Towns had an air that stuck to your skin and bore into your mind. They fostered spirit, encouraged community and gave the people a sense of belonging. Yet Aurnia could never come to terms with how fickle they could be. Within towns, ideas flowed, like leaves in a storm, propelled by whispers and resentment until they finally rotted under the prying eyes of a neighbour or a supposed friend.

Piranth was no different. Its picturesque cottages and neatly cobbled paths failed to hide the chipped shutters or the cracks that now ate into the cottage walls like long abandoned cobwebs. But as uncomfortable as she felt, Agrona's compass had led her here. So Aurnia gritted her teeth and hovered at the town's edge, keenly aware that if she planned to avoid suspicion, she would need to find a place to hide, and quickly.

Thanks to her keen eyesight, she had spotted the wanted posters from a mile away. They plastered the town gates like gnats on a tomato plant, and Aurnia grimaced. It seemed that her last adventure in the castle had provoked the King to issue a reward for her capture. And as she stared at the crudely drawn depiction of her face, her spirits briefly lightened. Helias' tempers were famous for their scope and intensity. When she considered him a friend, she had warned him to rein it in. He had refused, and it seemed that his stubbornness had finally paid off.

They had put her scar on the wrong eye.

It wasn't much. One look at her face and even the dullest blade would recognise who she was. But the mistake gave her hope. There were cracks in Helias' veneer of power, all she had to do was find the right places to tear it apart. Aurnia laughed. That was easier said than done, and it was strange to consider how she'd comfortably learned to spin more lies than the spiders that had lived above her bedroom door.

The setting sun painted the clouds with an array of golds and blues, sending shadows dancing over the rippling wheat fields that stood between her and Piranth. Idyllic, if it weren't for the abandoned houses that littered the edges of the road she walked on. Aurnia gazed at the people's heads bobbing gently in the distance, and she frowned. Spring was almost over, and it was far too late to begin planting wheat.

She narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. Piranth was outside her realm of care. Whatever was happening, she could investigate after pulling her sister from the king's clutches. But as she ducked into the nearest empty house, Aurnia's eyes settled on the wooden bull that had been abandoned on the table that sat just beyond the doorway.

Worn by time and hungry termites, it was difficult to make out the floral wreath that adorned the animal's head. She turned it over in her hand, admiring the artist's ability to meld the wood's natural whorls into their intricate design. Wisps of old magic flickered upon contact with her skin, and Koa chirped and stuck a gentle paw out of his resting place in her bag.

"Bulls don't have stars on their brows, do they?"

"Usually they don't. But this isn't a common bull," she ran her finger over the figure's back and let the fresh smell of fallen apples race through her head. "Piranth lies to the west and most, if not all, of Aefither's produce is grown in this region. Here, the people never worshipped Uione. Instead, they turned all their attention on my uncle, Taeus."

"Your cousin?"

Aurnia smiled and moved to settle beneath the furthest window. If anyone came in, she would see them first.

"They believed that Taeus could protect their crops during the season of growth. In reality, it was a group effort between several gods, and for a while, no one minded the misplaced glory."

"For a while. Does that mean that they–"

"There was a fight, but I believe they made up and went their separate ways." When she saw Koa's bewildered face, Aurnia hesitated. Her mother had considered it a betrayal to speak ill of those who raised you. But now, all alone in a crumbling house, Aurnia struggled to remain loyal to those teachings.

She ran her tongue over her fangs, quickly weighing the measure of her words. She was the one who had brought Koa into this world, his loyalties would never lie with the gods, so perhaps there would be no harm. Aurnia fished the mirror out of her bag and gazed at her faint reflection. Time might have tarnished its surface, but Aurnia's memory of the girl who once treasured it had not faltered.

"The gods are not perfect. They fight, make mistakes, laugh, and even feel love. If anything, they are human. But none of them would admit that."

"Why?"

Aurnia leaned back, allowing the sharp edges of broken timber to dig into the base of her spine. "Pride is a fickle trait. It binds you to a version of the world that may not be true. Strengths become weaknesses, and friends turn into foes."

"Well I think that's just silly."

"So do I." Aurnia laughed and pulled him out of her bag and onto her lap, where he squirmed to get comfortable. After a moment of comfortable silence, Koa turned to look at her.

"Aurnia, I have another question."

"Ask away." She patted his head and handed him a lump of bread. "Eat. We have to wait until nightfall before we can venture out to explore and uncover the other half of Death's puzzle."

Koa tilted his head, eyes clouding over in what Aurnia could only assume was apprehension. Then it vanished and his scales flared a merry blue.

"Why do you always look so sad when you see that mirror?"

"My mirror—" Aurnia looked down to where she had carefully placed the treasured object, still half wrapped in her blanket. "Oh, this mirror."

She ran her hand gently across its surface and shuddered at the whispers that tickled the edges of her consciousness. "It belonged to an old friend who was torn from my side. Some people needed objects to help them channel their abilities and Idra—"

Her voice began to shake as forgotten tears pricked the sides of her eyes. Blue hair, forest green eyes and laughter that made butterflies dance, Idra was everything Aurnia wasn't and she had loved her for that.

As Koa's paw brushed against Aurnia's leg, Aurnia flinched.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Aurnia blinked, then lifted the mirror fully into the air and admired the battered frame. "Idra could see the whole world through this thing. I could never truly understand the joy she felt while using it to cast illusions or peer into distant worlds, but the light of her smile told me that all was well. I just wish I had cherished those moments a little more."

"Oh, then we could go visit her? Just like when you visited Aileen!"

"That—" Aurnia tried to smile, but when she felt her breath catch in her throat, combined with Koa's cautious frown, she knew there was no point in pretending. "I'm afraid that's impossible. The man who hurt Idra is the same man who has my sister. A small part of me hopes that by freeing one, I'll be able to save the other. But that's wishful thinking, and only children have time for that."

Koa sat up, his voice rising to soothe the prickles of sadness that had found their way in. "Wishing is good! It was all dark and quiet before I met you. So I started wishing for a friend. Then one day, I got this fuzzy feeling in my stomach and it tickled so much that I had to close my eyes. But when I opened them again, I saw you!"

Aurnia let out a sad smile. Koa's spirit soothed the weariness that gnawed at her bones. And as she continued to look at him, she found herself unable to meet his eyes. He saw the world through an untainted gaze, something that she had created to give her a sense of security while back in the temple. She had done nothing to deserve his kindness, nor his care.

"Koa."

At the mention of his name, Aurnia felt his tail brush gently against her leg. She glanced down, then looked away. "My journey will not be an easy one, and I brought you into this world because I needed a friend. But, I don't want you to get hurt and..."

He nodded vehemently. "I know. When we were attacked by the giant lizard, I thought we were going to die. And then there was the room with the bear...but we were okay in the end."

Aurnia paused and reached down to scratch the backs of his ears. "What I mean is, I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to stay with me. You're always free to do whatever you wish."

"But if I leave, won't you still need a friend?"

"I–"

Koa chirped and gently wrapped his tail around her wrist. "You don't need to have an answer for everything. If I had wanted to remain alone in the void, I wouldn't have answered your call."

He stared at her, unblinking, and his earnest grin sent dying butterflies tumbling through Aurnia's stomach. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. If only it were easier to push away her guilt for drawing an innocent creature into the battles her mother had left her to fight. Moments passed and she felt the pressure move from her lap.

Then two scaly paws wrapped themselves around her, and the sinyo's tail slid softly from her wrist. Aurnia blinked, and Koa stared back, uncertainty now brimming in his eyes.

"I think this is called hugging."

And at that, she started to giggle before lifting him into her arms and murmuring a quiet thank you into his scruff. They sat in silence, watching as the day's light finally sank below the horizon.

"Aurnia?"

"Yes, Koa?"

"I don't think this tower looks anything like the one the compass is showing."

Koa's leg hung lazily over the edge of her bag, and when she glanced down to peer at the orb carefully clutched in his front paws, Aurnia could see that he was correct. The one before them was too perfect. The roof, while patched in places, was well cared for, and its stone walls were unbroken.

Yet the sweet, cloying smell of decay and loss hung heavy in the air, unusual for an area supposedly in the bloom of planting season. She sniffed, then frowned and swiped a finger through the dusty image projected over the compass. It remained unchanged. Gingerly, she opened her mind's eye and let it wander freely over the scene before her. A seething mass, the colour of spilled wine, writhed in the centre.

When she squinted, she could just make out the frayed ends of several life threads. Their edges glowed with a disturbing purple hue. Aurnia shuddered. This was not Agrona's magic. Death, while frightening, has a certain elegance to their magic. The thing before her was crude and reminiscent of the magic that Lily had once hinted at.

Aurnia stilled, her mind racing back to the spells that her sister had once tried to teach her. It pained her to admit that she had not been a faithful student, but upon peering at the mass once again, Aurnia's thoughts flicked to the spell that Lily had cast not so long ago. She may have been able to soothe the cracks Lily had ripped open, but perhaps her sister's magic had caused more damage, and chaos, than Aurnia had realised.

A branch snapped. Aurnia whirled around, hands ready to summon one of her blades. When nothing emerged, she sighed and turned back to face the tower, trying her best to shake off the feeling of being watched.

She patted the top of Koa's head and pulled his fear into her heart.

"We are indeed in the wrong place. However," she hesitated, casting a careful glance behind her back. "This place has become twisted, and I believe it is crucial to find out why."

"This place feels wrong, just like in the room with the bear. What if something attacks us when we go inside?"

Aurnia paled at the memory of the temple's hidden room. "If that happens, promise me that you will get out of here as quickly as possible."

She looked down at Koa's amber eyes, staring until he gave her a tiny nod. She relaxed and pushed her tension to the side.

With bated breath, she shuddered, summoned her blade, and wandered over to the battered door. Slivers of wood jutted wildly from its surface, and she had to steady her hands as she pushed. Splinters were an inconvenience that she did not wish to contend with.

The door swung open without much force, and Aurnia had to duck in order to get beyond the doorway. A large hole sat in the centre of the space. One look and she could just make out the humongous wooden barrel that sat within it. She threw her light orb up into the air, allowing it to settle in the air before looking around. All was silent, and with her mind's eye, she was unable to detect any other presence.

Aurnia took one step. Then the smell hit her and she gagged.

Sharp and sweet, the pungent smell of mould and decay coated her tongue, and Aurnia pulled a face she usually reserved for making children laugh. Coughing, she moved deeper into the room towards the closest barrel and desperately hoped that when she opened it, no foul creature would leap out at her.

But when she pulled the lid off, her eyes widened, and in the back of her mind, she heard Koa squeak. The grain, or what was left of the grain, shimmered in the dim light provided by her orb. Aurnia reluctantly opened her mind's eye and gasped. The writhing mass hovered just above her head, and gingerly, she reached out to pull on one of its fraying edges.

The sharp ring of overlapping noises filled her head. Fear, anger and simmering offence clouded her senses. So carefully, she uttered another spell of displacement and began to wind the bitterness around her heart. Then suddenly the noises roared, and she jerked her hand away with a growl.

The people had somehow managed to anger the wheat to the point where it did not want to release its fury. How they had done it, Aurnia did not know. But she shuddered to think of what abnormal behaviour had led to this.

Gingerly, Aurnia reached into the barrel and pulled up a handful of grain. It was slick beneath her fingertips and left a peculiar buzzing on her palm. When she held it up for Koa to touch, he quickly yanked his paw away before uttering a short whine.

"I don't like it! It makes my paws go numb!"

At that, she tossed it back into the barrel and slammed the lid back on.

This had to be Helias' doing. Taeus' disappearance, along with the outlawing of wild magic, may have prompted the people to look to other methods of achieving a harvest large enough to feed the king and his men. Aurnia snarled and slunk back out the door and into the night. If she ever got the chance to face the king, she wished she had the courage to make him suffer as his people were.

Aurnia breathed in the fresh night air, grateful for the peace and absence of stench.

She froze as the sound of barking reached her ears, and it was coming closer. Without a moment to lose, she wrapped Agrona's orb back in its cloth and darted to get behind the nearest bush. Aurnia didn't even have the time to steady her breath before the sound, and stench, of the men reached her. She shushed Koa, and summoned an invisibility spell to cover all bases.

She peered across the bush and watched as the tallest man spun around, bewildered.

"I swear I saw someone here—"

The torchbearer laughed, and with each move of his head, the flickering light danced across his face. "If you did, we would have seen them running off into the trees."

"I am telling the truth. I saw some kid and their dog mucking about on this hill. If you don't believe me, we're bound to find them on the rest of our patrol."

A series of nods and hums filled the air, except for the torchbearer, who only scoffed. Bickering, the men wandered over the other edge of the hill, and it was only when she lost sight of the torchlight that Aurnia breathed a sigh of relief.

She signalled for Koa to get comfy in her bag before shouldering it and racing back towards the house they had taken shelter in. It seemed she would have to find another way of locating Agrona's tower. And as she finally reached the battered threshold of the place she would call home for the night, it struck her that the men were on patrol.

Aurnia paused, gently placing her bag onto the ground before sliding down the wall. Piranth was supposedly a safe place. Taeus had made sure of that. She cast her eyes outward to look at the stars above and frowned.

Exactly what spell had Lily cast?