When Jasper ducks out of the office to escape into an autumn afternoon, it's to the called farewells of his fellow coworkers, either out the door or preparing to leave themselves. He responds to their leave-takings with his own pleasantries, smiling bashfully when one mentions, "It's been a full year since you joined us, yes? Congratulations!"

It had been a year and a month, to be precise, but who's counting?

Jasper had stormed the walls of his initial professional awkwardness to come out the other side: still awkward, but more comfortable about it. He knows the names of the majority of his coworkers (and for those that he can't remember, he's now too afraid to ask. It's been too long now to admit that he needs a name refresher.)

The work is dull, tedious, but constant. His mind is sometimes even pleasantly numbed by the filing. And when the numbed sensation isn't pleasant, the excitement of knowing about the bell at home is always there to lift his mood.

Jasper has now gone over a week without ringing himself into the other world, the recent long hours at work draining his energy and incentive to do so.

Today, however, he will make the time.

The outside air has that smoky quality that only autumn can give it, Jasper's light coat doing just enough to keep him warm as he weaves through the familiar streets of Cadeus Falls. The sun's light is weak through the clouds, but Jasper feels vibrant anyway.

He keeps the coat on even after turning the lock to enter his room, knowing that the seasons in Beledon follow the same pattern as his own world. If the bell takes him somewhere outdoors, he'll be glad to have it with him.

Leaving his satchel on a hook by the doorway, Jasper makes his way to the room's small table, where the bell waits. Next to it is a newly-purchased mixing bowl, decorated in whimsical designs of blue and gold. Tucking the bowl under his arm, he rings himself away.

The knowledge acquired steadily over a year of bell usage rears its head now, allowing Jasper to identify which part of Beledon he's in only moments after arriving there.

Although he's still miles from the actual coast, he knows he's in the eastern districts simply by the way the breeze carries the sea's faint scent. It's not something that can be sensed from the western half of the city.

The streets are more congested than they've ever been, a detail that now works in Jasper's favor. His sudden appearance is less notable because of it: just one more body in Beledon, a city now brimming not only with its usual residents, but by refugees from the countryside seeking strong walls between them and the specters.

Jasper tries not to let that bleak train of thought overtake him on what he is determined to make a happy day.

Besides, this world is still unfailingly lovely.

Grape vines slither up the sides of homes to drape their fruits and leaves over balconies, ready to be harvested before the dormancy of winter. A butterfly duo dances through the air; one alights on a potted cluster of purple asters, the other waits for its friend before they drift off together into the east. A more learned scholar of butterflies than Jasper would note that they are pearl crescents, orange wings run through with delicate black.

Jasper watches them fly away, wondering if they will make it all the way to the ships that come to rest at the city harbor, if they'll show off the way their wings surpass any ordinary sea-sails in color, shape, and beauty.

A potent brightness begins to expand in him: in this one second, everything is good.

He shakes his head at himself. A year spent in and out of the company of Zahara has had him infected with the sentiments of an artist. The thought reminds him of why he's here.

He sets out in the direction of the city center with the mixing bowl still tucked securely under his arm, the sound of each footstep he makes against the stone streets now familiar to his ears.

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Jasper knocks on the door of Dalmar and Zahara's home. The painted daises along its border are even more faded now than when Giada had done the same a year before.

He shoves the bell handle under his arm so that he can hold the mixing bowl out in front of him with a more formal two-handed gesture. I should have put a ribbon it.

He can hear voices inside, alternately frantic and hushed, but a considerable amount of time passes before the door is actually opened.

Araceli stands there, newly seventeen. She is Dalmar and Zahara's young cousin, come to stay with their family in Beledon. Originally from the farmland in the south, she had confided to Jasper one day that she always knew she was meant for a louder life. The excitement of coming to a city teeming with tens of thousands of people is enough to put her in a perennially good mood.

It is because he knows her to be so cheerful that Jasper is uneasy now, seeing her eyes dulled and her expression strained.

"Happy birthday, Celi," he says, voice more unsure than he had intended. He presents the bowl to her. She spends hours working at a nearby bakery every morning, and Jasper has enjoyed the fruits of her recipe experimentations countless times over the past year. This bowl is meant as both a birthday gift and an expression of gratitude, but he now worries that he's come at an unwelcome time.

"My... oh, right," she says, blinking in her initial confusion. She takes the bowl from his weary arms. "Thank you, Jasper."

He can hear voices from inside. Zahara's father speaks loudly, voice choked with emotion. Her mother's tone is raised as well, clearly angry. Cut through their words is Zahara's occasional input, in a more dejected voice than Jasper has ever heard from her. Every now and again he hears Dalmar too, his tone carefully even.

"Is everything all right?" Jasper asks. Perhaps this should be one of his shorter visits.

Araceli looks at the bowl in her hands, her expression so downcast that even her abundant brown curls seem to droop. Coming to a decision, she steps outside and pulls the door shut from behind. She takes a seat on the front step and gestures for Jasper to do the same, setting the bowl down gently beside her.

Even after they're comfortable, Araceli does not yet speak. She brings her hands together in her lap, examines them as if they are anything but the same hands she has had every day of her life.

Pushing the sleeves of her thin gray sweater up her arms, she finally begins.

"When's the last time you were here again, Jasper?"

He thinks back. He really has been busy lately, so it had been over a week, he knows. "About nine days."

She nods. "Right, right. Well, you know how there had been that group of friends having a picnic this summer, the ones that the specter found?" Jasper knows. Not one of them had survived the encounter.

"Everyone's been more tense since then. More guards on patrol and along the walls, and most people stay home now when they can. It's been working well enough for a while, but only a few days ago, there was another batch of gifts from the chimera."

At this, Jasper sits up. "What do you mean, a whole other batch? I thought that only happened every few decades."

"That's how it's always been, but all of a sudden there are nine new people with gifts. Seven gifts was already unprecedented, so nine more only a year later is even more concerning. Specters, a shower of gifts: none of this has happened before. And everyone's starting to wonder why."

"What are the new gifts?"

Araceli shrugs her shoulders, pulls absently at a curl. "I think one is a candle that never goes out. And someone else has a belt that they can understand animal speech while wearing. The usual odd assortment."

Jasper is amazed at how casually she can describe these abilities, but her mind is clearly elsewhere.

"Zahara got a letter this morning from the city council, saying that everyone with a gift has to leave."

"They what?"

Araceli's empty hands gesture outward, helpless. "Apparently the council thinks it isn't a coincidence that there's an influx of gifts right when these specters start to attack. They say those with a gift are clearly meant to use it to protect everyone from 'the new threat that looms over us all' or whatever useless phrase they wrote. It's being framed as a patriotic duty to the city, but how are they supposed to be happy about leaving?"

Jasper thinks about the angered voices he had heard inside, Zahara's defeated tone. "Where are they making her go? And why can't she protect the city from inside it? Or on its walls, at least."

Araceli leans back on her arms, face turned up to the cloudy sky. She looks thoughtful.

"You know what I think? They want the chimera gifts as far from everyone else as possible. I think they're getting suspicious of them."

"So they can be used to protect the city, but they can't mingle with everyone else?"

Araceli shrugs again. "That's what the council wants. They've assigned Zahara and five others to stay at Sunset Citadel. The other gift-holders are either at Ciro's Tower in the north, or at Dagger Grove in the south."

So, the receivers of the chimera's gifts will be divided into varying directions, each to keep a lookout for the specters and discover where they originate from, in manned fortresses outside the city. And no one stationed to the east, where the coast itself may be enough protection as long as the city guard remains watchful.

Jasper has so far defied Tai's expectations by not losing the map given to him. He knows that Sunset Citadel lies somewhere to the west of the city, much tinier than the sprawling grandeur of Beledon's capital but still technically within its territories. A castle surrounded by a small town, with a wall circling it all. He doesn't know much else about it.

"Who's going with her?"

"Giada, thankfully. I think that was a relief for Zahara to hear. And Giada's little brother, which I think is ridiculous since he can make a remedy. But people heard 'witch' and wanted him out."

Jasper thinks of Fallon, the gentle gardener. He could not imagine pushing him away.

"The arrogant one from the Kato family, Taihei. And the other two are Kalila Haldar and Lionel Madera. Zahara said they all filed their gift report together last year, which is why they're assigned to the same place now. And apparently volunteers are allowed to go as well, so Dalmar's insisting he'll leave too, to watch over Zahara."

Jasper's mind cannot take this in.

Araceli picks up the bowl, which Jasper had honestly forgotten all about. "I really do appreciate this. Thank you." She musters a smile for him.

Jasper tries to smile back, saying his goodbyes as she goes in to be with her family once more. As the door closes behind her, Jasper is struck by an epiphany.

She'll go too. She'll volunteer.

He doesn't know why he's so sure, but he knows. Araceli will trail after her cousins, and Edeline and Rian will tag along after their own family, and Skander will follow his brother, and so on and so forth, and they will all be shut up and doomed in the abandoned citadel far away from here, meant to deter monsters that no one knows the origins of, protecting a city that no longer finds them comfortable enough to let them stay.

Jasper is no stranger to wanting to escape his home, but it has always been his choice about when to pick up the bell and ring. He cannot imagine being forced to leave.

His thoughts turn somehow back to those butterflies he had seen, dancing through the city.

He hopes they find their way back to wherever they call home.

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Every choice the chimera makes is like a roll of the dice, but it is happy with how things are turning out, nevertheless.

Author's Note: A truly obscene amount of info-dumping as I set up for Part Two. The good news is that Part Two will finally deliver on the "romance" and "slice of life" tags that I've been ignoring so far. Think "slice of life, but in a war fortress".

Writing this story has been such a joy so far (even Tai's scenes), which is something I'm really grateful for because deciding to post on this site was a completely impulsive decision. So for that, thank you!