"Well, we're nearly here," Albert announced.

We stood in front of a winding alleyway, the cobblestone streets catching splotches of sunlight that streamed through the looming sky and on the sides, mismatched buildings huddled together as if to warm themselves against the chilling breeze.

I shivered, bits of water that clung to my shirt had been coated in a layer of frost and the loose fabric now stuck to my skin like a sheet of ice. The amber street lights pulsed with an ethereal glow, attempting to thaw the cold atmosphere but only succeeded in reminding me of Camila as we headed down the sodden street, a dozen eyes seemingly following me.

A few pipes ran along the sides, gurgling with rushing water, but besides a scratch or two, had been shielded from the ruthless storm by the large overhangs above us that cast an eerie dimness accompanied by the rhythmical drip of falling droplets. Few puddles stained the ground and any that did flowed freely through the cracks of stone and into the earth.

The wires suffered a different fate, being exposed to the ferocity of nature, and had snapped in half like trembling twigs in the wind, some of which showered clothes onto the street as they had been used for makeshift clotheslines.

We passed by a dilapidated barber shop, the once cheery red, white, and blue pole on the side had ground to a halt, and wind whistled through the shattered glass that revealed what remained of the glum place. Its soul had been stolen by the wind, drifting through the cracks in the window, and only a tattered armchair and scattered hair were condemned to the lifeless prison. My gaze lingered for a moment before shifting to a happier scene.

Across from the lackluster shop was a small flower boutique that hosted an assortment of sweet and fruity scents accompanied by a sublime collection of colorful petals that breathed life into the stale air surrounding us.

An elderly woman peeked from underneath her straw hat at the sight of us. Her voice was raspy like running a metal rake against the streets. "Care to buy a couple of flowers? Only one copper each. Our scarlet tulips are quite fashionable these days."

I shook my head gently, not wishing to offend her with a rash reaction. "No thank you, ma'am. We—"

Matilda cut me off and jumped in front of the stands. "C'mon, Wallace, you got to live a little. I'll have..." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, scanning the sea of flowers. "A daisy."

She rummaged through her coin pouch and placed a rusty copper into the woman's creased hands.

The woman smiled and her cheeks wrinkled, a rosy color that seemed to radiate warmth. "Ah, not my favorite but a good pick nonetheless. White fluffy petals like the clouds and a yellow disk like the morning sun..." She plucked one from a boutique, swiftly removing the stem as if sparing the daisy a painless death.

"Lean forward a bit, will you?" She asked and Matilda did so, a bit confused.

The woman pinched the stem gently and tucked it in between the locks of Matilda's dark hair so that it was wedged next to her left ear, a stark contrast that made my jaw drop slightly.

"What?" A light shade of red crept onto her cheeks as she slugged me playfully.

"N-nothing," I stammered. "You look good."

Ken walked over and nodded, flashing a thumbs up that quickly recoiled as Matilda socked him in the arm. "I just wanted to say you're somewhat decent now."

She just shook her head in mock annoyance, murmuring a soft thank you to the woman before elbowing Ken in the ribs.

Albert, who had been quietly observing the ordeal, let out a chuckle and gestured for us to follow him. A bit further down the street, we passed by an apartment building that cast a strip of pitch darkness, a small inn that hummed somber tunes, and peculiar houses that seemed to fall over at any second but were really intentional designs as Albert explained.

Some even had wobbly bridges connecting windows above us—they were really papery metal beams held together by faulty screws that had loosened over the years—and droplets of water trickled down to start the second thunderstorm that we promptly avoided a quick leap.

The faint scent of burnt wood wafted into my nose and my eyebrows nearly jumped off as we neared a house. Or what remained of a house. Sticking out a missing thumb on a hand, sodden wood wrapped around to form the shabby walls whose tips were blackened and frayed with splinters. A small balcony sloped over the entrance, the wind flitting through the crooked doorway as if it were calling for the door.

At least it had been spared some of its former glory. Above the balcony remained only fragments of a wooden floor, the walls stripped down like bark on a tree and debris strewn across the wood. Across the hollowed soul of a house whose tears left ashen streaks on the sides.

"Huh. After so many years, they still remain..." Matilda murmured to no one in particular. As we begun to head down the street, she had paused to observe the remains, her gaze drifting to the colorful petals surrounding it. We stopped as well so as not to leave her behind, but a little part of me danced with curiosity.

"Was this from the fires?" She asked, and I recalled the previous flame keeper's little dance with insanity down Wynnville.

"Yeah. Around these streets, we call them phoenix gardens." Albert pointed at the scattered petals littering the ground, a hazy rainbow that had emerged from the rain. "People come every so often to sprinkle their wishes on the fallen souls. Flowers are the most popular, but I've seen other things done."

So was that what the shop owner had meant about the tulips? I thought as I leaned forward to get a better look.

"Fallen souls rising from the ashes..." Matilda muttered, her face tightening to an incomprehensible expression. "My mother died in one of these houses."

A moment passed before anyone spoke up, fearful of breaking the fragile tether that threatened to streak tears down her cheeks.

"Maybe you could pay your respects?" Ken suggested, removing his hat to scratch his unruly hair. "Lift her from the ashes and off your shoulders for once. To live a little, eh?"

For a second Matilda looked as if she wanted to slap him in the face, blinded by grief clawing at her chest, but the flicker of anger vanished and was replaced with a weak smile as she plucked a petal from her hair.

"I shall do that," She whispered and watched the white petals drift down into the haven of its kin, warm hugs going around as ripples shook them ever so slightly before settling like a still pond.

She stayed there for a minute, just watching the slight bob of the petals in the gentle breeze and the droplets of water that rolled from one to another.

"Let's go," She said. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she turned to follow Albert, a slight bounce in her step as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

A few steps later, Albert stopped in front of a house the color of dark oak, a curved overhang adorned with ornate copper pillars gleaming in the sun's rays. A large translucent window fogged by steaming water droplets cooking under the sun revealed little of the interior, a mesh of blurred colors and shapes in the orange glow of light.

Albert knocked thrice on the wooden door, stepped back, and the doorknob jiggled and a stout man poked his head out. A pair of glasses meant for mice sat on the bridge of his nose and he stared strangely at him.

"Do I know you?"

Albert cocked his head in confusion. "You don't remember me?"

The man studied his face closely, blinking several times before he snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Oh, it's you, Albert. I almost didn't recognize you under those bandages... Speaking of which, what happened?"

He shrugged it off and said, "Nothing much, I just got into a little scuffle."

"Well, come in now. Unless you wish to stand out there and break your soles," He gestured, smiling at us as well.

Albert ducked under the doorway, Ken and Matilda walked in, and I closed the door behind me as the last one. A large sheet of sheer fabric had been draped over a dangling lamp, perhaps to dim the intensity, and various clocks mingled along the walls above shelves lined with an array of strange trinkets. In front of the shelves and to my left was a frail wooden desk trimmed with a simple but suiting beige cloth and a mug of warm coffee that sat next to an unfinished wooden carving, bits of sawdust and chiseling tools scattered around it.

I looked around, beginning to notice little things: a circular carpet that warmed the cool floorboards, various shades of dark and light brown with hints of yellow, and subtle aesthetics that glossed over my eyes.

Lofty, green leaves erected in a mound of dirt trembled in the gust of wind that had snuck through the doorway, the gargantuan vase it sat in seemingly holding onto the wall for support. Other vegetation was strewn around the room in various locations, some finding refuge on top of the shelves and tables, while others basked in the sun's rays next to the glass, stretching their stalks and extending their leaves to soak up the tasty light.

It was a rich, floral scent that relaxed my body as I took in a deep breath, the dim atmosphere complementing it almost perfectly. The man waved a worn but cozy couch and the three of us sat down on the leather paddings, Albert standing next to us.

"You seem to mean business," The man said as he blinked away a tuff of dust that had flown into his eye. "What are you looking for here? Amulets, wood carvings, action figures? I make them all."

"But you don't seem to be type to be playing with action figures," He added, letting out a booming laugh that bounced through the air.

"They need a few passports for the upcoming Elemental Festival," Albert explained and the man's eyebrows shot up.

He pursed his lips, contemplating deeply behind his dark eyes that flashed briefly with worry. "You know I don't do those things anymore ever since..."

He trailed off and wiped his glasses on the hem of his plaid shirt as an excuse to look away, a droplet of a tear forming in the corner of his eyes.

"Anton, no offense," Albert pleaded, "but they just want to live a little before they're stuck in the city working odd jobs and never seeing the light of day again."

Live a little? I stared at him in confusion, but he just winked, a universal signal to just go with it.

Matilda needed no explanation and jumped onto the train immediately, spouting stories of her yearning to experience the celebration of magic that seemed so unbelievable for a moment I thought it was fantasy.

"Fine," Anton rubbed his temples and adjusted his glasses so that his tired eyes peered straight at us, a hint of sadness hidden behind the murky brown depths. "But I'm only doing this because you're a friend of a friend. How many do you need?"

"Two—" She started but shook her head. Instead she stuck up three fingers in the shape of a W and waved a hand across the three of us. "just in case..."

"Hmm?" He asked.

"Nothing." She averted her gaze as if it would shroud the battle raging in her eyes, the anger and disappointment of losing the emblem.

His gaze lingered on her for a while, prying her eyes for more, but he turned and trudged over to the desk when only his piercing stare met a brick wall.

"You two, come here," He said and we followed him to the desk where his head was buried in a heap of clutter in the desk drawer before he emerged with two paperback booklets coated in dust and splinters—the passports, I assumed—and a strange device with an uncanny resemblance to a stapler. Only that instead of paper, he asked me to place my finger between the holds.

"What?" I nearly recoiled at the request and stared, horrified, at the stapler or whatever it was.

"Official documents require the blood of an individual to bind the contract true," He glanced up from the passport he had cracked open. "At least that's what it says here along with a dozen filler pages about legality nonsense."

Extending my hand nervously, I tucked my index finger underneath, gently brushing over what seemed to be a piercing needle.

"Wrong way," Anton stifled a laugh, joined in by Ken. "Unless you want to shatter your nail."

I flushed and pulled my finger out, flipping it so that the needle tickled my soft finger pad.

"Now, this device has been perfected to draw blood with minimal pain," He coaxed, soothing my nerves that racked my trembling hands. "Just close your eyes and before you know it, it'll be over."

I shut my eyes, flooded with the sensation of calmness as darkness enveloped me and what seemed to be a gentle tap was followed by Anton's voice.

"There! Easy as..." He struggled to find the word. "Whatever, the point is there's nothing to be afraid of."

Digging through the drawer again, he fished out a striped quill the color of wild zebras and swiped it against the drop of blood on the metal plating of the device. "Now, just sign here with your name. An alias would be in your best interest, considering you are engaging in such measures."

An alias? He handed the quill to me and stared blankly at the thick, beige paper. "Erm, I don't know how to write."

Anton grunted and took back the quill. "What will be your name?"

Benjamin. My once friend's name flooded into my mind and I blurted out, "Benjamin Morris."

A flash of remembrance shone in his eyes but he looked down before I could get a closer look, scribbling down the name and letting the blood soak into the pages, binding me to whatever legal contract the passport described.

"Well, here you are," He said and handed it to me, turning towards Ken. The little booklet pricked my fingers with little splinters that clung to the spine, and the crinkled pages scrapped against my bandages, threatening to pry them apart.

I slid a thumb over the midnight blue cover, tracing the faded gold lettering that read in capital letters: PASSPORT, and ran it along the pages as black and white flashed before my eyes. I closed the booklet and tucked it into my pocket where it fit snugly.

"Wallace, right?" He called and my eyes darted to meet his, Ken holding a little booklet as well. "It'll be fifteen gold, five for each."

I didn't have that, but... "Matilda! Do you have a little gold to spare?"

With a swift motion, perhaps one too swift as the pouch nearly flew out of her hand, she loosened the drawstring and peered into it. The pouch sagged on her palms, revealing a few silvers and coppers, but not a glint of gold shone through the cracks.

I bit my lip, my eyes darting around nervously before landing on Albert who was already a step ahead of me.

"Don't worry," He said, drawing out the last syllable as he counted fifteen glimmering coins into his palm and placed it into mine. "I have plenty to spare."

I walked over to the desk, leaving the coins in three neat stacks on the desk, and was about to head out when a firm hand grasped me by the collar and slammed me against the wall. It was Anton, a crazed gaze in his eyes as he shoved me further into the wall, the clocks trembling and vases rocking back and forth violently.

"You dare make a mockery of my craft!" He spat and fixed my head so that I looked him straight in the eye, thin red veins spiking the whites surrounding his darting pupils.

"W-what?" I sputtered, unsure of what led to the sudden change in demeanor, and why I was the one he was taking his anger out on. "I paid the right amount, ten gold!"

"Playing dumb, huh?" He tightened his grip on my collar almost as if he were strangling me. "This is why I never wanted to do this again!"

"Anton!" Albert hurried over and shoved him back, worried etched in wrinkles on his tightened expression. "What are you on about?"

With a look of spite that seemed to stab knives gouging Albert's eyes, he flicked his wrist and a streak of gold plummeted to the ground, spinning for a moment before landing on tails. But instead of the yellow, shiny material that people would kill for was a dull shade of gray under the frayed edges of a thin, gold layer.

"If you haven't noticed, they're fake."