Nobody told Xanthy that Mora was a fortress.

The sirtya dropped them into a road curving from the forest filled with trees (again). Xanthy craned her neck to make out a steep incline that led to a single, walled fortress in the far horizon. Who lived there? The King?

The wind shifted and a thunder of rustling leaves resounded through the forest. Wood creaked. Xanthy looked up to see houses propped against thick branches. Wouldn't those fall down and crush innocent passers-by and kill the fairy living inside? Why would varichriais even build houses on trees?

Xanthy leveled her gaze at the expanse of forest around them. Would they get mauled by beasts here? What about that fortress?

She turned to Cirasa. "So, fortress or forest?"

Cirasa shifted his weight from foot to foot. "If this forest we're in is the Forest of Beasts, we couldn't risk it," he scratched the side of his face. "It's called that for a reason."

An image of a rampaging graspel inched into Xanthy's memory. Okay. She got the message. She turned back to the walled structure up the mountain. Fortress, it was.

Cirasa pushed past her and began walking down the path that would take them to the fortress. Yeah, he did bring them here using the sirtya. Perhaps, he's been here before so whoever lived behind those walls would welcome them with open arms.

The midday sun shone over them through the gaps in the trees' canopies. Cirasa slapped branches out of the way while Xanthy was doing the same behind him. Cursed forests and mountains. Why couldn't they just use the sirtya to get there?

Cirasa raised an eyebrow when Xanthy blurted that sentiment aloud. "That's an armed fortress and the Narfalk army base," he jerked his thumb at the walls. "You don't want to flash undetected magic in their faces. We'd be fried even before the sirtya spit us out."

Oh.

So, they walked. All around Xanthy, stringent cries of animals unheard of rang in the air. Shadows and scuffles whizzed by Xanthy's periphery. Her hand wrapped around the hilt of her stolen dwarven sword as her knees folded into a guarded stance. Cirasa continued hitting protruding branches and swiping at strange bugs with colorful bodies and transparent wings from landing on his face.

The road curved upwards, making it harder to climb with each step. By the time they reached the apex of the trail, sweat poured off Xanthy's back. She braced her knees and huffed. Oh, they should have just used the sirtya. This was horrible.

Cirasa wiped his sleeve over his forehead. See? He's sweaty, too. Xanthy blew a breath and craned her neck at the walls that greeted them at the end of the trail. Just like the Palace of Cardina, this fortress was all cold stones and tall spires. Crossbows peeked from the crenelations craved at the walls' rim like little teeth. The arrows nocked in them were at least as long as Xanthy's entire form.

"Don't worry about it," Cirasa placated Xanthy with his splayed fingers and jogged towards a single, railed gate due east. A single guard with garnet wings stood on watch.

Xanthy sighed. The wind shuffled her hair and drove the thin layer of clouds through the sky. Cold. Much like Carleon's mountains, the view from this trail was composed of the trees' red, yellow, and green canopies and the low-lying clouds that almost blanketed the mountain with its fluff. From a distance, the sound of waves like the one she heard in Desara rang with the caws of birds and metal clanging.

She turned back to Cirasa now waving his arms wildly at the guard. The soldier, clad in bark armor resembling Reeca's, stood stone-faced. She watched the veins on his hand bulge from tightening his hand around the shaft of his spear. Queen's breeches. She preferred Cirasa unskewered.

Xanthy tore off the path and aimed for the guard, raking her fingers through hair. She patted her cheeks, licked her lips, and dusted her clothes. Cirasa sputtered in surprise when Xanthy burst in between him and the varichria guard with a smile. "Nice day, sir," she said in her best impersonation of the nobles in Cardina. "Do you know what a sailor's web is?"

Xanthy added a playful wink just as Cirasa's head whipped from Xanthy to the guard and then back to her. The varichria's wings jerked. "That would be the Butterfly Pass," the soldier said, stepping aside and pointing north. "It's called Sailor's Web during the War because it's tricky to navigate using ships from Osalore."

Xanthy spread her smile wider. She also made sure her eyes were twinkling with wonder. "Could you lead us to it, sir?"

The soldier's cheeks reddened. "Right this way, miss."

Xanthy smirked as soon as the guard's back was to them. The metal gate grated as the guard motioned for it to be raised. Cirasa's mouth flapped open and closed, reminding Xanthy of the fish she saw in Desara. "H-how...?"

Xanthy chuckled, trudging forward when the guard motioned for them to come inside the fortress. "Try travelling with more men," she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's easier to get what you want from them if you're pretty enough."

"Is that a good thing or not?" Cirasa scratched his head.

Xanthy dipped her head at the first line of varichriais in bark armor she met. She smiled at them and they smiled back. "Probably not," she said to Cirasa.

Unlike in Elshire where soldiers lived in tents, Mora functioned like a proper city, complete with farms, stables, and even some shops that sold pastries or tomes. Carts installed with awnings of different sizes were scattered inside the square that was directly in the way of the trail Xanthy hiked. Their owners hollered at passing varichriais to buy their products.

Varichriais dressed in clothes very much like Reeca's—all bark woven into fabric—milled about, chatting, sparring, or doing a combination of both. The assortment of colors, shapes, and sizes of wings reminded Xanthy of a menagerie she once saw in one businessman's estate. The sky above the fortress was peppered with soldiers no doubt watching out for any aerial threat.

Their guide muttered his excuses as he went through the regular crowd present in the trading square. Stares followed Xanthy and Cirasa as they followed. Xanthy exhaled. Just...ride it out.

What made the guard help them anyway? It couldn't be just because Xanthy smiled at him, right?

Cobbled roads separated from the main one they're tackling in infinite alleys with two-story buildings with sparse windows blocked Xanthy's view of where the alleys curved. Boots, dagrine hooves, and even bird claws slapped the rocky path in an array of dissonant clinks and clanks.

Soon, the guard waved his arm again and the gate at the other end of the fortress creaked open. The soldier dipped his head at Xanthy and placed a hand across his chest. "This is where the fortress ends, miss," the soldier jerked his chin west. "We aren't allowed to go out from here."

Xanthy tucked her hair behind her ears. "Thank you, sir," she folded her hands together. "I hope you have a nice day."

The soldier reddened again. He hadn't really gone back to his original color ever since he saw her. Ugh. He dipped his head for the last time, turned, and trudged back to where he came from. Xanthy didn't drop her smile as Cirasa grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the fortress.

As soon as the gates shut with an ominous finality, Xanthy frowned and massaged her cheeks. "Ugh," she grunted. "That hurt."

"Smiling? Or for once acting like a girl?" Cirasa braced his hands on his hips and whistled. It must have been a view from here.

Xanthy's frown deepened. "Are girls expected to just smile and look pretty?" she rolled her eyes and mocked a clap. "Wow, I didn't know that."

"Apparently, she's also capable of sarcasm," Cirasa sighed. "But seriously, you should smile more. Not just those mirthless ones you do, but real, beautiful ones."

If frowns could go any deeper, hers probably did. "I'll smile the way I want to," she pushed past him. "Come on," she froze. "Oh," came a weak squeak from her lips when her eyes registered what lay beyond them.

The fortress ended a few paces off the edge of a cliff and beyond the lip spread out an expanse Xanthy didn't imagine she'd ever see. Azure waves slapped the line of beige sand, the ocean stretching for miles and miles until it met with the sky at a line in the horizon. Cold wind from the mountains warred with the warm wind from the water and that resulted in a howling storm that drove her hair to her face and out of it at the same time.

The afternoon sun was scalding against her skin but it didn't matter. This...this was beautiful. Cirasa snapped his finger inches from Xanthy's eyes. She blinked and whirled to him. "What?"

Cirasa pointed west and when Xanthy turned, her jaw dropped. A massive boat was docked against a set of pointed rocks jutting from the sand. Its hull was torn and from a distance, the unmistakable glint of gold caught Xanthy's eye. What was a ship doing here?

Xanthy fished the sirtya from her pocket when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Are we really going there?" Cirasa asked, his lower lip quivering.

"It's what we came here for, genius," Xanthy yanked her arm off his grip and focused on the sirtya. "Grab hold or else I'm leaving you here."

The world shifted around her just as Cirasa gripped her elbow. Her boots slapped the warm sand as the crystal spat them into a spot a few steps off the ship. Up close, Xanthy craned her neck at the ship's height. It was easily five fairies tall and about twenty fairies long.

The hole from the hull looked like it came from an explosive spell more than being hit with a sharp rock. A long barrel of a cannon, like that of Reeca's flintlock but bigger and probably heavier, sat inside the hull along with five kegs that could be of anything. Windows with glass panels circled the upper deck. Some still had the glass unscathed but most were just the rails with nothing but darkness beyond them.

"Are we even sure it's here?" Cirasa craned his neck and his eyes widened. "What are we looking for?"

Xanthy sneered at him. "I'm just going to go and look around," she spread her arms as the wind blew through her sleeves. Oh, that's fun. "Feel free to be baked in the sun while I do."

"That's unfair!" Cirasa screamed, his words being muffled by the howling wind and the roar of waves. "Why do you even want to look at pirate ships?"

Xanthy waited for him to catch up before inclining her head at him. "How do you even know it's a pirate ship?"

Cirasa huffed but pointed upwards. "Look at the insignia tied at the mast," he said. Xanthy craned her neck to see a tattered banner flapping in the wind. The red fabric sported a sign of two curved knives crossed with each other with a skull in the circle the blades formed.

"Yeah, what about that?" Xanthy turned back to the shard fairy.

"That's the symbol of the greatest Elven pirate company, Silent Seas," Cirasa breathed.

A shiver speared through Xanthy's arm. Pirates... "Are there still some now?" Xanthy asked.

Cirasa took one look at the insignia and rubbed his arms as he hugged himself. "If there are, they would have smaller waters to scale. I wouldn't risk it, if it were me. Since the barriers sealed us in, there's not many activities happening on the shores."

Xanthy stepped inside the hull, her boots crunching against the brittle wood that made up the walls and the floorboards. "How did this not crumble over the years?"

"Magic, maybe?" Cirasa's voice echoed dully as he, too, went inside. "I don't know."

Xanthy trudged past the kegs and the cannon. Chests full of gold coins were knocked over, their glinting contents spilling all over the floor. Gilded swords, daggers, bows and arrows, and all sorts of strange weapons were scattered around as if thrown in a hurry. Gems of different shapes and colors bigger than what Xanthy saw in Avalora lay forgotten in this deserted cove.

"How come Mora never used these treasures?" Xanthy said to no one as she reached for a golden goblet. "How come the poachers didn't, too?"

From the corner of her eye, a shelled creature poked on the treasures. Its scaly legs clinked with the gold. Then, as if it was delighted, it raised its pincers and speared a gold coin as big as a palm.

Xanthy was about to call it cute and call Cirasa's attention when the animal froze. It tumbled over, the gold coin slipping off its pincers. Xanthy's eyes rested on the frozen creature's frame as it crumbled to dust before her. She stepped back. Touch something and they would die. Oh no.

"I don't know," Cirasa answered a question Xanthy already forgot asking and he extended his hand forward. "It's my first time seeing something this spectacular lying around in common places, not that Mora is common, but you know what I mean."

Xanthy lunged, knocking Cirasa's arm even before his fingers brushed a set of marquine plates stacked against a rotting cupboard. They crashed to the floor. The wood creaked beneath them.

Cirasa pushed Xanthy off and dusted his clothes. "What in Crintine's name?" he stood up. "I wasn't going to steal it."

"Tell that to that poor creature," Xanthy pointed to the pile of ashes at the base of the pile of treasures.

"That's ash," Cirasa knitted his eyebrows.

Xanthy exhaled through her mouth. "Yes," she massaged her temples. The headaches were starting to attack once again. They didn't have more time to spare. "That's a creature before. You know, those animals with shells on their backs. Slender eyes. Pincers."

"Cata cata," Cirasa breathed as his eyes widened with realization. "They love eating gold."

"Yes," Xanthy waved her hand in a vague direction. "One of those got gold coin in its pincers, froze, and the next thing you know, it's a pile of ashes on the floor."

"You mean, we touch these things, we die?"

Xanthy nodded, pressing her lips into a grim line.

Fear shone through Cirasa's eyes even though he pouted. "Shame," he cocked his head to one side. "It answers your question, though."

Xanthy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, thanks for nothing. Looks like we're at the right place for the hunt."

Cirasa scratched his head. "Yeah?"

"Think about it," Xanthy turned away from him and started walking through the fallen piles of weapons. "If this thing is this way, then no one would venture here just to plunder. Whatever's the clue here, it would have been protected."

Cirasa stared at the floor and sidestepped a fallen goblet. "But what are we looking for?" he tapped his chin. "We need to get it right the first time or we're toast. What if thieves stole it long ago?"

Xanthy scanned the hull for any other piles of ash that could indicate a fairy or a human had been in this place. There's none. "It must be something that's deemed not valuable, something that thieves would normally avoid while looking at gold," she pursed her lips. "Something..."

"You mean something personal?"

"What does the song say about the sailor's web?" Xanthy faced Cirasa. The shard fairy shrugged. "Down the fall, up the stream, follow mine love to thee?"

Xanthy shook her head. "Next."

"Rafaline, mine love, the one I shall forever long to see," Cirasa rolled his hand in the air, tapping his foot at the song's rhythm.

Xanthy frowned. "Nope."

"Sun's dazzle rays, beheld thy absolute beauty?"

"The next line's about the sailor's web, right?" Xanthy reached up and twisted a lock of hair around her finger. "I wonder..." she looked around. " 'Sun's dazzle rays'...where are the windows?"

"Probably in the captain's quarters," Cirasa pointed up. "We're in the hull. Look for a ladder or something."

"Won't we die if we touch the ladder?" Xanthy wrinkled her nose.

"Gods, let's hope not," was Cirasa's reply as Xanthy strode deeper into the hull, looking for some sort of ladder.

There. Connected to a square hole in the ceiling. Xanthy's throat constricted at the growing dimness around her. The hole in the hull was a long distance back. At this point in the ship, the wooden walls composing the hull blocked out the sun save for the small slivers that escaped through the spaces between planks nailed together.

Xanthy blew a breath and closed her fingers on the first rung. Nothing happened. She's still unfrozen and alive. "It's safe," she didn't wait for Cirasa's reply as she swung into the ladder and began climbing. Her head poked through the opening, giving her the perfect view of the captain's cabin.

A set of stairs curving upward, probably leading to the main deck, greeted her. A short bookshelf stood below the stairs, followed by a table, a moth-eaten, cushioned chair, and a locked wardrobe. It was a fairly small room, enough for one person. Not lavish, too.

Oh, there's a window. It's one of the many girdling the ship. This one remained untouched. Sunlight shone through it, landing on a table pushed to the wall. Yellowing and possibly brittle sheets of parchment were scattered on the table's surface.

Xanthy emerged fully from the hole and helped Cirasa through. They glanced around the room, noting framed maps thinned with age, sketches tacked on a board nailed to yet another wall, and a wooden barrel filled with firearms. The sight of guns stirred something miserable in Xanthy's stomach. Not this again...

She tore her eyes from the keg. Focus. The sunlight. The window. She traced the sunlight to the table and braced her hips. "Sun's dazzle rays, beheld thy absolute beauty," Xanthy splayed her hand forward. "The table is beautiful?"

"No, not that," Cirasa surged past her, arm reaching so fast Xanthy hadn't blocked him. He dangled a pendant in Xanthy's face. "This one."

Xanthy inhaled. Once. Twice. Cirasa was still alive. Xanthy clutched her chest and released a breath she didn't know she was holding. "How did you know it's that?" Xanthy turned the pendant with her fingers to discover that it was a locket.

"You said something personal and that line 'beheld thy absolute beauty'," he twined the locket's chain around his fingers. "This is the only one that can be fitted with a portrait in this small room."

"Portrait of who?"

"Guess," Cirasa popped the locket's lid free.

What greeted her was a sketch of a woman turned sideways. The sketch had long faded but Xanthy noted sloping cheekbones, sharp nose, and an overall gentle look on her face. The woman seemed to be staring down while holding her hands to her heart. A patterned scarf was draped around her shoulders. The woman wore her hair down, pushed off her face with a light braid across the head.

Who could this woman be? "Rafaline," Xanthy and Cirasa exchanged glances.

"This was quite uneventful," Xanthy raised her leg to check at her soles. Only ash and sand were there.

"Be careful what you wish for," Cirasa chuckled.

Xanthy returned his amusement. "We're done here, right?"

Cirasa nodded, jerking his chin on the pocket where Xanthy kept the sirtya. "Next stop—Diven."

Xanthy smirked as they locked hands. She closed her eyes and thought about the place where she met the half of her soul.