Wren watched the shade warily.

It bobbed slowing around the ship's galley, as it had for the past four hours, as the Dirty Countess inched their way towards the Strand. Titus had immediately volunteered to remain at the helm, putting as much distance between himself and the shade as possible. The rest of the crew was gathered together to make sure the creature didn't make any sudden movements—not that they could do a fogging thing about it if it did.

It had been a very long night, and the crew hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. Wren's head drooped every so often, but she kept jerking it up. Cups of coffee staved off the exhaustion.

Abigail was the first to fall asleep, her limbs stuck inelegantly in all directions. Teddy carried her back to her cabin and when he returned, he let out a massive yawn. It took Wren, Godfrey, and Scarlett working together to lug him to his own cabin. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, snoring loudly.

They closed his cabin door, and Scarlett rubbed at her bloodshot eyes.

"You should turn in, too," Wren said, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll take first watch." She didn't know how she'd stay awake, but maybe another cup of coffee would do the trick.

"Thanks..." Scarlett wandered into the ship, shuffling her feet as she went.

When she was gone, Godfrey clapped Wren on the shoulder. "I'll can take the first shift."

"Really?" Wren asked. She hoped he meant it. Her vision was blurring. She felt like she was going to fall asleep standing up.

"Yeah, go ahead. I've got my book." Godfrey held up his tattered copy of Lucas Nunn's 'So You Want a Date: A Proven Guide for Making Real Connections.'

"Frey," she groaned. "You don't need that thing!"

"Says the girl going to bed with her girlfriend."

"I'm too tired to argue right now," she said through a big yawn. "But you're grand. Wake me in a few hours, yeah?"

"Will do. Have fun," he winked at her, but she scowled back at him. The way she and Scarlett had left things in Carnivale, there wouldn't be any sweet words between them.

Wren wandered down the hall and into the single cramped bathroom that the crew shared. She pressed the door closed. As she reached for her toothbrush, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

She looked every bit as tired as she felt. Her hair was a tangled mess, with strands hanging limply around her face and the back sticking up in all directions. Her brown eyes were lined with dark circles, and her skin was shiny with smudges of oil. The complexion she took such pains to keep clear was now a patchwork of red spots.

And her suit—her one special occasion outfit—was torn and dishevelled, caked with dirt from their tumble out of the Ruby Terrace.

Losing her favourite suit was such a small thing compared to everything else, but it came at the end of such a long day that she felt like crying.

She tore it off and hurled it into the already overloaded laundry bin in the corner. Her chest heaved as she stared at the floor. Tears started to roll down her cheeks, and she didn't try to stop them—she'd learned over the years that it didn't help things to try to bite them back. Sometimes, a good cry was the only thing that helped.

A few minutes later, her tears were spent, and she did feel a bit better. She sniffed, rubbing the snot from her reddened nose, got up, and ran the tap. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and ran a comb through her unruly hair, for once too tired to curse its mousy colour.

She realized she was shivering, standing in the cold room in only her underthings. Shuffling out of the bathroom, she stole one more glance toward the galley. Godfrey was reading his book, and the shade was hovering over his shoulder, as though reading along with him.

Wren shook her head—she'd never expected to see something like that...but she'd seen a lot in life that she'd never expected.

Back in her cabin, it was tight quarters.

The furniture—a bed, trunk, and small dresser—was squeezed into the space, leaving little room for moving about. Wren didn't mind, since she spent most of her time outside or in other parts of the ship. Even though the cabin was just a place to lay her weary head at the end of a long day, she had tried to add a bit of personality to the room by papering the walls with things she'd collected over the years: maps, notes, Abigail's paintings...and her most prized possession hung above the bed: the only photograph she had of her family.

Wren's mother was in a crisp black Paragon uniform, her gaze hard but not unkind. Wren's father was beside her, wearing the same uniform, his chin held high. They were Paragon engineers, before.

Wren and her younger brother Jonah sat in front, obeying the photographer's stern instructions to keep their hands in their laps and stay still. Wren smiled broadly—she had just lost one of her front teeth and was keen to show it off. Jonah, beside her, clutched a small toy airship. He smiled shyly at the camera.

Wren rubbed her face tiredly and turned to the bed. Scarlett was fast asleep on the cot, covers clutched tightly to her chin.

On one hand, Wren was glad for the familiar sight. But on the other, she had the strong sense that they had just gone through a break-up, and Scarlett in her bed was an awkward obstacle that she didn't have the energy to deal with.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. There was a headache coming on, she could feel it.

First things first.

She rifled through the jumble of clothes on the floor, found her cleanest shirt and pair of pants, and pulled them on. She added an extra sweater and her thickest socks—the pair with only one hole in the sole. Who knew when they'd need to be up and about in a flash, what with the shade on board?

Wren slipped into bed, careful not to wake Scarlett, whose freckled cheeks were flushed as she slept. She pushed a curl out of Scarlett's face before turning away.

As she did every night, she kissed her fingers and pressed them to the photograph—only the edge, of course, so that it wouldn't discolour.

"Goodnight, guys," she muttered, and fell straight to sleep.

#

Wren blinked awake. Scarlett's back was pressed up against her, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath. There was no daylight streaming in from the porthole above the bed—it was still nighttime.

Wren groaned, eager to get back to sleep. She started to shift onto her side, but felt a strange pressure.

Titus sat on her chest, staring down at her.

"Gah!" Wren cried, jerking up.

"Good, you're awake!" he said and leapt onto the floor. "Finally. I suppose this means you two are back together." He nodded towards Scarlett.

Wren frowned at him. "What do you want? Is something wrong?"

"Wha's happ'nin," Scarlett mumbled.

"Godfrey fell asleep," Titus said.

"That's why you're here?" Wren asked, incredulous. "Just wake him up!"

"I did. But then I had a thought."

Wren fell back into bed and squeezed her eyes shut. "Is it a terribly important thought?" she mumbled.

"Hmm." He considered, then finally said: "Potentially."

"Titus," Wren moaned. "Can we please talk about this in the morning? Humans need sleep to function!" She pulled the covers over her head, but Titus hopped onto the bed and pulled them back.

"Listen to me. I think the shade does belong to someone after all."

Wren tried to ignore him. Really, she did—but now Scarlett was up, too.

"It can't have a mage," Scarlett said. "Bonded mages and shades can't be more than ten feet apart."

"Don't say anything else or you'll only encourage him!" Wren said, her voice muffled under the covers.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Titus continued. "Shades don't stay unbonded for long, and this one clearly isn't looking for a new mage. Therefore, it must still have one."

"Hmm," Scarlett mused.

I guess that's all the sleep I'm going to get tonight, Wren thought angrily. She threw the covers off but didn't sit up. "So what? Is its mage invisible? Is its mage an insect? Perhaps it accidentally bonded with a box of cornstarch."

"Now isn't the time for your little jokes, Wren," the fox chided. "Its mage clearly learned to extend the distance between themselves and their shade."

"That's impossible," said Scarlett.

"Yes, and yet the shade is here, and its mage is not. Now, there are two things that I can't figure out: one, why it hasn't attacked us, and two, why it's still here on the ship. Would you like to hear my theory? It's a bit outlandish."

"Nothing would give me more joy," Wren said. She was trying very hard not to throw her pillow at him.

"Go on," urged Scarlett.

"My theory is that its mage wants something from us."

"Us?" Scarlett repeated. "But we don't have anything!"

"Indeed. Hence the mystery."

The Dirty Countess gave a low creak, and Wren felt the ship tilt ever so slightly. She sat bolt upright. "What was that?"

She, Scarlett, and Titus looked at each other, unsure. The ship tilted again, more vigorously this time, forcing Wren to clutch the headboard to keep from falling off the bed.

"Damnit!" Titus cursed, then bounded out the door toward the bridge.

Wren and Scarlett tumbled out of bed, hot on his brass heels. They rushed out into the galley—Godfrey was asleep with his book, a line of drool wetting its pages, and the shade was nowhere to be found.

"Up and at 'em, Frey!" Wren announced as they ran past.

"Huh? Wha'?" There was a loud rip as Godfrey sat up, his dried drool tearing a page out of his book. He looked down, disappointed. "Oh, no..."

Wren and Scarlett burst onto the bridge and found Titus struggling with the helm. He had his limbs locked on the wheel, trying to prevent it from moving. His tail was wrapped around the gear shift, but it was bending under the strain. The needle on the compass tilted south as the ship veered further from their westward destination.

The shade was hovering innocently at the back of the bridge.

"Don't just stand there!" Titus managed. "Help me!"

Wren and Scarlett ran over and together, in a tangled mess of limbs, they tried to force the Dirty Countess back on course.

Godfrey joined them a moment later, but even with their collective strength, the compass still pointed south.

The helm shook beneath Wren's fingers. The ship creaked, the very floorboards rumbling beneath her socked feet ...

She glanced behind her. The shade was hovering in the air, colours shimmering at its edges like an oil spill. It's steering us, she realized. And it's going to destroy the ship if we don't let it take us where it wants to go.

Titus's words rang in her mind: it wants something from us.

It was clearly determined to have its way, given how the ship was shuddering.

Wren let go of the wheel. "Let it go!" she urged the others. "We can't keep forcing it!"

"What?!" Godfrey yelped.

"It could crash the ship and kill us all!" Scarlett said, her face screwed up with the effort of holding fast to the helm.

"You said it yourself, Titus," Wren said quickly. "It wants something from us. Would it come all this way just to kill us?"

Titus stared at her incredulously. "Yes!"

Just then, Abigail sped onto the bridge. Her face was still swollen from sleep, and her blonde hair stuck up in every direction. "Stop what you're doing!" she gasped. "The engine is running too hot! I've already put out one fire down there and we can't afford another!"

She caught sight of the shade in the corner and cringed away from it.

Scarlett cursed under her breath.

Godfrey stared daggers at her. "Don't you dare—"

"I hope you're right about this," she muttered to Wren, and let go.

Now it was only Titus and Godfrey holding the helm.

"We can do this, Titus!" Godfrey urged the fox, his voice tight with the effort. "We don't need those traitors! Where's Teddy when we need him?!"

"Titus, let it go!" Wren insisted. "Please!"

Titus stared fiercely ahead, ignoring her.

Wren peered at the small fox. She knew that Titus liked to seem closed off, stoic, and withdrawn, but she also knew that he chose to stay with them, on the Dirty Countess. He cared about her, Godfrey, Abigail, and Teddy. But most of all, she knew that he was acting this way because he was scared. Titus was quite literally made of strong stuff, but his one vulnerability was magic.

"Titus, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens, we'll tackle it together." Their five years on the Dirty Countess had bonded all of them to one another, and she would protect Titus the same way he had protected her. She would give her life for him if it was required—he'd stuck his neck out for her often enough.

The Dirty Countess groaned and shuddered.

"No, we have to fight it!" Godfrey cried, his face red with effort. "If we let the shade take the helm, it'll never relinquish control!"

"It already has control," Titus said quietly. He closed his eyes.

"No, don't let go!" Godfrey shouted.

Titus released the wheel.

Godfrey couldn't hold it on his own. He was flung back like a rag doll and collided with a chair before falling to the floor. The helm spun so fast that its spokes were a blur.

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief.

Wren rushed to Godfrey's side to help him up, but he pushed her away.

"Don't!" He winced, rubbing at his side. "Whatever happens now is your fault...I can't believe you let it have our ship."

Wren remained determinedly silent. Godfrey's anger stung, but she didn't see a way around it. Sometimes it was better to wait it out.

Teddy wandered onto the bridge, rubbing his eyes. "Wha's goin' on?" he said through a yawn.

"You actually slept through all that?" Scarlett asked, miffed.

"You would've been more helpful a minute ago!" Godfrey snapped at him.

The ship began its descent.

Teddy glanced at the vacant helm, turning of its own accord. "Wait...how...? What's going on?"

He made for the wheel, but Abigail stepped in front of him. "Don't bother. That thing is steering the ship now." She nodded towards the shade.

"What do you mean?"

She pulled him back to the far wall, putting as much distance between them and the shade as possible, and caught him up in hushed whispers. His eyes grew as wide as saucers.

Eventually, the ship slowed, coming to a gentle stop. The ship lowered to the ground and the engine went quiet. The crew held their breaths.

"I suppose," Titus said tightly, "that we've arrived at our destination."

#

Wren followed behind Godfrey as he stormed into the engine room.

Abigail had painted every inch of the place with her usual bright, bold palette and generous brush strokes. Valve caps were made into ornate flowers, pressure gauges into friendly birds, lengths of pipe into delectable desserts...whatever struck her fancy at the time.

"Damn it," Godfrey grumbled, picking up the shovel and scooping coal into the dwindling fire. "Come on, you!" He poked aggressively at the ashes.

Wren leaned against the door, waiting for his tantrum to end.

The fire refusing to stoke, he tried turning a few knobs and switches, but his efforts were futile. The engine gave a few clangs, belched a puff of smoke, and went cold.

"Great," he grumbled. "That's just great..."

He kicked the boiler and ended up clutching his foot, jumping up and down and sucking his teeth.

"Are you done yet?" Wren asked, bored. "The others are waiting outside."

He glared at her.

"What? I didn't invite the shade on board," she said.

Godfrey's mouth was a tight line as he pushed past her and stomped through the galley.

Finally outside with the others, they found themselves in the middle of a thick, wild forest. The trees reached high into the sky, disappearing into the darkness above.

"There must be something in the water," Teddy said in awe, "for the forest to grow so tall..."

The crew stood apart from the shade. Scarlett struck a match and lit a couple of old lanterns. She wore Wren's thick red sweater with the cuffs rolled up, and a pair of Abigail's paint-speckled pants. Somehow, on her, the rustic ensemble looked stylish.

A strange light appeared amongst the tree trunks, drifting through the air. Wren's hand darted to the gun at her hip.

Abigail pointed. "Look, over there! What's that?"

A glowing creature floated into view, a white fish covered in scales and elegant fins that rippled gently in the air. It gave off soft, warm light that illuminated the dark woods, making them seem a little less intimidating. Others appeared behind it. Wren could make out at least half a dozen.

She was used to battling angry waterbucks and territorial wolfhounds when they landed in strange places. These serene creatures were a rather welcome change of pace.

"They look like fish," Teddy said, sounding perplexed. "But they're not underwater..."

"They may look aquatic," Titus said, "but they have lungs, not gills."

Meraki was full of strange creatures, but these were certainly among the strangest Wren had seen.

"What are they, exactly?" Abigail asked.

"Lantern fish," Titus answered simply.

"Weird," Wren said.

"Creative name," Godfrey snapped. Together, they watched as the fish disappeared into the woods, taking their light with them.

"Well, what now?" Godfrey demanded the shade. "Is this where you kill us?"

Wren shot him a warning look.

"What? I'm only saying what we're all thinking."

"I get that you're scared," she whispered to him. "But you need to get it together."

He scoffed. "I'm not scared..." But his eyes darted to the shade, unable to stay away from it for long. "Look, it's moving!"

The shade was gliding into the woods. Wren cleared her throat and started resolutely after it.

"What are you doing?" Godfrey hissed, grabbing her arm. "Don't follow it! Let it go and let's be done with the whole business!"

She pushed him off. "You can stay here, but that shade is our ticket to freedom. I'm going after it."

"I'm going, too," said Teddy, joining her.

Scarlett walked over as well, pointedly silent.

"Me, too," said Abigail, although her voice cracked.

Titus lifted his chin and gave a haughty sniff. "I can't very well let you go on your own," he said darkly. "You'll do something stupid and need to be saved."

The group went ahead, but Godfrey remained behind, scowling.

"Coming, Frey?" Wren called back to him.

Finally, he threw up his hands and ran to catch up to the group. "Fine, geez! It's like Titus said, you'll need saving..."

#

The shade led the crew through the woods. There was no path to follow, and so the crew held up their lanterns and picked their way through the thicket, over rocks, and across streams. This was a wild place, seemingly untouched by civilization.

Tiny insects buzzed around them, attracted to the light. Scarlett slapped them away, making disgruntled noises.

Finally, the shade stopped at a rocky hill and hovered there. Wren held up her lantern, looking around, but all she saw was darkness.

"I don't see anything," she told the others.

"It must've stopped for a reason," said Teddy. Suddenly, a fat beetle landed on his shirt. Teddy looked down in surprise. "Why hello, friend..."

"Hey, look at the ground!" said Abigail.

Wren brought her lantern down to see that the rock beneath her feet was glittering. Crouching down to get a better look, she realized it wasn't the rock itself that was glittering, but scores of beetles scuttling over it.

"The beetles... they're covered in jewels," Scarlett breathed.

She was right: each of the beetles contained a small, colourful gem on its back. Wren could make out golden amber, glittering pyrite, the pale purple of amethyst, bright blue turquoise, gleaming opals...

"Finally some good news!" said Godfrey. He went to pluck one of the beetles off the ground, but it held fast. He strained, trying to get his nails under it. Then he pointed at the beetle on Teddy's shirt.

"Give that one here, Teddy!"

Teddy turned away, shielding the insect with a massive hand. "No!"

"Fine, be that way," Godfrey muttered. He reached into his pocket and brought out his knife.

"Oh don't, Godfrey!" Teddy pleaded.

Godfrey didn't answer, just slid the blade under the beetle's belly and—pop!—it sprang into the air. He darted out a hand and caught it.

"Hah!" he cried, triumphant.

Just then, the ground beneath their feet began to shake.

Godfrey paused. "Oops..."

The rocky hill they were standing on rose into the air. It happened so fast that Wren didn't even have time to shout. The crew lost their balance, tumbling off in all directions.

Thankfully, Wren fell onto a patch of moss that cushioned her landing.

A great yellow eye glanced at her when it passed by, narrowed to a displeased slit. The rocky hill they had stood on was a gigantic beetle, carrying all of the smaller bejewelled beetles on its back.

The crew sat in stunned silence as the creature trundled away.

"Is everyone okay?" Abigail called.

There was a chorus of "yeah," "I'm fine," "what just happened?" and "ouch, my bottom..."

Then, an unfamiliar voice: "The disrespect! The contempt for wildlife! The greed! Who did it?"

A man marched towards them. His dirty robe swished along the ground and a scowl lined his face. He had several twigs and leaves in his frizzy, unkempt mane, and he wore a patchy beard that made it seem like he didn't quite know how to manage facial hair.

But Wren barely noticed his grooming—or lack thereof. She was staring at the shade hovering at his shoulder. She felt sharp jabs as Titus leapt into her jacket, hiding there.

All her life, she'd heard about the treachery and wickedness of mages, about how cunning and ruthless they were. The photographs in the Daily Pontificate showed menacing figures with sinister expressions, and paired them with headlines like, "SCHEMING MAGES THREATEN MERAKI" and "DEVIOUS EVIL-DOERS ON THE RUN".

This mage, however, did not seem devious, or scheming, or even particularly threatening. He seemed like an irritated hermit.

Even so, Wren raised her gun in a second. The others did the same, but the man didn't seem to care. He looked at each of them accusingly. "Well? At least have the courage to own up to it!"

"Own up to what?" Wren barked, hoping she sounded braver than she felt.

"Disturbing the traga, of course!"

"The beetle," Titus hissed from her jacket.

"Oh. Uhhh, it was me," Godfrey stammered. He paused and added as an afterthought: "Sir." He bristled a little and held his gun higher, as though disappointed in himself.

The mage wagged a finger at him, like a disappointed schoolteacher. "A traga is a sacred creature, you know! It flourishes when it can put down roots, and it cannot do that when you are prying its children off its back and trying to harvest their crystals! You should learn to think before you act!"

Godfrey looked so taken aback that Wren had to stifle a laugh.

"Go on, run back to wherever you came from and stay away from my cottage!"

There was, she saw now, a shack concealed amongst the trees behind him, made of timber and moss. It blended seamlessly into the surrounding woods. A thin trail of smoke came from its small stone chimney.

"You're a mage," Abigail said, dumbfounded. "You." She looked him over, sizing him up and clearly finding him lacking.

The man threw his head back and tightened his robe dramatically. "Yes! I am a very powerful mage with dark and mysterious powers. So keep this little encounter to yourselves, or I'll do...whatever you fear most." He said this last bit casually, with a wave of the hand. Wren wasn't sure whether he was casual about violence or simply doling out an empty threat. It felt more like the latter.

With that, the mage turned on his heel and marched back towards the cottage.

He must not see our shade in the darkness, she realized.

She forced herself to speak up. "Hey! Hey, you! Stop!"

"Go on, leave me be!" he said again, without turning around.

But she didn't need to say more to convince him. The crew's shade swooped forward, putting itself between the mage and his home.

Now that got his attention.

The mage reeled back. Wren could see his head snap from his shade to the new one, and back again.

He turned to face the crew, hands on hips. "I don't train new mages. You're looking for Apostas."

Wren kept her gun raised. "The shade doesn't belong to us," she told him.

The mage looked at her like she was dumb as a doornail. "It obviously belongs to you," he said.

"It really doesn't."

The mage rubbed the bridge of his nose. He sounded tired. "That's impossible. Shades do not separate from their mages."

"Then we agree. It's impossible."

The mage looked between them. "It clearly bonded with one of you. No one doubled over in pain? You would remember. It's quite debilitating."

They all shook their heads no.

"No one has a particularly high pain threshold?"

"Fairly normal, I think," said Wren.

The mage stared at them, unsure what to make of the strange situation.

Just then, the crew's shade made a dipping movement, circling the mage. It hovered in front of him, then did the motion again.

The mage paled, and a series of emotions flitted over his face. "No, it can't be..." he whispered.

He held out a shaking hand, and the shade flared bright red. The mage gasped.

"You're alive!"

He was mesmerized, rooted to the spot. His eyes shone. "But...five years, how did you possibly manage...? The distance alone..."

The shade returned to its inky colour. Nearly a full minute passed as the mage stood staring. Finally, Wren cleared her throat, jerking him back to the present moment.

The mage turned, blinking rapidly, reminded of the crew's existence.

"Pardon," he said quickly. "It's just...it's quite a shock. Come in, come in." He started back towards his cottage, both shades at his side. "My name is Orix," he added.

Wren turned to the others, who wore similar expressions of bewilderment. None of them made to follow the mage, this 'Orix,' but they did lower their guns.

"That was...unexpected," Godfrey finally said, breaking the silence.

"Tell me about it," said Wren. She massaged her temple.

A new shade and a mage, all in the span of a few hours. And to discover the man wasn't—at first sight, anyway—a hair-raising monster! On the contrary, he seemed rather...half-baked.

"Err, I thought mages were dangerous," said Teddy, giving voice to Wren's own thoughts.

"Yeah," Abigail said. She shook her head in disbelief.

"The light-footed devil was right," Wren said, using Titus's usual code name. She was reticent to mention his actual name anywhere near the mage. "It does have a mage. And she's somehow managed to separate from her shade."

"Or his," Godfrey pointed out.

"Yeah..." she stared after the mage, thinking. There was something about this whole situation that made her want to follow him and find out more. The shade had come to them, after all—chosen them—and brought them here, to a mage who hadn't attacked them. There had to be a reason for all this, didn't there?

Images of Wren's parents and her brother, long dead on the Settlement, swirled in her mind, as though in a distant fog. She didn't know why—it didn't make sense, didn't add up.

"Well, I think we should follow him," Scarlett volunteered.

Wren felt Titus bristle under her jacket, jabbing her in the back with a hard metal paw.

"No way! He could snap his fingers and kill all of us," Godfrey said darkly.

A pigeon landed on Orix's shoulder and pecked at his ear. Still staring at the new shade, the mage absent-mindedly reached into a pocket and held up a scoop of bird seed. Orix disappeared into the cottage, taking the pigeon along for the ride.

"Yeah, it could be an act..." Abigail agreed, but she sounded doubtful.

"Look, I know 'dangerous' when I see it, and that"—Scarlett waved a finger after Orix—"isn't. He must be powerful, he's a mage, after all—but he doesn't seem inclined to hurt us."

Of all of them, Scarlett had spent the most time out in the field. While the Dirty Countess crew was planning heists, the redhead had been picking up information in rough-and-tumble shipyards, infiltrating competing pirate crews, and lending a friendly ear to the secretaries of important Paragon diplomats. To say she had a good sense of people was an understatement.

Scarlett's word was good enough for Wren. Someone had to make a move, or they'd be standing here forever. It may as well be her. Besides, she was curious—if the mage could tell them why the mysterious shade had dragged them here, she wanted to know.

"Come on," Wren said and hoped she sounded gallant. She held her chin high and marched after Orix. Scarlett followed, then Teddy and Abigail.

Godfrey kicked at the dirt but once again picked up the rear. Out of the corner of her eye, Wren saw him drop the small beetle onto the ground. It scuttled off in the traga's direction, hurrying after its parent.

#

The interior of the mage's cottage was just as ramshackle as it looked from the outside. It was a single large room, with the forest dirt as a floor. A fire in a simple stone hearth provided all of the warmth and light.

Wren scrunched up her nose. It smelled terrible in here: musty and damp, like the space under an old bookcase.

Creatures peered at them from every direction. Birds cooed from nests in the rafters, insects scuttled about as they pleased, and she spotted a river rat with a splint on its leg sleeping in a corner.

Orix collected as many seating options as he could, sweeping books and various supplies off chairs and stools. He lifted a shrew off one and it squeaked in protest. "Here, please, sit..."

Scarlett took the shrew's former domain: it looked to be the least rickety chair.

He placed the shrew on the floor, and Wren swore she saw it huff angrily at the mage.

"They come to me for help," Orix explained. "And I can't turn them away, of course, not when they ask so little..."

He turned back to the shade and paused his flurry of activity, caught up once again. "After all this time, I never thought...I never allowed myself to believe..." He lapsed into amazed silence once again, as quickly as he had jumped into hospitality mode. Wren raised an eyebrow—Orix seemed like he'd been alone for too long.

Teddy took a hesitant seat on the bed, and Abigail hovered by the table, not yet comfortable enough to sit on the small stool there. Godfrey rested half his rear end on the table itself, ready to leap up at a moment's notice.

Wren installed herself in the far corner, against a low shelf that held several potted plants and smelly dried herbs. She didn't put her gun back in its holster but rested it against her leg. Titus remained within her jacket, hidden from view.

Orix suddenly twirled around. He clasped his hands together, pleased that everyone had found a spot to sit. "Very good. Isn't this lovely?"

Wren would not have described the scene as 'lovely.' Perhaps 'tense' or 'concerning'.

The mage took a seat on the stone hearth, his robes billowing out. "What next? It's been so long since I've hosted...ah, yes! Introductions. You know me now: Orix. What are your names?"

Wren and Godfrey exchanged a conspiratorial look. They certainly weren't about to give a strange mage their actual names—

"I'm Scarlett," said Scarlett. She pointed around the room. "And that's Godfrey, Abigail, Wren, and Theodore. We call him Teddy."

Wren groaned. So much for that.

"It's a pleasure," said Orix.

"Do you know who the shade belongs to?" Wren asked, mostly to prevent Scarlett giving away more information.

"Yes, of course!" he balked, clearly thinking it was a silly question. He peered up at them. "You don't?"

"Um, no."

"Curious, curious...no, I suppose you wouldn't. I wonder why Abraham wanted us to meet. Abraham," he told them, "is the mage trapped in the Settlement! 'Is,'" he repeated, staring at the shade in wonder. "Can you believe it? Not 'was'. Is."

 Wren's brain felt like it was moving through mud, struggling to catch up. If Abraham was the mage in the Settlement, and he was alive, did that mean there could be other survivors? Even mages need water and food and protection...if Abraham had survived, maybe—just maybe—some others had, too...

Don't get your hopes up, she told herself sternly. They're dead, Wren. They're long gone.

But...but what if...

She slammed an iron wall up against the thought, extinguishing the faint hope.

They're gone. That's it.

There had to be a catch, some trick to the mage's story. He seemed genuine, sure—but mages were scheming, power-hungry tyrants who had killed her family.

Orix couldn't be trusted.

Wren cast her gaze around the room. The others were silent, slack-jawed, and wide-eyed, trying to figure their way through the mage's words.

Abigail was the first to speak up. "But everyone in the Settlement is dead," she said.

"Yes," Wren said, fighting to keep her tone even. "You and the other mages killed them when they closed the passage to the Settlement." Her fingers tightened around the trigger of her gun.

Orix cocked his head at her. "Do you believe everything the Paragon tells you?"

She stared daggers at him. "Do you have another side to the story?"

He was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said, "Slightly."