Vena was hungry, tired, and miserable, but that was nothing. Those things were proof she was still alive. Lieutenant Lloyd wasn’t. And Lloyd wasn’t alive because she had been too weak.
She knew, logically, that she couldn’t save everyone. Sana had told her that countless times. But logic never stopped the feeling that clawed at her chest, the one whispering that if she’d just done more, he’d still be here.
If she had taken Alice up on her offer of a Soulbook… maybe things would have been different. A ranged offensive option could have done wonders in that fight, especially under the pixie dust cover. But no, she had been too proud… too cautious about accepting a five-silver gift from a friend... Too stuck on the idea that greed was unholy.
But was it greed… to want the power to protect others?
She didn’t know.
Maybe she should stop donating her entire cleric stipend to the orphanage and other charities and instead use it to gain more powers. The thought made her stomach twist. She liked helping people. Did she really have to choose where she helped, either through her money or through her strength?
Ahead, Alice was laughing at something Hans said, with Nakera grinning beside them. Vena wanted to ask for advice, but she was still under her vow of silence for two more days. Her voice was off-limits, her thoughts a messy storm she couldn’t quite spill.
Yon fell back from the column to walk beside her, holding out a canteen. “Apple juice,” he said.
She took it with a grateful nod. That man was a gem, always helpful. And despite being full Kindred, he somehow knew all about Holy customs. In another life, he’d make a wonderful husband.
Vena wondered if he was looking for a wife. Maybe she could set him up with one of her friends, Louis? No… she wouldn’t do that to poor Silnar. Sara was still unmarried, and she was twenty-three. Or maybe… Nakera. They looked compatible enough.
The thought must have summoned Nakera, because the stealth specialist suddenly drifted away from Alice and Hans, stepping in between Vena and Yon with a movement that was casual in the way a cat was casual right before pouncing. She glanced up at Yon, eyes narrowed, her hair shifting into a dangerous, pulsing red.
Vena tilted her head, curious. Was this a Kindred courting ritual? Maybe some kind of show of dominance? If so, it was rather impressive, though Yon didn’t seem impressed. He was holding back laughter while slowly backing away, hand raised like she was some kind of guard hound.
She made a mental note to ask Alice what had just happened once her vow of silence ended.
Nakera hated herself for snapping at Yon. It wasn’t his fault. Vena wasn’t hers, and she would never be hers. But every time Nakera saw that soft, unshakable smile, every time she caught the way Vena bowed her head in prayer, her heart betrayed her.
It was always the same. Always the pure Holy girls, the ones with vows and halos, the kind that would bless you for bringing them a cup of tea and never once think about kissing you.
She doubted Yon had a chance either. Vena was the sort of cleric who would stay celibate her whole life, only to die in a blaze of light and glory, committing the final sacrifice to save thousands. And she’d do it smiling. That was the kind of person she was.
Nakera’s hair settled into a duller shade of blond as she forced herself to focus on the road ahead. Maybe she should try her luck elsewhere. Her gaze flicked to Alice, who was laughing with Hans, hair mussed from the wind.
Her gaydar was tingling whenever she talked to the girl, but was Alice even aware of herself? Nakera wasn’t sure.
Not that it mattered. Her heart didn’t want Alice.
It wanted Vena.
And that was the problem.
Lucky for her, she would soon be promoted to sergeant and sent away on a mission. Maybe, with enough distance, she could finally get over this stupid crush.
Yon couldn’t help but laugh at Nakera’s overreactions. Vena might be cute, sure, but he wasn’t nearly dense enough to try asking her out. The girl had made cleric at sixteen, when most people didn’t earn the class until twenty at the earliest. That kind of achievement required dedication to purity and discipline.
If Nakera thought she had a chance, she was delusional.
No, Yon was just trying to be helpful. He owed a lot to the clerics of the Holy. He still remembered when Lady Sharon saved his mother’s life, back when he was ten years old. That was why he had bothered to learn all their customs. And that was why he knew Vena was off-limits.
Plus, she was far too young; seventeen to his twenty-two.
He sighed. He was one of the older people in the group, yet the youngsters were already catching up to him in strength. Katar and Raik were nineteen, Nakera was twenty, and even Kan, at eighteen, had dangerous potential as the daughter of a powerhouse. Sooner or later, she’d overshadow him completely. The Dragon Slayers were the same age as him, but with their teamwork, they could punch far above their weight.
Maybe he should train harder, push closer to his limits. But no, he had responsibilities toward the Misfits. If he left them to their own devices, most of them would be dead within a week.
They were traveling back to Hano at a brisk pace. Hanakudo had flown with Commander Kichi to regroup with Kerissa, while Captain Yoka used her kinetic powers to transport Lloyd’s body home. It wasn’t Yon’s first time losing a comrade, and it wouldn’t be the last. At least it hadn’t been worse; if Alice hadn’t shown up with lord Kitchi, they’d all be dead.
Still, the thought lingered: if he had been at the peak of his physical strength, maybe he could have gambled on an evolution and turned the tide. But he wasn’t there yet.
When they finally arrived in Hano, Yon went straight to the Freelancer Guild to write the mission report, only to remember that Ki’a had been the one in charge of the expedition. That’s when he noticed Calr off to the side, looking apprehensive.
“What’s wrong?” Yon asked.
Alice and Vena noticed him too and joined the conversation.
“Eee… I was with Shingo in the sewer when it happened; otherwise I would have stopped him,” Calr said, voice shaky.
“What… who?” asked Yon.
“Vals,” Calr replied.
“What did he do again?” Yon sighed.
“He’s dead,” Calr answered flatly.
“What?!” Alice gasped, stricken. Vena didn’t react at all; she didn’t like Vals from their first encounter. Yon just felt tired… tired and numb.
“What happened?” asked Alice.
“He went dragon hunting,” Calr explained. “He told Lera it was the only way to pay his gambling debt before the bank…”
“That idiot,” Yon cut in, “did He think anyone could just go and slay a dragon? Even I have trouble killing one.”
The anger was starting to rise. Yon had taken pity on that boy when they first met, had spent time training him so he wouldn’t get himself killed. But the boy was too stupid to survive four days alone.
“I mean, come on, he couldn’t kill a rat alone, why did he decide to jump into a dragon's mouth?” said Yon, his voice shaking with rage.
What a waste of time. Time that could have been spent training someone who might actually live.
No. Time that could have been spent training himself, so next time he wouldn’t need to be saved by Commander Kichi.
“Calr,” Yon said, his voice cold. “Tell Lera and the rest of the Misfits that from now on… you’re on your own.”
He turned and left for his favorite training spot near the river.
Calr sighed, shoulders slumping. He’d known Yon would take Vals’s death badly, but he hadn’t expected him to dismantle the Misfits over it.
He rubbed at the back of his neck, then scratched his messy red hair until it stuck up in worse tufts than before. He didn’t want to be mean, but… There was no way Vals was ever going to make it to twenty. The guy always had terrible judgment, the sort of person who could turn a trip to the market into a life-or-death situation.
Still, it left Calr with a problem. He’d have to find another group to lie low with, especially after recent events. His gaze drifted to Alice, and he sighed again. She was talking with Vena, gesturing animatedly as she explained how she’d teleported on top of a tree to spy on cultists.
Vena didn’t speak, but her hands moved in deliberate gestures, her brows lifting or knitting together in quiet commentary. Probably another vow of silence.
Calr’s eyes narrowed.
What were the chances that Alice was behind the Temple’s newest “discovery”?
He leaned back against a post, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. He activated it; his secret power, the one no one could ever know about.
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In half a second, every memory and scrap of information related to the finding of Saint Sara’s journal flashed through his mind. Details stitched together in perfect clarity, every angle, every spoken word.
“Oh,” he murmured under his breath. “Alice found the journal when testing her teleportation.”
So it had been a chance. She hadn’t been looking for him or trying to expose him.
Bad luck, that.
Lady Sana gently tried to break the news to him about his ancestry, but of course, he already knew. He had eidetic memory and rapid analysis as powers. Using them to investigate himself, all the signs pointed to one thing: he was descended from the Ancient Telepath. He’d read everything on them. Scratch that, he’d probably read every book in Hano, just to be sure.
And by the age of seven, he’d worked out exactly what would happen if anyone found out about his ability.
The Soulscribes would capture him, dissect him, maybe breed him like livestock. The bloodline nobles would feed him to a monster to create a new Dravak.
So he’d decided to never tell anyone, not even his sister.
And now here came Alice, blundering into his life like an avalanche.
What was with that girl? He’d spent a week with her hunting rats, another killing spiders, and she still confused the living shit out of him. She could be sharp as a blade one second and oblivious as a rock the next. Brave enough to throw herself into a fight, yet timid in ways he couldn’t quite map.
What was her secret?
He activated his power again, rewinding every moment they’d shared. The truth slammed into him like a punch to the face.
She had teleported here… from outside the Seven Realms.
Now it all made sense: the strange clothes, the unfamiliar medical knowledge, even the new golden belt jewelry popping up in the nobles’ district. He’d never have guessed it was Alice without his power, but the pattern was too perfect to ignore.
Now… what to do with that? Should he tell her to keep his secret, or would he reveal hers? Get closer to her? Or avoid her like the plague?
Calr groaned and dragged both hands down his face.
All he’d ever wanted was to lie low and not attract attention.
Kan sat alone at the far corner table of the Three Lanterns Tavern, picking at a plate of smoked fish and bread. The place smelled of wood smoke and spilled ale, the low ceiling trapping the heat and noise. The lunch crowd here didn’t bother her; this was the opposite side of Hano from where she’d grown up, so most didn’t know her face. The few who did had long since learned it wasn’t worth messing with her. Being ignored was better than the treatment she got in her childhood, when kids had hurled rocks at her in the alleys, and adults had looked away.
She tore off a piece of bread, dipping it into the thin fish sauce. The tang of vinegar and salt clung to her tongue, but her mind wasn’t on the food. It drifted, instead, to Raik. That kiss, warm, unexpected, unsettling in a way she hated to admit, kept replaying in her head. Trusting an Agame wasn’t smart. It was Donas Agame who’d sold out to the cult, and people still liked to blame her father for it. She’d spent her whole life under that shadow.
And yet… Raik was charming, disarming, and kind. Against her better judgment, she’d started to fall. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she didn’t care.
The tavern door slammed open, the hinges squealing. A gust of cooler air swept in with a wiry man in a patched coat. “Did you hear?” he barked before anyone could tell him to shut it. “Commander Kitchi and his kid brother fought off Todor the Failed Dravak!”
That was all it took; voices rose, and mugs slammed against tables.
“Yon, too! I heard he took on that stone-armadillo thing bare-handed!”
“No, no, it was with a kick!”
“Doesn’t matter, man still cracked the shell clean in two.”
“And the Dragon Slayers! Went head-to-head with Lanfair, and almost had him!”
“Lanfair had them on the ropes, I tell you, but they pulled some move, all death and fire!”
“And Lloyd… brave to the last breath. Held the line, so the others could finish the fight.”
“And Lloyd, poor Lloyd, holding the line in his last moments…”
“Last moments? I heard he stood laughing at death…”
“... While arrows rained down on him!”
“... While fire rained down on him!”
“No, while the Dravak himself…”
The stories tangled into one another, half-shouts and table-banging, details growing wilder with each telling.
“Todor spat black fire!”
“No, you idiot, that’s Lanfair! Todor’s the one with undead powers.”
“No, the one with undead powers is a woman… Todor’s got metal chains. He destroyed my village when I was a kid. I was the only one who survived.”
“I heard Kerissa saved the missing people… gods, that woman is amazing. I wish I got kidnapped just so she could rescue me.”
“I heard the guild’s got a new teleporter… one of General Kiddu’s bastards. A girl with a spear and lightning powers.”
Stories tangled together, everyone speaking over everyone else, the truth long buried under the weight of excitement and ale. Details warped with each voice. They tried to describe Todor, but no one got close to how terrifying he truly was, or how desperate the battle was.
Kan chewed slowly, letting the noise wash over her. Not one voice mentioned her, not how she’d killed a cultist, not how she’d delayed Morr’s fanatic with her chain, not the bruise under her eye, and not how close she’d come to dying.
Maybe that was for the best. Right now, she’d settle for people simply not hating her for her father’s legacy.
She finished her stew, letting the noise of the tavern wash over her like a tide she’d learned long ago not to swim against.
Kerissa’s beauty was a well-known fact in Hano. Some even called her the most beautiful woman in the city, though Kerissa herself wasn’t so sure. She had never met Amara the succubus, but if the rumors about Amara were true, perhaps Kerissa was only the second most beautiful woman in Hano. Still, beauty was hardly her only claim to fame.
She was a captain in the Freelancer Guild. She also carried the blood of Ion the Phoenix, the only known person to reach the absolute peak of Kindred power, and Kindred powers were all about the body, shaping it into something stronger, faster, more perfect. That perfection wasn’t just for battle. It made Kerissa an ideal public face for the Freelancers.
The Freelancers were the lifeblood of Hano, and they needed to be loved by the people they served. Commander Marina understood that better than anyone, which was why she had given Kerissa a role that went beyond fire and spear. Kerissa wasn’t just a fighter; she was a symbol.
You could always find her where the people gathered. Buying fresh fruit at the market, chatting with older women about the latest gossip, leaning in to hear the bards sing their newest songs about her. She would laugh at their exaggerations, toss them a few coins, and moved on, always leaving smiles in her wake.
She made sure people saw her spending gold, supporting merchants, and celebrating small victories with a drink or a meal in public. Kerissa knew exactly what Marina's orders meant, tying the image of a Freelancer to prosperity, safety, and charm. And Kerissa, for her part, wasn’t above using her beauty and wit to keep the peace and strengthen the city’s trust.
Because sometimes, the right smile could do more for stability than the sharpest blade.
She was passing by Taka’s memorial park when she heard a bard singing his latest ballad:
In Hano’s streets the whispers run,
Of Kerissa’s deed beneath the sun,
She spread her wings of crimson flame,
And wrote in the sky her burning name.
With bone-spear sharp and dragon’s flight,
She chased the cult into the night,
Through smoke and ash the wicked fell,
As freedom rang like a temple bell.
With a teleporter friend swift as light,
A bunny girl saved with eyes so bright,
Together broke the altar’s chain,
And freed the souls from cultist bane.
So raise your cups, let voices soar,
For Kerissa’s name forevermore,
Her fire guards the night from harm,
The Phoenix’ child with strength and charm.
People started clapping for the bard. Kerissa clapped too, though her mind was elsewhere. She was a bit concerned about the information source, especially since the guild was trying to suppress any mention of that Alice girl. Maybe the bard had asked one of the freed captives for a scoop. Either way, she made a mental note to pass the bard’s name to Yoka for investigation.
She kept walking, the applause fading behind her, until she caught the sound of muttered chatter near the Freelancer Guild’s south wall. Kerissa’s first thought was that she hoped a mob wasn’t starting to follow her around again; last month’s incident had been enough trouble.
But when she pushed closer, she saw the crowd wasn’t looking at her at all. Their attention was fixed on something in the dim mouth of an alley. She vaulted over the cluster of onlookers to get a better view.
A crucified corpse hung there, marked in dried blood. Carved into his forehead was the Holy glyph for rapist.
She let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fucking Crusader.”
Still, something about the dead man’s face tugged at her memory. She tilted her head, studying him, then it clicked. She had just escorted this man a few days ago. He had been one of the captured cultists. He claimed to be just a wagon driver.
Which meant… the Crusader had broken into the prison and killed one of the guild’s captives.
Another sigh, heavier this time. The disrespect was palpable. Couldn’t he have just sent a note? It wasn’t like Hano was lenient on rapists.
Nina adjusted the last brass fitting on the telescope, the newest in a string of projects she’d been tinkering with on Alice’s behalf. This one was her proudest yet; its design had also transformed her spyglass prototypes, making them at least forty times more effective. With a twist of the cylinder, you could zoom in and out with ease.
The things Alice came up with were insane. Truly the perfect Muse.
She should be home soon, Nina hoped. The girl was a constant source of Inspiration, an endless well of knowledge, a brilliant mind, and great company to boot. She was also, if Nina was honest with herself, very easy on the eyes.
More than once, Nina had considered kissing her, especially on those nights they shared a bed for dreamscape access, but each time, she chickened out. She didn’t want to scare the girl away. Not when she meant so much.
Nina’s gaze swept over the workbench. There was the pocket taser she’d made, powered by a sky mana monster core. Next to it sat a microscope she’d built for the temple, the gleaming telescope, the upgraded spyglass, and, off to the side, the failed denim project. She wasn’t nearly as skilled with weaving as she was with glassblowing or wood carving.
What she really needed was to hire someone to handle selling her invention, and maybe a few apprentices to pick up the slack. Maybe Alice could help with that, too.
As if the thought had summoned her, the door swung open, and Alice stepped in.
“I’m back,” she called. Nina vaulted over her counter in one smooth motion, wings unfurling as she dove in to hug Alice, wrapping her up in soft feathers.
“Alice, you have to see this! I finished making your telescope!”
Fantasy replacements for "gaydar," since there are no Radars.
