let me keep the bird. One precious thing in exchange for another."

"Doesn't work that way." Yndry snarled. "Time's up."

He made to move and fell face flat on the ground. Tossing over, he gasped at the sight of weeds knotting around his ankles. "What in the world—"

"Those grow in millions right underneath your house, alchemist." Judson cut in casually. "You should be thankful they are yet to overrun the foundation."

"That's awesome!" Ayariel chuckled, amazement clear in her voice, eyes and expression.

Judson turned and held a hand over the door. A greenish, translucent wall appeared over the mist. He stepped aside and made a polite gesture to Ayariel. With a giggle, she hurried forward, eyes widening as she came close to the portal.

"Oh my—"

It swallowed her up completely.

"Let me out of these bloody things!" Yndry shouted in anger as the vines roped every inch of him. "Yveli!"

"You are a magician, no?" Judson asked, grinning. "Cast a spell over it though I doubt your magic is as old as nature. Give it a try nonetheless. Farewell!"

He walked through the portal and came out into a roadside, where Ayariel awaited.

"You have so many easy means of transportation," She said, walking toward him with a wide smile. "Why not use them?"

His impassive expression wiped the grin from her face. "I decide how I travel."

"Are you alright?" She wondered in concern, tilting to peer into his face.

"Yes." He regarded the firecrest. "I knew a pair of passerine once."

"Oh! What happened?"

He placed the bird on his shoulder and turned to the road. "One of them died in a wildfire."

Quietly, he began to stroll down the path.