The cobbled streets wound its way around her heart and back into Nivara's childhood.  

The smell of smoke and brindlewood from the burning fires in ramshackle houses clung together with bits of Trait. Houses fell into step as Axis closed up for the night after another successful day. 

At nine years old, Nivara couldn't help but skip along the stones, counting each one in step to her destination. Planting her feet right in the middle was no easy task as the lights that were once lit now blinked out into darkness. 

With shoes that were too big and socks that were too small, the young Traited expertly avoided the cracks in the road, a performer in the making. She could hear the sounds of the Brinehearth festivities cheering her on as she traversed the gloomiest of alleyways. 

"You're doing it wrong!" 

An accusatory yell made her stumble, her shoes making her trip and fly forwards up and over her head. A sharp cackle made her eyes water, her Trait struggling to assist her against the cold, bitter winds of Bitrfall. But still he offered a tentative hand to help her up.

"Why'd you stop me like that, Hawky? I was just getting good, y'know?"

The boy next door was a gangly looking child, only two years older than her but was always covered in soot and smelled of smoke. His bag with the broken strap was constantly full of books, his eyes squinting at the low light despite bragging he was used to it.

"Better than a Havalog, at least. You're supposed to use your Trait. It helps keep your balance and reaction time, according to my Agar that is." Hawkins reminded her pointedly, puffing out his chest.

With his jumper too tight and his shirt rolled up to his shoulders, Nivara could see the thin lines of scars and know exactly where he got them from. But none of that mattered to her when he was being an arrogant little brat.

"Oh shush. Sissy can't even go to the shops any more, how's he supposed to teach you about Trait?"

Hawkins' face went bright red with annoyance, his mouth wide open in indignation at her 'new nickname' for his proud Hammerhead dragon.

"His name is Colossus! Anyways, at least he teaches me about stuff unlike your partner. All she does is sleep and look at herself in the mirror, just like you!"

Nivara couldn't help but scoff at his poor retort, folding her arms as the large sleeves slipped down her arms.

"Oh please. Kaldra teaches me plenty. She taught me how to stand up to arrogant show-offs who're only good for being a teacher's pet!"

The uncertain Smoke Traited began to stutter, his Trait rising upwards dangerously as his anger grew. Nivara coughed, now wary of his angry smoke as she tried to take a tentative step back but her wonky shoes were caught between the cobblestones.

"Well...at least I know I'm good at something. You don't even know what you're good at because you 'forgot!"

Nivara froze, taking the time to process his words. It wasn't her fault she couldn't remember who she was before she ended up here. All she knew was a white light and a hazy blue mist surrounding her. It was why she couldn't summon her grimoire or her Trait even though she was already contracted to Kaldra. Yet that mean boy thought he was better than him just because of his Trait.

She screamed angrily and barrelled into the sorry excuse for a Traited and knocked him to the ground. Tears were spilling over as the Smoke Traited struggled to pry her from his grip but soon she was wrenched away from him still kicking and screaming.

"When I agreed to tutor you both I did not put my name down as a referee for a wrestling match!"

Nivara still dangled in the air, her collar being held up by a pair of large jaws. Her intruder was invisible within the darkness but she could tell who it was from her kind but firm voice. It was her guardian and a no nonsense dragon to boot.

"But Odi! He started it!"

The black dragon let out a warning growl, dropping her onto the stony pavement and stood between the two. She towered over them both, her scales melding into the darkness as her eyes pierced them both with an unamused glare. She was pissed.

"Yet here I am ending it. Hawkins, scoot off home before your mother finds out you're gone. No stops at the library this time."

The boy rubbed at his head, his Trait attempting to gather up his books for him that had been scattered onto the dusty pavement.

"But there's a new book on Maladies and Misuse of Trait laws!" 

Hawkins couldn't help but protest, but the Scale Shriekers glare was unfaltering.

"Now, Jerimiah."

Nivara couldn't help but snicker, his first name being so funny to her since all his other family members had much simpler names. The boy didn't protest, picking up his books one by one before shoving them into his bag and hoisting them grumply onto his back.

"Truant." He spat, the foul word causing Nivara to retort.

"Nerd."

"Traitless." He began again, a little louder this time. 

"Halvasca." 

Nivara swore, the foreign word sounding strange to her but she knew she had gotten to him with the slight adjusting of his bag. Her victory was short lived, however as Odi proceeded to pick her up by her hood and march her right back into her home without a word. 

Nivara couldn't help but squirm at the thought of her silence, knowing full well she would get the biggest scolding a dragon could provide. Instead, the door opened and out stepped the second member of her found family: a Tinker Mole. 

Fidget as his name implied, was a cool, calm and collected Tinker Mole who could adapt to any situation provided there was a cup of tea involved. Armed with his own set of detachable tools with his blond fur covered in an all manner of paint and oil. According to him, he was exactly like 'a Tinker Mole should be.' An organised mess.

"Fighting with your boyfriend again, Nessy?" He joked, winking at her from beneath his glasses.

Nivara’s cheeks blazed scarlet, her knees still scuffed and bleeding from the tussle but she was still outraged at the comment.

"He is not-" 

But before she could finish an even louder growl silenced her with an anxious gulp. Embarrassed but still afraid of the repercussions, the outspoken nine year old kept her mouth shut in front of her surrogate mother. 

Odi had rescued her on one of her many travels to the Golden Plains of Caldor and had found her starving and alone in a harsh Fyrebloom storm. Ever since then, she had abandoned her wandering Scale Shrieker lifestyle to care for a reckless Traited with a loud personality but very little idea of her past. Other than her partner, that is.

"Now, where in Hell's name did you learn that? Calling that boy a bastard...of all the things to learn in Nocturian. You should know better after his father just..." 

Odi's ranting stopped as they went into the house, more of a library than anything else. She didn't want to mention death in front of her but Nivara knew exactly what she was talking about. Every Traited knew the prospect of the Eternal Death. The shop was called Grimmordeals after all. Grim ordeals were bound to happen.

Nivara's small frame hung from the large dragon's jaws like a lioness carrying a disgruntled cub. She was wearing her favourite purple, hooded jumper that was knitted for her only a month ago. Fidget was very good with his claws. 

She squealed loudly as Odi let go and unceremoniously dumped into the tub of water, jumper and all. It swamped her in a mess of wet wool and suds, causing her to shiver and spray them with water. Gawking at yet another pile of antique books, the Water Traited busied herself while avoiding the interrogation that was bound to get her in trouble. After all, she couldn't lie to a dragon.

"I got it from nowhere." Nivara muttered at last, her mouth full of water as she began tugging off her wet clothes.

She didn't like Hawkins, but she couldn't help but feel guilty at his situation. His mother only let him study with Odi to try and 'improve his Trait' but Nivara had seen how hard Hawkins was trying to use his Trait in a different way. 

He had tried to light candles, use his Trait to push aside heavy objects and even attempt to burn through solid metals. But no matter how hard he tried, none of it was good enough for her. Nivara had even seen his mom visit late just to argue with Odi long after bedtime but he still couldn't 'be like his father.'

"She learnt that swear from that old coot of a Tinker Mole, Odi." A scathing voice called up from the rafters, darting between the many bookshelves.

Nivara glared up at the green dragon perched on an ornate bookshelf leering down at her. She tried to ignore her gossiping partner but the familiar clunk of a lever and the shadow of a Tinker Mole was more than enough to make her grin. The ledge the Talonslash dragon was sitting on disassembled immediately, sending Kaldra into a freefall and right into the tub.

"Sean-chóta, my ass. Ness probably got it from you, Talonslash." Fidget retorted, his voice full of scorn for her partner.

Nivara laughed, hiding it with her hand, Kaldra glaring at her as if it was her fault. She couldn’t help but feel bad that her family was fighting because of her, deciding to cuddle the sopping wet dragon instead to help her feel better.

 Kaldra immediately wriggled out of her grip, hating the water with every ounce of her being.  Diving underneath the water to hide her frustrations, Hawkins overconfident drawl rang in her head over and over again as the water clogged her ears and voices echoed all around her. 

"What would you know about Trait, anyways? You're a Crafter, Fidgeton and a Dimmer Craft to be exact. What're you gonna do, turn the lights off?"

Hawkins was only using his overconfidence to try and keep himself together. He was now the man of the house but not even a kid could ignore the grief they felt after losing someone they cared about. Colossus was his only father figure left but no matter how hard the kind, old dragon tried; Hawkins still lashed out at him. No matter how much he cared for his Agar, deep down he couldn’t hide his frustrations at the world any longer. But that didn’t mean Nivara had forgiven him. He didn’t have to ridicule her like that.

"What am I going to do with you all? First you pick a fight with an Excelliar of all things and now you fight the son of a war hero? His mother is going to have even more of a fit if she finds out!"

Nivara sulked in the bathtub not wanting to be reminded of Hawkins or his mother. Especially if that was all Odi cared about right now. She scrubbed the grit and dirt from her knees, wincing as it brushed across scuffed and stinging skin. 

Hawkins' big shot mother was an ex demon hunter who fought alongside her husband in Hellgrind. His older sister was in an academy in Shuriken for 'exceptional' Traited and the high expectations only increased for the youngest child. But at least Hawkins knew of his real family.

"I don't care." Nivara said, immediately clambering out of the water and pulling on a new set of clothes. 

Kaldra was still struggling to get out of the tub, constantly splashing around as her heavy wings kept her from escaping the watery death trap. Nivara's borrowed clothes were just a pair of black slacks and a large grey shirt but they still had the lingering smell of smoke. She seethed at the thought of her wearing her worst enemy's old clothes.

"Nessy, you know he didn't-"

Nivara's annoyance hit breaking point, tears forming in irritation.

"If you heard what he said you'd be mad too but you're not! You only care about him because of his Trait!"

Nivara ran from the room, tears blurring her vision as she headed straight towards the small nook in the corner where she slept.

"Ness! Come back here!" 

She sniffed, wiping her tears against the stupid hand me down shirt and shivered. She had forgotten to get dry. Her room was still covered in blankets and pillows from her earlier escapades into the fort of Tarragonia, still propped up by stacks of books and an overturned desk. 

But Nivara didn't feel like playing anymore. She huddled underneath the partially destroyed wall and pulled the pillows closer before sinking into the marshmallow abyss of the sands of Caldor. Her home. A home she didn't even remember.

"I don't know why you're the one crying after a bath. I hate getting soaked." Kaldra grumbled, joking a little to try and cheer her up.

Nivara ignored her Oathed, burying her face further into the pillows to hide her red face. She shut her eyes tight, the sound of claws hitting wood gently made its way over into the best pillow fort this side of Opalis.

"Nessy, what happened?"

Kaldra's worried tone broke her heart as the reminder of her mother's harsh words and Hawkins callousness made her sob. Tears fell without warning as the Water Traited sat up to try and greet her dragon, her emerald body burrowing her in scales long before she could apologise. 

"I thought you hated water." Nivara said after a while, sniffing to stop herself from crying again.

Kaldra nuzzled her cheek gently, making Nivara giggle just a little. Talonslash dragons had very soft scales when they were relaxed but became sharper when threatened. Some dragons could even change the tensile strength and rigidness at will. It was nice to know Kaldra didn't feel threatened around her any more.

"For you, I'd swim the entire Cerucian Sea if it meant keeping you safe."

Nivara rested her head against her dragon's side, cuddling her gently as the dragon growled happily and gently curled around her. They didn't need to say anything more. Nivara knew her dragon cared in her own way and despite her vain and self centred exterior she was actually incredibly loyal. 

But she was very self conscious when it came to her own image and her family's name. The dragon clan of Silvertongue had been tarnished for too long. Nivara sighed, partially resenting her Oathed for having a family history to even protect. But Nivara still had her own family to support her. All she had to do was rely on them.

"Hawky...Hawky said it doesn't matter what I've learned cuz I forgot what I'm supposed to be good at. I don't remember who I am or what my Trait is for. I can't even summon my grimoire, Kallie. I don't know anything!" 

Nivara could feel herself fighting the tears for the third time. She was terrified of admitting to herself but more importantly Kaldra because she didn't want to hear her response. 

She buried her head into the pillows, Kaldra's growling changing from a quiet rumble to a loud hiss of fury. But still her scales didn't change. Kaldra took a deep breath and lay down next to her partner and tried to reassure her.

"Then we'll find out. Auntie Odi's good with grimoires. If anyone can figure out that brain of yours it's her. She was the Timekeeper after all." 

Nivara sat up, bringing her knees up to her chest stubbornly.

"Technically, her Agar was." She reminded Kaldra pointedly, not liking she had forgotten one of the main sections of Odi's story.

The Talonslash couldn't help but laugh, the ironic situation clear only to her. Nivara gave her a small smile, huddling up against the blankets and nudged closer to her dragon.

"See? You're already better at remembering than me." Kaldra reminded her, staring up at the night sky.

Nivara couldn't help but follow her gaze, the skylight in her room now full of stars. She remembered learning each of the constellations but their names and who had taught her them was a complete mystery.

"What if I never remember? What then?" She whispered, Kaldra resting her head against her partner's side.

"I guess, we'll just have to figure it out together."

Kaldra yawned, snuggling against her Agar as Nivara lay back against the dragon and stargazed until she drifted off to sleep. She never noticed her grimoire open next to her, flicking through page after page of fading memories.

                 ……….……..

Nivara fell into step against her fellow Traited, ignoring the outcries and curses thrown at her like barbs against her skin. Parting her azure cloak was enough of a silent threat to send the bystanders scuttling away in fear. They knew what happened when a Mist Maiden was nearby. Nothing good.

She sighed, rubbing her temples as if to banish the less than melancholy reminder of her childhood. Now seventeen, she couldn't help but long for the days with her mother and how Odi's words had inspired her to keep going.

 Now, they were mixed with the slurs of the people she had wronged. Perhaps her childhood had been kind to allow her to forget. But now she knew and could never allow herself that luxury again.

Keeping the facade of an emotionless assassin, Nivara made her way towards the old tower, it's outer walls crumbling and abandoned over time. It had once been used as a watchtower to act as a lookout for incoming demons and was the first landmark to station the healers of the war. 

Women and children had been housed here, soldiers gravely wounded being healed in the only outpost for miles. Back then, she had wanted to join and aid those women in their plight but it was all a lie. A lie the elves of Taishin had corrupted. 

Now, the Mist Maidens healers had become enforcers of lawless greed. Years of work had been hollowed out just like the stone cavern she now traversed through. All for the prospect of a better life, with or without Trait.

"Sister Nivara. Step forward."

Nivara blanked but did as ordered, barely able to focus after her musings and simply stared at the flickering candlelight leading to the ornate altar in worship to their goddess. 

She knelt and went through each vigil, drawing blood with the knife they provided, placing it against her grimoire and taking the goblet of water from her High Priestess without so much as a glance. 

The thought of wasting so much water day after day during a drought filled her with ire that burned more than the blood she had shed to receive it. All they wanted was her loyalty. 

Nivara stared at the goblet, the gold tinge settling above the surface at their choice of holy water laced with Truthseeker potion. She fought the urge to scoff but pretended to drink deeply, allowing her Trait to siphon out what wasn't needed. Loyalty wasn't needed here. Not anymore.

"Speak."

"Target negated as commanded. He will not bother us again, High Priestess."

Nivara had nothing against the Laia or the daily rituals they performed but commiting murder based on texts with varying degrees of meaning was not her idea of living a guilt free life. Not when she had seen the suffering first hand.

"The offering."

Nivara lowered her head, the shadow of the hood obscuring her intention as she handed the vial of ash to her High Priestess. She didn't make eye contact with her leader, barely glancing at her already gloved palm as the High Priestess grasped the vial almost gleefully.

"His Agar?" 

Nivara paused, daring to raise her head towards her High Priestess, the only Mist Maiden to wear white instead of the usual azure blue. An unfortunate colour for one who spilt so much innocent blood.

"Included, as the First Law states." Nivara answered at last, lowering her gaze as if afraid of her leader.

She could feel the delight in the High Priestess' grin without catching eyes on it. Nivara suppressed a shudder as the exalted Water Traited rested a comforting hand on her head as if to praise a small child. For once, she was grateful that her real mother had never been around long enough to do that. 

"Good. Very good. You have done well to cleanse that village of those sinners. It is unfortunate they were so young but that is the harshness of the Eternal Death."

"Praise the Laia." Nivara responded without feeling, wanting nothing more than to leave this place for good.

"The Laia praises you indeed, my Sister. Go serve and proclaim the First Law."

She bowed and removed her hood as instructed, rising soundlessly from the floor.

"Of course, High Priestess."

She turned her back on her leader for the last time, acutely aware of High Priestess Aphia going through the same procedure she had done except in the reverse order. Drink from the same spiked goblet. Summon her grimoire. Draw blood as a sign of sacrifice.

Nivara smiled as the goblet crashed to the floor, Aphia's grimoire vanishing under the darkness, candles flickering out under the pressure of her mist. The sound of choking wasn't the most ideal backdrop.

But surely the High Priestess should have known what happens when you mixed Mist Trait with Truthkeeper potion and filtered it through the bloodstream. It was an untraceable poison: Wyvernium.

“What did you do to me?” Aphia wheezed, her weakened state barely able to cling to the steps.

Nivara said nothing, busying herself by attempting to locate what she was really here for. After all, the craftiest of assassins only came out at night and her prized possession liked to show itself in complete darkness. It was imbued with Shadow Trait after all.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago, Aphia. Consider this my resignation." She said with a smile, the words she had longed to say ever since she came under her charge.

Nivara's Trait began clearing her footprints to erase her presence and keep the main entrance blocked in case of unexpected visitors. Parting her cloak she took out a small pouch with a dark green insignia on it. Tossing it in the air her Mist Trait wound its way around the package and set it right where the High Priestess was immobilised.

“You dare to defile my work, you foul demon. The Laia will never let you repent, Nivara Cross.”

Nivara fought the urge to roll her eyes, still searching with her Trait for her favourite gift. Before she had left Grimmordials for good, Odi had gifted her with a mask to hide both her identity and her Trait. She slowly relit the candles, admiring her hidden find while ignoring the heavily injured High Priestess.

It was the last time she had seen her adopted mother before learning the truth of her family and started her mission to reclaim Caldor for the people. Her people.

"That's not my name anymore." Nivara said sadly, prying the mask off the hidden section in the wall.

Her heart ached as she blew the dust and sand away from the faded carving of a Sea Screamer, her favourite dragon when she was little. Her Trait went to work, restoring it to its former glory all those years ago.

Within the first month of training the current High Priestess Aphia had been her mentor and had immediately conditioned her to 'discard personal belongings that tainted their work.'

Ever since then, she had been detached from her family, forbidden to communicate with them until she could finally return to Opalis and the familiar streets of the Undercity. She hoped that Odi would still be waiting for her.

Nivara's mist coiled around her like a snake, artfully travelling its way up her shoulders and unravelled the coils of fabric sewn hastily together. The loyal Mist Maiden was long gone. 

“Tempest.”  Aphia hissed, the mist silencing her with a single coil around her throat.

Choking on her last breath, the last High Priestess of the Mist Maiden's eyes rolled back in her head, the irony of her death being clear to only the assassin. Her parents had died in exactly the same way. 

Nivara paid the body no mind, placing her mask over her eyes or not wanting to give Aphia the courtesy of a burial or even a swift death. Her last assignment was to have her kill an entire village for simply existing and trying to provide themselves with water. Her death would be more than enough compensation. 

They would think it was a drug overdose judging from the package she had snatched from the gangs overwhelming the city. After all, the Oracle drugs supply had now run dry thanks to her involvement. With a cascade of mist, Nivara exited the closed off room and used her Transference to travel to the very village she had been ordered to destroy.

 No one would ever be subjected to the same torture again. That drug had made her forget her family and driven her apart from her past. But she would not let that happen again. The Mist Maiden name would die out with her. She had made sure of it.

                ……….……..  

The endless sands stretched for miles against the blood stained sky, its pinkish hue a deadly warning long before night had fallen. The stench of death and ash clung in the air, the clearless evening stained by the loss of life. For that, Nivara couldn't blame her home for questioning her choices.

Hours had passed since Aphia's untimely end but she was sure her body would not be found until tomorrow at least. The Taishin had used the Mist Maidens power and influence to freely distribute their memory altering drug and the next pickup from the tower's supply wouldn't be until tomorrow. There would be no drug left and Tempest would be long gone by then. 

Nivara made her way through the winding stretches of sand, the houses built within them long gone as it stretched out into the Golden Plains of untouched dunes. She trekked towards the side of the peak, her feet light against the sands as her Trait slunk along the ground to lift the illusion.

The dune buckled and flung upwards as if on an imaginary spring, folding in on itself like cloth to unveil a neatly hidden campsite beneath its sun lit threads of sand. Nivara smiled, relieved every time she saw her campsite still untouched by raiders. It had taken her a lot of work to hide it so well. The shifting sands of Caldor had guided her that day. 

Tempest's Hideout, although not named very well, helped protect those she was assigned to target. The fake vial she had prepared for them did include the ashes of the fallen but not the specific target the Mist Maiden had in mind. 

"Tempest! Willow, she's back!"

A young boy cried out, his sandy hair cresting over the edge of the canvas. He was only about ten years old, his dragon following a little ways behind with the same childlike grin on her face. 

Nivara hissed, swearing under her breath as she stalked toward the duo much like a dragon would her young. 

"For Laia's sake, keep your voices down. What part of 'hideout' don't you get?"

They slowed their pace but their happy go lucky expression didn't falter, the Knuckle Burst dragon continuing to zoom around her in circles. Nivara had to shoo her away with the promise of food just to get them both to stand still. 

"Alright, alright. That's enough. I thought we agreed to stick to the campsite and use the password I gave you or did you forget that part?" 

The brownish red dragon cowed beneath her glare, her partner bashfully turning away from the frustrated Mist Maiden, scuffing his shoes against the sand. Nivara sighed, running her hand through her hair and readjusted her mask for good measure. 

"It's a good thing I set up camp so far from the village. Everyone in Wayward could've heard your caterwauling by now."

Willow sniggered, ambling into the campsite as Nivara followed her and began to check through her long list of supplies. The tan canvas was camouflaged with her illusions and could be easily taken down and set back up. 

Her essentials were packed in Trait laced boxes and wooden detachable furniture and a small stove able to be lit by a Fire Traited. She began to sort through her healing herbs, checking her water supply, dried food and finally, her weapon supply. Ignoring the smell of food she continued a count of her stock, making a note to stop off at the village to get more herbs.

"But Master…" 

His whining continued as he followed her in, pulling shut the canvas opening and activated the entire illusion, the sand shifting over the entrance. Nivara rolled her eyes, knowing full well he just wanted to cook without her knowing. Apparently, cooking wasn’t a ‘guy thing’ in his household.  

"Don't call me Master. I ain't your teacher." Nivara snapped, her accent slipping out a little more than usual.

His face drooped as he went outside to the bathroom, grabbing the shovel on the way out and glumly kicked off his shoes. She sighed, cutting up the few dried radishreds she had left over and added them to the tray as a snack. 

Nivara sighed, knowing she didn’t mean to yell but she was just really tired. The thought of curling up in her blanket against the cool night sky, stargazing with her Oathed and eating greevy and driggage pie.

"Anyways, my Trait doesn't mix well with your flames. You know that as well as I do, Creed." Nivara said, much quieter and slightly disappointed. 

She tried to busy her mind by dicing the leftover vegetables and adding them to the pot but she couldn’t help but worry about Creed. She set down her knife and hid it safely within the canvas, slowly making her way around the back of her territory as if to expect the worst. What she found was completely unexpected, a Fire Traited slowly nursing and collecting samples of dried herbs for cooking and medicinal purposes.

"You did what I asked?" Nivara said, surprised but mostly delighted she doesn’t have to gather any more herself.

"Not without help." Willow chimed in, nudging him gently to try and avoid him dropping the tray.

"Hey! I still did it! I collected new samples beyond the ridge, I organised the old one's and put the one's you wanted out in the sun to dry."

"He also tried to cook the poisonous one's into the stew." Willow retorted, reminding him of his blunder.

Nivara couldn’t help but laugh, the idea of her being best by a poisonous stew wasn’t the worst assassination attempt but it was by far the funniest.

"Death by stew. That's a first." 

Willow snorted, rolling her eyes but Creed wasn't convinced. He peered into the pot and lit the small stove with his Trait, biting his lip and silently praying that his concoction was OK. Perhaps knowing his rescuer had been targeted more than once must have unnerved him.

"Did not! Willow made me get all mixed up." 

"Did too! You even forgot the password, Creederton. Not that I like it anyways but still."

Creed eyed the radistrips on the counter and tasted one before adding them to the stew. He left a few aside and offered them to his Agar who shook her head. He shrugged, stirring his creation over the heat before tasting and leaving it to boil.

"Caldorian plants can be dangerous if not properly treated which is why I decided to teach them to you." Nivara reminded them, deciding to take this opportunity to educate the two.

She had used her own knowledge of herbs to counter the Truthseeker potion within the goblet. A very well known plant for seasoning was also a useful lie detector if you didn't have enough money to buy Silvertongue. 

Granted, snitchweeds only lasted a minute or so but it was all she needed to answer the questions the High Priestess demanded. But with the correct mixture of alcohol and salt could turn the snitchweeds into a toxin normally found in Vipereye dragons. 

"Everyone is bound to mix up even the most basic of plants so using Creed's full name as an insult says more about you than it does about him, Willowlight."

The dragon hissed, her ruffled collar unfurled in indignation, her scales outstretched in indignation. Tempest simply raised an eyebrow as Creed snacked on more radistrips and added a few herbs to help thicken the stew. His Trait was steadily heating the pot evenly as he turned it gently and continued to stir.

"Thought you said you ain't our teacher, Master?" Creed teased her, turning off the stove with a flick of his wrist, placing the clay lid on top to broil for a little while. Nivara couldn’t help but chuckle, sighing at how easily his humour had mimicked his Agars and stood up to get ready for dinner.

"I'm not. But if you think you can last ten minutes without poisoning yourself then please, be my guest."

The duo laughed and began to set up camp a little ways outside the Hideout, a small clearing still hidden by the outskirts of the illusion setup with makeshift wooden chairs, a fire pit, blankets and a sleeping bag she had raided from Creed’s old home. It was small but padded with gathered Morrosai fur and woven scraps of cloth from various old shirts. Nivara didn’t mind not having a sleeping bag, she was used to the cold.

The trio sat together, enjoying the vegetarian stew Creed had made several times before and considering she couldn’t cook as well as him even without any meat but the fact he learned how to cook in his difficult situation was a godsend. The banter was light but Nivara’s mind was distracted, toying with her food in the carved, wooden bowls. A lot of the things they had scavenged and restored had once belonged to Creed’s uncle who had been in debt to the Taishin. 

His drinking habit became a drug abuse problem, abusing Creed and using Willow as a guard dog and pit fighter until the backlog of debt became too much for the outlawed elves to ignore. In a burst of insanity, Creed’s uncle tried to sell his no longer faithful Agar to the black market and forced his own nephew to not only take the contract but the blame for Willow’s upbringing by using the memory altering drug against him.

 If it wasn’t for the tip off Nivara would never have been able to find out the situation and tamper with the newest supply to allow the dragon to trust again. Once both Willow and the Taishin found out the dragon rampaged despite still attempting to be captured and in all the crossfire, Creed summoned his grimoire and gave the Knuckle Burst dragon the out she needed. But Creed couldn’t control his power. 

Nivara found them both surrounded by dead elves, badly burned and beaten with their traitorous uncle turning to dust without a contract to bind them. The Taishin didn’t care who owed them money even after death so the debt now fell to Creed and they wanted what they were owed. She sent the pair to a safehouse to rest, using Tempest’s namesake to vow their silence with a Lockbind. 

All it took was making sure to intercept the message, request herself to personally perform the assassination and get what she needed from the ‘crime scene’ before setting up her illusion. The rumour that Creed wanted to return to his family home for the last time spread like wildfire and the charred house had been raided long before any elves thought to bury their comrades. By the time anyone noticed, the two were already safely in her Hideout for some time and could reconnect at their own pace. After all, not anyone could kill and elf and live to tell the tale.

"Get some sleep. They'll be here soon." Nivara ordered, noting how quickly the night would descend on them. 

She leaned down and collected the daggers she had stashed in the sand, the roof of the canvas unfurling fully with the help of her mist. It shrouded them in an invisible halo of Trait, the fire now covered with filtereeds to contain the remnants of the dwindling smoke.

"What if the Taishin finds us again? I'm scared, Willow!" Creed whispered, cowering safely within his sleeping bag.

Nivara's Trait flicked around her legs like a cat, lifting the flap on her Hideout like makeshift windows. Storing the rest of her daggers in her cloak, grateful for making the hidden pockets just in case. 

"Then we'll just have to move somewhere else. I'm sure Tempest wouldn't let that happen, right?"

Nivara didn't respond, not wanting to promise anything to anyone. With her eyes still fixed on the horizon the sun dipped beneath the dunes, leaving tale tale shadows in their wake. Footprints.

The dagger flew through the air as the tale shout of a concealed but untrained soldier fell to the ground, his mount carelessly revealing their location and their intentions with a single cry. Tinker Mole.

"Stay here. I'll see if it's safe. You remember that password I gave you?"

Creed nods, unable to say a word through his fear. His Agar was wrapped tightly around his arm, determined to stay by his side and stay concealed within the mottled brown blanket.

"Good. If someone enters here without saying that password then I suggest you assume the worst."

Nivara crept round the encampment, summoning her Trait weapon with a thought as she tied the staff to her back with her mist just in case. There was no point hiding from them if they knew who she was so she let her Trait roam free across the sands, the ribbons of her cloak acting as both a reminder and a warning. Do not come any closer.

"State your claim." She called out into the darkness, their comrade abandoned to the sands of Caldor.

He was badly wounded, his black fur stained in blood and grit as he struggled to his feet and cowered at the sight of a blue cloaked monster coming towards him. Sometimes the Mist Maiden name truly did help to strike fear in her enemies. Even those who claimed to be allies.

"My claim is to the Raven Lord, Tempest of Caldor. Or should I say, Lady Nessra?