Whatever Nivara was expecting from her old friend, it certainly wasn't that.

Wrenching her arm away in surprise, Hornet rubbed at her metal arm as if hurt by Nivara's sudden recoil. Betrayed by her own actions, Nivara turned her head in embarrassment and tried to steady her racing heart, still afraid of what she had seen in that forest. Not many people could forget an encounter with a dragon.

"But he's dead! His partner, I mean she's-"

Hornet slammed her fist onto the table, the steel causing the old table to flake off into splinters. Nivara couldn't help but flinch, the surprising strength of her prosthetic despite its look almost made her reach for her daggers hidden in her cloak.

Her friend's hardened expression was more than enough to confirm that her years-long grudge had been festering since the ambush in Willowridge. Nivara herself had been the one to instigate heading over there again and now, Hornet sat in front of her, a war torn survivor of her clan's negligence. 

"He was there the night of my patrol just as you said he would be. Mesmer went after him, flamin' sword an' all. She completely forgot about her own damn mission and left me to keep that idiot Tinker Mole alive."

The mission had seemed simple on the surface. Escorting a high client homeward bound to the Undercity while surveilling the area for any activity. Just to be safe, they had organised to meet with the rest of the squadron at the second half nearest the rendezvous point. But they never even made it halfway.

All Nivara knew about that client at the time was that he was a Tinker Mole. Eventually more information had come to light with her insistent digging but it was only recently she found out why Gizmo Gearloose was so important to the Excelliars. Arkalite.

"Mesmer left me for dead, cut off my arm and when I tried to flee she trapped me in a ditch. That damn dragon set the entire forest on fire and Mesmer used it to bury me and any other traces of evidence." Hornet said, picking up the large flask and angrily poured herself a drink.

The fury within her eyes was unrecognisable and to see how much it had changed her friend made Nivara look away out of guilt. She should've fought harder to be put on the mission with her second instead of being stuck doing the standard punishment drills.

Once Lady Aria had confirmed it as a genuine threat, Regent Mesmer had taken command of the mission herself, left Nivara in the lurch without any credit for the find and had assigned Hornet as her squire instead. Perhaps her Regent had been still annoyed that a Caldorian apprentice had made her look like a fool in front of her superior officer but technically, Hornet had done most of the work. That didn't mean she deserved what happened to her.

"That crazy Fire Traited turned the small camp into a wildfire all because she wanted more damn land. The only reason Gearloose was even there was to administer it legally not get caught in the crossfire."

Gizmo was expert in distributing minerals and more importantly for rebuilding the Opalace. More likely, a black market dealer than any esteemed businessman but she had never known why Lady Aria had agreed to let him in. He was well known in the Undercity but had spent his last few trade offs in the services of the Land Above as the natives called it through some kind of miracle. 

Whatever the reason, Nivara had been wary of a Tinker Mole with a Craft within her vicinity but no one would listen to a lowly apprentice.

"It was a damn setup, Nivara. Mesmer got all the glory just because she was stronger than me."

Nivara's hands shook in anger, balling her fists to hide her frustration and closed her eyes to stop her emotion from overflowing. She had held a midnight vigil alone after a very brief funeral, the tradition newly abandoned by not only the other apprentices but Lady Aria herself. They didn't care as long as they were the ones who were alive.

"Hornet, I'm so sorry. I went to look for you but then they limited our patrols and…" Nivara said, her voice breaking at the thought of her friend going through so much pain.

Mesmer herself had attended the memorial service but as the hero who tried to save the unlucky Traited on duty with her. She had painted Hornet as an unfortunate accident who was 'just in the wrong place at the wrong time.' Her own Regent had tainted the truth to suit her own needs and Nivara had believed her.

Tears pricked at Nivara's eyes, gathering against the edges of her mask and blurred her vision. Rubbing at her face, she struggled to quell her sadness about the entire situation but Hornet gently rested her hand against her cheek. 

"It's alright, Nessie. I know you did your best. It isn't your fault."

Nivara smiled gratefully, her conscience desperate to try and take her words to heart but she couldn't. All she could think about was how things used to be but here Hornet was, sitting, talking to her like she never left. But they were here now. Together.

Casting her worries aside she let her guard down just a little, dispelling her Trait just enough to help her feel calmer. In a single moment of vulnerability, Hornet took her chance and kissed her.

Nivara's grip loosened on her mask, kissing her back just as much but barely able to keep her mask intact with her Trait. Distracted, she tried to readjust it but Hornet's Trait filled embrace sent electric shivers down her spine. She didn't want it to stop.

Her thoughts drifted to anything but wanting to confirm Hornet having the same feelings for her. She had tried to harden her heart after Hornet's death, trying to ignore how she felt but now...her second had come back to her and she wasn't about to let that go. But Hornet wanted more.

The metal joints from her prosthetic hand prised at the grooves of Nivara's mask, desperate to cleave away her identity for only them to see. The gentle touch of her hand suddenly became cold, hungrily searching for anything to try and peel away her Trait. 

"Hornetta what're you-"

She didn't stop. Her Lightning Trait pricked angrily against her skin, wincing at the thought of being struck directly with it. A flash of anxiety crossed Nivara's mind as instinct kicked in. She broke away with a sharp slap against Hornet's cheek.

The brash Traited began to laugh, a sharp, mocking cackle as if her feelings were nothing more than a big joke. Nivara's chest tightened at the thought, her eyes red as she reflexively felt for her mask just in case it had fallen.

"You really are something, Nessie. Part of me knew you didn't feel the same way but I just had to try." Hornet said, her metal hand brushing against the red mark on her face.

Nivara could feel the guilt wash over her, eying Hornet as she attempted to reach for her mask again. Jerking away, Nivara stood up immediately and backed away from the table, visibly shaken by her friend's continued behaviour. The humiliation made her want to leave but her feet wouldn't let her.

"It's not...I don't know how I feel and you... I thought I lost you and I spent a long time trying to process that. I threw myself into my work, training my apprentice and...now you're here, Nettie. I..I can't."

Nivara knew she was only kidding herself, her feelings ultimately betrayed by someone she cared for. Part of her wanted to believe there was some glimmer of hope, despite tripping over her words in an attempt to salvage the situation. 

But the niggling feeling that she had to defend herself forced her to stay put even without the trust of her second. There was no doubt Hornet knew she felt the same way and had exploited it but she couldn't help but second guess her own decision to remain incognito.

Nivara had never removed her mask in front of anyone in Opalis before and the sudden jolt of anxiety at the prospect was immediately heightened by Hornet's rash actions. She didn't want her. She just wanted to use her. She wanted to know her secrets. She wanted her to force her out into the open. 

"So I heard, Master Nivara. You're training a Tarragon of all things. They tore my home apart and laughed as they burned my family inside. How could you?" Hornet accused, her expression turned from calm and reserved to cold and calculating.

She clasped her hands together, two incomplete halves of metal and skin meshing as she visibly protested against her own heritage. Granted, Tarragon wasn't exactly Nivara's favourite place in the world but Hornet had been audibly proud of being from two neighbouring countries.

Now she was about as toxic as a Vipereye, her tone so negative it was like she was an entirely different person. Questions spun in Nivara's mind about her Regent, the Tinker Mole client, their connection and more importantly, what they had said to change such an open minded person into a cold hearted cynic.

The sickly feeling towards Mesmer began to grow, Hornet's insipid commentary over the green eyed Tarragons' causing her to question her own loyalties. But she knew that despite the bias, her trust in her apprentice and her abilities still dwindled against the harshness of Hornet's insistence.

"Cricket isn't like that…" Nivara said, more unsure than she intended.

She only vaguely knew her apprentices' past, respecting her privacy as much as possible but she knew she had arrived underground through the Labyrinth. But Hornet's she knew a little more personally.

Her family had tried to live in Tarragon for several years, her mother working a variety of odd jobs as her father signed up for the army. But soon the nature of their homeland came to light and Hornet, born without the green eyed wrath of Tarragon was shunned by her Nocturian mother. The last she heard of her was a letter saying she was heading to Caldor. They never heard from her again.

From then on she was left at home on a regular basis, her father constantly ridiculed for marrying and having a child from Nocturus. Despite becoming a general soon afterwards, her father was immediately demoted and ostracised from the very country he swore to serve. 

"Gizmo was right. I was away for too long and now, Mesmer's gone too far. She changed you. She's turned you into her replacement. A damn Regent." Hornet said, seething as she stood up in indignation.

Nivara could hear the rainstorm slamming against the wooden door, sheets of it pouring down as the skies responded to her outcry for the first time in years. She didn't know whether she was shaking because she was angry, upset or just plain done with this entire conversation.

"No. Mesmer didn't do anything. You're the one who changed, Hornet. You kissed me just to force me into showing my face? I loved you once but...you're not you anymore."

She hated admitting it to herself, the  confirmation twisting itself into her gut but the rumbling storm and clashing lightning couldn't be ignored anymore. Her Trait flickered dangerously, her hands shaking but her head clear. With a thought, she summoned her grimoire.

A flicker of surprise crossed Hornet's features before she smiled evenly, holding her hands up in surrender. Nivara's eyes narrowed, taking a deep breath to analyse the situation she noted what she knew.

Despite her claustrophobia, the thought of fighting a hostile Lightning Traited in the middle of a storm was far worse than being trapped indoors with her ex. Her Trait was far more versatile indoors compared to a bolt of pure lightning being tossed kamikaze like in a tightly bricked castle tower.

Hornet wasn't stupid enough to use her reckless Trait so carelessly, but her Trait weapon could aid her if she had learned how to summon it. But Nivara had no idea what it was or if she could use it. It was a waiting game to see who would strike first.

"Perhaps. But I'm not here to hurt you, Nivara. I didn't even know you were going to be here." Hornet said, seemingly concerned for them having a chance meeting.

She slowly advanced towards Nivara, her hands out in front of her, obviously empty handed as if trying to get the Mist Traited to back down. Keeping her distance, Nivara's eyes went wide as Hornet summoned her grimoire and set it on the table beside her.

The first thing that caught her attention was the grimoire's colour. Once it had beamed bright like the sun but it had darkened into a murky mustard cover coiled tight by completely black pages. She had never seen a grimoire like it.

It was almost as if she could see the swirling shades of sunset it might've had when they were apprentices but whatever had happened over the past two years made it drastically change. It hurt to even think about.

The second thing was the fact that Hornet had left it completely unguarded. She barely even glanced back at it, her eyes fixated on Nivara's indigo grimoire as if longing to convince it of her trust. It was like she had ripped her own heart out and cast it aside just like Hornet's mother had done to her. 

It was more than baffling. It was heartbreaking.

Whether it was a display of power, trust or a strange sense of control there was no doubt it was still a massive risk to discard one of the very things she needed to live. Nivara didn't know whether she was trying to get her on her side and portray herself to be more sympathetic or empathetic towards her situation.

"But once that alchemist boy told me about his little sister, well it wasn't hard to piece things together." Hornet implied, leaning against the back of the wall.

Nivara tried to hide her confusion but eventually she folded her arms and tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. The niggling feeling that Hornet was luring her into a trap made her grip her grimoire a little tighter, keeping her expression calm and subdued.

"What was his name? Ah yes. Creed."

Nivara's heart plummeted, taking a few hasty steps backwards, now inches away from the door. Attempting to use her Trait it latched onto the already rattling handle and pulled. 

Immediately, her mist was extinguished by a searing shock of lightning, the metal handle twisting into a stump of unrecognisable metal. Hornet had trapped the door with her Trait. A door that was now locked from the outside.

"I don't know who you're talking about." Nivara said shakily, barely convincing herself of the lie.

Her hands trembled, still clinging to the wooden door, trying to calm her erratic breathing. Her Trait flickered ominously, unable to form as her mind swam with the fear of being trapped. 

Barely able to keep her grimoire tangible she tried to focus on how she missed that Cricket was Creed's sister. Their surname was the same, had similar features, quirks and even humour but their Traits proved their differences enough to mistake them to be friends rather than siblings. But now Hornet had no doubt of the connection between the three.

"Oh come now, Nessie. You did give him a page out of your grimoire, right? Don't you know that it will always belong to its original owner? Or was it your intention to sabotage his chance at a new life?"

Another jolt of anxiety panged in her chest, the uncertainty of grimoires and the truth behind her words making her hands clench in fear. It was only a page about healing herbs and their uses but when she tried to recall any of the specific names...she couldn't. Not even one.

Whether or not Hornet was lying she didn't know because she only knew the basics about grimoires. But if Creed had held onto a page of her grimoire then he could've been blamed for stealing it or even murder. How could she not have thought of that? How could she have been so careless? She ruined everything.

"You should've seen his face. He'd rather protect a single page of words than his own Agar. His shop destroyed, mentor gone, even his partner close to death yet he hung onto this. To the only piece of you he had left." 

Hornet rolled the crumpled up piece of paper in her hand, tossing it on the table in front of her as it unravelled by itself. Nivara could barely see the hastily scrawled doodles of various herbs but her grimoire hovered forwards curiously like a mother recognising her long lost child. 

The page glowed, her indigo grimoire opening in response almost delighted to reunite a missing part of itself as if it had never left. Nivara's heart was pounding as she watched her grimoire flicker from indigo to cobalt and back again. Hornet remained transfixed on the Mist Maidens grimoire. It had returned to its normal colour but the damage had been done.

A flash of lightning scored across the pinhole windows, catching Nivara's peripheral as the missing page provided her with the last memory of the young Timekeeper. Her eyes blurred with tears at the reminder of her pondering over what to include into detailing each herbs. 

How he had fallen asleep long after the sun went down and how she was his first and last thought every day. Nivara's grimoire floated back towards her morosely, her attention barely able to recognise the dagger clinging between her clasped hands.

 Her treasured weapon clattered to the ground, her grief overwhelming her as she covered her hands over her face. Nivara could barely feel her body slump to the floor, crouching inconsolably against the heavy wood damp with moisture.

"I just wanted to help him. I didn't know one bit of paper would lead to so much trouble. I tried to distance myself from him but…"

Nivara could barely look up from her sorrow, the sound of footsteps hollow in her ears as she looked up to see Hornet resting her metal hand against her shoulder. Her old friend knelt down as if coaxing a young child into a conversation. It was warm, inviting and unknowingly luring Nivara into another close encounter. Until Hornet's expression changed.

"No. You just did what you always do with that ridiculous mask of yours. You get in the way. You aren't a hero. You're a murderer."

Nivara's breath was instantly knocked out of her, Hornet landing a savage kick to her chest. The wood smashed under the force of her weight, coughing as she clung to the stone floor and tried to reach for her discarded dagger. 

Hornet picked up the weapon triumphantly, stalking back towards her grimoire as she peered at her prize while turning it in her hands. She hadn't used an ounce of her Trait, weapons or grimoire. All of it was setup with a few simple words of emotional manipulation. Tarragons weren't the only monsters in this world. But it did help to have them on your side.

"Looks like you don't know her as well as you think you do, Swarm scum."

Nivara closed her eyes in relief as Hornet's greed got the better of her and the blade she had stolen was flung from her grasp. The dagger returned to its owner in a sea of emerald smoke, just as green as its namesake. Bewitcher.

"Oh look. A little cricket has come to play, how charming. What're you gonna do, little apprentice? Sing for me?" Hornet mocked, her unruffled appearance slipping a little out of frustration.

"Leave my Master alone, traitor. I know who you are and what you want. You're here for me, right? Wasn't enough to kill one potential Keeper of Trait, is that it?" Cricket said, visibly distressed as she gripped the emerald bladed dagger tightly.

Nivara’s mouth almost dropped open, visibly stunned by Cricket’s brazen comment about things Nivara had tried so hard to keep hidden. Cricket however remained defensive, her stance low and protective against the blocked off entrance only divided by a flimsy table but Hornet let off a derisive scoff at Cricket's feeble attempts of intimidation.

"How clever of you, little bug. But yes, you are on my to do list despite your questionable allegiances. It's a shame your Master got in the way."

Nivara could feel her Trait spike in anger and heartbreak but she winced as she tried to stand up despite her bruised ribs. Nivara wanted to fight alongside her plucky apprentice but she could barely stand up and the tension between the two Traited was enough of a warning.

"Unlike you, I know who I'm loyal to. Creedy gave up his life to send me here away from your gang. You killed him for it." Cricket said simply, her Haze Trait surrounding her like a shield of fog.

Hornet simply raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

Cricket's jaw clenched, her stance rigid as she fought to rein in her Trait just as much as Nivara did. Her eyes held the same glint of determination that she had, a worrying reminder that Cricket had become just like her. 

"Master gave up everything to try and help my family yet you beat her within an inch of her life for speaking out. I might be next in line to become a Keeper of Trait but by the Seven Hells I'll make sure you'll never be."

Cricket's centre of gravity was crouched lower than Hornet's, her hands open as if ready to repel whatever lightning was thrown at her. Hornet however had her position side on, her weight on her back leg as if goading the more inexperienced fighter to attack. 

"Bring it on, little Bookkeeper."

…………….

The Bolthole wasn't exactly the safest place but it was better than anywhere in Opalis right now.

The Sullied Ship was the finest establishment in this side of the Undercity which wasn't saying something considering the clientele. Dust covered every inch like a blanket of fog, the dwindling flame lamps barely providing any light to see let alone finish a pint. 

Fights were forbidden but frequent as dingy signs hung overhead for inn prices upstairs and more unsavoury establishments to the left of the adjoining building. The only rule that was enforced here was the outright banning of Sand Wraiths. 

Nivara avoided the gaze of thugs and green clad Swarm gang members, her Excelliar sigil hidden by her cloak as she donned a more sombre mask to hide behind. No one would question the burned face of a maskless Mist Maiden, her hair darker and sheared short out of necessity to blend in. Nivara of Opalis was nowhere to be seen tonight. Unless someone here could see through her mist illusion.

Nivara nursed her drink in the shadow of the doorway, surprised to find that most were clad in black like her, still in mourning despite the ill timed festivities. In Opalis they had chosen to celebrate life rather than respect the dead, distracting them from the major loss to their clan. But none more than she would know the truth of that heartbreak.

"Don't see many of your lot down here."

Nivara ignored the snide comment from the bartender, pulling down her damp hood a little further, knocking back the strong alcohol without a word. The Havalog stared at her dumbfounded as if she had willingly drank poison. Not many could stomach the bitter taste and price of Blackwing rum but she had drunk less tasteful concoctions. 

"Another." 

The badger-like bartender simply raised an eyebrow and tossed the small black bottle in her direction, sliding it onto the wood with ease. He was a gruff but aloof patron of the Undercity, unwilling but still working there out of necessity to survive.

Nivara didn't recognise him on her list of targets, the scar on his sole blank staring eye but she couldn't help but stare at his broken tusk. A sign of a challenge that cost him his home. He'd been through the wars just like everyone here.

"Thought all you Traited would be down celebrating the Hellgrind festival? It's tradition, after all since the Divide was created." The bartender asked, still trying to make conversation.

 Nivara suppressed a wince, noting the overly casual tone as if rehearsed many times just in case he said something he shouldn't have. She smiled wanly, noting how many informants on both sides were lurking under alcoves and in crowds but said nothing about it. Mediators weren't exactly subtle with their choice of beverage.

"Don't recall the Bolthole being a gossip den, Havalog. I came for the booze, not the backchat."

Normally that would be enough to scare off any vain Opalian investors but the bartender let out a hearty chuckle. He'd obviously heard it all before but Nivara wasn't in the mood to sympathise with the Undercity way of life. Not anymore.

"Don't recall any Traited being as rude as you either."

She scoffed, taking the dusty bottle and pulled open the cork before pouring herself another drink. Blackwing was made long before the Divide during the demon wars and it cost more than a night in Opalis' noble district but Nivara didn't care.

"You've obviously never met many Traited before." 

The Havalog snorted at the sarcasm, his ivory tusks rattling in amusement as Nivara took another shot. A second glass appeared in front of her, a wordless challenge of companionship along with a small pile of Guilars. He tipped the glass towards her and Nivara served the bartender, noting the gear shaped coins that passed as some kind of crude currency here. Next time, she'd pay with those instead.

"I've met enough to know the difference. Never seen any other Opalian drink like you before either."

"Caldorian." Nivara muttered, not bothering to elaborate.

The Havalog raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised but it was no wonder with the currency she paid with. The green triangular Shians told more stories than she ever could about her homeland. Caldor had a high rate of addiction and gang violence so finding someone who had survived it and escaped from it alive was rare. Finding someone who would admit to living through such an ordeal was almost impossible.

"Well, that explains it then. You sand dwellers drink more than the entire Cerucian Sea." He cackled, taking his second shot of the expensive rum.

Nivara sighed, mildly annoyed that many people thought that the sea was in Caldor not beyond it. After all, holding an entire sea within a desert was ludicrous even for a physics defying Traited like her. But before Nivara could bluntly correct the geography muddled Havalog the door slammed open behind her.

Ducking away from the harsh light, Nivara hissed at the spray of rain from the sodden pair encroaching in the open doorway. Other attendees groaned in protest but the door was hastily shut before anyone could complain outright.

Nivara fought the urge to spare a glance at the duo, knowing full well who they were considering their current numbers and the countless eyes bearing into them. The leader of the Mediators wasn't exactly popular around these parts, considering she had gotten most of them arrested. But the Swarm wasn't stupid enough to attack an entire squad here for early afternoon drinks.

"Ah, the hero of the Burning Wall! How are you, Kalaris?"

Astounded by the sudden small talk Nivara hid a quiet scoff, her attention drawn to a familiar face who wanted nothing more but to blend into the background like a Sand Wraith. Nivara gave him just a hint of a smile before turning back around, starkly noticing just how much he had changed. 

Gone was the brash confidence of his teenage years but his eyes still held the inquisitive nature of someone constantly seeking knowledge no one else could see. He was much taller than his mother but shrank away from the limelight, wary to not upset her and make any sudden movements. If it wasn't for his mother, Nivara wouldn't have recognised him at all. Hawkins was no longer the boy she grew up with. 

Unlike her son, Kalaris revered the attention, her wide brimmed hat hiding her face and intentions as if mocking the very person she stole the prize from. Some claimed it was genuine, the others a rite of passage but Nivara knew it was a replica meant to evoke fear and respect where none could be found. The only reason no one dared confront her was because of her damn Ash Trait.

"Enough of that, Tuskar. That was years ago. How're you both? How's Tira?"

The wry smile on her face gave a false sense of annoyance as Kalaris' posture straightened and she folded her arms confidently before striding towards the bar. Nivara could feel her gaze burn into her, the disgust towards her viceral scar immediately pegging her as a street urchin. 

"Ah you know how she is, working hard on her Enchantments as always. How's your boy, Jerimiah is it?"

Nivara disguised her chuckle as a cough, the audible tension towards the bad rumours about his cursed name broken a little by her laugh. Kalaris however was undeterred, giving a derisive scoff at the mention of her son as if sizing up a particularly bad stain on the back of her shoe. 

"Same old, same old unfortunately. Unlike your daughter, he hasn't sprouted much in the way of aptitude lately."

Tuskar served her the drink she ordered without a word and she tossed the same amount of Guilars onto the counter before downing it in one go. Unflinchingly, Kalaris continued the same routine Nivara herself had gone through minutes before. The difference was that even after years apart, she remembered her son had a name.

"It doesn't matter what his defective Smoke Trait attempts to replicate; it's barely even a passable copy. It's like he's not even trying."  She ranted, vainly tucking the stray wisps of grey hair peeking out behind her ear.

Hawkins pretended not to hear her, but he visibly flinched at her tone, trying to become transfixed on the nearby noticeboard. Nivara clenched her fists, eyeing how he shifted his weight nervously and tugged at his sleeves, hiding a few bruises hidden beneath his coat. Nivara tried to calm herself by breathing in the musty smell of wood and smoke, seconds away from standing up and punching Kalaris in the face.

"Not like his father, then? Well, that might be a good thing…"

The Havalog attempted to reason with her, obviously noticing Hawkins' uncomfortableness but she made a noise that sounded like an angry dragon with a cold. Nivara snatched the half empty bottle and forced herself to busy her hands with the glass, her knuckles white with fury.

Sipping her drink helped quell part of her annoyance towards Kalaris, the typical argument between strength as a measurement for success. It was annoying for people to think so simply about how Traits should be but the burning reminder only got worse.

"I heard what happened a few weeks ago just outside the Watchtower, a sad affair indeed. To lose a Regent so soon in her prime. Mesmer shall be missed." Kalaris said, almost regally as if desperate to recall why exactly they were all there.

But Nivara knew the fake, sickening tone of a seemingly loyal person better than anyone as she couldn't help but compare it to both Hornet, Mesmer and in some ways…herself. 

The pang of regret was soured further by the conversation about the recent funeral and the false sadness in such a vapid woman's voice. She was probably sad because she couldn't gain favour with Lady Aria in time.

"Aye." Tuskar agreed, lowering his voice in an attempt to avoid being heard. "Apparently, Lady Aria has been havin' a tough time coming up with a replacement. Surely you'll be putting your name in for candidacy, Kalaris? After all…"

The grinding squeak of Nivara's chair cut off the last part of the Havalogs conversation, rudely causing Kalaris to give another round of the stink eye. Nivara ignored her discontempt, tossing the bag of Guilars she had stolen from the bartender and headed for the door.

 The entirety of Kalaris' leadership title was a bold faced lie as her courageous attempts to defend the Undercity when Opalis refused to send their troops had all been staged. But Nivara didn't want to hear the rest. She already knew it all.

The Chimeran nobles had allied with the Bolthole gang leaders to gain control over both sides of the conflict by using a false figurehead to unite them. Lady Aria was either so unaware that she had completely ignored the situation or was involved to the point where overseeing the matter was inconsequential to her. 

Either way, Nivara didn't appreciate the start of her third year as a fully fledged Excelliar avoiding the conflict just to favour someone else's greed. The only reason the two had agreed to work together was due to a slavery agreement. The rumours that a few Chimeran nobles had offered up their own children wasn't simply hearsay. 

"Hey, this is too much!" Tuskar exclaimed, holding the bag up in the air as if to try and float it towards her.

"Keep the change."

Nivara waved him aside, brushing past another stumbling crowd of Mediators and stepped out into the drizzling rain. Tapping her pocket lightly, the sound of stolen glasses rattled as she staggered out into the gloom alone.

Her gaze flickered towards the brickwork, its irregular shape concealing a crafty old Sand Wraith from view. Giving him a smirk of approval she headed on her way, her Trait still curious of the lizard man's presence.

"Wait...wait!"

Nivara flinched, reflexively glancing back to see if the call out was for her and quickened her staggering pace just a little just in case the Havalog had insisted he give her change. Or noticed it was actually his money she paid with.

"Lady Nivara, please wait!"

Her heart lurched in fear, struggling to sprint away while tipsy, the cobblestones blurring into one long, rickety pathway. The swathe of indigo mist was sapped away by a sudden arrival of smoky grey Trait, tugging away her illusion like colour on a canvas. 

Her Everchange cloak was now cobalt again, her mask tight with anxiety but Nivara didn't have time to worry about it. She darted through the already restless crowd to avoid the voice chasing her, heading towards the maze of alleyways leading to Axis. 

Too many ex criminals were already aware of her presence so trying to fight them while inebriated wasn't exactly on her list of priorities. Eventually the cluster of grey and emerald thugs and Mediators got mixed into the chaos of the rain slicked cobblestones and darkened entrances before giving up entirely. Except one.

The Smoke Traited Mediator continued to hound her, pausing slightly as if he could track the fine layers of Trait she had no control over. Crouching behind a corner she took out a dagger, daring to lure her Trait and the Mediator in the opposite direction. He paused, glanced and was ambushed by a flurry of fabric attached to a furious Mist Maiden.

"The hell do you think you're on about calling me out in a place like this? What did you think I used an illusion for, a bloody laugh?" 

Nivara savagely pushed him against the wall, her dagger poised against his neck. The Mediator immediately retreated into his shell like an abused dragon but somehow remained a level of professionalism to form a coherent sentence.

"I know you don't know me but I'm a Mediator, a detective of sorts. I was hoping to inquire about…"

Nivara cut him off before he could finish, the rum fuelling the anger in her veins.

"If you're stalking me just because I'm a candidate for the next Regency-"

"No, no! I know about that but… I just, I wanted to know whether you were OK. That's all." He finished lamely, almost backing away like a scared puppy.

His hands were up in surrender, his Trait immediately submissive as Nivara recalled how particular he was with choosing his words especially with an angry Caldorian nipping at his heels. 

Nivara stared at him for a few hazy seconds, his habit of over explaining adding her brain a little before realising how stupidly genuine he was.

"Yeah, right." 

She snorted, sheathing her dagger and walked away, deciding to no longer be part of this conversation.

"I saw you, I mean I saw you disguised in the Sullied Ship and I suppose...I didn't want you to think the worst about yourself and...and what happened." Hawkins said, awkwardly scratching his head as if giving himself something to do.

"Whatever three shots of rum was worth mulling over in there." He added, rubbing his neck where the blade nicked him.

Nivara couldn't help but find the whole situation absolutely hilarious, keeling over with laughter a tad too enthusiastically. The added booze didn't help the euphoria, her head spinning with the lack of equilibrium. 

"Five, actually."

Groaning, the alcohol making her head ache and feel queasy but she pocketed her dagger just in case and paced to try and clear her fuzzy head.

"Here I thought I might get some peace from all the rumours. I guess word travels fast even in that craphole."

The socially awkward Mediator rubbed at his wrists, shuffling his feet as he watched her go through her manic routine.

"I'm sorry about your Regent...and your apprentice. If it makes you feel better I lost my Agar too…" 

He tried to sympathise but his voice faltered, lowering his head away from her gaze as if it physically hurt to talk about. Nivara's sympathy resurfaced for a moment as his reserved demeanour almost made her miss his brash, argumentative nature.

"I appreciate the sentiment but we both know you just wanted to get away from your mother, kid." Nivara retorted, noting how young he looked despite his age.

Hawkins visibly bristled with anger, a glimmer of his old self peeking through his attempts to suppress his emotion. Nivara couldn't help but smile.

"I'm not a kid, I just look young, is all. Anyways, I'm escorting her, not the other way around. Supposed to be going to the alchemist anyways, I keep getting headaches since…"

Nivara drowned out the last of his ramblings, turning away from him as she tried not to show the grief she felt, the reminder of who the alchemist was to her causing a twinge of pain in her chest.

Nivara hated how comfortable she was talking to him, his awkward mannerisms reminding her of Creed every time his eyes mirrored hers. He was hurting just as much as she was but the unfamiliarity of her gaze made him squirm.

She sighed, knowing full well Hawkins had no idea who she was. It was only natural considering her chosen persona and how young they both were but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

"I'm sorry too. About your partner, I mean. I couldn't imagine Sissy…" Nivara began, stopping herself as she remembered her persona and tried to avoid giving herself away.

His reaction was enough to assume he recognised the nickname, the grimace of discontempt vanishing as he insisted she didn't need to sympathise with him. She was a stranger after all and he didn't want to impose.

"No, no. Please. Don't compare yourself to me. I'm not worth it, honestly. I don't remember much about him but...I do know how much I miss him."

Nivara smiled sadly, the awkward silence causing her thoughts to drift towards her apprentices and how she had failed them as their Master. Her eyes brimmed with tears, desperate to clamp down her emotion once again but the fact of their deaths was undeniable.

"My Trait is laughable at best but he always made it a little easier to cope." He added humorlessly, his Smoke Trait trailing along the ground sadly.

Nivara snapped out of her melancholy at the self depreciation, raising an eyebrow at how much his self confidence had been broken. He truly thought he was unimportant, completely inferior even though he was the only Mediator who had the tenacity to track her. Granted, he had caused the problem in the first place but it was how worthless he felt that Nivara couldn't ignore it anymore.

"As any partnership should. I see nothing wrong with having such a unique Trait, after all, you were the only one to see through my illusion." She said matter of factly, eerily reminding herself of Mesmer.

Hawkins' face brightened just a little, as if he could see through her mask and was looking at her for the first time. He was in awe at her explanation of Traits like everything fit into place, his grey smoke now playful and excited like a little child.

"Well, I guess your Trait is similar to mine…" He said, pondering over the minor details in his head.

Without warning, his grimoire appeared in a puff of smoke as he bashfully tried to apologise profusely as if it had summoned in response to her kindness.

"Oh I'm so sorry! It does that sometimes…"

Nivara began to cough, spluttering with laughter as he tried to rein in his Trait and grimoire as some kind of karma. He had joked about her Trait not being under control when she was a kid and now here Hawkins was completely red faced and mortified at his own mishaps. 

With a few well placed commands her mist corralled the unruly Smoke Trait into its grimoire before it disappeared ij a sulk. Chuckling, Nivara decided to lighten the mood by changing the subject before he self combusted in sheer embarrassment. 

"If you don't mind me asking, what was he called, your Agar?"

Hawkins tensed, his body language a lot smaller and closed in as he fiddled with the buttons on his jacket, eyes glued to the floor as he mumbles.

"Colossus. His name was Colossus." 

Nivara smiled kindly, knowing full well that's what the Hammerhead dragon was called. But Hawkins didn't remember or recognise her and saw her as a new face, not the rambunctious child he had tussled with so many years ago.

"I'll be sure to remember that." She promised, nodding solemnly to thank him for his answer.

Glancing up at the sky, she was grateful that it had stopped raining despite the sky remaining grey almost black with how dark it was in the Undercity. But this conversation, despite the unfortunate circumstances of the encounter and the one sided friendship it was nice to catch up and feel a little freer than the buzz the alcohol provided.

"Are you...are you sure you don't need an escort? I'd be happy to-" He offered, noting her fidgeting under the bleak weather.

The Mediator began searching for his badge, fumbling with the large pockets and his notable habit of smoking and hoarding items. He began tucking things underneath his arm, a potted plant, a roll of string and what looked like a few broken crayons. Stifling a laugh she mimicked his insistent hand gesture to convince him otherwise.

"I'll be alright, thank you. I have to head back to Opalis, anyways. You Mediators don't have clearance, unfortunately." She said, almost saddened by the fact she couldn't ask for extra help.

His attitude changed at the brazen reminder, folding his arms confidently as if challenging her comment outright. Nivara couldn't help but grin, almost gleeful at the sight of his personality still shining through despite the harsh beration from his mother. But that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun either.

"Yet." 

She laughed at his mockingly stern expression, her mist picking up his badge from the constant rummaging in his coat and hid it behind her back. Turning around she half tossed him his Mediator badge, his stunned but relieved expression as he struggled to catch it.

"Well, I'll be sure to keep an eye out until you do..." She said, prompting for his name as he had no idea who she was.

Nivara was a half a step away, allowing him to stumble through what he wanted to say. In a flash of pure instinct, his hand was outstretched in greeting for the first time. As small as the gesture seemed, she couldn't help but smile at the step he had already taken to try and battle his anxieties.

"Hawkins. My name's Hawkins."

The Mist Maiden shook his hand, the pang of loss lessening just a little at being reunited with someone who didn't know her. But he would still get to know a part of her. She would remain in the Undercity, watching over them just like she had done for her apprentices and this time she wouldn't let them down.

"Nivara. Nivara Cross."