"It is not but a passage of faith."

Esmerion sighs. Jim shifts slightly in his sleep.

The boys had engaged themselves in a small discussion of safety with their mother only a few minutes ago. Actually, that was twenty minutes ago at ten o' clock.

Something in the air shifts and the bronze-haired youth finds himself restless. It's nothing bad, but he's been sitting around for the past forty minutes and the thought of remaining unmoving for who knows how long makes him feel ill. He's not meant to be rooted in one spot for lengthy periods of time.

"I'm your mother. I protect you."

He shakes his head, clearing the recent memory. An appreciated sentiment. Not one he can accept, unfortunately.

He lets out a small breath and looks down at his brother with a hidden smile. The boy sleeps in his armour, exhaustion quite evident on his peaceful features. In an earlier and unconscious decision, he had claimed the youth as a sort of pillow, resting his head on the elder's shoulder.

Esmerion brushes back the boy's raven hair, tucking it behind his ear before shifting his position. He's careful enough that when he stands, Jim doesn't awake from his much-needed slumber.

A worn smile tugs at his lips at the sight of both sleeping people, though he whisks it away without so much as a wave of his hand. A small frown replaces it and he tears his eyes away from the peaceful duo. If either one of them ends up...

It will be his own damned fault.

He snarls at himself, turning on his heel to exit the Heartstone chamber. To which he is met by Vendel, who stands in the archway with a troubled expression.

"Vendel," Esmerion greets the Troll without a trace of emotion. "Is there somethin' I can do for ye?"

The elder Troll studies him for a few seconds. "If you can tell me how to undo the binding spell--"

He tunes out as his attention is drawn to something outside the chamber, a frown etching itself on his lips.

"What on this good earth," he mutters, ignoring Vendel as he wanders off to investigate. Though it seems the Troll has gained a concern for the matter as well, given how he turns to address the issue.

There are shouts of panic and vengeance, reverberating off the crystal walls and shaking the air. They grow ever louder with each passing second, to the point that Esmerion begins to wonder if the Trolls are rioting.

As he goes to step outside the chamber, Vendel pulls him back, barely avoiding being trampled by the crowd. They all bear the same expressions of fear and anger, determination displayed in the way they hold themselves.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Vendel demands an answer from a nearby Troll--who happens to be Blinkous.

"I do not know," he replies, staring at the crowd in bewilderment. "There is apparently something in Trollmarket."

Esmerion frowns at this, trying to see into the middle of the gathering. It can't be anything that poses a threat, for if it were, the Trolls would be screaming instead and the atmosphere would feel more disrupted. Whatever it is, it's familiar.

Then his eyes widen in his recognition, and he dodges around a stampeding individual with haste. Blinky calls out to him, though he ignores him, scampering between the legs and bodies of rioters. The destination means that he cannot stop, if he did, there's no doubt that the crowd will grow worse.

"SÀMHCHAIR!" He bellows at such a volume that the crystals growing in the walls tremble and quake.

Complete and utter silence falls over the inhabitants.

"Good gods," he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "How 'bout ye back off? Now!"

The Trolls around him take a huge step back as his eyes flare dangerously. That being said, many brandish their weapons threateningly with a snarl as they watch him.

"'Ello there, Muninn," Esmerion greets softly, raising his arm for the young bird to land on.

Murmurs echo through the crowd, rumours flying like a wildfire. They raise to a shout within seconds and the youth finds himself quickly surrounded.

"Stone the crow!" Someone cries out, accompanied by a wave of agreements.

"Crush the spy!"

"Lock them up!"

Esmerion glances between individuals, growing more furious by the second. They're all fools.

"Enough!" He roars, fire blazing in his eyes as his conflicting magic lashes out in a startling display of yellow and ochre that blasts a burst of wind at the onlookers.

A low snarl curls his lip and his attention darts from Troll to Troll, eventually settling on Vendel. His alarm is warranted, though it goes unnoticed by the youth.

"Are ye so simple minded that ye cannot recognise a raven?" He queries with rageful tact. "He's just a bird anyways, so quit actin' like a bunch o' frenzied kelpies!"

There's quiet for a moment before someone else pipes up, "Bring a gaggletack!"

The youth's eyes widen immediately in his own panic, "No, no, no!"

"Reveal the Changeling!"

Several hands reach out to grab him, holding him in place as Muninn flies above the crowd. "No, no! Stop!"

A gnome runs up to his feet with a shark-like grin of mischief and a horseshoe in its tiny hands. It chirps maliciously as the object is removed from its clutches. It takes everything Esmerion has to not kick the gnome across Trollmarket.

With every moment the gaggletack comes closer and he pulls as far back as he can, struggling in the grip of his captors. He thrashes and bellows in panic, desperate to escape this fate.

"No! Iron burns! Stop!" He turns head away from the horseshoe, teeth grinding in preparation for the worst.

Just as he can begin to feel the heat, another voice interrupts, "Enough!"

The gaggletack is pulled away, leaving Esmerion to collapse in relief. He recognises the speaker, though the relevance is lost to him within the moment.

"The boy is no Changeling," they continue sternly, and someone helps him up. "Nor is he a spy of Morgana."

"But the crow--"

"Is a raven," their voice leaves no place for arguement. "Ravens are protectors. They have do not involve themselves with matters that corrupt the earth."

Esmerion opens his eyes and finds himself surprised to discover Vendel speaking. He had thought the Troll didn't trust him in the slightest. This is a massive improvement.

Blinkous helps him to his feet with only mild fretting, supporting him with two hands. He offers a wary smile to the youth, a point that expresses the slim trust between them. He's only hesitant, something to be expected after the revelation earlier this evening.

"Thank ye," he murmurs, soft enough that only the librarian can hear it.

The youth stands tall, straightening out his cloak. He holds an unwavering air of firm peace, though subtle enough to keep him practically unnoticed in the presence of Vendel.

Muninn croaks lowly before gliding down to land on Esmerion's shoulder. He caws a scolding to the surrounding Trolls, eyeing them all with judgement. Seemingly satisfied with the results, he nips at his caretaker's ear with concern.

He raises a hand and softly strokes the raven's feathers, wandering further into the streets of Trollmarket. There is no thought in his mind that wishes to stick around longer than he must. But he has a destination in mind.

"Don't get yerself into trouble," Esmerion requests, glancing at the young raven as he starts preening the youth's bronze hair. "I won't always be 'ere to 'elp ye."

Muninn croons quietly, reassuring his caretaker as best he can. He had been called, and so he came. But it seems as though the youth has forgotten that.

"Now," he starts again, "we 'ave an important matter to attend to."

《《》》

Stricklander curls against the bars of his prison, nursing his pride and arm. For a creature that thrives in darkness, he has a bizarre dislike of it. Maybe it's the way that it dulls every sense, or perhaps how it hides all that dwells within. In darkness, there is no promise of sanctuary.

Maybe that's why he's so on edge when a pair of glowing eyes appear in the abyss. Two floating orbs of molten metal that study him, judge him even. The owner of which does not become clear until their voice shatters the silence.

"I don't know what else I expected," they admit, and Stricklander sighs in relief. "But I suppose it coulda been worse."

"Esmerion," he greets, leaning forward to view the youth better. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The flapping of wings is unsettling, and the Changeling jolts backward at the horrid sound of claws on metal. A beady eye stares down at him, judging his worth. Then the creature croaks with disapproval and indignantly ruffles its feathers.

"Why protect me?" The youth queries, tilting his head.

"What would have happened if I had not?" Stricklander fires back, his voice weary. "What would have happened if you had further reason to lash out?"

Silence fills the air and he can feel the predatory gaze burning his figure. He's testing deep waters.

"Fire," he says finally, a snarl in his tone. "Ice. And quite likely, death."

"Precisely," the male lowers back against the bars of his cage. "A result of your little face off with Angor Rot, no doubt."

Esmerion snorts, shaking his head sharply, "I already knew that. I channelled me magic into 'im, just as he did to me. Causes an imbalance."

"Then you have no more reason to intrude," he sneers.

The youth snorts again, glaring at his former mentor, "Y'know, the Trolls share no love for us, Stricklander. They already tried to be rid of me, and they'll be comin' after ye next."

"And what would you have me do?" He snaps, patience thin and worn.

"Use it to yer advantage," Esmerion suggests almost wisely, though his eyes deceive his true intentions. "Ye 'ave a wee mound of high ground. If ye wanna stay alive, I recommend ye use it."

The Changeling scowls, narrowing his eyes at the unseen boy. "And why should I trust you? For all I know, you are planning to kill me the moment I am free from the spell."

"Curse," he corrects stiffly. "An' ye shouldn't trust me, but while Angor Rot still roams this earth, me sights are set on other thin's."

Stricklander considers this for a moment, eyeing the youth's companion as he edges closer. The raven croaks with uncertainty, clacking his beak along the metal bars for emphasis.

"Why?" He finally asks, confused by the youth's motives.

Esmerion falls silent, only his amber eyes marking his position.

"What would 'appen if I didn't?"