MYRIA

Zemra

Maius

Myria had had enough with the rain. For the past three days, rainstorm after rainstorm had plagued Myria's small village of Zemra and the mountainside that surrounded it. At first, Myria had welcomed the fresh air and the moisture as a gift from the gods; surely, spring had come at last. However, the sheets of silver droplets had only begun to let up after three very long, very wet days.

Myria sniffed as she continued down the streets of Zemra's pitiful downtown. The smell of mud and hay lining the streets wasn't exactly anyone's first choice in favorite scents, but lately, it would have to suffice. She had work to do, and she wasn't about to let a rainstorm get in the way of that.

With another deep breath, Myria straightened her posture, tucked her old wool coat tighter around her frame to protect the files underneath it, and began her less than dignified muddy march to the tavern at the end of the street.

As Myria approached, The Goat's Crown looked just like any other building in the 'downtown': wooden panels, thatched roof, stone windowsills, faded storm shutters. If you didn't know what you were looking for, you'd walk right past it, which is why it became the perfect place for anyone looking to lay low for a while. Sure, everyone in town loved the Crown—always full of lively music, inviting warmth, and tasty meals—but only a few knew its true secrets.

And Myria just happened to know them all.

Myria pushed the door to the Goat's Crown open and stepped inside. Instantly, she was bathed in light and warmth from the hearth along the wall. About a dozen people milled about at various tables with plates of food or mugs of coffee. A fiddler was playing a hearty jig up on the small stage, while a singer babbled along in Illyrian—the first Perian dialect. Patrons of the Crown clapped and sang along, downing their mugs of coffee the way some would down wine.

"Myria!" Alo Klea's crooned from across the tavern. The old woman was waving frantically from behind the oak bar, a dishcloth in her hand. "Come quick!"

Myria hurried over to the bar, a concerned look on her face. "What is it, Alo?"

For a moment, the old woman's expression looked dire and Myria's heart panged with fear. Maybe Edi and the Eagle's Eye had been found out? The possibility made her stomach flip. Before she could ask, Alo Klea finally spoke.

"Wipe your feet at the door before you come in. I don't pay my bills to this town to have muddy floors." She flicked her dishcloth at Myria gently, hitting her in the shoulder.

Myria hung her head, sighing in sarcastic relief. "Thank the gods," she teased, looking back up with an impish look in her eye, "I thought you had something important to say to me."

Alo Klea tried to fight it, but a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "You and your tongue, girl. It'll get you into trouble someday."

"Ah, but that day is not today," Myria winked. She leant across the bar, pouring herself a glass of water.

"What, there's not enough water for you out there?" Alo Klea nodded towards the door as she scrubbed a plate down.

Myria arched an eyebrow sarcastically, setting her drink down. "I'll be down—"

"Shh!" Alo Klea hissed, staring daggers at Myria. She took a moment to breathe, glanced at a point beyond Myria's sight, then spoke again. "Edi is still away at school."

Myria furrowed her brow. That was the fallback in case a secret about the Eye had been revealed. To most of Zemra--especially to its officials that the Eagle's Eye so avidly targeted--Edi Hoxha was away at the Kessinger School of Trade in the Corellan Isles. However, he actually stayed in the basement of the Crown, only sneaking up and out after the tavern had closed or when it was time to run papers to the town.

"What's wrong?" Myria whispered. She felt the stare of another person like the thorns of a rose, pricking up and down her spine.

"Underneath the flag," Alo Klea coughed, hiding her words with the run of the water from the tap.

Myria barely nodded, pausing a moment as to not look conspicuous. Then, she glanced over her shoulder towards the Perian flag along the far wall. There, seated underneath the gold and scarlet banner, was an ox of a man lumbered over a small steaming mug. He seemed middle-aged, about the same age as the other officials that ran Zemra, but his military-grade haircut labeled him as a legionnaire. Possibly a centurion, given the medals of honor along his chest. He looked up and Myria averted her gaze away to the clock, pretending that she was looking for the time.

"It's probably nothing," Alo Klea muttered. "But he came in asking about Edi and no one has done that in months."

Myria risked another glance, allowing her writer's eye for detail to come out to play. Even with the loud music and clamorous singing and decadent trays of food, the man wasn't fazed. His military cap rested on the table before him, and he took hesitant sips of the coffee in his mug as he surveyed the building. Whoever this centurion was, he was here on business, which wasn't a good sign.

"Do you have something for them?" Alo Klea leant over the bar, a glint in her old green eyes.

Myria nodded, slipping an envelope out from the stack of paper underneath her coat.

"I'll distract him for you." Alo Klea nodded towards the back corridor, where the secret basement entrance was hidden. "Go."

Myria managed a smile, turning on her heel. She swept away from the counter, making a point not to look in the centurion's direction if she valued her own life, and hurried down the corridor.

The entrance to the basement was hidden underneath a rug inside a broom closet at the very end of the Crown's back corridor. Myria hurried past the restrooms and the office until she reached the broom closet. Heart pounding, she ducked inside and shut the door behind her. Only then did she feel relieved.

Myria crouched down and pushed the old rug aside, revealing the trapdoor that led down into the basement. If she listened hard enough, past the clamor of the Crown, she could hear the clack of typewriters and the muffled voices of the Eagle Eye's staff down below. The familiarity of it sent a feeling of reassurance through Myria's mind. She opened the trapdoor and slipped inside, pulling the door shut atop her.

"Myria? Is that you?" a male voice called from down below.

"No, it's General Rexha come to take us all away.," Myria called, traipsing down the stairs. A ripple of laughter sounded and Myria smiled.

From around the staircase wall, a young man stepped into view. He swept his black hair out of his face, folding his arms over his white shirt. "You know, you really should start to warn us when you're coming. How do we know it isn't the legion come to arrest us?"

"Edi, if you were worried about being safe and sound every night, you wouldn't have started an underground newspaper." Myria reached up and patted Edi's cheek. "Now what's new?"

Edi fell into step with Myria, leading her deeper into the Eye. Everywhere Myria looked, she saw her friends and coworkers, scattered around tables and desks, holding old newspapers and journals, drinking Alo's coffee and laughing.

"We've got a story running about some harvest scandal, and how if the centurions' stallions keep eating it all up, we'll have nothing for Dia Solaria," Edi explained.

They came around to the center of the room again.

"Do you have anything for us?" Edi asked, leaning against one of the tables. There was an eager look in his eye, the same one he always had when Myria came down to the basement to report. Everyone stopped what they were doing, waiting for the news.

Myria looked around before drawing the files from her coat. She held them up like a prize, and people began to whoop and clap from their stations around the room. Myria was a spy on the Eagle Eye's crew; her job consisted of keeping an ear out for any gossip and following that gossip to an eventual lead without getting caught. She'd been dubbed a Fox for her stealth and wiles, and the name stuck ever since.

"Myria, I'm not sure what we'd do without you." Edi beamed, reaching for the file. Swift as an adder, Myria held the papers back.

"Not so fast, Ed," Myria tutted. "I need my compensation first."

Edi wilted. "Come on. You know I'll give it to you after."

"But it's more fun to tease you like this beforehand." Myria smirked.

Edi heaved a dramatic sigh, pushing off the table and marching over to a cabinet of cubbyholes in the corner. He fingered through the rows before pulling out a thin stack of mail with the name MYRIA XANI printed on the label. He pivoted and handed it to Myria.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Myria chimed, trading her packet of evidence for her mail. She whirled around and headed for her desk to sort through it all. Her bi-weekly check from the Eye, covertly written as a bonus from the Goat's Crown; her check from the Goat's Crown itself; and most coveted of all, a folded piece of cardstock with her name written in cursive on the front. Myria's heart swelled at the sight of it.

Myria's mother had been away for months now, studying medicine with the monks in the Pacian Valley. Every now and then, she'd send Myria a letter to check up on her and remind her that she loved her and that she'd be home sooner than Myria thought. It was a vicious cycle when her mother was away, but it only made the bond between her and Myria stronger. After Myria's father passed away when she was ten, they had to make ends meet and for Myria's mother, that meant pursuing her means of medicine overseas to eventually start her own apothecary in Zemra. But until then, work had to be done on Myria's part to maintain their small house while her mother was away.

Eagerly, Myria ripped the letter open. It was a shorter one to her dismay, but she was grateful for the correspondence nonetheless. She read and reread her mother's updates from the Elysian Monestary, felt her heart twist at the end where her mother vowed to be back soon and that she loved her.

Oh, how she missed her mother and her laugh and her warm embrace. If she closed her eyes, Myria could imagine that she was back in her house with a tart in her hands and one in her mother's as they giggled and talked over breakfast. But when Myria opened her eyes, all she saw was a dark, busy basement and a crumpled piece of parchment.

<>

It was on her way back home when the sickness struck Myria. One moment she'd been perfectly stable, basking in the cool air as the rain finally lightened enough to where she didn't feel chilled to the bone. Then, with all the force of a fully-armed legionnaire ramming into her, shield and all, the pain struck Myria's mind.

Myria staggered to her knees, the pain like someone had taken a knife and stabbed into her brain. She winced tightly, as if that would nullify the excruciating pain that would hit her head, then her chest, then her hands. She saw images fly past her shut eyelids: a boy with fiery red hair, the forests along the mountains flattening with shockwaves of power, and a large stone building crumbling into smolders. Then, just as swift as it had hit her, the pain ebbed.

Myria muttered a curse word under her breath as she got to her feet. Cheeks flushed with equal parts exhaustion and embarrassment, she looked around to see if anyone had seen her episode. Thankfully, no one really cared enough to watch—except a nearby donkey that upon meeting her gaze, tilted its head at her and brayed.

With a weak smile, Myria continued her path, catching her breath. Whatever this sickness was, it'd been plaguing her sporadically for the past week. She didn't know what had incited it, and when she'd talked to Alo Klea about it, the old woman had only prescribed her rest after lecturing her about the dangers of going outside with wet hair. After that, Myria had decided to keep her mysterious ailment to herself. She could handle a little pain, but what troubled her most was the series of visions that would shake her mind each time. They were always the same: the boy with red hair, the mountainside flattening, and the burning building. Myria had no idea what they meant in the slightest, but in a superstitious town like Zemra, anyone and their mother would assume the worst should she let it slip.

All throughout the myths and legends of the Empire were innocent young girls getting lured off into danger because they couldn't keep their heads out of the clouds. Myria vowed to herself that ailment or no, she wouldn't allow her mark on history to be one of idiocy by proving those myths right. If anything, she'd become as well-known as the gods. It was only a matter of time.