They reached Urden’s walls just as Clarix’s eyes were shifting from their daytime milky white to a brilliant yellow-green. Jac hovered nearby, tossing impatient comments at Belle who tried repeatedly to explain to Clarix that she needed to stay outside in the forest while Jac and Belle went into the city for a while. Jac said they should have grabbed the chains from the man’s wagon, then they could just chain her to a root like the man would probably have done, and Belle responded—maybe a bit too sharply—that she would never chain Clarix again. 

Jac looked up at the bit of sky she could see over Urden’s wall—the now-dark trees blocked out all the rest of it. There was only a hint of light left. Stars were flickering to life before her eyes. She shifted anxiously, gripping her re-wrapped hammer. 

“Nyxabella, we need to get inside the walls. Now. Gateclose is either this minute or the next.”

For the hundredth time, Belle started to walk back toward the trail that led to the city’s gates. And for the hundredth time, Clarix followed. Belle held up a hand and said something in that strange language, and the beast stopped. She shifted on scabbed feet, much like Jac had a moment ago, and then gave a nervous whine. 

“I’ll be back, sweet beast,” Belle said. “I promise.”

They made it just as the guards gave the final warning of the gates’ descents. The promise of a familiar devil inside the city walls quickened Jac’s steps, and it took her a minute to notice that Belle had stopped a few feet from the large stone slabs of an outer wall that was still obviously under construction.

Belle stared vacantly at the stone, seeing not the stone itself but the magic that had been used to cut it.

The original walls, just inside this one, were made of wood, obviously sourced from the trees that had been felled to give the city room to expand. The wooden walls were tall and impressive—but they were marred with claw-marks that showed they’d only served to slow some beasts down, and in some areas showed evidence of having been rebuilt over and again. Stone was harder to source here in the land’s most dangerous forest, especially for a city that operated outside of the crown’s oversight. And stone was certainly more difficult to construct, so Urden’s residents had had to make do with wooden walls—until recently, it seemed. 

A newer wall was well under construction, and it was obvious what type of magic allowed such development. A discipline that epitomized Order magic, that was touted by Lushale’s crown as the most powerful magical practice in existence. A discipline that was synonymous with Lushalen royalty, and therefore had no business being practiced in lawless, ungoverned Urden. 

Earthbreaking. Order enforced by the destruction and reformation of all things wild and Chaotic. Belle knew the practice all too well.

Belle stared at the wall, shocked. Because this meant she had been right. He was here.

Excitement and panic hit Belle in synchronization, hard enough to actually knock her loose from her body for a second. She barely heard Jac’s demanding voice or felt her firm hands trying to shake Belle back to reality. 

Distantly, Belle heard: “Ay, if you’re going to lose it on me, at least do it inside the walls, Belle.”

Belle let Jac drag her through the gates. It took some mental heavy-lifting, but Belle managed to bring herself back to her body. She needed to focus. This was a new place. New meant danger, and danger needed to be observed and understood if you wanted to keep it from killing you.

Jac’s face appeared in front of Belle, her ever-expressive eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You with me?”

“Yeah. Sorry, sorry.”

Relief melted over Jac’s features. “It’s alright if you’re alright.”

Belle nodded, then looked around. And immediately regretted it.

The rumors about Urden didn’t do it justice. The place was bursting at the seams. Boxy houses were stacked upon boxy houses, nearly as tall as the giant trees outside the walls. They were constructed with what looked like every building material known to man. Stone, brick, wood, mud, rope, glass, hopes and prayers—some buildings seemed to be the only things propping up those neighboring it. A network of wooden planks and ropes connected most buildings to each other. And in every window, every doorway, every alley, on every overhead bridge, there were people. 

They’d only seen a few other travelers along the road, so Belle never would have expected to find so many people packed inside the walls. It spoke to how feared the forest outside was, she supposed. 

The magic of the city was just as thick as Silvax Forest’s had been, but where the forest’s magic had felt like a calm sea on a clear day, the city felt like a hurricane created by the Dark Mother herself. This was certainly breathtaking. 

It reminded her of home. Nostalgia wrapped her in a warm hug, even as it drove a dagger into her back.

“Well?” Jac asked, lifting her hood in hopes that it would deflect the suspicious glares the two women were getting. “We’re here in Mother-forsaken Urden. What now, Nyxabella?”

“Navigating this place is not going to be as easy as it was in my head,” Belle said, trying to see everything at once and therefore not really seeing anything. 

“Navigating to where?”

“Um.”

Jac swore under her breath. “Mother Light…”

Belle’s head was stuffed so full of magic she couldn’t think. She was freezing up again. Panicking. She was here, and he was here. He was really here, or at least he had been. By coming here, Belle had started something she could no longer stop, and unless both Mothers blessed this venture and it went perfectly—

Perhaps it was that nostalgia that brought up so clearly the memory of Belle’s mother, her hands cradling the teary face of a much-younger Belle. “Listen, Sweet Belle,” Mama B said, and kissed her forehead. “It’s alright if you don’t know what to do, because your magic does. All you have to do is listen to it.”

So Belle took a deep breath, paused, and listened. 

Just like that, the answer came to her. Or more like she realized the answer that had been standing before her all along. 

“Okay,” Belle’s voice was full of fake confidence, “we find the busiest tavern in town … and mingle.”

Jac raised her eyebrows, expectant. “By ‘mingle,’ do you mean…?”

Belle grinned. “Of course.”

Half an hour later, Jac burst through the door of said busiest tavern in town, found the table with the burliest men, slammed her coin purse onto the table hard enough to rattle their drinks, and announced,

“I’ll put five drinks in any hand that can wrestle my own.”

Shock quieted most everyone in the tavern except the musical group, who were kept a safe distance from the tavern’s patrons up on a barred stage. All eyes on Jac, Belle slipped into the crowd unnoticed. Almost. 

The biggest and hairiest of Jac’s chosen table grinned and planted an elbow on the table. “You’re on, sweet.”

There was some brief shuffling as the others cleared the table so Jac and her opponent could face off evenly. Belle couldn’t help but smile watching Jac, her eyes so alive staring down this man three times her size. They clasped hands, the man’s completely engulfing Jac’s. Jac’s biceps rippled under her brown skin. 

“What’s your name, sweet?” the man asked.

“Jac.”

“Jac,” he repeated. “Pleased to meet you. Name’s Roger.”

Jac nodded.

“Count us down, Ed,” Roger called to the man on his left.

Ed positioned himself between the two of them and placed a palm atop their clenched hands. “On three, then.”

The music faded as even the performers on stage turned their attention to the match. The crowd held its collective breath.

Ed called, “One! Two! … Three!”

Ed drew back his hand.

For a moment, it seemed as if the two contestants hadn’t heard the count. They just continued to stare each other down, trading smirks, braced and ready. But soon a few beads of sweat appeared on Roger’s brow. His face reddened, and his smirk became a grin. Veins on both Roger’s and Jac’s arms bulged. Still, neither moved an inch. They could have been statues. 

The cheers from the crowd started up. Roger’s friends called for him to stop toying with the poor girl, and a server told Jac not to give up. The performers switched to an intense, building tune. Some slammed fists or empty mugs on their tables, and others just seemed to be shouting incoherently. All the while, Ed kept his eyes trained on their clasped hands like they were the only things he could see. 

The atmosphere reminded Belle so much of her home on a performance day. In the morning, locals would appear to marvel at the circus that had erected itself overnight. They would wander by, whispering and pointing, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and awe. But curiosity always drew them in, eventually. Curiosity was a magic all its own, and the Great Cassiix Circus lived and breathed curiosity.

Or, it had.

Back then, Belle would have been the one who stood at the center of attention. Danced at the center of attention actually. Atop the backs of nightbeasts or twisted in silks thirty feet off the ground. But now, she was glad all the eyes in the room were trained on Jac. Almost all of them. 

Roger’s face had gone from red to purple and it seemed to have swollen to twice its size. The shouting and banging around the pair only grew louder the longer the match stretched on, and people had begun to throw drinks and whatever else was on hand in no particular direction, for no particular reason. Still, Jac hadn’t budged. The only signs of exertion she showed was the bulging of her veins and the flush of her magic—though Belle guessed she was the only one who could see Jac’s magic. 

“Don’t pass out now, old man,” Jac said. She tried to look bored, but the fire in her eyes belied how much fun she was having. 

Roger opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to decide that energy was better put to use in his arm. 

Someone off to the left flipped a table. Belle gave herself over to the Chaos around her, let the riptide sweep her out to sea. She wasn’t a person in the crowd, she was the crowd. She wasn’t drowning, she was the ocean itself.

“Done yet?” Jac had to shout over the storm around her. 

“I look … done to you?” Roger panted defiantly.

Jac gave him a once over, frowned, paused for dramatic effect, and said, “Yeah.”

And she slammed his arm to the table.

The tavern erupted.