Christi tossed and turned in her bed; she threw her arms to her side. Try as she might, she couldn’t sleep. Truthfully, she didn’t want to sleep; she shuddered at the thought of the nightmares. She shifted her mind onto other matters; she didn’t want to dwell on those horrible memories that tormented her even in her sleep. Tomorrow, with Adriana, they would begin preparations for their assault on Kydin and his band of mercenaries.

This is all just a waste of time, she sighed as she mulled over all that had happened. All of this, this whole ordeal, detracted her from what she really wanted. Destruction of the hours and retribution for Alex. She didn’t care much for protecting Barakat from harm. 

After all, what attachment would she have for a town that they had visited originally to search for one of the hours? There was also growing unrest over her presence here. Piotr could only protect her so much; her brawl with the guards outside Valence Gate had proven that. She sighed.

If Kydin was really serious about attacking, then he could just as easily do so. Men like Korill had proved just that; Korill alone would prove more than a handful for Barakat. 

She held his pendant in her hand. She wanted that kind of strength. The metal cooled against her palm as she studied it. A flame symbol, it felt strangely comforting having it. Korill had entrusted this to her. Is that why she kept it?

The crimson flames of her left arm beat back the darkness of her arm as she ignited it. She focused, thinking back to the pier and that rage she felt. She stilled her thoughts. Nothing; the heat she felt then, she couldn’t summon. Why?

She rose from her bed and draped a cloak around her back; she needed to clear her head. A late-night stroll would do just that. Taking care not to wake the others, she sneaked outside into the night. She wandered the streets aimlessly; the cool night air pricked her skin even with her hood drawn up to shield her from the mild conditions. She exhaled, watching her breath hang before her for a moment before dissipating. 

As she strolled down Valence Street, she heard a scuffle in the alleyway to her left. Rambunctious laughter rang out from the narrow passage—just some drunks, she thought, best to carry on. A woman’s scream paralysed her; anger began to rise in her chest. She doubled back into the alleyway and stalked forward. 

She pushed forward, her boots clomping on the stone beneath her. A dim light peeked out from around a corner ahead. Christi spun around the corner; it was a small clearing behind a row of empty houses. Two men stood over a helpless woman who looked to be terrified. Her frantic eyes met Christi's; the men staggered around; clearly they were intoxicated. 

They swayed side to side; gleeful smiles sprang to their drooped faces. The woman scrambled backwards against the wall, and one of the two, a short, bulbous-faced man, staggered forward towards Christi. His cheeks flushed red, and his eyes wandered.

“Well, what do we have hereee?” His words slurred from his mouth.

He stopped afoot of Christi, shoving his face uncomfortably close into Christi's, and scanned her.

“You’re a pretty little thinnnng,” he laughed, “the more the merrierrrrr.”
He grabbed her by her cloak and attempted to drag her forward. Christi batted down his arm, which only infuriated the drunken man. That gleeful smile deflated; his face darkened into a scowl. He reached forward again for her cloak. Christi delivered a swift kick to his gut. He collapsed, clutching at his stomach with a loud groan. 

The second man straightened up, his brow furrowed deeply. “What are you doing!? Hah?!” he roared. Christi ignited her arm, the man reeled back, and she stood her ground. Then the man before her smirked, “What do we have here then?” A deep voice boomed behind her.

A blow to her back sent her flying; she tumbled to the floor. She collected herself and looked up. A large obtuse man with thinning hair stood at the foot of the clearing. His belly protruded from his stained shirt. In his right hand, he held a bottle of alcohol that he took a big swig from. 

Christi rose to her feet; her hood fell back, revealing her murky green hair. The large man’s face flushed even redder; he puffed out his chest.

“Look at the little Fheitgr bitch trying to play the part of the hero. Hah! That just might be the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time,” he heartily laughed. 

Christi clenched her fists; she jumped forward to pounce on the man. She slammed to the ground as the second man tripped her. He pressed his sole down on her head. The men laughed at her as she tried to stand. 

“Three men teaming up on one girl? And here I was thinking I was a scumbag,” a familiar voice said. She heard a sickly crack, the foot that pinned her released. She glanced up. Kydin stood over the obtuse man who lay at his feet; blood oozed from the back of the man’s skull. 

Kydin held the bottle in his hand. He smashed it against the short man’s face. Shards of glass exploded across the man’s face. He screamed loudly, covering his face with both hands. The second man dropped to his knees. Kydin stepped over the obtuse man and pressed forward. 

“Please! I’m sorry, just don’t kill me!” he pleaded.

Kydin smirked at him and tapped the man on the cheek lightly.

“Run along now; be thankful I’m in a good mood tonight.”

The man sobered up instantly and ran to his injured friend, guiding him from the alley. Christi turned to the woman and reached out a hand. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“Get away from me! Somebody help me! Help!” she screamed. Christi’s hand dropped, and Kydin snorted. 

“So much for gratitude,” Kydin said as he stood beside Christi.

Christi stepped away from him, standing in front of the woman. 

“Relax, little Vlam, I’m only here to talk. Come, let us leave here. This place will be flooded with guards in just a few minutes.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Christi hissed at him.

“Tell me, how do you think it’ll look when you, a Fheitgr woman, is caught standing in an alley with a deadman and a frightened woman?”

Christi looked at the woman; she could see the terror in her eyes. Kydin was right; besides, some part of her wanted to speak with him again. 

“Fine, lead the way.”

“Good, but hold on just a moment,” Kydin said as he approached the woman. She scrambled back against the wall, and Kydin crouched next to her.

“That man over there assaulted you on your stroll home; a vicious thug attacked him and fled. Are we clear on that? I want no mention of the girl or me in your account at all. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to dispose of you right here. I’m sure we can both agree that is something either of us would rather avoid.”

The woman nodded vigorously, and Kydin smiled. “Smart decision.” 

The two stood on one of the stone piers of Youbé Port, the town’s main trading hub. She looked around, observing their surroundings. The port curved inward; stone steps provided access down to the naturally formed piers. Boats of all shapes and sizes populated the harbour. Though the majority of the seafaring vessels were traditional in design, Christi recognised a few with engines. 

Kydin sat with his legs folded at the edge of the pier. He patted the ground in front of him, beckoning Christi to sit. She crossed her arms and didn’t oblige her. A sigh escaped his lips. Christi glared down at him.

“Why did you intervene?” she probed.

Kydin looked out towards the Farage Sea; the waves neither rose nor fell. It was a calm night. 

"Well, it looked to me like you needed help, so I helped,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Why do you insist on helping me? First it was the tip on the arm, and now this,” she replied.

“So you took my advice then? That gladdens me to hear,” he smiled as he shifted his gaze to her arm.

“Well, you weren’t wrong,” Christi admitted.

Kydin chuckled; he leaned back and sprawled his palms onto the stone behind him.

“Is it so wrong to help someone? You tried to help that woman, didn’t you?” He asked her.

Christi blushed and nodded, and Kydin smirked. 

“You continue to intrigue me; it’s not often you see a Fheitgr woman rushing to the aid of someone from Anriel.”

“And why is that?” Like you said, It’s not wrong to help someone.” Christi turned it back on him. 

Kydin laughed; he leaned forward. 

“You’re right, yet where did that help get you? You saw how that woman perceived you and me. She was terrified of us. They fear that which they don’t understand. After all, no matter which way you cut it. We’re still Fheitgr and they Anrish.”

Christi remained silent; she hated to say it, but she found herself agreeing with him. She was different, and this town reminded her of that on a daily basis. 

“You’re starting to understand that, aren’t you? The weak will always seek to rout the strong.”

“I don’t have strength, not like you or Korill.”

Kydin stood up; he strode up to her.

“Korill was the strongest man I knew. He gave you that pendant because he acknowledged you. He saw something in you, and personally, I do too. Take pride in that little Vlam; nurse the ember long enough, and it can embolden into an inferno.”

Kydin patted her on the shoulder as he left; he drew up his hood.

"Well, I believe we’ve talked enough. I look forward to our next chat; maybe next time you can tell me all about that arm of yours. See you around little Vlam.” 

With those final words, Kydin disappeared into the night. Christi looked to the sea; the wind picked up. She pulled out the pendant and analysed it. Why hadn’t she discarded it? She knew why, of course, but she didn’t want to admit it. That sense of belonging felt right. She needed strength, and Kydin could grant it. 

Piotr and Sam had done everything they could but it still wasn’t enough. “We’re still Fheitgr and they Anrish.” Those words echoed in her mind. She pocketed the pendant; it was best she return now before the others noticed her absence.

Abraham had always loved Youbé Port. He had loved it since he was a child; when his mind threatened to suffocate him, he would walk the stretch of curved stone. Ever quiet, ever lonesome. Just him and the sea. 

So it was surprising when he discovered on this cold night that he wasn’t alone. Not only that, but two individuals he was familiar with. The girl and the mercenary leader. He never trusted that girl; one could never trust a Fheitgr.