Nivara felt as if she had just stepped back into Hellgrind. 

Her mind was a sea of fog, of distant memories locked away in endless fleeting moments her consciousness could barely keep up with. The taste of Silvertongue had marred those memories into a blur.

The cloying heat. The endless cold. The continuous change of temperature that repeated endlessly against the cramped, metal prison. Nivara hated small spaces, the clench in her throat at the lack of oxygen and the feeling of constantly being trapped long after she escaped from the foul place.

But what made it worse was the pain. 

It wasn't a dull throb of annoyance but the constant striking of a thousand needles plunging into her skin. She had known the Lockbind was devastating firsthand but the one she had created with Kamikaze seemed like a mild inconvenience compared to now.

At least it gave her a break with every word she tripped up but the stark change of barely being able to take a breath without a jolt of agony searing through her mind was enough to make anyone collapse into madness.

'Shut your mouth and let me help her.'

She could hear the blurred voices of the Timekeeper and Charmer arguing but she could barely bring herself to open her eyes let alone conjure any strength to move. So she stayed frozen as if surrounded by her own Trait, completely overwhelmed by the Lockbind and the darkness of her own mind.

It was completely blank. Devoid of emotion, feeling or thought as if completely numb to it all. It was brisk like the cold winter chill of her ice but around her arms there was no cloak. Her eyes free of her treasured mask for the first time in years. She was alone against the storm she created and there was nothing to save her.

Slowly Nivara made her way out of the void, step by step, inch by inch she trekked alone until she saw a great light. A shining silvery glow that warmed her face and made her want to grasp it. But it was too bright to look directly at and soon it tried to snuff out her entire existence like an exorcist banishing a soul from the mortal plane.

"That's enough."

A voice broke through the light as it forged into a key and fled before surrounding the void in a dull glow of blue. No storm to hold her back. Just a mirror image of a young girl several years younger than she but the glint in her eye was more than enough to confirm her true nature. A demon.

"You've forgotten, Nivara Cross." 

Nivara rubbed her eyes, still without her faithful cloak and mask as she tried to process the situation. Mist rose without her command, surrounding her eerily as her younger self lingered closer and closer, causing Nivara to stumble backwards in shock. This wasn't just any demon.

It was an Ingradia demon. 

Undetectable by Trait the rare but crafty shapeshifters normally lure their targets through mental manipulation and gradually infect their souls. But they hadn't been seen in years since the Divide locked them out of travelling down from Hellgrind. 

Compared to Truants, they were barely human and normally took the form of various creatures within the countries they dwelled in. Such as a fire breathing nymph dragon or a scale covered Havalog demon. But this demon, this demon was human and that was terrifying. It meant they were strong enough to take a corporeal form. Her form.

The other Nivara was like a mirror image of her younger self. A wanderer bound in torn scraps of clothing, gripping a bloodied staff splintered and covered in sand. The swaths of blue cloth were woven together with azure flax, the flower of Caldor and a scrap had been collected from every Mist Maiden she had turned to dust.

Despite her age, her eyes were clouded in vengeance and anger, a broiling storm above the dark blue hood covering her hacked short hair. She remembered every life she had taken in a personal vendetta. Every name was stitched into the cloak she had woven as a large trophy against her cause. It was the arrival of a storm and the blur of greys and blues in her cloak that had given her the title: Tempest.

Back then, she had seen more than her fair share of hardships but the reminder of her reflection covered in dirt, blood and Hell's knows what else shocked her. The fact that she had once lived for the sole purpose of survival and murder was unfathomable now but she couldn't deny the truth. No demon could have known the full extent of her past. Not even an Ingradia demon.

"Who are you?" Nivara asked warily, still unsure of the demon's motives. 

She was too young for the first demon war but she knew the sounds the Neridian sirens made when a demon attack was approaching. The roar of the Sea Screamer dragons was unmistakable as everyone either bolted their houses and sealed them with Trait or headed straight to the dragon artillery to fight them off.

"You know perfectly well who I am and the name we share." The girl snapped, as if accused of simply stating a fact. 

Nivara stood warily, eyeing the mist and the young girl as she fiddled with a silver chain around her neck. Attached to the chain was the familiar glint of a blueish grey key. 

Nivara's mouth almost dropped open in disbelief. Taking another glance, she couldn't deny the Storm Key before her despite her initial theory. The look in the young girls eyes had softened at the sight of her mist forming into something more personal. It was becoming a Memory Weave. 

The howling sandstorms and the flurry of blossoms announced the arrival of Fyrebloom and along with it another demon horde. The season never went a single day without a demon attack and the ashes of their comrades to clear away. There was no time to mourn the dead and those who tried were normally killed in the process. 

Only dragons performed a vigil for their lost comrades at the end of the last sundown of Fyrebloom. Nothing could be done in ceremony if the ashes of the Traited were tainted or no longer present but still they mourned alongside them. It was considered a luxury to have the flames remember the last generation and bring hope to the next. Nivara never received that honour. She never got to say goodbye to her family.

"But it seems Oblivion has changed you more than I first realised." 

The daggers in the young girls' voice alluded to far more than Nivara expected and the vague mention of the white grimoire made everything even more conflicting. The thought of Oblivion made her stomach churn with uncertainty but the fading, spectre like child was more worrying as she'd never seen anything like it.

"Oblivion...you mean-"

The demon scoffed, rolling their eyes and folded their arms before providing the seemingly obvious answer.

"Yes, the white grimoire. The Surazal curse. Lockbind. All of it just for some idiotic secret that tore our world apart."

Nivara fought the urge to wince at the angry tone, just as frustrated as she had been during the Terratwist. But this was beyond simple annoyance. It was like Tempest had been personally wronged by the white grimoire itself. Like it had created all of this imbalance in favour of its own greed.

It was as destructive as the name suggested and ended up striking hope and fear like the laser precision Light Traited it was known to emerge with. But the thought of the chained grimoire surrounding Lady Aria's ethereal state didn't exactly inspire any hope. 

The ominous wisps of the Soulless sent shivers down her spine, wary of the repercussions of such a rare grimoire. It was rumoured to collect and cleanse the souls of the dead but with a name like Oblivion and the sight of those creatures it didn't seem likely it could do that any time soon. Not without its owner.

"Yet here you are attempting to change fate without knowing the consequences. At least the Gamekeeper had more tact than you."

Nivara was visibly stunned that they would mention such a vital secret so casually. The Gamekeeper was part of the Seven Scripts and the remnants of it were snuffed out by the sands of time. But the snide hints were too obvious to ignore.

What the girl was suggesting after taunting her goal was that she wasn't the only one trying to tempt fate. That the Gamekeeper had tried before her and perhaps even Aria's current state was due to her meddling where she didn't belong. 

"How do you know about the other Keepers? I don't...I don't understand."

Nivara winced as another vision came into view. Calling the potential demon a younger version of herself was not helping the trip down memory lane. If she was indeed experiencing some kind of concussion or mental trauma that was currently being created by a soul demon then the least she could do was associate them with a name.

She didn't want to use her own nickname as Kaldra was partial to it and calling an alleged demon 'Ness' would be too confusing. Right now, she couldn't bring herself to use the original name her parents gave her after she shamefully tainted it by becoming a Mist Maiden.

But the demon was having none of it.

"I'm you. Long before you bound your Trait to that false mist grimoire of yours. Long before you became Regent and forgot your own purpose. Long before you let that Throneholder of yours erase everything with her grimoire. You've forgotten all of it!" 

Nivara clenched her fists and struggled to rein in her anger, feeling powerless without the use of her Trait. Despite her revenge, she had still joined a cult of murderers and willingly agreed to serve them. That could not be forgiven so easily. 

But she could use another part of her past without regret. The girl had obviously chosen that form in an attempt to guilt trip her about her past but Nivara had accepted that part of her a long time ago. If they wanted to make her hurt they should've chosen something a little more...recent.

 After all, she had played the part of a loyal acolite turned assassin for years, how was a Regent any different? But still, she needed to know more about the girl...no Tempest's intentions. Feigning ignorance would just have to do.

"But Aria isn't...she isn't-"

Nivara felt her face go hot with tears after being yelled at by a literal child. Her hands were shaking, her voice trembling but no matter what she tried the ice in her veins wouldn't come. It was a perfect replica of someone who was at their wits end. 

Tempest smiled. 

Nivara resisted the urge to grin right back.

The storm loomed above with a vengeance but it didn't belong to her. She had not been the one to quell the mist and that made the frustration in her chest burn all the more and made the performance all the more convincing.

"Ah. You know how much a name costs, Mist Maiden. Least of all here. That's why you were chosen after all. Looks like you kept your mouth shut a little too well, didn't you?" Tempest continued to mock relentlessly about how much it knew. 

Bit by bit Nivara was processing each hesitation, every confident inflection and addition of where they were and how much of this was going on due to the Lockbind. Despite her inability to use her Trait against Tempest she still had her wits and her resolve. 

"What does it matter if I've forgotten? You know where the other Keeper's are. You know what needs to be done. You've seen it!"

Her adamant plea was cut down by the scoff of derision from Tempest as the storm began to overwhelm the Stormkeeper. The flashes of lightning against the mist warped into the visions she had seen in the Storm Key so many hours ago. 

"I have. I saw you completely lose sight of your goal to save a single child. You were told by the Storm Key to let them die."

Nivara hissed at the sight of a red sigil enveloping both Charmer and Flitter seconds before the Traited grabbed the dragon. The fury and the hurt of betrayal in her eyes broke Nivara more than she could say. But her face remained emotionless.

Charmer's emotions heightened by the Tarragon caused the Glass Traited to drag her Agar away from Nivara. Before the Regent or Flitter herself could even react the encompassing glass tornado had ripped them away. Trapped in an incomplete Transference.

"No! If I did that then all of my work as Stormkeeper would've been wasted. They would've seen it destroyed and my real Trait would've... " Nivara faltered, purposefully turning her head away as if it was too much for her to bear.

The two Agars merged into the raging form of a destructive beast made from a torrent of wind and glass. The form of a Chimera had surrounded them in coils of Trait, the Transference submerging them in a power of their own making. 

Nivara had to fight just to keep herself from reacting as her apprentice and his dragon rescued her from the wreckage, still bloodied and battered. She knew what was coming.

The mist flickered into a wartorn scene of Traited either fleeing or battling the tornado, the sight of Pocket risking her life to get Nivara and Scout towards the eye of the tornado and in turn, the storm her Trait had created. 

"That was not your decision to make." 

Tempest clicked her fingers, the harsh reminder of her sacrifice to save not only herself but all of Opalis. Nivara had willingly harnessed the storm onto the out of control Transference for all to see. For Scout. For Flitter. For Ripple. For every dragon trapped in an unfair contract. 

The sky cracked open, the Storm Trait managing to free the duo and with it the destruction of Hellgrind. The dark, metallic shards that floated in the sky was nothing compared to the horrors below but it held more fear in their hearts that no out of control Traited ever could. Until Scout dived into the abyss below.

"I promised them. I promised that no one would get hurt because of me. Not again. I won't let it happen again. Not after…" Nivara said, her uncaring mask beginning to slip even without the ability to hide.

Still in shock, the Mist Maiden grabbed the young Svalbardian heir with all her might and onto the rapidly descending Talonslash. Desperate to reach Scout who was now managing to hold Flitter tight as she freefalled and struggled to resize against the tumultuous winds. But there wasn't enough time. There was never enough time. 

With a smile that cut like glass, Flitter bowed her head in thanks and let go. Charmer's screams made her ears bleed as she saw Flittler hit the ground with Scout seconds behind. Pocket's roar of anguish told them all they needed to know. 

"Flitterby made her choice. You are dishonouring her sacrifice by trying to alter her soul's path. That is not your role as the Stormkeeper and you know it." Tempest reminded her coldly.

The Mist Maiden blinked a little too fast. Scout crumpled into the dragon's decaying body, her wings enlarged but horridly warped by the sudden transformation. A wordless shriek was silenced as bone met bone and shattered on impact. Nivara couldn't hold in her anguish anymore. 

She sank to the floor, covering her mouth to stop herself from retching and banished the vision with a flick of her wrist. She refused to see any more heartbreak at the hands of The Storm Key. She knew the future. Her Trait had caused it all. It always did.

Flitter would die. Scout would never walk again. Chimera would win. Opalis would fall. It would be all her fault. She had got distracted by the ploy to take her Regency. She wouldn't let that happen a second time. 

"Then whose decision is it if only I can predict the future? The Soulkeeper hasn't done their job for decades. Souls path or not I will not let an innocent dragon die. Not again." Nivara said, brushing the tears away from her face before she stood up to face it once again.

The flashes of her own memories intertwined with the mist as she willingly stepped forward to greet it. Brushing her hand against it, the storm rumbled in reply as the cold, brick walls of the Watchtower came into view. 

Resting her head against it as if to feel the pelting rain and howling winds against her face again it dissipated for a moment before reappearing a few seconds later. Nivara knew the sound of her own sobbing, she knew the feeling of rain drenching her skin. She knew this memory almost as much as she knew herself. 

"Don't cry, Nessy."

Nivara's eyes met his against the crumbling walls of arkalite, amber and true. The dragon wasn't scared or lonely. He was almost melancholic, as if ready to greet an old friend he had waited so long to see again. Nivara almost couldn't tell he was fading away, his scales as dark as the ash falling away from his wings like snow. 

Nivara tangled the mist between her fingers, desperate to rest her hand against his head one last time. But he was gone. Fading into the night, just like his namesake. With a mournful sigh, she let him go a second time.

"Empathy. Still it drives the Keepers of Trait despite my warnings. When will you learn? First Odiphilis and now you." 

Nivara spun round, irritated at Tempest's dry interruption toward such a precious memory. She was furious, burning deep within her chest as another dragon, a female came into view. One she didn't completely know but somehow recognised. A Scale Shrieker.

"So? She probably has more sense than you. You may see me as weak but I am still the Stormkeeper. Even if the Lockbind kills me I won't...I can't-I can't lose another apprentice!"

The mist blazed emerald as a pair of blank eyes stared at her hauntingly before disappearing. Nivara shuddered, trying to occupy her Trait by thinking of less troubling memories and visions. The comforting smile of an elder silver dragon was directed towards a mute and severely impaired elf.  

"I won't let them die!"

The mist morphed into a Svalbardian lowering their weapon to prove their loyalty only for a deadly lightning bolt to veer past her face along with the trident shaped weapon she knew too well. Kamikaze was in full armour, determined to finish the job she had started within the Opalace.

"Prove it."

Tempest clapped her hands together once, dissipating the storm in an instant. The familiar feeling of ice flooded through Nivara's veins as her Storm Trait returned in full force. But what stunned her more than the crackling of blue electricity against her fingertips was the expression on Tempest's face. 

"What? Prove it to myself?"

Nivara couldn't help but laugh at the smiling demon. It was a genuine expression of happiness and the look in her eyes proved she was more than just a simple trickster or even, a forgotten memory.

"Yes. Prove to me that you deserve to stay alive and finish what you started. Prove to the Storm Key that you deserve to use its power. You want to decide the outcome of the future then so be it."

"But...how?" Nivara asked, still unconvinced by the idea that Tempest had such power to do so.

The demon only smirked, the answer obvious only to them. 

"We're in your mind, after all. What better way to study your mindset, your grimoire, your forgotten past than to relive those choices you made?" Tempest suggested, as it was nothing more than a simple agreement between friends.

But it was far more than that. It was about her pride.

Nivara bit her lip, unsure of what Tempest the assumed Ingradia demon was planning. But the dread of having to relive her parents death sent more chills down her spine than a Lockbind ever could. 

Despite her fear, she couldn't help but glance at the Storm Key around Tempest's neck. It was mostly hidden by the layered cloak but she knew the underlying power hidden within it. It was unmistakable.

Her irrational brain was telling her to remain in the darkness and ignore this obvious ruse but the niggling part in her brain was curious. She couldn't get the thought of it being a test out of her mind. 

Perhaps it was all the jumping through hoops she had to do just to get the other Excelliars trust or maybe it was holding onto her pride not only as the last Storm Traited but the current Regent of Opalis. Either way, it didn't matter. This was a test she couldn't refuse. 

"But what about Charmer and-"

Tempest shook her head at the Mist Maiden's concerns and reiterated her deal.

"Don't worry. You'll have your chance to greet your Master again. She'll provide you with the time you need but not for long. Once the Lockbind returns you will relive your memories. All of them. That will be your proof."

Nivara sighed, recognised the conviction in Tempest's voice as well as her own. It was just as strong. Just as convincing. Just as powerful. Just as reassuring. And that's what scared her the most. Clenching her shaking hands together to hide her insecurity she took a deep breath and made her decision. 

"Very well. This better not be a trick, demon."

Tempest smiled as Nivara offered her hand, a suspected demon and an ex assassin shook hands in tentative agreement. 

"Call me Tempest." The demon said at last with a winning smile.

Nivara's bemused expression was completely stunted as a final wave of Trait slammed into her. She stumbled backwards into the darkness and into a conclusive, dizzying memory and away from Tempest's gangly frame. 

She couldn't help but heave at the sight of the strewn bodies clogging up the narrow entrance way of Hellgrind. She was back in her armour, cobalt and stained blindingly white that felt forced against her arms but she pressed on regardless. 

Artfully avoiding the dismembered limbs and disfigured faces she sunk through the gap like sand in a bottle and remained motionless in a sea of activity. She was invisible to them all. Lost in a moment of time that only she could turn forwards and backwards. 

This was the very first time she had been in her own Memory Weave instead of on the outside looking in. It was daunting, feeling more and more trapped without anyone to see you there. Nivara couldn't help but pause at the hundreds of soldiers attempting to breach the intricate maze. 

The blaze of gold from the flash of armour and lightning proved that the reckless Tarragons were here. They continued to fight hard while the interchanging walls were being systematically taken down and reassembled by the warden of Hellgrind. 

Nivara took in a shaky breath as she passed through the barricade of soldiers from all countries and creeds. The cunning and dangerous Undercity thugs were a collective mess of Tinker Moles, Traited and dragons as they bombarded the Detector bots with explosives and any matter of deadly tricks to pry open and steal what they could. 

Neridia remained at the rear of the group providing Nightspell runes of healing and support while Sunspell archers shot beam after beam to pierce the attacking force and the entrance way. But the looming dread lingering over the prolonged silence only made Nivara shiver all the more. 

She knew what was coming. 

The tight formation of the Tarragons, Undercity and Neridians collapsed under the sheer pressure of the rising shadows from the advancing Traited. One from behind her and the other in front of her as if preparing for a standoff. 

Nivara could barely watch as the corpses that were used to partially block the entrance rose to attention. They were forced to return from the dead with sunken eyes and without Trait with grey hued complexions craving the life they had lost. They were more than Truants. They were Overtaken.

She couldn't help but dive out of the way as the group of Overtaken unhinged their jaws and shot a torrent of various Traits. They all passed through her but they caught the group unaware and tore into them like demons. 

Nivara struggled to her feet, the lone Excelliar warden still obscured by the smoke of the attack. It was only until a faint shimmer of scales betrayed the tale tale colour of a golden dragon did she realise who was truly in control here. The warden of Hellgrind was never a Traited. 

She stormed towards the duo, fury lacing her veins as she longed to be corporeal again just to be able to strike down that insipid dragon with her Trait. Nivara knew there had been something wrong with the prison and how it worked but her report to Ethros had never suggested anything out of the ordinary. Until now. 

The dragon perched regally on her partner's shoulder, her puppeteer silently commanding his forces to attack. The young man she now knew was called Sleek remained glassy eyed and completely unaware. But Sashio continued to relay her choices like she was orchestrating a performance instead of a massacre of his own kind. She was the true  Gamekeeper.

Nivara's stomach lurched, causing her to slump to the floor, sickened by the sight of an innocent but unknown necromancer using their power to force those to return from death. It was a Forced Resurrection and it was wrong. Sleek had no idea he was doing any of it.

He was oblivious to his dragon's betrayal, muttering 'Lady Aria' over and over again until finally the army she had continuously fought beside had become nothing more than ashes. Just as he had predicted until time was reset again. 

Steading her breathing, she tried to block out the sounds of war reemerging as the same soldiers arrived in a different order.  The Neridians commanded the front, now pompous and insulting. The Undercity thugs lined the main forces in the middle and were 'expendable' while sandwiched in the middle. 

The Tarragons lurked at the back, desperate to fight their own rag tag alliance instead of those in front of them. All of them unaware of the truth behind the Lazarus Maze of Hellgrind. Nivara's breathing became unsteady as she desperately tried to convince herself to move away from the confined, metal walls but it was no use. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Who are you?"

She heard a voice ask, a familiar awestruck tone like it was a child marvelling over a shiny new toy. Nivara couldn't help but reply, her voice unable to reach anyone against the cacophony of sounds. Her eyes clenched tight, her body limp despite trying to move but it was as if she was surrounded by endless fire. 

"Nivara! Nessy, please wake up!" 

Nivara groaned loudly, blinking a few times to clear her hazy vision. She felt like she had run through an angry herd of Knuckle Burst dragons. Not that she hadn't done when she was younger. Her bones ached as she struggled to get up from the dusty floor but a series of coils had surrounded her in a helix of numbers and symbols she barely recognised.

Nivara instinctively reached up to brush her hair away from her face only to feel the smooth surface of her mask over her face again. She sighed in relief, resting her head back and barely registering the conversation between the two others.

"The name's Isis, like the sun city in my home country, not the cold sparkly stuff that melts into water. That's ice. Don't mix the two up and we'll get along fine."

Nivara couldn't help but snort, remembering the very same spheal she had given her so many years ago. She hadn't changed a bit.

"No wonder you set me on fire the first time we met, Master." She said raspily, barely able to reply without coughing. 

Immediately she was greeted with a mop of ginger hair and a relieved smile. Her Trait was obviously going full force in a halo of orange light surrounding her body in all directions. No matter how many times she witnessed it the Trait of the Timekeeper was truly amazing.

"You're named after a city?" A familiar voice said, struggling to stifle a laugh. 

Nivara sucked in a breath, the harsh reminder of ridiculing the hot headed Fire Traited almost always ending badly.

"No. I'm named after my ancestor who harnessed the sun and founded the city, not some plaque on a wall, Charmergeddeon." Isis said, her Nocturus accent becoming more blunt and no nonsense. 

"That's not-" Charmer began, furious at the sudden nickname. 

"I know it's not."

Isis told the young Svalbardian, smiling sympathetically only to stun Charmer into silence for several minutes. Nivara grinned, grateful for the lack of snark for a while. Despite the uncomfortable position she was in she tried to make conversation with her old friend and mentor.

"What are you doing here anyways, Master? I thought you were still a Specialist in the Undercity?"

The red haired woman gave her a wry smile as if it said 'we'll talk later.' Nivara could tell by the way the Fire Traited looked at Flitter proved why she wouldn't say much about it. 

"Isn't it obvious? I'm a struggling Timekeeper trying to help a friend and keep this place intact. Unfortunately for Nivara, I'm the one who has to save your sorry arse from dying. With Charmer's help, of course."

Specialists were rare, exclusive Traited who worked their own hours and were freelance disaster response teams and healers. But they weren't exactly...liked in Opalis as they worked above the law given by the Throneholder. Unfortunately, blabbing that in front of a dragon who could pry confidential details out of any Traited she talked to wasn't exactly in the cards right now. 

"Wait, what?" Charmer replied incredulously, shifting her feet nervously.

Isis seemed too preoccupied with steadily healing her as Nivara couldn't help but notice how tired she was. A Timekeeper's job was to artfully Unravel the mysteries and curses that plagued the Traited since the times of the demons. 

Her burgundy Everchange cloak was draped around Nivara's legs as she Wound her Trait forwards and backwards to prevent the pain of the Lockbind from spreading. Only a Keeper of Trait could stop the Lockbind's path but not for very long.

"Don't play dumb with me. I'm a healer not an idiot. I know a dormant Dual Traited when I see it. I have no doubt my apprentice called you out on it a few times so quit whining and help me!"

Nivara could feel the returning Lockbind begin to resurface and stifled a breath, noting how Isis had already tied up her hair. She only ever did that when she was stressed and considering the lack of armour she normally wore when working it must've been hindering her work. 

Much like Trait weapons, Trait armour could be summoned and stored away within the same parameters as the grimoire and reappear depending on the Traited mental and personal link. Self doubt or any mental blocks whatsoever took years to work through. Strength didn't matter to grimoires. Only self mentality. 

"But fire...fire can't heal. That's one of the first things we're taught in-" Charmer sputtered, completely stumped by her own knowledge.

Isis simply interrupted with her signature glare.

"First rule of being a Traited, kid. Don't settle for being taught by someone else's rules. Learn on your own Traits terms."

For the first time in a long time Charmer didn't have anything to retort. Normally she would let her anger overwhelm her but Nivara couldn't help but be surprised as Charmer put her anger aside and asked how she could help.

"What about the mist?"

Nivara noticed her smile but Nivara's expression became strained as she felt her legs begin to hurt with the needle feeling once again. The Timekeeper's Trait worked immediately as it maneuvered its way to stabilise Nivara and in turn her Trait.

"I take it your partner can handle it?" Isis asked the young Glass Traited, smiling slyly.

Flitter however was unamused. She growled angrily, barely visible against the mist but tightly wound around her partner's leg. 

"I'm right here you know and I have a name, Specialist."

Her scales bristled, her claws unsheathed in indignation as she longed to spread her wings and speed towards any who dared to ignore her.

But despite the pain she was feeling, Nivara couldn't help but grin wickedly at the sight of Isis pausing her work to address the situation. As if she was a suitor courting a fine lady, Isis dropped into a courtious bow with enough sass to make a Sand Wraith blush.

 Before she could even begin her eloquent speech Nivara was already cackling with laughter but the Lockbind immediately made her wince. But she couldn't help but reminice at the old days when she and Isis caused michief and snark when things were simpler during their teens. 

"My apologies, Lady Flitterby. I didn't think you had your claws out this evening. I'm grateful to see they are still intact despite your earlier behaviour during the Terratwist?"

Nivara snickered quietly as a loud harrumph echoed around the Trait covered room. Flitter had began circling her prey as if ready to pounce on any victim that dared to anger a dragon allied with the proud, noble house of Svalbard. But Isis was undeterred.

"Perhaps you can use them to settle your little dispute with Charmer here or take your frustrations on my dear Stormkeeper's Trait? If that isn't too much for you, being injured an' all." Isis finished in a strong Nocturian drawl, winking cheekily at the Mist Maiden as she did so. 

"Fine. But not because you said so."

Before Nivara could even muster a 'thank you' the Fleetfoot dragon sped off in a huff, causing a large amount of sawdust to billow in the air. Charmer's reaction was a mix of awe and anger that someone had talked to a dragon that way and managed to live but the fact it was her dragon? Very conflicting.

Isis couldn't help but chuckle, whistling loudly as a rush of flame and feathers immediately perched neatly on her shoulder. He was a magnificent sight, a myriad of scarlet and amber feathers with tips of yellow and black to match its beak. But most importantly, every detail was made from Trait.

Despite his initial fierceness, he began to brush against his Master's neck comfortingly, preening his feathers expectantly waiting for the attention he justly deserved. 

"Now, now Benny. Behave. I need you to look after Flitter while I work. She's angry enough as it is so make sure she doesn't overexert herself. We don't want this time to go to waste, do we?" Isis cooed, gently stroking his head as he leaned in closer for inspection.

Nivara yelped, struggling to hide her pain but still mesmerised by her Master's Creatist Trait. It was a fully tangible, legendary creature seen only in books from long ago. But there he was; living, breathing and listening to Isis as if he was truly alive. 

As Benny flew off to assist Flitter with the gathering mist wall, Isis set to work emptying her pockets from her tattered trousers. A golden stopwatch with a broken clasp, a discoloured chain with a ruby pendant, a rusted lighter embedded with a phoenix motif, a half shredded letter and a half eaten Insta Puff roll.

Popping the slightly charred roll in her mouth she steadily set to work; fiddling and forging these bits and bobs together like a makeshift leg brace until she wound the stopwatch backwards and handed the odd contraption to a completely baffled Charmer. 

"There. That should hold for now. It'll ignite at the end when my Trait is almost up. If I don't wake up by the time the stopwatch explodes you need to find Benny and get out. But first, I need you to do something very important for me."

"What?" Charmer said, sounding far less hostile and more terrified that she was holding a potentially exploding object than anything Isis just explained.

"I need you to distract me. Tell me a story, anything otherwise I can't concentrate. Even if it's about something stupid like a Trollian getting stuck in a toaster. It just needs to be long enough and loud enough that I don't start drifting, OK?" She reiterated hurriedly, combining various intertwining rings together while doing so.

"Drifting?" 

"Yep. Being a Timekeeper means you see a lot of stuff at once instead of concentrating on what's in front of you. Right now, I'm keeping Benny alive and this place afloat while healing your Regent over here so things are gonna get tangled quick."

Nivara had only heard about it in passing but being the Timekeeper, Isis could only interfere when necessary to prevent the past or future from collapsing in on itself. It seemed that this was one of those times. 

The Storm Traited went red, turning away from the obviously annoyed Charmer at Isis' 'Regent' comment but at the sound of Charmer's sigh she glanced over to see her mentally prepare herself. 

Nivara knew how powerful her Master's Trait was but to multitask so many tasks at once was beyond any normal Traited could comprehend. Charmer's face was a picture of envy but surprisingly she held her tongue.

"Why can't they do it?" 

It wasn't said with malice or indignation but Charmer was genuinely scared, gesturing wildly to the duo currently performing aerial acrobatics just to keep the mist at bay. Nivara couldn't help but feel guilty but the staggered breathing was more than enough of a punishment. 

Isis smiled at Charmer despite the Mist Maiden hissing suddenly as her scalding Trait accidentally brushed against her skin. Both Keepers Traits were getting impatient, causing the once chilly room to steadily become hotter and hotter.

"You know why. They both need to be there to keep the mist at bay. Normally I have my Oathed with me yapping along but they aren't here right now. I need you, Charmer."

"I don't know-"

"You need to be my Anchor, OK? You need to make sure I respond to what you say no matter what. You Svalbardians are good at that, right?"

With those words, Nivara could tell a large weight had been lifted off of Charmer's chest. She stood straight and proud like she had done entering the arena but there was no ounce of arrogance in her posture. It was like Isis knew exactly what to say at the right moment to get people on board. She truly was the Principle of Trust.

"OK. You ready, Ness? I won't go easy on you, you know that. Memory Weave aside you just unlocked the biggest Lockbind I've ever seen and multitasking has never been my strong point."

Nivara couldn't help but laugh, wincing at the sound of her wheezy chuckle and the stab of pain that followed. The Lockbind was returning with a vengeance.

"I know. You never have, even when we fought together in that bloody, boiling sea in Cerucian."

"The Vulcanoirs never forgave us for that one. Neither did the Captain. She strung us up for a week with her Trait." Isis reminisced, laughing along with her. 

Nivara could only smile, lying back against the sawdust ridden floor tiredly.

"Yeah. That's when you nicknamed me Ness, after that damn legend. Said we'd find it just to prove those elves wrong. Remember?"

Her voice was barely a whisper but the Lockbind was steadily taking its toll on her Trait and energy. The conversation was a much needed distraction but she could feel her eyes longing to droop until the stabbing pain in her legs returning made her want to clench them tightly just to stop the pain.

"Shhh, now. You'll need all your strength for this. We'll get back at them for what they did to you and your family. I promised you that much."

"Alright, Master. I'll try." Nivara said, wincing at the reminder of her past. 

The mist swirled into a hazy memory of the very tempestuous cloak she had worn when she was younger only for it to drift away in the wind and time spun backwards. To a time bound in chains and surrounded by endless water but unable to harness her full potential thanks to the cursed power embedded within her handcuffs. 

Her fellow brethren followed in step like a funeral march, tortured and imprisoned for years despite their varying ages. Nivara herself was still in mourning, dead eyed and listless without the hope of her grimoire to save her. Little did she know that a year later she would embark on a journey of revenge of an entirely different kind. But now was not the time to dwell on what was. The Lockbind had returned and with it a test of Trait would begin.

"You ready with that story, Charmer?" 

Isis' strangely soothing voice interrupted her sombre thoughts but it was Charmer's anxiety that was almost palpable in the humid air.

 "Yes. I think so. Flitter, is that OK with you?"

Nivara smiled at the change in Charmer's attitude towards her partner, groaning as another wave of needle-like spasms made her sweat and shake in terror. Flitter's voice broke through the haze of nausea like a cool wave of calmness as she paused for barely a moment to reply to her fretting Agar.

"Don't you worry, Charmie. The overgrown chicken and I have this. You focus on that storytelling of yours. I love stories." She said, surprisingly cheerful despite the phoenix's caws of protest. 

Nivara could almost picture the Timekeeper rolling her eyes in response but she stayed silent, focusing on breath after shaky breath. She knew for certain that Hellgrind would be ready to greet her once more and this time Isis would not be able to save her. After all, this was her choice to prove her worth. No one could deny her of that. Not anymore. 

With a final deep breath, the Stormkeeper of Caldor succumbed to the pain and whispered a challenge to the mysterious being who dared to doubt her.

"Ready when you are, Tempest."