***(Begins in Chapter 2.1)

Bird looked around his room one last time, hoping that he had stowed everything that would be practical. There were half realized constructs and golems, a handful of modified weapons, and piles of stones and crystals that he had found and organized by color first, and by sound second. There were a lot of things he didn’t want to leave behind, but he could only take so much with him before it got impractical.

This was also a chance to look at himself one last time as a Weird. As what he was before he had to hide it all. He loosened the collar and took off the necklace, letting his visage return to what it truly was for a moment.

Fingers lightly traced the strange black lines, shapes, and patterns on his neck, knowing them by heart at this point in his life. All Weirds had them somewhere, and it was the second quickest way to tell if someone was a Weird. The absolute quickest way was to look for one of the physical mutations that marked the Weird. Foresight’s third eye or Mono’s singular eye; Lucy and Thrash’s horns; Bird’s eyes and hands. There didn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to what the mutation was, but every Weird had one or two and the black marks.

There wasn’t a clear story in Lowmyre about why the Normals hated the Weirds. You could get a dozen stories and reasons just by wandering down a street with that question. Some Normals were just distrustful, others just seemed aggressive. All Bird knew was not to test his luck.

He slipped off the gloves and stared into the mouths as they flexed open. He smiled in triplicate, taking a moment to just find peace with his Weirdness and Calamity. For the most part the mouths were more related to being Weird than natural magic, but the fact their teeth could chip stone and dent metal was definitely magical. Even if that was just strange physiology, the darkness beyond the teeth was definitely a Calamity.

The scraps of light that had started filtering in the room hit something on his workbench. A crystal, gleaming lazily as a thought came to him. Taking a bit was fine, surely. A small allowance.

Bird inspected the fused little thing, tracing the line where two crystals had grown into one. A bit of blue to the right, a bit of green to the left. He had found it a few weeks ago, just before the preparation for all this began.

One of the mouths yawned open, stretching from the center of his hand out to the heel of his palm and the base of his fingers. The shape of his hand didn’t change, like the mouth wasn’t really connected to any muscles or flesh. It wrinkled the skin a bit near the edges, but less than Bird figured it should have. Unsettling for most people he’d encountered.

In went the crystal, passing easily between the teeth and disappearing into the darkness. It led to some strange void or pocket that Bird could keep things in and call them back with a thought. They just had to fit his palm, of course. That space did have a nasty habit of sucking the magic out of things though.

“One’s not so bad, yeah?” Bird asked, going through the motions to make himself feel better. He had never found a good way to describe how he did it, but he could feel the space beyond the mouth constrict like a throat and a perfect imitation of Mono answered him. “Yeah, one won’t hurt. Something to remember this place by.”

“Just tell them it’s something you found on the way.” Foresight’s voice came from his other hand, and then Bird spoke with Thrash’s voice, “C’mon, people aren’t that smart. Don’t make it into a big scene and no one’ll care.”

Bird was sincerely grateful that his friends had let him memorize their voices before this endeavor; he had them more or less committed to memory through their years, but just the ritual of practicing them and spending those minutes relearning inflections and cadence was important. It was how he would keep them fresh in his head if he couldn’t come back frequently enough.

Maybe it was part of his Weirdness, or maybe it was part of his Calamity, but Bird had always had extremely keen hearing. Few sounds escaped his notice, and he had a particular penchant for voices and music. He could mimic any of the sounds he heard as well. Even other Weirds were disturbed by the ability listen and mimic, but there was a certain appreciation in some circles for his ability to sing a three-part harmony without any help.

He kept the conversation going for a short time. This moment was for him. The farewell he said wasn’t for the others, even if he borrowed their voices for it. There were so many ways that this could go to hell, and a lot of them didn’t end in particularly pretty ways.

“Positive thinking, come on Bird.” He spoke softly in his own voice, tugging the gloves back on.

One last look over the room. A quick dart over to a table to place something in the spot he’d grabbed the crystal from. An annoyed grunt sounded from one of his mouths when it didn’t quite look right. He knew there wasn’t time to reorganize. He’d just ask Foresight to do it after he left.

The blessed distractions of his room left him as the door shut. The crew of the Nightlight said their farewells and well wishes as he came down the stairs to the main floor. Foresight gave a quick hug before stumbling back to his couch. Thrash nearly dislocated his shoulder with a cuff and tried to cover it up by saying something supportive. Mono fussed over a seam or two before giving Bird a proper hug and saying something he was sure was supposed to be motivational. Lucy clung to his waist the entire time, making him promise over and over that he’d be safe.

It was all a blur, and he wanted to kick himself for not being able to focus more. The panic had been settling in since waking up though, and the dissociation seemed the price to pay for that. Bird didn’t fully come back to reality until he was halfway to the chosen gate.

The path was roundabout, and avoided obvious paths. He had left Lowmyre from the northwestern edge and jogged through the hills that framed the slums from the south. It would take him the better part of the morning to reach the gate, but it would look like he was just a traveler coming in on one of the newer trade routes for the city. The trade bridges were his destination.

Goldwind had built a handful bridges a little over a decade ago to let merchants and travelers get straight to the heart of the city. Being able to largely skip going downhill into Lowmyre only to go up a winding cliff face had made it a popular concept. The construction had been a big deal from what Bird could remember from his childhood. Nowadays they were just part of the skyline for Lowmyre; it would be his first time walking across one.

When he arrived, there were a handful of travelers already there, passing through the gate and just going. No hassle, no delays, no searches. They just got to walk right through, and Bird immediately began to panic at the simplicity of it.

They had to know something special, there had to be something he didn’t know about. Something Bird and his friends had missed that was a crucial detail. The cries to abort the mission got louder and louder as he neared the gate.

There was a more rational voice with a better mantra: He’d keep walking, just keep himself as normal as possible. Look like he belonged.

There had to be some trick though. He strained his ears, heard snippets of conversation; nothing clear enough to be a signal or password. Oh gods, what if it was a password?

“Good morning.”

“G-good morning!” Bird gave the response too enthusiastically. They had to know.

But they didn’t stop him. The guard gave him an odd look, but didn’t stop him. Hardly even acknowledged him beyond that moment.

Every other time Bird had been to a gate from the Lowmyre to the upper city or had seen any Weird getting close the Goldwind, there was a problem. The guards would stop you, riddle you with questions, search you, and ultimately bar your passage. It didn’t go well when you argued, if the guards didn’t like your story, or if those guards were just in a foul mood.

The gates directly between the Lowmyre and Goldwind had a very clear message: Weirds weren’t supposed to be here in Goldwind. They weren’t separated by law, but by whatever social doctrine had taken root long before Bird’s lifetime. Weirds weren’t supposed to be in the same place as Normals.

And yet he had just walked through Goldwind’s gate. No hassle, no questions, no search, no problem.

It was the most surreal thing Bird could have imagined.