"What if I don't know what my fear is?"

Ambrosia's words echoed through the hallway before Bancho raised a brow and carefully eyed the Tributal.

Their smile that never seemed to waver, and wider pupils that soon met his warm gaze.

"There isn't a human without such concerns." 

"Am I not a human, then?" they continued.

Bancho looked a bit puzzled. "You act like one."

"You'll get the handle of everything Demonear-related with time, Ambrosia." He put his hand on their shoulder. "It seems you're already worrying about the fine details."

"Actually." they opened their mouth, and Bancho turned. "I do know what I'm afraid of."

The other Morian waited for a second longer.

"It might be..." they halted. "A little more complicated than just a few words."

Bancho glanced back and forth, before blinking a few times. "What is it?"

"A secret," they muttered, chuckling a little.

***

"A secret?" Bancho continued, putting a glass of glaska on the table, with a rather warm fireplace adorning the room of the Magnanian inn. "I'd guess that comes rather naturally. We wouldn't like to tell people something that might make us weak. The same goes for fear attacks. You're exposing yourself to the demon, like I said."

"I figured it'd make some sense though, in the end." Ambrosia continued.

"What do you mean by that, Ambrosia?" Bancho furrowed a brow.

The Tributal raised their finger, putting it against their lips and waiting for a few seconds.

Nothing happened, then, and Bancho adjusted his position.

"Like I thought," they muttered. "It doesn't work on you."

The Morian shook his head.

"I tried to cast a spell. It targets the other person emotion's, letting me control them for some time."

Bancho narrowed his eyes.

"I didn't expect you'd break, however, and I apologize."

"What are you trying to do, Ambrosia? I'm not mad, just curious."

"It doesn't go that way, Vit." They shook their head. "If I could have the whole world in my palm without struggling to grasp it, sincerely, I'd do it."

Bancho crossed his legs and inched closer.

The embers of the fire sparked into the crates of the chimney. Smoke puffed out elsewhere, where the sun set and people trod the streets of Magna.

However, there was no window for them to see that.

"I'm assuming Vit knows the tale of one of the first settlements in Harabara."

"Are you talking about Mercury? Sohota Town?"

"An unnamed village, north of Nosfer."

Bancho furrowed his brows.

"It was there that the first Haran and Eran decided to shake hands upon one agreement. They'd tell each other a secret. The Haran learnt the most effective way for crafting structures, while the Eran left with seeds sowed into the brain and literal ones in their bags. Then, they split, forming the first few steps for the first curses of the world to be broken."

"Famine was a widespread problem even before the first war." Bancho nodded. "Minding that, people weren't even strong enough to build. Spirits were lifted, even though the two weren't necessarily keen on knowing each other."

"Exactly." Ambrosia nodded. "A secret. A life-changing one, for that matter. I wouldn't compare myself here-"

"I get the jest of it." Bancho beamed. "I'm impressed with how far you went to prove your point. You want my secret, don't you? There's many, though."

"How about the Star Sun Cave?" Ambrosia raised a finger, moving their head closer.

Bancho looked up, right through his brows. His smirk changed into a rather serious expression, which didn't match what Ambrosia bore. "You'll have to go first. I need to wager if it's key."

"Key." The Tributal repeated, tightening their grip on the couch's pillow. Bancho's eyes wandered there for a second, before they turned expectant, gazing into Ambrosia's.

It was a fierce stare, rather. Something that didn't seem to match their beam.

"Firstly, I would like to reiterate." they bowed. "I'm very thankful for being the one you chose amongst the rest of the troupe."

"The only one you should be sorry for is Rowan."

"I'm glad, actually." they looked up. "If it wasn't for your choice, I wouldn't be here talking about any of this... fear."

Bancho waited for a bit, clearing his throat. "Go on."

"I'm going to assume I don't have to cite a story about curses for you to believe me."

"The will of Mosmontier, demons pitted against each other..." Bancho counted on his fingers. "That one book in Saphrith without a name."

"The last one is quite significant." Ambrosia's smile widened, as they sat back down. "We had a copy of a similar story in Fort Apharel, and there's even a few here Magna and Wendigo."

Bancho ground his teeth, slightly.

"Do you know, Mr Bancho?"

"Have you ever been to Saphrith?"

"Not yet."

Bancho sighed, puffing through his nose. "There's a bust somewhere in Mokota if I'm not uncertain. It has the Tributal's name written on it."

"Do you remember the name?"

Bancho waited for a few seconds.

"There's no need for a lie here."

"It wasn't Gierun, that's for sure," he added, avoiding their eyes. "...and if you're talking about ancient Tributal history, there's one other surname that you can think of. Many Tributals wear it, however, even if they're not related."

Ambrosia grinned. "You don't have to snowcoat it, as you Morians say. It's Sven, isn't it?"

The two waited, with Ambrosia's smile almost becoming too big for this room to handle. The fire grew larger, and the Morian was left to breathe out again.

"That's what I suspected." they continued. "It couldn't have happened otherwise."

Bancho looked up. "Are you talking about Rowan now?"

"Did they ever tell you the story?"

"I know their reasonings for being in Magna, but there's not much else to it."

Ambrosia breathed out. "Then I guess we're on the same page there."

Bancho fixed his falling hair.

"You two ran away from Fort Apharel after your Lushes were killed by a demon attack," Bancho added. "Is that right?"

"There might be more to that story. It is often I see my Chicho doubt themselves over the smallest of things. Have you ever seen Rowan cry?"

"That never went through my mind."

"I can tell when that happens." they continued. "It's quite curious, too. They mumble certain words through restless sleep. Curses, amongst others. Then, I started thinking. We're the same Svens from back then. Bearing a curse, or at the very least, it's Rowan who carries the weight."

"How can you be sure?"

"That's one explanation for everything happening in this world. To me, it seemed that they blamed themselves for every mishap along the way. Even now, over this little thing. Because they're worried they won't be able to protect me anymore."

"Even though you're strong enough?"

"It's something only between Chicho. I hope you understand."

Bancho sighed again, putting his hands on his knees, and pushing his clenched fists near his mouth. He stared for a few seconds.

"Curses are not a light word to throw around." he shook his head. "For example, a Guardian Demon can become cursed through various means. Humans, though, are a different case. You're going off a theory, Ambrosia."

"...and my bet is to disprove it," they smiled. "That's where my gratitude comes from. I won't be able to assist the Star Cave Troupe to the end."

"What do you mean?" 

"I plan to leave afterwards. To hopefully break the curse."

Bancho tapped his finger against his knee.

"Saphrith's first, with making sure of that bust you told me about. A story once said that breaking a face and erasing a name is one way to start." They chuckled. "Though the further I move, the harsher it might get. I'll meet Tributal brethren who will help me become even stronger."

"Sin Sacrifice?" Bancho added, turning an eye.

Ambrosia's smile wavered, as the words left them shocked.

"Don't do it." he reiterated. "There's nothing worth sacrificing here."

Ambrosia breathed out, glancing at the ground. They trembled slightly, and Bancho moved back, turning to the fire.

"That's your fear, then," he commented. "Taking responsibility, even though it's your vow."

"I want to break through that fear."

"I knew people who went through the same thing and never came back. I doubt that's the first thing Rowan would want to see. If they want to save you, that is."

Ambrosia's beam changed into a curious shock.

"They'd want their Chicho to stay their Chicho." he beamed. "Through thick and thin."

The Tributal glimpsed away, clenching their fist. "What other solution do you propose, then?"

"My secret," Bancho muttered. "Since now's the high time for you to learn."

***

A knock sounded on the door to the tower. Despite hearing it echo a dozen times, a figure remained frozen.

Sunlight peeked through the window, giving way for the floating dust to subtly emerge. Still, inside they remained restless, with an expression to counter that stance.

Ambrosia breathed out. The baby rolled around in its basket, while Rowan stared at the champagne letter, reading the same words.

They ground their teeth, as another set of knocks came, with the Tributal finally finding the courage to stand up.

Quickly opening the door, Koyote blinked a few times, before moving back.

"Pardon the intrusion," she muttered.

"Who are you?" Rowan asked, rather calmly.

"An acquaintance of many people."

"It's been acquaintances since Magna." they breathed out. "Whom, if I may ask?"

"Ingo Sforse, Morio Frisks and Jyuzou Junya."

Rowan blinked a few times, with their expression changing. However, they rested on the doorframe, with their arms folded.

"Doubted that would be enough to convince you, so I have something else that led me here." she turned around. "The black marks on the ground were just an easier way to pinpoint the location."

"Again. Who are you?" Rowan furrowed their brows.

"Koyote Kan," she added, taking something from beneath her hat. "The addressee of this champagne letter."

Rowan's eyes shrunk, and the second paper landed in their hands. Quickly scanning through, their hands started shaking, and a gasp was halted by something else.

Koyote waited, however, before the Tributal took a step back and signalled with their hand for her to come in.

The Haran glanced, as did everyone who first walked into the tower.

Most of the clutter was gone, replaced with everything that spoke of order in this big chaos.

There weren't as many empty bottles or leftover foods, and bandages lay around, with a few heavier, bloodied ones, slowly extending over to the forearms of Rowan, wrapped in the same thing.

Everything besides their face, which was only left with a few bandaids was patched up, and, judging by the noise they made when sitting down, still rather painful.

Koyote put one leg on another, sitting on the opposite side of the table, eyeing the baby for a while.

"How did you get this?" Rowan quickly spoke.

Koyote adjusted herself. "A sparrow passed it to me in Galliath." she nodded, fixing her hat. "You see the contents scribbled right there."

"The two names, Morio and Jyuzou. A formal request for Miss Koyote Kan to help out new Demonears, on the behalf of a wise death."

"Wise death seemed literal here." Koyote pointed.

"Figured." Rowan hissed. "It's Ambrosia's handwriting."

"Ambrosia?"

"The Tributal sleeping behind me," Rowan muttered, halting a gulp. "Sleeping is the right word, now. A lot of things seem to come back and twist life itself around these days."

"Am I one of them?"

"Tsk." Rowan blinked, quickly turning to Ambrosia's Guardian Demon and taking the champagne letter from beneath the orbs. "How much do you know?"

"It depends on how much you spilt the beans to a random Haran you healed up in the desert."

Rowan breathed out deeply, before moving the scrap of paper closer to Koyote's letter.

It was a perfect match, seemingly, and because the papers started shaking near each other. Rowan gasped and Koyote raised a brow before the Tributal put both on the table and breathed out.

"Though. I thought you'd be the one who wrote it when I saw you."

"Ambrosia won't answer your questions."

"I recall what Ingo said."

"Not that." they sighed. "They woke up yesterday."

Koyote's eyes shrunk a little.

Rowan put their hand up to their forehead. "...and I'd be glad if it wasn't for them stepping too far beyond the line," they muttered, grinding their teeth. "They don't remember anything."

"Anything?"

"They can't speak. They don't recognize me. I came too late. I was almost killed yesterday, and now you're telling me this whole champagne letter scenario thing was planned?" they raised their voice, standing up. "What a bunch of hogwash."

They tried stepping around the table before a wound reopened near their shin.

Rowan collapsed on the carpet, breathing heavily, while Koyote's gaze shifted.

"You came in at the wrong time." Rowan covered their eyes. "I'm still trying to get the hang of it. All of it." their hand trembled. "...and someone barges in again, asking more questions."

"I can leave." Koyote pointed to the door. "Although, the ship for Galliath departs in the evening. I'd rather we take care of things swiftly, despite it all."

"Despite it all?" Rowan asked, raising themselves. "Yeah, I guess it has always been that way," they muttered, fixing their glasses. "Always moving through despite it all."

Koyote breathed out, landing on the floor.

Rowan raised a brow, and Koyote shuffled to make enough space for her cast, standing in the way of the conversation.

"I started on the wrong foot," she muttered. "Because forcing myself into everything even though it hurt-" she put her hand on Rowan's shoulder. "-was also a trait of mine, until recently. We're on the same level."

Rowan glimpsed at the wall for a few seconds more, then back at Ambrosia, and the baby squealing in the near distance.

After all, they lived.

Through it all, despite it all.