Asterin’s skin crawled from the feeling of a new Glamour, but she resisted the urge to scratch at it as she walked the path ingrained in her brain.

Four months had been spent preparing for this mission. Faraldin taught her the most basic of hand to hand combat to be used as a last case scenario. She practiced sneaking up to the nearby patrons until she could walk normally up to one and not let them know she was there. Faraldin taught her the Common tongue until she could speak it almost entirely without fault, and also how to navigate the city as a local—often plopping her int he middle of a random spot and forcing her to find her way back to the inn.

All of this and Asterin still did not feel even the slightest bit prepared for the task that awaited her this day.

Where the market and financial districts met, just before reaching the City Center, there were a variety of abandoned government buildings that were once used by emissaries from other nations before Skirion was cut off from the rest of the world. The Wanderers claimed one of these buildings as their headquarters for the remainder of their investigation. Each day, countless people surrounded the front area in protest of their stay, yelling for them to head back and leave the Skies be.

With her new Glamour—which took much convincing for Faraldin to cast—Asterin was able to meld into the crowd, looking this way and that for a way into the building that wouldn’t compromise her. She ran through the plan that she and Faraldin decided on, wondering how in the Hells it would pay off.

It’s basically suicide.

She grit her teeth.

But do you want to risk staying up here with Seren and Meren?

The answer was simple: not at all.

Asterin used her Sight to determine who amongst the protesters held the most fire in their hearts. One man stood out, with long brown hair and a stern expression on his face. His silence contrasted with the screams of those surrounding them. But there was no mistaking what she Saw.

When someone is like that, the smallest things can light them up. An unwanted memory swam through her mind of her ex-husband and his wicked temper.

All he needs is a little… push. Asterin picked her second target and played like she was looking for a better view of the building, making sure to use her hidden strength to push a woman forward, causing a domino effect that ended with the rage-filled man being pushed forward and onto the ground.

A wallet fell out of his pocket, along with a small picture. All Asterin could see was a young woman with a younger child on her lap before he scooped it up and turned onto one of the nearby Guardians standing outside the headquarters.

“You let these outsiders boss us around, after subjecting us to a living prison! When does it end? We can’t continue to survive like this!”

The crowd rallied behind him, echoing more or less the same sentiment.

The man charged to the front of the crowd and the Guardians stiffened.

“Watch yourself—“

“No, you watch yourself. Who are they to command what we do? From the food we eat to the people we fuck. All because you lot can’t do your jobs proper.”

The crowd got louder and rowdier, to the point that Asterin was tossed this way and that. She tried to steady herself, but the shoving got more violent, and she elected to play along so that she didn’t stick out.

It didn’t take long until the crowd surfed forward, easily overtaking the row of Guardians and rushing into the building.

Once inside, they ran this way and that, no real plan to their rushing. When Asterin broke free of them, she followed the magickal traces Faraldin told her to keep an eye out for.

#

“Now,” Faraldin had said, showing her the tainted paper. “One of my people is going to place this in a Wanderer officer’s report. It should make it easier for you to sneak up to their office without us leaving a trail by getting blueprints of the building.”

Asterin spent weeks memorizing the magickal signature. But… “What if I run into officers on my way up? Are we sure there won’t be plenty waiting inside?” She brought it up to him one day while he was working at his office.

Without looking up from his paperwork, he shook his head, a small grin on his face. “You see, the Wanderers have to abide by a certain code in order to keep themselves in the Overseer’s good graces. This means making offering son certain dates when it’s said that his magick is at its weakest.”

Faraldin grabbed a nearby calendar off his desk and showed it to her, where several dates were marked with a red pen.

He pointed to one that had her raising her eyebrows.

Just as I thought.

“This date is the next time they have to make their offerings, so it should just be your usual Guardians outside the building. No officers or cadets within.”

“Seems risky.”

He tapped his pen against his desk absentmindedly. “But they can’t risk anyone falling out of his favor. Besides, few know that they have ties to the Overseer as is.”

Asterin nodded. She knew because of her brother’s ties to the organization… and listening to their meetings one too many times. But…

“How do you know?”

Faraldin just smirked. “A trade secret.”

#

Asterin ran into no trouble as she walked through the expansive hallways lined with tapestries dedicate to some of the famous battles attributed to the Order. There was the defeat of the Helion Queen, the rectification of the Val Shifts, even going so far back as when the Forsake One was barred in the deep prisons of Karvolok, the outermost ring of the Hells.

She made sure to use the powder in her pocket to leave a trail she could follow back out. The last thing she needed was to be trapped her for longer than necessary.

Sooner than she expected, she came across a pair of double doors with a plaque beside them designating them as the officers’ offices. Reaching out, she grasped a brass door handle and pulled.

Only to find them locked.

Crap.

Asterin fiddled with the other handle to no avail.

“Need something?”

That voice… Asterin had heard it so many times, but had yet to come face to face with her twice-now pursuer. She froze where she stood.

When she got the courage to, she slowly turned her head, eyes landing on a masked Wanderer standing not too far behind her.

He was much taller than her Glamoured form, though they would have been closer to the same height otherwise. His robes were inlaid with the Wanderer crest and his mask resembled a sea creature, much the same as the two Wanderers she had met before. She could even spot a similar pair of golden eyes with.

Wait…

“You’re Dralais, right?” It was a solid shot in the dark, but it was all she could come up with.

He took a moment to respond. “And how do you know that?”

She recalled the conversation his brothers had. That he was obsessed with researching spells, possibly related to the Shadowfaen, which meant… She focused on her vision until it slightly blurred, blinded by the abundance of silver energy surrounding him, the most she had seen besides Faraldin and the Magisters on the Imperial Council.

“Your brothers… Ada and Amos.” She dropped her voice into what she hoped was an alluring tone. “They said you’ve been cooped up in your ‘tower,’ not properly enjoying what Skirion has to offer.”

Dralais scoffed and muttered something in a language she was unfamiliar with.

“Well, my lady, I’m afraid this isn’t the best time. People have stormed the building. So, let’s just—“

He grabbed her elbow, steering her in the direction of the stairs she had just come from.

Crap, I still need to switch these papers. And the Key! The forged documents felt heavy in her bags.

Asterin dug her feet in, tugging back a bit. “Are you sure we wouldn’t be safer up here, away from them?”

His eyes narrowed.

“And how do you know where they are?” There was something different about his voice then. It was as soft as velvet, coaxing her skin and encouraging her to tell him the truth.

But she could see the magick laced within the words. The Voice… just like that one night months ago.

Asterin stepped away from it, from him. “It makes the most sense, if you’re up here with time to chat with little ol’ me.”

He frowned and attempted to use his Voice on her again, but she ignored the fuzziness taking over her mind, focusing on her mission for today.

Asterin’s fist clenched at her side, her elbow still in his grasp. She wouldn’t be able to fight him, but she just as well couldn’t walk away. Not when she was so close.

Something snapped within her and, before she knew what she was doing, her voice left her. But… not the one covered by the Glamour. Her voice, her throat warming with each word.

“Why don’t you unlock that door for me?”

Dralais’ back straightened. His eyes, though slightly clouded, possessed enough awareness to display their fury.

He did just that, opening the door with a wave of his hands.

Asterin tried it again. “Forget that you saw me.”

Dralais blinked a few times, the anger leaving his eyes. Asterin rushed to slam the doors closed between them, locking them, and ran for the desks.

She rushed around the room, not knowing how much time she had. She found a file cabinet with another lock, but this time she used brute strength to open it. It could blamed on protesters, she reasoned.

Asterin took out a few random files before targeting the one with her full birth name on it, switching it out with the forged ones. She then used her Sight to locate the Keys. They were kept casually in one desk—they probably didn’t anticipate this scenario. Once securing one, she looked around the room—how would she get out of here? A balcony!

Rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway.

“Did any make it up here?”

The door rattled.

Asterin looked at the windows, finding herself three stories up. It would be difficult, but she could try to manage.

Better than being caught by a Wanderer.

She dashed for the balcony doors, but before she could make it halfway there—

A large force tugged her back.

Asterin kicked back at whoever held her, turning to see Dralais holding her.

“And just who in the Hells do you think you are to enchant me?”

Crap.

She tried to scramble out of his old, reaching for anything that may give her an upper hand. Her fingers scratched against the hard leather of a tomb and, without any care, she grabbed it and swung around—smacking it into him with all of her might.

Dralais released her and fell to the ground, skidding back a few feet.

And behind him stood a tall woman wearing the less-often-seen robes of the Valkyr, a mess of subdued Wanderers surrounding her.

She looked at Asterin and Asterin looked at her.

“Well, this will be interesting.”

Asterin had no time to formulate an escape before the Valkyr had grabbed her, jumping out the window and onto a winged beast, leaving no room for argument as they flew off to Gods’ know where.

Asterin wished she had been able to break free in that moment. Because when they landed in a dingy alley and she was brought into a shady tavern, belonging to Faraldin’s rival no less, she was sat at a table in front of a woman she thought—and hoped—she would never see again.

“Well, well, well. Fate is kind to me today.”

The Valkyr Captain leaned forward, a cunning grin on her face. “I take it that, despite this Glamour you wear, you’re Asterin Kishpu-La’atzu.

“And you already know who I am, don’t you, kid?”