I sat at the familiar kitchen table of my father's home while my family seated themselves, a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand. There was a surreal quality to the moment after all I had endured in the north, to be back home now with my family, while there were others who would never make it home. It was a strange feeling; it wasn't accompanied by pity or sympathy, barely even any empathy. I thought it probably should be, but it wasn't. As ever, I was a strange example of humanity. A half step from psychopathic, but never motivated enough to cause any real harm unless angered.

  I took a sip of the piping hot coffee over the back of the chair I straddled. A light cough caused me to look up to find everyone looking at me. Expectantly.

  "I suppose I won't be getting out of telling the story, will I?"

  “Nope,” Sean spoke up with a glint in his eyes that was one-third teasing, two-thirds ravenous for gossip. “Not a chance, not while you’re still breathing and have a tongue in your head.”

  I turned my mug in my hands, the warmth seeping into my bones. The kitchen looked exactly as it always had—a monument to the comfort of suburban Canada, all pine cabinetry and homey clutter, the battered black kettle steaming on the stove and the pile of professionally neglected mail spilling over the fruit bowl. A home worth fighting for, if not exactly a fortress. I swallowed down the rest of the mug in one large gulp. It was hot and bitter, hot enough it might have sent me to the hospital, Pre-System.

  "What's to tell? There was a dungeon that needed to be cleared quick, it was bad, but we made it out. Mostly. The end."

  Sean’s face twisted into a cartoonish frown. “Don’t you even start with that. You’re not allowed to ‘nothing major’ us,”

  "You shouldn't lie to your lawyer, it's bad form," Vicky piped up from the other side of the table, "besides, Uncle showed us some of the reports, so we know the broad strokes at least already."

  I let out a sigh, holding out my mug to my father, who was still standing near the coffee maker.

  “Please, I’m going to need another one to deal with these cretins,” I shook my head, though I couldn’t quite hide the way my lips quirked up at the corners. It was nice to know my family cared.

  ——-

  David Giffle paused in the hall before a set of heavy oak doors to adjust his tie and cuff links. The coming meeting was an important one, and he needed to be sharp. Schooling his face into a neutral mask, he opened the door and entered the large room. The room itself was an oddity in the Toronto headquarters of the White Banner, a dash of the old world amongst the black, grey and silver of the modern one. It was more like a large study or a lounge than a conference room, despite the large oak table that dominated the center of the room. Much of the room was dark, earthy colours, owing to and matching the fine wooden furnishings that could have been dozens or hundreds of years old. The most modern piece of the room was the massive eighty five in screen that covered the far wall.

  Of course, the occupants of the room demanded far more attention than the room itself. A mix of men and women dressed in Suits, pantsuits, dresses and similar attire that wouldn't have been out of place at any office event. Yet there was enough strength in this room, both preternatural and supernatural, to level the city overnight.

  "David," a pale skinned man he knew well came over to greet him, hand outstretched. David clasped his hand in his own; the cool skin of his long time friend was always a little disconcerting. Man, was also not the right descriptor for the being in front of him either. He was most certainly male, but the vampire had left humanity behind a long time ago.

  “Argyle, I am surprised to see you here.”

  "When needs must, I detest meetings such as this, but I am trusted to handle them. So here I am."

  David lowered his voice, “It’s that bad, then?”

  Argyle’s mouth twitched, as if he was swallowing something unkind. “It is.” Something passed over the vampire’s features, a flash of… not anxiety, but alertness, primal. “The others are,” he paused as if searching for the correct words, “less than pleased. The Vish’s recent moves unsettle everyone when circumstances are already unstable.”

  The pair of them wandered over to the wide bay window. The view managed to take in a slice of old Toronto, the university rising behind a sprawl of glass and steel. Conversations all around the room continued; it was rare for so many representatives of the Banner and the Unseen to be in a room together all at once.

  The two men stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the city blur under a rising fog. David always liked this view; it was a sobering reminder that civilization depended, precariously, on the will of men and women who met in rooms like this, who carried out their battles over coffee and ancient oak. Even if it would be others who paid the price for decisions made in these rooms, it was that which made it a responsibility and not a privilege.

  He wondered briefly if Argyle, for all his centuries, still felt that subtle charge in the air—that sense of history rolling forward, inches from collapse.

  “You have seen the reports from the north?” David asked.

  Argyle nodded. “I have seen what was sent over when this meeting was requested, as well as what I was able to garner from my own sources on short notice.” A grin sharper than any knife spread over his face, “Times are rapidly becoming interesting again, old friend.”

  David tamped down a smirk. "Interesting is not the word I would use."

  "Aggravating perhaps, or possibly, concerning?" A melodic voice signalled the arrival of the newest participant in their conversation. David turned to find Isabella Mediros had appeared at his shoulder like a wraith. David hadn't noticed her at all until she'd spoken. A disconcerting realization for someone with more than the garden variety of senses, both mundane and magical. Isabella's presence reminded David of an ice sculpture: impossible to look away from, coldly flawless, yet with some private fire flickering behind the frozen fa?ade. She wore a severe black dress, the fabric shimmering with a pattern of insect-like wings if he looked too long. The only hint of softness was a silver locket resting above her heart; he wondered if it contained a picture or a poison. He could easily imagine either being true of the beautiful woman in front of him.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Ms. Mediros," Argyle said, bowing his head with more gravity than David had seen him show anyone in years.

  "Argyle, it's been far too long," she said, offering a smile that glittered and vanished with equal speed. She nodded to David. "Director Giffle. May I join you, gentlemen?"

  Argyle inclined his head. “You are, as always, most welcome. We were just discussing the state of the north.” Her presence chilled the air between the three of them, and David found it a welcome contrast to the humidity that built in his brain when he thought too long about the days ahead.

  “I must admit, I am curious,” Mediros said, her gaze fixed on the city, the profile of her face sharp as a blade against the urban haze. “The Vish have always been pests, but never so… ambitious. Is it true what the reports say? That they are meddling in the dungeons with some form of device?”

  Argyle nodded, hands clasped behind his back as he pondered the faintest hint of a reflection. "So it would seem. The team sent north brought back three such devices, and from what I gather, they were set up carefully. Hardly the usual hand-beaten contraptions of the Vish," He looked at David, eyes glinting.

  "Indeed, Kaesor and several others pulled the devices from the depths of the dungeon," David explained, "Kaesor brought the device allocated to my branch back himself." David felt the smallest catch in his chest at the name long familiar by now. He remembered that first, awkward interview in one of the Facility's conference rooms. The memory was spiked with what now seemed misplaced confidence on both their parts. He supposed back then he'd thought himself the wiser, if not the stronger, between the two—now that certainty faded by the day with each new development. "He's proven remarkably resilient and highly competent."

  Argyle shifted his gaze from the city to David, his words soft but edged like a scalpel. "And how is our young friend after his ordeal? I assume he is… intact?" There were subtleties in the way he asked—the vampire's concern was obvious to anyone who understood how much time truly meant to someone like Argyle. The ageless often saw things with a different perspective, that one might say was less than human. Though Argyle seemed to have retained more of his humanity than any vampire David had ever known previous. He did have to admit that he much preferred meeting Argyle in less formal circumstances; there was little of the man's usual relaxed vibe present at the current. Instead, he was all hard lines and rigid, controlled posture.

  Isabella’s lips parted, just enough to show the smallest hint of fangs—her brand of fae, always just a little uncanny. “The north can shatter less resilient souls,” she said, voice a low crystal note. “And the Vish… this is not the first I’ve heard of them using artifacts they do not understand. But the nature of this interaction—these accumulators—worries me. It is not their way.” Her eyes flicked to David, blue as a glacier, yet there was a warmth hiding in their depths. “You are certain he has suffered no… lingering effects from the mana, or the dungeon?”

  David met her look evenly. "Aiden is Aiden, as per usual," he said. "If anything, he's more himself than ever. Tired, certainly. Angry as ever, I would imagine. I had to persuade him to return with the device rather than continue in the north carving through dungeons and whatever Vish he could find."

  David found himself involuntarily straightening his already-perfect tie. He disliked how conversations with Unseen always left him feeling transparent, as though his thoughts showed on his skin. “The real question is: who are the Vish doing this for? Their entire strategy is sideways—like they’re sabotaging the game board for someone else’s amusement.”

  ——-

  David stood at the head of the table, as the leading representative of the Banner present; it was his responsibility to lead the meeting and disseminate what information they had chosen to put forward.

  “Thank you all for coming.” He started simply, his finger flicking on the digital pad to bring up the first of the field reports on the display behind him. The immense flat screen filled with an overhead view of the Yellowknife area: satellite-captured, bleak and snow-pocked, red and gold overlays marking the areas where dungeon phenomena had spiked in recent months. “Some of you already know the shape of things up north, but I’ll lay it out plainly. There has been a shift in the northern situation. One that must be addressed.”

  Over the next ten minutes, he summarized the contents of the Banner’s intelligence files for the assembled: the uptick in dungeon occurrences, the exponential increase in anchor entity complexity, the surge of casualties among Rankers sent to the frontier. He forced his gaze to remain on the screen, rather than the faces in the room. Some showed alarm, others hunger, but most were as blank as their well-tailored suits.

  "As you can see, the pace of dungeon formation is accelerating, and the dungeons themselves are more difficult and more violent than those previously encountered. They're growing powerful enough that our lower and mid-level assets are struggling to keep up." David tapped again. "But the real point of concern is this: the Vish were always present in the area. Always."

  His voice felt sandpaper-rough as he laid the final piece on the board: what the machines were, or might be. Dozens of images detailing the strange machine Aiden had returned with covered the large screen.

  "We believe the Vish are deploying what can be best described as mana accumulators into active dungeons. The effect is a dramatic spike in both mana density and dungeon lethality." He watched the words ripple across the table like a stone dropped in a tide pool—some ripples bouncing off their own reflections, others slamming forward to shatter on the shore. He could see several looks amongst those seated that he wanted to question, but now was not the moment. "What their goals are, we can only guess."

  An additional image appeared on the screen, a grainy close-up of the portal the Vish captain had opened in his retreat. The distortion of the air, the way the colours ran together at the edges, reminded David of melting plastic, or oil poured over a snowdrift. He'd grown up in the north but had never encountered anything in nature that looked or felt so wrong.

  "Normally, the Banner would chalk up such an audacious move to simple opportunism. Or stupidity," He allowed himself an ironic half-smile. "But this has escalated beyond the Vish's usual overreach that our organization’s have largely tolerated in the past.” David cast his gaze over the occupants of the rooms. “The Banner will be moving forward to investigate these issues with a degree of urgency, particularly these machines that are being utilized in the dungeons and where the Vish obtained them.”

  "Well," Argyle's voice seemed loud in the moment of silence after David had finished speaking. "We can answer at least some questions, for instance, where the Vish acquired those machines." He smiled wryly, "They stole them from us."

  ——-

  "After all that, it was just a plane ride home," I couldn't keep the tone of disappointment out of my voice entirely. "No interruptions, unfortunately."

  I held my mug up in a silent toast to how anticlimactic my supposed homecoming had been, then looked around at my audience: Sean, who was staring directly at my eye as if he was trying to figure out which had been damaged. The intensity with which he was staring told me he couldn't tell. Vicky was silent, but there was a look on her face I couldn't quite decipher: annoyance, frustration, something in between?

  Vicky’s eyes flicked to meet mine, holding me pinned for a beat. “You’re lucky Dad didn’t drive up there to drag you back himself. Or that Carl didn’t.” From the way she said it, I had the impression she really meant you’re lucky I didn’t. There was a quaver of something under it, but I didn’t push. Instead, I shrugged with the studied nonchalance of a man who can’t be threatened by much short of a tactical missile strike.

  "I'd like to see the Banner try to keep Uncle off a plane if he wanted it badly enough," I said, grinning. "They'd probably have to hit him with a tranquillizer." The word " tranquillizer " made Sean snicker, like it was an inside family joke. Maybe it was. Dad snorted, and the mug in his hand trembled only a little. That was about as close as he came to laughing openly, though the lines of his face softened.

  "On that note, I'd like to introduce you all to someone, or rather reintroduce her," Vipera slithered into existence around me, her coils draping both myself and the chair I occupied as if I were her chair. Sean flinched backward so hard his knee rammed the table. Vicky froze, then—point to her—recovered quickly, arching only one eyebrow.

  “Shit. She’s gotten bigger,” Sean said, voice a register lower than usual. I couldn’t tell if the look he gave Vipera was awe or something closer to embarrassment for having startled, but he tried to hide it behind his mug.

  Dad, for his part, beheld Vipera with a kind of open, unguarded consideration. Not much fazed him after three Kaesor kids and a lifetime of bad luck. "Everyone, you remember Vipera," I said, my mouth twitching at Sean’s immediate recoil from the sight of her. He could brush off a punch to the face, but a snake, even a familiar one, still sent him back to the playground days. Vicky’s lips parted—either to gasp or to start an interrogation—and Dad just grunted, holding out a hand which Vipera, after a moment's study, delicately touched with the tip of her tongue, as though collecting some essential data.

  I watched as Vipera’s tongue flickered, the barest glimmer of blue energy sparking down its length. “Hello again,” she replied, her new voice a mix of cool amusement and something that felt like pride. Her gaze met each member of my family, lingering on each just long enough to register them as individuals, not threats. I was more than a little amused to see her polite facade; I could sense the delight rolling off her at the discomfort she introduced to the room.

  "She's talking now?" Sean looked at me, then at Vipera, then back to me, as if he suspected a ventriloquism act or some other trick was being played at his expense. "I mean, actually talking?"

  "Very much so," Vipera intoned, and then she whispered into my ear, "He's even more jumpy than I remember." I nearly choked on my coffee, and the rest of the table laughed, rapidly becoming more comfortable with the strangest addition to the conversation.