We could have been making a killing this entire time.

Sentients follow us through the dirt streets, practically salivating for even the dilute tea we've been bartering with. I am offered heirlooms, precious articles of clothing, gems of the magical variety and otherwise (and I'm not talking about the small quartzes used for venecrystallogy, I'm talking diamonds and rubies), and even bones. The former? Gladly taken. The latter? Well, we put a few souls to rest, but I don't even want the reputation of taking bones.

On our third day, someone approaches Altair with a toe ripped off and lies prostrate at his hooves. "Please," he asks.

"We don't take body parts as payment for tea," Altair says, nervous, "Or at all, really."

"No, I want-- I need you to look at the future for me," explains the desperate, sandy-furred Canis, nudging the toe (still covered in flesh, if well cauterized, mind you) further in his direction.

Altair flinches, but takes it beneath his hoof, eyes clenched in pain (of what variety I can hardly determine), and says, "I see great darkness ahead. Great, vague darkness."

"Will she be okay?"

The pronoun game. Altair's teeth grit. I 've heard him rant, in great detail, about how obnoxious it is that Sentients assume Fauna know all the valuable others in one's life and who each question pertains to. He taps back the toe. "I can't help you."

Altair. Lie. It's not difficult.

"You can't see anything, can you? Can you?" he growls, keeping our pace as we try to walk away.

He's stopped by another Canis, who snaps, "Those are the Bliss sellers. What do you think you're doing?" and the two break out into argument, which ends by the latter jerking him away by the horn, the two enmeshed in telekinetic strife. Altair's discomfort traces the lines of his face, his dusty fur, the growing lack of energy more overwhelming daily. He, too, is lacking magic, if by injury instead of birth, and it is beginning to haunt us in every town. The unease is palpable. I can only imagine what Gabriel and his fanatics must be doing in small pockets across Opphemria.

Altair has a few dozen crystals of varying quality strung to his longer antler, concealed within ornamental lavender, and I carry my roundgard on a chain at my neck. Our bags are fastened by jewels to deter Canis spacial manipulation. We've picked up most of the equipment we're fending these Sentients back with from their own houses and pockets.

The streets smell of sick and a lot of the houses are burned black by the aftermath of magic. Several homes look as if they were erected last night. Only the main buildings have any kind of polish, such as the town eatery and various stores, but these are hung heavy with teeth and nails, along with a single femur that traces a doorway, lithe and sharp as a rebuke.

Admittedly, I miss our candles and cabin (a little. I could work something up if I tried), as well as the townsfolk in our last town who were at least kind up to a point. However, there is a particularly gullible merchant in this town's general trade shop who never fails make my day. He's a Canis, as most are, though he has a few Canira with him for organizing the inventory, all of whom have the same dead-eyed guppy look as he does every time I bring something mediocre out of Altair and I's bags. I jerk my head towards the building, which has its own share of bones (oh boy), and Altair rolls his eyes to say I suppose.

We enter and I can see him light up. I survey his meager inventory with trained contempt, then say, "My companion and I'd like to have something appraised."

"Of course, sirs. Anything, sirs." he says. I open the bag and gracefully rummage through it, drawing up a stone run over several times by claws before placing it on the table. The cloth of the table itself is strained as frost begins to spread across the surface, spiking up in jagged points. "What's that?"

"This? It's a sterile egg from the Yverns from up north. They're nasty creatures, but their eggs, if left unfertilized, grow to possess incredible cryogenerative properties. It wasn't an easy trip, either. The North is frozen, barren, inhospitable and watched over by ice-based Canira and the Hoarfrost, savage sharp-teethed protectors of the land. Few from our parts dare venture there... you may never see anything like this again."

"That must be valuable, very valuable ineeded," The Canis nods, shaking his head so fast his ears have begun to flap. "Say... you wouldn't need that taken off your paws would you?"

I look positively floored by the suggestion. "If it really piques your interest, I suppose could cut you a deal... do you have any white flowers, perhaps? I need something to take to the graves of my ancestors. We're on the way to my hometown now and I've nothing to offer their spirits." (I sniff dramatically, looking off towards my incorporeal, unhelpful ancestors.)

"That's so little," he says, effectively breaking all the laws of exchange in Opphemria. "Are you certain you wouldn't want a little more?"

I pretend to think it over. "This isn't much else to sweeten the deal, but do you think you could potentially place a few strings of detonative haemo in there? This egg is quite the artifact, and though we won't ask too much for it..."

He passes over a frankly massive string of crystals congealed to a fine thread. They pulse with energy, as if something young and hungry within is begging to escape. Fortunately, it's just... it's just blood money. Nothing illicit about that. "Is this enough?"
Stop making my job so easy. I might feel bad. I draw it back with a paw. "Should be."

He inclines his head. "Koda, by the way. Always a pleasure."

Altair muses, "First time anyone's ever said that about doing business with us."

Outside, we're immediately aggressed by another merchant, indicated by their large, amorphous bags with various knicknacks attempting to breach its stretched surface. Said merchant practically slams our side with his shitty bags on purpose, sneering back at us. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Do we know you?" asks Altair. Clearly, this guy is a legal, and a dramatic one at that.

He scoffs. "I certainly know you. I don't think there's anyone who doesn't know the Bliss salesfolk who've been ripping through towns, driving up prices for everyone else. You enjoy your illicit goods while you have them. Heaven's Jaw is burning every Bliss field in Opphemria."

"That has to be seven kinds of illegal," I say, half-impressed. "Isn't there some old legend about them being sprung from Lotus's bulbs or something?"

"There are a lot of old legends. You can't sanctify every rock on this planet. You most certainly can't sanctify fairness of trade, which is why the likes of you-- undercutting, overcutting, frankly just dismal for business-- can tramp in here without following rulebooks or pricing guides and really fluster my feathers."

I glance at his side. If he has wings under those bags, they are having a sorry time of it.

The merchant looks sidelong at a clustering crowd, as more of the locals notice the 'Bliss salesfolk' are out and ready to be bothered. "But of course, I'll turn you over to the mob. Watch your tails, fellas." He moves into the store with a dismissive flick of his tail, and I grimace, watching him leave.

There's a crowd outside, teeth grit and tails low. It's mainly Canis, but I notice Canira, Felis, and even the odd lesser species. It's certainly not a crowd lacking in diversity, but they are united by a singular anger, and there's already some interesting discussion going on by the time we meet them.

"Why are we paying so much?" one barks. "It's a Fauna and a Forhaga. Who among us couldn't take them?"

"I won't be bossed around by a toughfoot, that's for sure." adds another, raising his head above the mob.

Altair looks my way, and I look back, suddenly certain of my silver tongue. Taking on a more threatening countenance, fur puffed and tail swinging like a viper, I gesture to Altair's horns with a jerk of my head. The silver crystals peek from within their lavender shroud. "You kill us and this goes with it." I say, voice shaking. "All of it. Up in flames."

"You can't even activate it." warns a Canis, slinking forwards with two snakes of black energy curling about their sides.

"On your left," Altair says, right before said Canis attempts to throw a rock at me. I dodge out of the way, letting the stone break the window, and as the Canis starts, looking no longer at two easy pieces of prey but two competent, pissed-off fighters, Altair remarks, "So much for busted. Would you like to know what I see in your future? I assure you, it's not pretty, friend. Same goes for you all. This is no small amount of explosives I hold in my horns. It is enough to blast you all in thirds, and I will not hesitate."

A few members of the crowd fall back, and Altair watches the crowd break apart, his eyes still narrowed and his hooves scuffing the porch of the store, half-anticipating being blown to smithereens.

"Watch your neck," the Canis warns, and disappears.

I roll my eyes. Altair shakes the defunct crystals, letting them clatter against his horns. "We should go to bed. Preferrably in the next town over."

"I think we could both use the rest," I agree. "Especially after today."

"Please. Every day's like this." Altair's hooves clatter back onto solid ground. His aura is dim in the fading light. I watch it enviously, though it almost matches mine by now. While everyone else grows worse, Altair seems to be...

"It's fading," Altair says. "You know there was no magic involved in me dodging that rock."

"Guess we're busted together." I say, half-meaning the pure poison that seeps into my voice.

"I was more concerned that I wasn't sharing in all this. I've been thinking about Gabriel, and I know it was stupid, borderline cult--"

"No. All cult. There was nothing not cult about that." I correct him.

"Yes, but we really don't know what that prophecy meant. He didn't make that up. Those were Suvi's words. Roll them over on your tongue. You can physically taste the holy energy."

I begin, "When stills the apex of the sun, the wrath of souls..." and lick my teeth, my tongue suddenly electric. He's not wrong. The word of our god, Verhamera, runs heavy on every syllable. I know prophecy when I feel it (I used to repeat prophecy relating to the Auspicia when I was young, just to feel magic in my body, but you get bored of pretending). "It's something, but it's not as if we chose to be this way, Al. I wouldn't be worried. What, do you really think I'm an aberration for existing?"

"No," Altair says. "I never said that, never insinuated it... You know I would never!"

Ah, Altair. I bump his side with my tail. "Calm down. You know I'm not angry."

A familiar humming noise drifts over my ears, and this time I'm the first to turn in its direction. There's a bakery nearby, and just outside, close to an assembling crowd, is a small sun.

"She's there again." I say.

The song that comes from the lyta of the white Canis is like smoke and water, both rising upwards and rippling outwards from all about her, all in that high, bright tone like light given substance. She transcends into something I have no words for, something that demands to be heard and felt, and the light within her passes over everyone in the crowd, choking out theirs. I ease in, Altair at my side, and feel it pass over me, little more than warm rain on my fur. Everyone else, however, is entirely entranced. Altair's ears perk and he tilts his head forwards, eyes glossy and prey-dull.

She has created bliss. Not the flower-- the sensation. When she settles, it feels like the world is slowing down again, and I swear I see her catch my gaze. I'm starting at her so intently I can see every dark blemish on her off-white fur. Her pale eyes silently demand something of me.

"What? You want our Bliss, still?" I ask. "When you can do that without it?"

The words are drowned out by tumult. She rises. A Sentient no higher than my forelegs cling to her, someone levitates part of her ear, and someone else has their paw in her tail. Soon, every telekinetic grasp is upon her, and she is struggling to step at all, but as the sun falls down all the magic begins to drain from the crowd. The switch is sudden, and if the expressions are any indication, immensely painful, and they are dark, foreboding shapes desperately watching her midday in the falling afternoon. With a violent wave of light, she throws them from her and disappears.

Altair and I settle back onto the road and eventually, a new inn, all without speaking much. I can see his ears twitching, replaying Illuet's song in his head. Finally, he lowers his head to the ground, where our newly-acquired blanket (fresh from a one-sided trade with Koda) greets his head. It's exquisite kaanin-fur, soft as the first touch of spring grass against the paw. He rolls over in it, a long, awkward motion like a turtle rolling in its shell, and his hooves clatter against the ground. "Think we'll see her again?"

"I'd be surprised if we didn't. You know what they say, though--"

"Two times coincidence, three times destiny." Altair confirms with a drowsy yawn. I watch him curl his legs in, remembering a wobbly fawn who used to mimic the Canira way of curling oneself up around a bushy tail he didn't have. My eyes fog over. "Rule fourty. If you think someone is looking for you, there's at least half a chance they are."

She's not the only one looking for you. Be careful out there, lest you lose your head. "For the last time, who..."

"She?" he asks.

"No. It's--" It leaves my mouth before I mean it to. "Stupid. Entirely stupid. I'm fine." I lie back down, trying to close my eyes and will myself asleep.

"I can't make you tell me, but I can say that whatever's wrong, I'm there to help."

My heartbeat settles and I do not answer, the red-hot pain easing back from my mind. I'm not crazy, I tell myself. I watch his head lower, tilt to the side, and his chest begins to rise and fall in a more natural rhythm as he falls asleep. I stare drowsily towards the exit. The door is double locked and rigged by several traps, all of which are begging for Sentient blood.

I dream of drinking from a lake as black as the night sky, which draws upwards around me until I am surrounded by its depths. The faster I drink, the faster I fall, and soon someone has their paws around my head, holding me down into the murk. I gag on it, glutting myself with dark water, but the paws at the back of my head are insistent, and deep inside me is this awful, creeping feeling that I let this happen, that I want to be filled.

(A/N: Morning updates?! In the Chronaverse? What kind of BS is this?)