The Wanderers arrived within a day of the announcement that the Valkyr and Guardians quelled the Shadowfaen threat.

Faraldin insisted on accompanying Amon for the day’s errands that morning, which included purchasing supplies from Virtag Plaza downtown. She did not necessarily mind, as he served as a good guard dog, keeping away any sticky hands that may have done away with her coin purse by now. The overcast sky provided the perfect shade for more people to roam the streets than usual, which meant more opportunities for pickpockets to make a living for the month.

As she perused the vendors, he shook hands with shopkeepers, a small parcel passing between the gestures. Each time, Amon would check to see if a Guardian was watching, but they would be looking in the opposite direction.

When the day’s purchases were completed, they approached the Landing Square to wait for a coach.

Since the Valkyr rarely used the platform for more than grandstanding, people often gathered to lounge between their strolls through the streets. More than a few families occupied the area. Couples lounged on benches or on the soft grass. Kids ran back and forth from their exhausted parents to the marble fountain in the square's center. Teens eyed the roped-off area guarded by several Valkyr, who shook their heads at them when they met their gazes. 

Amon grinned to herself. It was nice to see that even as the decades passed, some traditions and rites of passage remained the same. In Persi’s memories, it was not too long ago that her brother dared her and her childhood best friend to approach the ropes. Somehow, she and Seren managed—getting close enough to see the edge of the capital’s land and the perilous skies below.

Beyond the borders, she spotted a few more floating towns and cities connected by the Sky Lifts, which allowed more accessible travel for those without permits to fly winged beasts. Amon shuddered at the memory of sitting in one of the trams as it shook violently along the cables between one tower and the next. The operators swore up and down that the wards met all safety standards and had even been created by members of the Academy of Architects in their very own realm, but she was still doubtful. Perhaps inventions from the other fragments of their world should remain there.

Though it pattered along the streets quite happily, the wagon full of goods seemed to grow heavier with each step. Even though Amon said nothing about it, Faraldin motioned to a bench sporting a well-dressed elderly couple. They scurried away the moment they saw him looming beside them.

“They seemed quick to leave,” Amon remarked as she sat beside him. Having the time to focus more on her surroundings, she noted the sidelong glances from more than a few passersby, but they looked away as soon as they met her gaze.

Faraldin leaned back on the bench, turning his chin to the sky as he closed his eyes. “Merida and Vinius Peral. They’re fabric vendors and have been experiencing delayed shipments because of the decline in Valkyr recruits. Fewer of their numbers means fewer scouts, which means fewer expeditions to the Surface for non-essential goods. Their business suffered, so they came to me. Naturally, I offered them a loan, but…” He huffed and pinched his nose. “I think they’ve taken my kindness for granted. It’s been months since they’ve given me some form of repayment.”

“Do you want me to add them to my list?” Amon pursed her lips, wondering how Androsa would react to her latest duties—strongarming merchants into paying their dues. So long as she didn’t end up on the antique shop’s doorstep again, she reckoned the old woman would be pretty alright with it.

Faraldin turned his head to face her. His glamour no longer shimmered each time she looked at him as though he improved the enchantments behind it.

Too powerful my ass.

“Hmm. Who do you have so far?”

Amon grabbed the list from her breast pocket and handed it to him.

She looked out over the crowd as he read it over, muttering notes to himself. 

A pair of twin teens bickered over a coin they each held.

“We can’t use it on a stupid wish like that!” One said, pulling the coin in their direction. “Make it something feasible, at least.”

“Oh, because your idea is much better. You really think a wish at a fountain will help you get a date?” The other twin tugged their own side. “Not even the face sculptor on Gloom can help your sorry face.”

“We have the same face!”

Amon chuckled and reached into her coin purse, finding a few leftovers she didn’t mind parting with.

But then she heard the flapping of wings.

Shadowy figures approached from high above, slightly obscured by the clouds. A chill ran down Amon’s spine. Shadowfaen? Gods, why would they be back so soon?

Then the clouds parted, revealing winged beasts ridden by figures wrapped in shadows.

They descended, disrupting the families who had been enjoying the space. Parents clutched their children and darted off to the sides, some down alleyways and others into random buildings.

Amon could make out more of the riders as the newcomers approached. Ebony breastplates shone in the low sunlight, the Nightwalker sigil catching the yellow rays and reflecting them back into her eyes. The cloaks cascading along their forms billowed in the soft wind. They adjusted on their mounts, looking over the wary crowd, but monstrous masks hid their expressions.

Wanderers. Skirion’s jailors if you listened to the revolutionists, their protectors if you listened to those who preferred complacency, or just a bunch of arrogant assholes if you listened to just about anyone else. Besides the Valkyr, they were the only other source of contact Skirion had with the Surface, bound by an old treaty to check in on the empire after incidents that involved the Shadowfaen.

Amon could count on one hand the number of times she had seen them in the five hundred years she lived in the sky since her mission began. Only two of those times did she stand this close. Once, her brother hosted them at their mansion for a peace conference. And again, between the doors of the cupboard in her adoptive family’s kitchen as they checked their house under suspicion that she was residing there. She couldn’t recall a time before when she feared for her life so desperately. Well, until her encounter with the Shadowfaen and Valkyr Captain.

Faraldin tugged her to stand a bit behind him. When some patrons inquired about her origins and how she convinced Faraldin to take her in, he inserted himself between her and the present danger. She reckoned—no, she knew—it was because of the House Promise. If any harm came to her while he could prevent it, he would receive the same pain tenfold.

Still, after so long being alone, she couldn’t help but take slight comfort in having someone else invested in her wellbeing. Before her brother’s treason, before she had to go on the run, she could always count on their close friends to be by her side. As a magickless Realm Keeping Corporation member, she was often judged and considered inferior to her peers. Besides her brother, she had no one.

Thus, for now, she took comfort in the warm arm before her as she watched the warriors stride in on beasts that reeked of the Void. Chills crawled across Amon’s skin—reminding her oh-so-much of when she stood near the Shadowfaen.

Unfortunately, she quickly realized that two of the approaching figures were all too familiar to her—no, to Persi—even with their gazes covered by masks.

She pressed her face against Faraldin’s shoulder, looking the perfect picture of a frightened maiden as she whispered, “I know two of them.”

He said nothing as he leaned back to wrap his arm around her. They stood in unison and walked into the side streets through one of the nearby alleyways. Even though she now called the inn home, a sense of nostalgia welled up in her as they navigated the maze of passages one could get lost in if they weren’t careful. They passed shady blokes shaking down an old man for all of his copper, sidestepped the orphans running by with sticky hands and hunger in their eyes, and the women claiming the lives of sleazy men behind their parlors.

Amon winced as she remembered the dignitary. Did his death prompt the Wanderers’ arrival as well? Would she have to hide in a cupboard again? While Faraldin promised to protect her, what would stop his patrons from snitching? She knew from experience that anyone could be swayed with the right measure of gold.

They returned to the inn within half an hour and hurried down into the cellar.

Faraldin went straight to his desk whilst Amon took a seat at the circular table, glaring at her brother’s portrait with his own bounty.

“Why did you do it, DeDe?” She whispered.

“What was that?” Faraldin called out to her as he rifled through some documents.

“What are we going to do about them?” She said a bit louder. 

“Depends. How do you know them?”

Amon pursed her lips, mulling over a proper answer. Even though they weren’t her memories, the feelings and flashes of images felt like they lived within her mind. In Persi’s mind, how could she quantify two relationships that left a million shards in her heart? She spent decades in a long-forgotten village plucking them out, resolving herself that there would never be closure with them. Yet countless times, her mind would wander, and she would be thinking about them again, and now here they were.

“Meren and Seren Yazael. Seren and I bonded over being the leftover heir, the one no one really wanted to haggle and charm. He was my best friend. And Meren…”

“Was engaged to you.” Faraldin nodded. “I saw the papers. ‘A Pairing for the Ages,’ they called it. You think he will be looking for you?”

“Yes. We never saw each other in the aftermath of what happened.” She chuckled to herself. “I found out about our breakup on the village message board I was hiding in.”

Faraldin sighed, leaning over his desk and looking over the papers before him. 

Amon looked over his form. Her mind raced as she considered one possible idea. It would not be the end-game plan, but it would help her continue to run her jobs and keep her end of the bargain for now.

“Your glamour has improved.” He said nothing. “When my brother tried to teach Meren, it took months before they finally gave up. But one quip from me and you seem to have patched it up quite fine.”

“It would be best to spit it out before your ex-fiancé knocks down my door.”

“Can you glamour me to look like a human?”

He glanced up at her, examining her form. “Kenra are hard to glamour.”

“You say that like you’re not one.” Which wouldn’t make sense since he was able to make the Promise.

Unconsciously, her gaze dropped to his wrist, but it was covered by his long sleeves.

“I can do it, but I wonder if that will be enough,” his words brought her attention back to his face, which wore a pained expression. “Matters of the heart are difficult enough as is, and I wonder how your story with him will continue now.”

“You sound like a bard.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, if Meren truly still cared for me, he would have come to me as a fiancé rather than a Wanderer. He has made his intentions clear, and I need to protect myself until they leave.”

“And after that? Do you really think you can outrun the Valkyr, the Guardians, and the Wanderers?”

“The Wanderers will be done as soon as the Emperor pays him off like all the times before. And the Guardians have no obligation to seek me out.”

“And the Valkyr?”

Rialis’ face flitted through her mind.

Amon huffed. “Are you going to keep to your promise or not?”

Faraldin held up his hands and stepped away from his desk. “Very well. Consider the topic dropped.”

He walked to stand in front of her, his palms glowing with a faint silver.

Amon frowned. Wasn’t his magick green before?

“Now, this may hurt.” 

Before she could question him, a bright light engulfed the cellar in a flash of white.