The justicar stand-in walked in again. Her platinum hair shone in the sun as her white cloak flew behind her confident gait.

“Excuse me,” I said, shooting to standing, blocking her path, “I never got your name.”

“Duchamps,” she said, hand resting on the hilt of her saber. She cocked her head, “You don’t look particularly happy to see me.”

I used all of my willpower to keep from shaking my head. Instead, the energy went into clasping and unclasping my hands, “It’s just that—you see,” my heart still beat hard within my chest from the excitement of this morning. I could barely find the words to speak, “I need—where is Bira?”

She looked me up and down with that cutting gaze of hers. Hip cocked, she raised an eyebrow, “And here I thought you two were an item, or something.”

I bit the inside of my lip.

Duchamps waited for something out of me, but I couldn’t give it to her. We were just friends, that’s all we’d always ever be. I’d watched him go through girlfriends before, but as of late it had just been me and him against the world. And I somewhat blamed myself for that. I wasn’t a romantic. The last guy I kissed tumbled into bed with me and tumbled out with the morning. I hadn’t even known his name when I woke up, just his smell; metallic like blood.

“Emergency leave,” she barked, meeting Axelles eyes from across the room, “you should have known that,” and she pushed past me to her station beside where the trundle bed would be soon with our new subject.

Axelle snorted, “Not when her career is at stake,” she said, replying for me, “that’s all that truly matters to her.”

I spun on my heel and sprinted out of the room as the ladies shared a laugh at my expense. Bira and I were best friends—I should have been the first one to know that he had taken leave. And emergency leave at that.

It was my fault, dammit, and mine alone. The first time he hadn’t shown up I should have marched straight to his room and demanded an explanation. Though he wasn’t an official part of our research team, he was still under my command and if one of my subordinates weren’t showing up for work it was my job to demand why. But because it was Bira, I just assumed…

Assumed what? I charged through the side door and up a spiraling, crumbling, staircase to the third floor. Sunlight from the massive windows cut at my eyes and the justicar banners of scarlet, white, and black hung like tangled moss from the high, arched, ceilings. I had to go past my room to get to his, which was on the opposite end of the long hallway. The far opposite end.

But it seemed that I wouldn’t have to actually walk that far. My door opened and out walked him.

“Bira!” I called and he stopped in his tracks. His hair was pulled up into a messy, white, ponytail and he was wearing a long traveling cloak with black breeches and a tucked in tunic. He looked like one of the commanders riders, a silent and quick shadow.

“Bira!” I hadn’t stopped running and as I came to a stop before him, I bent double to catch my breath, “What are you—what are you doing?” Where are you going?

I could feel him looking down at me, but he said nothing. Just stood there like a twice damned bump on a bone.

“I said—”

“My sister.” He managed, “She’s ill.”

I swallowed as I tried to remember the faces of his family. He had two sisters, one older, one younger, “Which one?”

He tugged at his scarf, “Uriel.” He said after a few beats of silence.

“How bad—why didn’t you tell me?”

I knew why, of course. Bira was half-patrician, meaning that the tattoos on his face were actually called tatau in his language and they meant things. Like the one centered on his forehead was meant to grant him clarity, but it seemed like it hadn’t been working in these past couple days.

“Bira…,” I’m hurt, “…please, tell me.”

We met eyes. I couldn’t believe that I was close to crying, but I was. My heart was in my throat.

Bira heaved a soft sigh, “Uriel’s been showing signs of Dreaming for…years now—”

“And you never told me?”

He shut me up with a harsh look from this pale, cat-like, eyes, “—it was never a problem…until it was.”

I felt like the floor had given up under me. All of the color drained from my face.

The divine took her.

Why her?

I took a step back, “She’s…?”

Bira nodded, swift and crisp.

“And what were you doing coming out of my room?”

“An explanation,” he said, “a letter. To you.”

I swallowed back my tears and plunged into my room. It was the least I could do. The black bag was already downstairs, but I had one perfect lunar obsidian stone left. I gave it to him. Our hands lingered as they touched and I thought—I told myself that I could go. But, then I remembered the laughter from the Dreaming Elite Gala. How my own mother didn’t believe I’d do anything in research. Once it became clear that I had cured the Demise, then my name would mean something and no one could ever again say that I piggy-backed off of the merits of my parents. No one could ever again call me, “Little Eden”.

But Uriel had fallen to the Demise. Uriel. Bira’s kid sister. The little girl with the lavender horns that I remembered from all those years ago…attending a winter solstice breakfast with his folks and mine.

Little Uriel…

You could go.

I watched him drop the stone into his side bag.

For a moment, he lingered, as if waiting for me to make decision. To make the right one. But I stood too, silent, waiting for him to tell me to go with him. To drop everything and save his sister.

But the words didn’t come.

I looked out the window. The observer from the unity council was probably already on his way to the observatory. If I wasn’t there, the Directors name could be put on the line as well as mine. I let out a little sigh.

“I can’t wait for you,” he finally said, his eyes avoiding mine as he walked toward the door, “good luck in your research.”

“Find someone who knows about general portaling,” I told him as he left, “any Circle sorcerer should know about it. Then, tell them—”

“I’ve got it.” He said as he closed the door softly.

I shut my eyes and let the tears fall. Everything within me told me to stop him, to take what I could from my chest, stuff it into a backpack, and follow. But I couldn’t.

Because—because Axelle was right. Fame mattered more than friends to me.

But as I wiped my tears and made my way to the observatory, the inklings of an idea began to form within me. What if I could make my findings known in a different way? A way that led me to the field? That let me follow Bira home?