Nemera hadn’t expected for the Sunstress to take her up on her offer. 

Siara laughed, far louder than any jovial festival goer ever could, her features relaxing into a far less rigid depiction of a leader.

Nemera barely remembered her reasons for summoning Comet, still dumbfounded by the cooing sounds Siara made towards her Agar as he zoomed around the vicinity without a care in the world. Trust Comet to make light of an incredibly tense political situation.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Trollians have a soft spot for shiny things. Especially Comet.” Nemera quipped, unsure of how to continue with such a sudden change in behaviour.

The Sunstress had completely abandoned her earlier insistence for decorum and had flung her cloak to one side the moment Comet veered haphazardly into her arms like a giant, cuddly fireball of death. But of course, the Sunspell elf was used to getting her clothes singed and was completely oblivious to the screams around her, her happiness far greater than even Comet could match.

“What does that make me, a walking flashlight?” Siara asked, more towards the little Inferno Trollian than Nemera herself.

“Exactly.”

Nemera grinned, casually picking up the abandoned cloak out of false politeness rather than a wicked Shadow Traited attempting to snoop around an already cautious city. It wasn’t her fault the High Sunstress had left potential evidence on the floor and besides, if anyone asked she was simply being escorted to wherever the Sunstress wanted to go. Or escorting her if need be.

“Well, then. We better make use of this golden opportunity. I know a shortcut to the Pressurehold. It’s where…well, you’ll find out soon enough. Isn’t that right, Commmy? Oh, you are just so precious!”

Bursting into a half run, Nemera had to jog to keep up, unused to so long without sleep she barely had time to pick herself up and follow along just as rapidly. Thanks to Agar's incredible luck and knack for finding the only elf in Neridia who adored Trollian’s, she was finally able to make some headway in this already stupidly elusive case. Unfortunately, it meant a lot of running, a lot of chasing and a lot of burnt banners along the way. 

Forewarn Cliff had been completely destroyed from what they had claimed was a freak storm and judging from the Dropspire Arches it was barely the worst of it. One of their most prominent leaders had allegedly been killed by the blast. A High Nightcaster no less. Now, all they had to do was traverse a ‘shortcut’ of dark, creepy, dank series of underground tunnels and she’d not only be rewarded with an interview with their prime suspect but a look at the crime scene. Or what was left of it. 

“Thank you, for coming all this way Nemera. I know the journey must’ve taken a toll, especially without a dragon…”

The sympathetic voice beside her broke Nemera out of her thoughts, startled by change and the long, narrow corridor of darkness that leered back at her. With only a ball of sentient flame to guide their way, Comet bobbed along like a buoy in a stormy sea, happily sharing his attention with probably only elf in Neridia who adored Trollians.

“It’s fine. When the Gorgon, I mean, General Basra informed me of the delicate situation…it was only right I’d be the one to go instead of..her. I’m sorry if I was a bit…stubborn about it at first.” Nemera admitted, giving Siara a polite smile in an attempt to hide her discomfort.

Nemera’s hat scraped along the pipe systems above them, wincing as they walked she tried not to think of the last time she’d been in such a small, dark place and conjured an image of it being illuminated in light. It wouldn’t do well for anyone to find out she was afraid of the dark. The irony of it made even her laugh.

“Not at all.” 

Siara’s laughed echoed around the chamber, far more relaxed than she ever was under the spotlight of her people. Nemera had to blink to stop herself from thinking the person she had met moments earlier was still the same person. 

Her shoulders were far more relaxed without the heaviness of her royal cloak, the Trollian able to help her visibly unwind with just his presence alone. As if to prove her point, Siara tickled Comet’s glowing body until he spun in a circle and crashed into the wall. Nemera spluttered out a chuckle in what felt like months, forgetting just for a moment that they were paired together instead of stuck with him.

“Unfortunately, with all the dignitaries milling about and trying to use the Sentinel’s position to their advantage I’ve had to adopt….a matching persona, so to speak. With the lack of High Casters and a public outcry over opening the Brink to let even a single Traited in…it’s been exhausting to hold everything together.” Siara added, the light from her skin diminishing slightly despite her nature.

Nemera couldn’t help the jolt of pity she felt for the young Sunstress, opting to guess she was barely twenty moons old judging from how elves measured their maturity. The guilt she felt towards her own introduction was snuffed out at the slowly emerging light from Floodbound’s underground river systems. 

“Besides, being down here isn’t the cosiest of places but it means I can take a breather from the Sunstress act and meet this absolute sweetheart!”

Nemera groaned before she could stop herself, avoiding the Sunstress’ surprised expression, leaving her objectifying open-mouthed despite the lack of air within the tight chamber. Nemera was used to staggering her breathing due to the Pulse, barely noticing the thickness in the air until Siara had started to struggle, stopping for a moment until she caught her breath.

“He’s endearingly annoying and he knows it.”

Siara’s tentative smile wouldn’t have been noticeable without Comet sticking by her, the rise and fall of her chest still making her shiver despite the Inferno Trollian’s natural heat. Nemera tried to pair the Sunspell in the same vein as a Fire Traited, her hair still partially damp from the dripping pipes but Nemera could still see the rivelets of steam coming off it. Huh.

“How did you two meet? I’m sorry to say I don’t know much about Traited contracts…”

Nemera flinched at the memory, turning her head away despite needing to stay away from the shadows. Taking a deep breath for the first time since she arrived in Neridia, the cloying density of filtered air burned her throat enough to make her eyes water.

“I see why they call it the Pressurehold. I can barely breathe in here.” She joked, attempting to hide the waver in her voice.

Taking off her hat in an attempt to fan herself, she was acutely aware of how narrow these tunnels were. Partially grateful for her Agar's lack of smoke production, the idea of suffocating filled her with enough dread to force her to cling desperately to the pipes. Until her legs gave out. 

“Nemera….are you alright?”

No matter how hard she tried her heart wouldn’t stop pounding, the crushing weight of crumbling stone and creaking metal with the ringing in her ears that wouldn’t stop. A dragon’s roar. Nemera’s eyes snapped open. Come on. She was used to staggering her breathing. This should be nothing. No amount of Pulse could fix this fear.

“No…I…I’m not good in small spaces.”

Nemera could almost hear the pity in Siara’s breath. Attempting to stand, her hands brushed against the velvety material of Siara’s cloak, the comfort of the texture reminding her of dragon’s scales no matter how hard she tried to shove it aside. Hugging it close, the thought of her dragon calmed her enough just to be hit with the coarse, grainy reminder of sand…no, ashes. Moonshear was dead.

“Do you need Comet? Here I can-“

“No. No, I'm fine. Just…keep going.”

“I don’t think-“

“I don’t need him, Basra!”

Nemera regretted her words the moment it left her mouth.

Comet wasn’t stupid. 

Contrary to popular belief, Trollians didn’t just choose people on a whim and that was that. They had thoughts, feelings and despite being unable to voice them this Inferno Trollian had been more animated than she had in days…no, months. Yet he stayed at her side because he knew, without light a Shadow Traited could not create shadow. But that didn’t matter if Nemera didn’t care. 

“Comet, wait-“

Nemera reached out in desperation for the Inferno Trollian but he streaked past her in a blur of red hot flame, the harsh wail of a banshee ricochet off the rusty pipes. Comet’s sorrow echoed down the endless corridor of shadow that terrified Nemera far more than any demon horde ever could.

“I’m sorry…” Nemera began, turning towards the Sunstress but she didn't need an explanation.

“It’s fine. But it isn’t me who you should be apologising to.”

Tangible shadow was one thing but within this cavern all Nemera was left with was an endless, immovable wall. A weakness her former dragon had once used to her advantage. The ache in her chest was soured with the stark reminder of how she had lost her prior Agar and…had failed to protect her current one. 

“Besides, we’re already here.”