Rider opened her eyes, the large flash of light from the building opposite waking her from her slumber. 

It took her a second to familiarise herself with the musty, wooden barn she had tucked herself away in. Her neck cracked from resting in the same place for too long, her grimoire lay open within her lap with a waiting message written in a familiar golden hued scrawl. Putting it aside, she stretched her aching limbs and clutched her head in her hands.

“Dammit all to Hellgrind that hurt.”

Rider swore, even as her head spun with everything she had heard from the arguing Regent and Throneholder. It took her brain several moments to adjust from the snippets of conversation her shadows had given her, no longer hidden within the cracks in the wall and beneath the hearth in the main room. The last thing she heard was Skyla’s voice interrupting their argument.

Skyla had orchestrated the protests to overwhelm the Excelliars long enough to redirect them and spent most of her time stealing supplies and hoarding the necessary information to give her regular updates. But she had been strangely silent for most of the night and her fatigue had gotten to her until she nodded off, despite being on a stake out for any fact finding.

“Okay Skyla. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

Slowly but surely, her Shadow Trait returned to her in a winding cord of electrical cable that could reach far more than she ever could. Being holed up in an abandoned hay loft wasn’t ideal, but it was the only unoccupied building opposite Peddler’s Inn that allowed her shadows to infiltrate the safehouse undetected. Well, as undetected as she could be with a volatile Light Traited hot on her tail.

Contrary to popular belief, a grimoire wasn’t simply a battery to keep Traited alive. It was a book, after all. It could be used to write, record, and even communicate to others with the knowledge to do so. Far too many Traited saw the relationship between Traited and grimoire as shield and sword, but it was far from the truth. 

The grimoire wasn’t just an empty vessel. It was the catalyst for everything.

Shifting her weight, Rider thumbed through the pages and sifted through Skyla’s familiar looping script outlined in her electric blue and gold Trait.

 “Oh shit.”

She bolted from her position, her legs collapsing underneath her even as she scrambled to keep herself from falling. Rider hit the floor awkwardly, pain rushing up her back, but she ignored it, cursing her lack of mobility and stubbornly fighting back her fatigue. Catching her breath for a few minutes, she had no choice but to rely on her Trait once again.

“Come on, come on.”

With a growl of exertion she pulled herself upright into a sitting position and tried to settle her racing heart rate. Frustrated, she took a few deep breaths and listened to the sounds of the nightlife. The steadily pelting rainstorm strangely put Rider’s mind at ease, the gentle winds winding their way through the dust ridden streets of the Labyrinth.

“That’s it.”

The dwindling Brinehearth festivities were still alight with the traditional lanterns outside their doors. Where there was light, there was shadow. Ever so gently, her Shadow Trait emerged from its slumber like a shy child daring to crawl out of its hiding space. All of it needed to be treated with the greatest of care and maybe, just maybe, it could take her where she needed to go.

“There we go.”

Flickering embers danced against the rain strewn lantern glass in the slowly dwindling hearth within the rickety Peddler’s Inn. . The moonlight peeked through the cracks in the boarded up safehouse. The shadows shifted nervously under the windowsill, rearing their head at the already decrepit building, but Rider clamped them into place with her hand, gently shushing their temper tantrum and smoothing them back into a suitable platform.

If she wanted to get to Ixis, it had to be now. 

Her hands trembled, rooting around her pockets for the items she needed despite the slightly singed outfit from the ball in Scholar’s Keep. It wasn’t completely out of her comfort zone, but it cost far more than any shady Undercity dealings could provide. But despite the cost, there was something that was far more priceless than any fancy jacket ever could provide. Her favourite hat.

“I know you’re still kickin’ Night. Help me out here. I need you to get me right to Ixis’ room. I know you did it before in Scholar’s Keep. I need you to help me do it again.” She admitted aloud, awkwardly pocketing her grimoire despite its importance.

Her grimoire didn’t respond.

Disheartened, Rider struggled to take hold of such a finicky object, but the grubby lighter and pack of Quicklit cigarettes tumbled out of her pockets even as she desperately tried to provide a little light in the dilapidated barn. The smell of rotting wood almost made her vomit, but it was the best they could do at the time. 

“I’m…I’m not strong enough on my own.”

The embers fizzled out even as smoke trailed from the room. It was too dark to grasp anything more than an unresponsive wall of darkness. She needed a light source to link one room to the next. It was why she and Aria had worked so well. She could summon as much light as she wanted while Rider was restricted by her environment far more than any goody two shoes Throneholder was. Aria made up the difference.

Banging her head against the mould strewn planks, the strands of hay that fell into the peak of her hat almost made her wish she set this place on fire hours ago. Until she took a drag and her tired brain clicked into place. She held up the lighter and watched the wobbly flame cast the amber warmth that reminded her why she was fighting to use such a draining technique.

“Bugger this.”

Rider’s vision snapped back open.

The cacophony of noises coming from every inch of shadow she could cling to made her eyes sting but she pressed on through the migraine, focusing intently on the dancing flame in front of her. The weight of her limbs, the ache in her back, the stabbing pain in her legs. All of it melted away with the weightlessness of shadow. Her eyes went sepia. The black and white haze catching snippets of conversation. 

A parent fighting with her child about daring to join in on the protest despite the risk of getting caught in the crush of people. A crippled old man attempting to nurse an ageing dragon back to sleep despite his own pain. A young dragon newly hatched staying up late to try and comfort the pain of a mother losing her child. All of them had someone. Had each other. Night did not. No matter how Rider tried. 

But she knew, through the connection with her shadows, that she could find the same connection with Ixis and her Oathed.

“I can't believe she just dismissed me after everything I've done! I was injured and all of a sudden I can't do…anything in her eyes!"

It took Rider a second to familiarise herself with the warmly lit room and the voice that matched it. The Peddler’s Inn that was once cramped and wonky with slatted windows, crumbling walls, and collapsing tiles had been hurriedly renovated with a variety of Traits. The cobwebs and caked dust were forced out of the room with conjured gusts and jets of water, while the variety of Earth Traited had set to fortify and refurbish their temporary safehouse. Glorified plasterers.

“I know, I know Ixy. Maybe she’s just worried about you. Besides, look at the nice gift Skyla got you. They’re daybloom flowers from home.”

Each room had been well lit and refurbished with newly moulded furniture, pillows, and finery Rider couldn’t help but gape at. It was more work and more wealth the Undercity had ever clapped eyes on, and it was hidden away in a ramshackle building she had forced the Excelliars to hide in. They had wasted all of their efforts primping some room instead of helping so many injured from Shuriken and beyond just because Aria needed somewhere better than a barn loft to rest her pretty head.

“That’s sweet of her. Maybe…maybe you’re right. Maybe I should get some rest.”

 The rain dripped off her hat and made Rider blink from the cold and wet. She was petering on the edge of the shadow laced windowsill in the same position she had been in the barn. Hunched with her knees drawn up in an attempt to hide within the alcove of the now pristine inn, she glanced at the Timekeeper attempting to doze off with her Oathed wrapped in her embrace. Rider looked away with jealousy and tried to find the right time to enact her plan.

The little details of her room made Rider sick to her stomach, but the familiar scent of burning incense caught her attention, the trailing conversation between the two drawing her eyes to the strangely placed bouquet of flowers at the foot of her bed. Rider smiled knowingly at the gold pestled flowers, the reminder of Ixis calling them dayblooms felt wrong in her mind. They were sorrowbane.

“Hyde? Dra? Are you OK?”

The sudden concern in Ixis’ voice made her breath hitch, the faint outline of a deeply sleeping Sea Screamer confirming Rider’s suspicions tenfold. Skyla had planted those flowers all to give her the opening she needed to chat to the poor, defenceless Timekeeper without fearing her Trait or her dragon. Damn she was good.

"It truly is a shame to know you do have a heart underneath all the Excelliars bullshit."