"This is the third village we've seen like this," Phoenix said, ducking for cover as a townsperson threw a piece of a chair at her. She stood fists clenched, bellowing at the man who threw it. "I was just trying to help!"

"This way." Altair dragged her behind an ice-laden building. "Something's happened." He pressed up against the wall, breathing hard. "They seem to have a negative history with Guardians."

"Well if they want to stay in this ice-encrusted heap," Phoenix said, sticking her head around the corner, "they're more than welcome to! I'll take my fire elsewhere!"

"Good!" A voice shouted, and Phoenix pulled her head back as an icicle went flying past. "We don't want your kind here! We want King Bainon back! We side with the heirs!"

"The heirs?" Phoenix glanced at Altair. "What are they even talking about?"

Something like comprehension flitted across Altair's face. "Stay here."

Lifting his arms in surrender, he stepped out into view. Shouts greeted him, and he got down on his knees in the middle of the street. Phoenix peeked around to see the mob at the other end.

"Please, I'm not here to cause harm. We're friends of the heirs."

"Likely story!" A woman raised her fist, shaking it at him. The crowd agreed with her.

"No, really." Altair jerked his head toward Phoenix. "We were on their side. They fled the Militia's cruelty, and we escaped them as well. We're neither Army nor Militia, but are trying to right the wrongs that have been done."

The grumbling quieted as the people watched him, glancing askance and speaking in groups.

"We know who did this, and he's not a bad man." Altair gestured to the ice. "He's grieving the loss of those he loves--taken from him by the Militia. He has no king to serve, no knowledge to fall back on. The heirs are the best way to end this madness. Is that not what they told you?"

"They told us they wanted Bainon back on the throne," one man said. "They told us we'd be in danger from Guardians until he was."

"That's...true," Altair said, and Phoenix didn't sense a lie. The knowledge of this sparked her heart rate.

Why would they be in danger of Guardians.

"Some will be able to control their gifts, but others won't. They will be worse than what has happened here, because he is still in control of his fury. Those out of control won't be able to stop themselves. Many will die."

"And you travel with one!"

Shrieks and cries rang out, and for a moment Phoenix wrapped her arms around herself, wondering if she truly could do what Altair said.

"She is like the one who did this--in control. But she isn't looking for revenge. She wants to help you. Let us help you." Altair got to his feet, arms still raised. "Tell us what the heirs told you."

#

Twenty minutes later they sat by a fire in a large building. Phoenix had melted most the ice off of it before exhausting herself. The townspeople sat around inside, enjoying the new warmth. A woman named Bertie, the town mayor, addressed their questions.

"They came and told us who they were--showed us proof. They let us know everything that happened in the east and how the Militia has taken over."

"And?" Phoenix couldn't hide her curiosity about these heirs. Altair had told her almost nothing but insisted they mattered. "Are they forming their own battalion?"

The woman shook her head. "That's what we thought they wanted, but no. They didn't want soldiers."

"What did they want?"

"Messengers."

Phoenix blinked, staring at the portly, middle-aged woman. She had a sturdy look about her, like she could take on most who came her way. With her dark hair braided behind her and eyes almost as black as night, she made Phoenix feel like a twig.

"I don't understand," Phoenix finally said, glancing at Altair.

"We said we'd follow them, do as they wanted. All they asked was that we tell others. We sent our eight fastest messengers on horseback to the nearest towns. All they'll ask is if those towns believe, that they'll send messengers to other towns."

"Spreading the word," Altair said.

Bertie nodded. "The heirs said nothing's more powerful than the people, united together. They said if we all agreed on who our king was, no matter who sat on the throne, we could make a change. We could enforce it."

"Rebellion," Phoenix said.

"Civil rebellion. We'll follow no laws of a false king. We'll not bend to the Militia's rule." Bertie kept her tone level, but the people near her raised their fists and cried "hear hear!"

"And this message will spread," Phoenix said. "You think it will work?"

"We're telling them what we've seen. Not everyone will believe us, but those who do will make the difference."

"Those who don't believe will still think Bainon is king and follow him anyway," a man said from nearby.

"The only trouble will come from those who accept the Militia's rule." Bertie sighed, shaking her head. "They will be trouble."

"Treywick," Phoenix said, and then stopped short. She turned to Altair, frowning, unable to place what the word meant.

Treywick. What's Treywick? Yet thinking it left her with a warm feeling in her stomach, and also a terrible, aching sadness.

Altair placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"Treywick was willing to embrace the Militia," Altair said to Bertie. "They wouldn't accept that their golden goose was, in fact, a fanged beornach."

Treywick, a quaint little village - the farthest northwest in all of Braskey. Her house sat in the middle of Fangralee forest, and the town treated her like a pariah for her inability to say anything but the truth. She had family there: a mother, a father, and--

"Phoenix?"

She jerked back to attention, looking around at them. "What?"

"I asked if you felt well enough to do a bit more of your work on the town?" Bertie said, arching a brow.

#

After most of the town had been defrosted, Phoenix lay on her back on a bed in a little inn. The town had put them up, free of charge, as thanks for helping. They'd also given Altair detailed instructions on where the heirs were going.

"They're following Ares," he said, sitting at the table in their shared room. He didn't sleep and therefore didn't need a bed - just to watch over her. "They're going everywhere he goes, using what he's doing to get people on their side." He looked up from the map he poured over. "Brilliant."

"Did I have a family?" Phoenix asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Of course. Ares is your brother, after all."

"No, I mean yes. But did I grow up somewhere? Do I have parents?"

"You grew up in Treywick, but not with your parents, Selene and Elyo."

"Then who raised me?"

"Clarice and Norman Knight. They loved you dearly."

Phoenix could almost see them if she shut her eyes tight enough. "They're dead, aren't they?"

"Yes. I'm afraid they are."

"I wish I remembered them--any of them."

"You will, in time."

Phoenix sat up, considering him. "Do you have a family? Friends? Are you someone other than a Watcher, or is this all you do? Are you just a star who watches other people have lives from way on high?"

Altair glanced up again. "Castor is my friend. In some ways, he's my brother."

"But he's young compared to you, you said."

"We were both created when all the rest were, but he has spent far less time on earth than I have, yes."

"You don't look very old."

"Each time I returned to the sky, I lost my earthly age."

"Why did you come here? What did you do when you were on earth? If you weren't with Castor, then what did you do? Did you have other charges? Did you--"

"One question at a time," Altair said with a laugh. "I've seen many come and go, and some of them I watched over, yes. Kings and queens of Braskey."

"Who did Helix and Tremaine watch over?"

Altair grew very still, his face drawn. "Tremaine was before we were Watchers. It was because of him--falling in love and becoming king--that we began watching."

"And Helix?"

"Helix watched over Tremaine and his family. They were two of the most powerful."

"And they're both dead."

"They are." Altair closed his eyes. "They were slain."

"By the traitor. The one we seek. You think that someone, somewhere, knows who the traitor is?"

Altair pushed up from the little table, moving to stair out the window. "I think Helena knows, but I doubt she's the only one. Whoever killed Tremaine and Helix has been roaming this land for centuries."

"Why did they act now?"

"Maybe they've been acting all alone as different people. Maybe they are the reason every war Braskey has ever had occurred. They may have instigated Tarvril's insanity--may have fed Helena the lies about Bainon she now believes."

"Then you could say almost all the death in Braskian wars is because of one Ancient who killed his own kind."

"Yes. You could say that."

Phoenix watched his tense shoulders, the way the muscle in his jaw worked, and wondered what it must feel like, to have one of your own betray you. A brother, a friend. A thought struck her and she pushed up from the bed.

"Watchers don't have to come down here to watch. You only came down for me because I needed you."

"That's right."

She placed her hands on her hips. "Then what were you doing spending years down here--years to make you older than Castor? How long ago was this?"

"Most of my time on Braskey was with my charges."

"But what about the other time? You might as well say it, I can sense it."

Altair sighed and glanced askance at her. "About fifteen years ago I met a woman and fell in love."

"And you stayed here for her."

"Watching over you at the same time. I would go back and forth from her to the sky, making sure you were safe."

"Why'd you leave her?"

"I didn't. She died. About a decade ago."

His pain hit her like a wave, and Phoenix closed her eyes against it, tears pooling. "Who was she?"

"Her name," he said, still staring out at the village square, "was Audra."

BOOM BABY!

Did I say you knew all the secrets? I guess I was wrong. There's still a handful I can parcel out to you. LIKE THIS ONE!

Spill your thoughts in the comments. I think we might stick with Phe and Altair on Thursday - who wants Phe to re-meet Selene and Elyo? I think it's time they saw their not-so-dead daughter again, don't you?