Cryo watched Banshee leave and felt his brief measure of joy vanish with her shadows.

He ran a clawed hand over his face just to feel their sharp edges on his skin. Just like Banshee's shadows had grown noticeably stronger in the last six weeks, his frost felt deeper in his bones than ever before, to the point where he was almost numb to pain entirely.

Sae told him it was normal after the one year mark of being bonded. Until that night after the festival, neither he nor Banshee had been completely bonded to their Ascended. Though they may have felt the whispers of their Lumi's patterns before, only now would they have truly been set in motion.

It was part of the reason why Cryo had come to the temple's physical library earlier today.

He picked the book he'd been reading prior to Banshee's arrival up from the table. Though it was true that he found some solace among this physical library, it was also true that the full entirety of this library had not been recorded in a digital format. After coming across several references to texts he could not find in the temple's database, he had come to the library in search of the index that he now held.

Cryo flicked it open to the page marked with a thin strip of starstone.

The index was for Luminaries. It had a section for each Aspect of Skypillar, where it gave a few paragraphs summarising the notable traits, and then proceeded to list every single one to have Ascended since the current civilisation arrived at the City. Every individual Luminary had their own short summary, detailing any notable feats, the duration of their Ascension, and other relevant texts in which they were mentioned. Given that not all of their identities were known, most were simply marked as their number in the list.

There was one section that Cryo had been over what felt like a million times.

The Shadows Of Skypillar: Vengeance Incarnate

The Banshee is an oddity amongst her Ascended peers, and remains as such in her Luminary incarnations. Perhaps it is due to the short span of her Ascension. Unlike other Ascended, who survived for centuries after their original Ascension date, Banshee's spirit returned to Skypillar within hours.

Like a mortal's shadow, Banshee's spirit is inescapable. A piece of it follows each of us, created by the same light that would seek to banish it. Her spirit is balanced on a scale, represented in her daggers, Grief and Joy, and when it tips, her Vengeance will be wrought through the dark.

Cryo continued reading down the list of Banshees until he got to the blank space, ready and waiting for the next Banshee's name to be filled in, though Cryo was fairly certain this index hadn't been touched in at least twenty years. Neither the Harpy or Wyvern he knew had been recorded, nor the Luminaries that had come before them, and the book itself had been rather dusty.

Regardless, a few hundred years of data was enough for him to make some calculations. The numbers hadn't changed from last time. They still held the same pattern. The same doomed fates.

He'd checked the other Lumi's. Their average Ascension span was usually between eight to ten years.

Banshee's was three.

Vengeance killed most of them. Banshee #12 had made it a year and a half. Her partner had been killed by an uncommon group of Manifested, upon which Vengeance had triggered and killed both her and the Manifested.

If Vengeance didn't get them, death still found them within a year of going dim. Amelia Shadowdance, Banshee #17 for six years, had died seven months after going dim, though it didn't say how.

The book began to freeze under the tips of Cryo's claws.

She has two years. Two years before I lose her.

He dropped the book on the table, his eyes still roving down the list.

The outliers, the few Banshees who survived longer than the average all had one thing in common: their partners. Their partners survived. Their partners stood by them. Their partners were there for them, and in most outlier cases, the Banshees had given their starsong amulets to their partner.

Cryo hadn't been sure of that last bit at first. The texts didn't state it specifically, but there were a few odd phrasings, a few similarities, enough to give Cryo reason to suspect. He'd looked into a few of the more detailed stories of the Banshees until he'd found what he'd been after in a separate book that detailed the history of Banshee #3.

He reached for the second book, careful to keep his frost in check this time.

At the turn of her seventh year, Banshee's Vengeance faded, draining her body of spirit and returning it to Skypillar's Peak. Her passing was met with the mournful cries of her partner, Cwn Annwn, who refused to leave her side even as his own transformation dimmed. He went Dark before the crowds, clutching a silver piece of starstone engraved with a dull Banshee insignia upon it.

It has been theorised that this pairing may have known each other in their civilian lives due to several...

Once he had confirmation, the other pieces had fallen into place. It seemed obvious that Banshee #17, Amelia, had survived so long because she'd given her amulet to her partner.

A small voice in the back of Cryo's head warned him that hope might be filling in the blanks instead of logic, but it did make sense that in almost every Banshee that had exceeded the three years, her strong bond to her partner had been mentioned. There was a connection, not just coincidence.

Cryo glanced at his own starsong amulet.

He didn't know how it was possible for so many of these pairings to have found each other in civilian life, but it meant that there was hope. That there was a loophole somewhere in the system. Previous Luminarys had found it.

And so would he.

I will not lose my Banshee.

Cryo picked up the index between careful fingers and stood up from the desk, turning back towards the rows and rows of bookcases. He needed more stories, more data. He needed to study them, analyse them, figure out the similarities and differences between their stories. There had to be more, lost under the questionable system of organisation that this library seemed to follow.

And then there was the case of the archives. The beginning of the current civilisation had copied their rituals and practices largely from the first, and the data they had stored in the archives. It meant that there was a good chance similar indexes and stories existed, detailing the lives of Banshees from the first civilisation.

With any luck, they'd be better organised, thought Cryo, replacing the book and moving on to the next.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been wandering among the shelves when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Cryophoenix?" said the scribe with a deep incline of their head. "You asked to be notified when the Offerings were within ten minutes of proceeding."

"May I consider this my notification?"

"Indeed you should."

"Thank you," said Cryo. "If I may ask, could you leave the books I have gathered out for my later use? Please feel free to tidy them or move them if you see fit or I have placed them in a careless way."

"We shall do as you ask," said the scribe. "May I take your current books from you so you can meet your duty?"

Cryo took one look at the six-book-high stack resting on his forearm and decided to take them to the table himself after gracious thanks for the offer. With the books safely down, Cryo thanked the scribe once more and headed out from the library, carefully walking down the steps until he reached the outside air.

Cryo reached for the crystals of his wings, taking a moment to break them from their near-solid prison. He stretched them out to their full span, feeling the sunlight on the ice as if it were his own fingers. It wasn't so much a feeling as it was knowing that they were a part of him, that they were connected the same way that he and Banshee were: invisible, yet integral to his being.

With one, downward flap of his wings, Cryo took to the skies and launched himself across the temple grounds towards the Starlight Hall.

The crowds were already thick in the courtyards, the Speakers and Pillarguards alike doing what they could to instill order among the chaos. Many called out to Cryo as he landed on the steps to the Starlight Hall, calling for his blessing, his guidance, and a million other things.

Cryo simply lifted a hand and inclined his head towards them before walking inside the Hall.

I can barely guide myself, let alone hundreds of others.

The thought had his mind heavy as he reached the centre of the room.

Like the last Offerings, all six Luminaries were in attendance. DragonFae sat on a chair at her pedestal, sharing a look with Golem who stood on his. Pegasus and Nereid stood between theirs, talking to their High Speakers, and Banshee stood in the middle of the room with a hand on her hip talking to three regular Shadowspeakers that Cryo recognised from last Offerings.

They needed the show of solidarity in stead of the City's lacking faith. The Serpent's attack on the temple coupled with the sighting of the Core Chamber bursting with auroralight and the evacuation order had been enough to cause those civilians who usually left the temple to their own to question each Luminary's competence.

Six weeks, and he was still feeling the effects of his miscalculations.

Still, not everything was terrible. DragonFae had found a solution to her paralysis, though it was very much still a work in progress. Pegasus no longer wobbled on his hooves and rarely hit a bystander with his wings, though that could have been the result of everyone else's learned caution. He had a solid grasp on his ultimate, though his flying was still cause for alarm, as well as the crash landings that needed a ten metre radius.

Nereid was a different matter entirely. She seemed able to embrace the physical aspects of her transformation and put her fins to good use in the water, but when it came to more Luminary-specific abilities, she struggled to even hold a small globe of water aloft. She was easy to find, because she left small puddles on the floor wherever she went. On the occasions that she made it past something more than her timid, withdrawn demeanour--usually to tell off Pegasus for his wings--the water around her reacted in such ways that they knew she had the potential, she just wasn't tapping into it.

It concerned the other Lumi's more than they'd let either of the new pair know. Luminaries had an instinct that came with their powers. Like Cryo's frost, it was supposed to come as easy as breathing. A Nereid without control of water was just a girl with flippers.

In the centre of the room, the three Shadowspeakers nodded and walked away, leaving Banshee alone. She spotted Cryo as he walked up to her, keeping his pace steady and measured while he gave the room a final once-over.

Olivia isn't here.

He resisted the breath of relief with Banshee so close. Olivia had never seemed interested enough in Offerings to actually show up, and she was trying to give him space, to let him take it one day at a time... but he felt like he was leading her on. Without his starsong amulet, there was no future for them.

Still, regardless of how many nights he'd tried reasoning it out to himself, something deep down in the melted part of his soul just couldn't let her go. No matter how many times he reached the same, perfect conclusion, he couldn't stop being selfish.

Banshee raised an eyebrow at Cryo as he finally stopped in front of her. "I thought I was gonna have to come drag you outta the library."

"No need," said Cryo, surprised to find his voice as light as his chest felt heavy. "I found my way here like an independant Luminary. Have you promoted those Shadowspeakers I saw you with just now?"

"Not yet, they seem fine." Banshee glanced over her shoulder and said quietly, "I had a look around for our friend, but couldn't see anyone like you described. I'm guessing they've probably changed up their look a bit if they're here today."

"Understandable," said Cryo, his eyes taking one last, unsettled glance around the room. Why do I keep believing she'll just be standing there, watching me? "I'll signal you by pressing my tattoo if I believe the same individual appears today."

Banshee frowned.

Cryo hesitated. "Is there a problem with the signal?"

She didn't reply straight away, taking a long few seconds for her crimson eyes to study his face. "Are you sure you're okay, Cryo?"

"Perfectly."

Banshee drew a breath like she was going to argue, before her eyes slipped to the side and she shook her head. "I'll talk to you after Offerings." She turned and walked away, lifting a hand up as she called over her shoulder, "Have fun, cupcake!"

Cupcake. It took everything Cryo had to ignore the burning of his cheeks as he strode over to his pedestal and took his place atop it. Banshee, I swear...

A High Frostspeaker approached him.

"Your offerings, Frost of Skypillar," said the High Frostspeaker, inclining their head deeply towards him and lifting the pouch towards him. "Skypillar's people thank you for your service to this city."

"Thank you, High Frostspeaker," said Cryo, accepting the pouch and placing it in the bowl. It felt heavier than usual, which was unexpected.

"I come with some concerning news," said the High Frostspeaker. "A rumour has reached my ears about some unsavoury things both said and done by your civilian representative, Jason Frostsong."

Cryo's jaw set. This was the second mention of a rumour this week. Though he had a good idea of the person responsible for starting them, he couldn't quite see a way to stop them. "What is this rumour?"

"I apologise for putting it so bluntly, but the rumours state that he has been regularly seen at bars in Kaladrel, becoming drunk and belligerent, engaging in slanderous talk against the High Speakers and brawling with others. Perhaps most concerning is that he has attempted to usurp authority at his various tasks, including ordering the scribes among the library."

None of that was true. Jason hadn't left the temple grounds in four weeks, let alone traveled to Kaladrel. "I see."

The High Frostspeaker exhaled, settling their shoulders. "I would normally not bring such petty matters to your attention, but in light of recent events, I feel that a stable, solid front is necessary for the temple to regain the people's trust."

"I understand, High Frostspeaker," said Cryo with a small incline of his head. "I will look into these rumours myself, but until further notice, Jason Frostsong still retains my utmost faith. I would also appreciate it if you were to locate the source of these rumours for me."

"As you wish," said the High Frostspeaker, inclining his head. "Are you willing to take the people's requests upon this day of offering?"

"I am."

"I shall make the preparations."

The High Frostspeaker strode away, meeting with the other four High Speakers and one Shadowspeaker in the centre before turning to the main entrance of the Starlight Hall to welcome the crowds inside.

Cryo watched them move, feeling far more like Jason than he did the Aspect of Frost.

Jason, who had not been allowed inside the house to collect his belongings after his mother had banished him.

Jason, who had very much started to understand the weight of the stares that Ella faced down daily as he went about his various temple duties.

Jason, who'd been struggling to sleep in his temple-allocated bed because he was sure that someone was watching him in the middle of the night.

He'd tried to pull through it, to ignore it and carry on trying to figure out life without his mother dictating every decision he made--until a week or so ago he'd woken up to find someone hurrying away from the end of his bed and out the door. They hadn't stopped as he'd called after them, and they'd disappeared before Jason made it to the door.

He'd slept in Cryo's quarters at the Starlight Hall that night, needing one night where he knew he'd be safe. Just one night, he'd told himself, a promise quickly broken the following night when anxiety had felt like a solid mass in his gut.

No one had noticed Jason's absence. No one had cared, not until a text from Lucian two days later asking where he'd went, and now Olivia--

Cryo shut it all down, freezing it over and refusing to acknowledge it.

It didn't matter. Jason was irrelevant. Cryo was far more effective for doing what needed to be done, and right now, he had Offerings to focus on.

The crowds shuffled into the Starlight Hall in six fairly neat lines, all with their ends out of sight, and Offerings began.

It didn't take long before the people began to blur together.

A father with the chosen name of Frostweave, asking for a blessing for his daughter. She'd had breathing problems, and the doctors were concerned that it might be a symptom of something more.

A fifteen year old, unsure whether they should choose Frost or Wave for their chosen name. Cryo did what he could to help guide them, but ultimately, he knew it was in their hands. It wasn't a decision anyone but them could make.

A child, accompanied by her parents to show Cryo a small figure that she'd made of him and wanted to gift him. He took it with a careful claw, thanking her and keeping it in his grasp until she was out of sight, where he turned and carefully placed it in the bowl beside his pouch.

So many people wanting reassurances that he would protect them. People that didn't want promises that he would do his best, but solid confirmations, like it would help them sleep at night if they could be completely sure that in the wake of his failure, they'd be right in blaming him.

It didn't matter that some of them were more than twice his age: they were still eager to pass each and every burden of responsibility onto him.

Towards the end, when the last people that the High Speakers had allowed to join the queue were in sight, Cryo came across someone who shook him out of his daze.

The man wasn't wearing the same, overly-plain clothes that he had been last time, but Cryo wouldn't have missed that small, secret smile lurking on his face in a million years. It was a smile he'd seen so many times before. A smile that amplified his guard a hundredfold, because every time his mother wore it, it meant that he would leave the conversation hurting and numb.

"Greetings, Cryophoenix, Aspect of Frost," said the man, inclining his head.

The edge in the man's voice confirmed it.

He was the same individual from the previous Offerings.

Covering the movement with an incline of his head, Cryo placed his palm to his tattoo and pressed down.

*+*+*+*

A/N - Eyyy chapter on time. We get to see what Cryo's working on researching and the dilemma it's putting him in. And onoes--SUSPICIOUS INDIVIDUAL EVERYONE PANIC AHHH. 

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