Garrison Fawkes’ POV

Charon was less cooperative than I’d expected him to be. Somehow, he believed that his business had nothing to do with his family and vehemently protested answering my questions. 

I got the sense that Uriel was rapidly growing angry, but when I shot a quick look of concern at my friend, they looked perfectly normal, aside from a near-invisible tightening around the corners of their mouth. The more Charon refused to answer my questions, the angrier Uriel seemed to get, until I tried to ask another question and my voice stuttered. I glanced at them.

Their face was turned determinedly towards Charon. And I couldn’t look away from them. In the background, Charon’s complaints and grumbling tapered off into silence—but I barely noticed.

“Ask your questions,” Uriel instructed firmly, not looking away from the now meekly silent minotaur across us.

I blinked. And looked at Charon—who was staring at Uriel with a dazed look in his eyes. “Um, alright.” With some effort, I faced the merchant properly. “What kind of goods do you trade?”

There was a moment of pause, before Charon said, “everything.”

“Like what?” I wanted an elaboration.

“Exotic plants, spices, cloths, weapons, precious gems,” he answered with difficulty, like he was trying to hold back the words. I didn’t know what Uriel was doing, but it seemed like they were compelling him to speak. 

I forced myself not to glance at Uriel. “Where does your business take you?”

“Gaiala, the Ashara Desert and Silvermoon Forests.” 

Uriel inhales sharply. It is a very small thing—I’ve somehow become attuned to their feelings if strong enough—or I would never have noticed their shock. 

Whatever it was, the rest of my questioning was no longer as fruitful as it had been. Uriel had lost focus on whatever it was that kept Charon compliant. And it showed, because anything I asked, we could see the man growing visibly confused at whether to answer or not. 

Eventually, I gave up and pulled Uriel aside. “Uriel, are you alright?” I asked, voice low with worry.

They appeared shaken, but otherwise fine. Uriel nodded. “I’m fine,” they answered. But I got the impression that they weren’t quite as fine as they promised. 

In the end, I gave up on my questioning and we went back to the guesthouse. Or rather, I brought Uriel back to our lodgings. Uriel was clearly shaken, and I wanted to give them some privacy to work through whatever it was they needed to. 

Back at the guesthouse, I had to sit Uriel down when they wouldn’t move unless directed to. “Uriel,” I said with growing concern. “What’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

Uriel seemed confused for a moment, then shook their head in silence.

I frowned. “Alright,” I said quietly. “Do you need some space to think? I can leave for a while if you want. Or we can sit in silence instead?” I offered kindly.

Uriel gripped my wrist with cold hands at my suggestion to leave. I took it to mean they didn’t want me to go, so I stayed, and we sat in silence. 

“What do you need?” I asked again. “Would you like a hug?” My cheeks coloured after the words left my mouth. As far as I knew, Uriel didn’t seem to tolerate skin contact very often. I fully expected them to reject or ignore my offer. Which they did. I was still disappointed.

So, we sat on the sofa, side by side and close enough to only leave a sliver of space between our bodies. My hands rested on my thighs and I let Uriel decide how close they wanted to be. They didn’t move any closer to remove the gap between us, but their hand shifted minutely so that our pinkies touched. 

If this was the only comfort that Uriel would accept, I didn’t dare move away. 

~

When we met Azrael again, she looked far more frazzled than before. Several more of her people had disappeared overnight. Immediately, Uriel and I drew her into a private room and shared our theory of a magical plague with her. Azrael seemed doubtful but agreed that it was the most logical theory we had. But even that didn’t mean much, considering that the plague theory was the only one we had formed thus far. 

To test this theory, however, Azrael agreed to check the social circles of all those who had gone missing. It was to figure out who had contact with who, as one did when a disease ran rampant in the streets. The friends and family of those who’d vanished were distraught and upset enough to provide as much information as we asked for, hoping to find their loved ones back again.

And from this contact tracing, we discovered that of the three new people who had vanished, one of them was a merchant who had returned two nights ago, another had been a crew member from the same ship though he was a Satyr, and the last one had been the Mother of the girl who had disappeared earlier. People were starting to panic.

Uriel and I shared a grim look. It was starting to look like we were right, especially since the vanished all had some connection to someone who travelled beyond the Isles of Crete.

It was with this thought that I suggested that Azrael “close the Isles borders before anymore infected ones got in or got out.”

Azrael had argued that banning travel would cause a different kind of problem since it was their main source of economy and food supply for most of the islanders.

“He’s right,” Uriel said as they stood by my side. “Azrael, the disease is already on the island and if you allow more people in, more will disappear. At least if it’s contained, you may be able to figure out the symptoms and isolate them before it spreads further.”

“What about those on ships?” asked Azrael unhappily. “We need the supplies they provide us; the people need to eat.”

“You must quarantine everyone,” I insisted. “Have them all stay home. When they need supplies, they must draw the windows of their curtains and you can send someone to deposit the food and supplies at their doorstep. And they must not come out to take them until your delivery man has left.

“Lady Azrael,” I continued gravely. “We do not yet know much about this disease, but what we know for certain is a distressingly short list. We know that humans remain unaffected, so they may serve as the runners of a delivery service. We do not know the symptoms of this disease, except that the victims vanish completely without a trace. It won’t be easy.”

“And what about the two of you?” she asked bitterly.

“Azrael,” Uriel spoke softly but urgently. “We cannot stay here. This affects all of us. We must find the origin of this evil and quash it, or we must find the cure.”

Azrael nodded. “Go,” she said eventually, low, and angry. “Fix this.” Fire flashed in her dark eyes; her obsidian horns protruded from her temples. In that moment, I remembered that she was Wrath.

Uriel took my hand. I hadn’t realised I was frozen in fear. In an instant, our surroundings disappeared in flashes and when Uriel had arrived where they meant to take us, I couldn’t have blocked the waves of nausea.

Vaguely, I heard them muttering about eyes that were meant to be closed and some apologies, but my focus was spent on heaving into a basin that had been shoved under my head.

“You’re fine,” they said. “You’re alright.” Cool hands rubbed my back.