From the air, Ennanis looked down at the village of Lightwood, spread out like a living map below her. The village was laid out simply: a common marketplace in the middle, and two or three streets lined with short buildings radiated out from the centre. Further out were the farms, sparse over the rolling emerald plains. The streets of the village centre were not packed, but they were still filled with peddlers and their wares, trundling horse carriages, and milling humans. The occasional patrolling angel could be seen flapping their wings, the weapons at their sides glinting in the morning sunlight.

By logic, the kid should not have gone far. Still, without any good description, he wouldn’t be easy to spot in the crowd.

As Ennanis searched further along the west street, she noticed a commotion. An old woman was hunched over, cursing and gesticulating wildly, while passing onlookers gave her wary glances, giving her a wide berth. Curious, Ennanis flew over and touched down.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the red-faced woman.

“Oh, nothing! I’m just having the most noxin’ wonderful day!” the woman practically shouted in her face, spittle flying. She gestured at the ground, where a basket lay tipped-over, spilled rambutan fruits rolling. “A scamp ran into me and knocked the daylights out of me! Didn’t even apologise or nuttin’!”

“Could you tell me which way he ran?” Ennanis asked as calmly as she could.

“Thataway,” the old woman jabbed a rambutan at the northern fork in the road. “If ya catch him, you gotta give him a good whippin’, I’ll say. Teach him some sun-damned respect…! …Huh?”

And then the old woman blinked, stuttering in place as she realised that the angel had disappeared on her. “Rnnnnnngh,” she raged, shaking her fists at an unseen audience. “Youngsters these days haven’t any manners. None at all!”

~~~

Ennanis zoomed down the north fork, flying low over the thatched roofs. Before long, she spotted a suspicious figure on the street. Swaddled in his cloak, he was obviously trying not to draw attention to himself as he rushed along, but was achieving the opposite result. He appeared to have… exceedingly poor coordination, as well, nearly knocking into several low-hanging signs or tripping over potholes as he ran. She wondered how such a klutzy kid had been able to slip a gemstone into his pocket and get away without either the stall owner or her noticing.

She tailed him. The kid continued to run, if that clumsy, jerky way of his could really be called ‘running’. Eventually, the kid ducked into an alleyway obscured by a mess of hanging laundry.

With no other choice, Ennanis made a landing. Quickly, she headed into the alleyway. But then, something made her stop.

The alley ended in a flowing canal.

Did he jump in? Ennanis poked her head out and looked in both directions of the canal, but she saw no swimming teenager. Summoning a beam of light, she tried to look under the water’s surface, but the murk was completely opaque. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. Don’t want to think about what’s in that water.

The kid couldn’t have dived in—she would’ve heard the splash. He also couldn't have run back the way he'd come without bumping into Ennanis. And the walls were too high for him to finish scaling in the span of time before Ennanis arrived.

That left only one option: he was still here in the alleyway, just hidden.

Ennanis cast her sights around. Up above, pieces of laundry dangled from poles. The two walls on either side of the alley were full of cracked holes. They were too small for Ennanis to crawl inside, but the scrawny teenager certainly could have fit in them. Squatting down, Ennanis peered inside, shining a Soleki beam into them like a torch, but the shape of the holes cast shadows, making it hard to see. And there were very many holes; if she checked them all, by the time Ennanis found the right one, the youngster could have well fled to the next town.

Her fingers itched to send out a communication charm. However, much as it had been a handy tool for tracking her troops on Mount Casca, a communication charm had two requirements for it to connect successfully. Firstly, the receiver had to also be either a wielder of Soleki or Lunaki. Secondly, the receiver had to have previously received and accepted a communication charm from the sender at least once before. This first encounter would then give the sender the receiver’s ‘Soleki thumbprint’, which would allow for the charm to fly in future attempts no matter the location, so long as it was within range. However, since Ennanis had obviously never connected with this kid before, attempting a communication charm now would be useless.

Suddenly, she got an idea.

Turning around, she began to walk out the way she came. As she did, she discreetly nudged her fingers together. Finally, Lienna loosened, dropping to the ground. The ring rolled away, like a stray, golden penny.

Ennanis continued to walk on out of the alley. She ducked around the corner, before pressing herself back-to-the-wall, listening out carefully.

It was very, very faint, but her senses were sharp enough to catch it: a shuffling vibration through the wall. Movement.

Slowly, Ennanis peeked out from around the corner. Sure enough, a hooded figure had scuttled out from the hole. Crouched, he examined Lienna between his fingers. He appeared hesitant, likely unsure what it was exactly that his pursuer had left behind, but he apparently decided it valuable, for he pocketed it. He stood up and began to hurry out of the alley—but not before he froze in place.

His face contorted in panic, but his body remained immobile.

He couldn’t see it with his naked eye, but the boy was being held in place by multiple strings of Soleki.

Now, Ennanis stepped out from her hiding place and walked straight towards him. The boy wasn’t strong; he could not move a muscle under her tether. Wide eyes watched as Ennanis searched his cloak. In his sleeves, she easily found the amethyne gem, bright and crystal-purple; but try as she might, she could not locate Lienna.

A tense glee seemed to cross the boy’s face—but evaporated once Ennanis murmured the weapon’s name, and Lienna came flying out of a secret pocket. She slid it back on her finger, glad for the return.

“You’re under arrest,” Ennanis told the boy. She released the Soleki binds on his body, replacing it with metal cuffs around his hands. “You’ll be following me to the temple. Uhh… where are you going?”

The boy was tottering backwards away from her, hands still cuffed. Then, he tripped over a pot and yelped, flailing his arms as attempted to stabilise himself. But it was too late—he wheeled over backwards and splashed into the canal.

His teal mop of hair sank, bubbling, below the murky brown waves. He did not resurface.

Ennanis stared after him, perplexed.

Did he just drown himself?

Ennanis looked toward the water again, but there were still no signs of life.

Well… she had retrieved the seller's amethyne. She was also starting to feel tired from straining her week-old injuries. Her objective was met, and there was no point to chasing after a random kid unrelated to her case.

Thus, she gave up on the chase, walking back the way she came. She returned the amethyne to the seller. Next, she stopped by a mapboard of the village, getting her bearings for a few moments, then set off again.

~

The local temple was a pagoda tower three tiers high, with fluted roofs and extending eaves. Humble in its architecture, and slightly weathered by time, but easily one of the grandest architecture one could find in a village such as Lightwood. It was considerably better taken care of than the destitute buildings all around it. The old pillars were wiped free of obvious grime, and the stone paving in front of its doors was one of the only spots in the village swept free of garbage and fallen leaves.

Temples were something like station houses for the angels, built by humans and jointly run by angels and humans. The worst criminals were put in the sunprisons on top of Mount Casca, but lesser ones were handled by the angel peacekeepers who lived in the undercloud. The choice of a traditionally religious building structure for a station house was mainly because humans worshipped angels. Though Emperor Prometheus himself didn’t like such ceremony, he ultimately could not stop humans from their tendency towards piety. And so it continued.

Ennanis walked down the sparkling clean pavement. At the doors, the human twin guards each clasped their hands, bowed to her, and stepped aside.

The faint smell of incense permeated her senses. Fragrant plum blossoms were arranged in porcelain vases along the walls; Ennanis was amazed to see plants so fresh, beads of dew clinging to the undersides of their leaves, a far cry from their scraggly counterparts in Mount Casca’s gardens. Soft murmurs of conversation wound through the space. Monks shambled up and down the corridors. All who passed her bowed respectfully at her as Ennanis crossed the central hall. One even offered her a basket of dragonfruit, which she rejected politely, simply because she… felt too uncomfortable. It—the reverence, the gazes of admiration—was all very jarring to her, who had become so well-used to scorn.

Angels had looked up at her like that, too, once. Awaiting her command, slit-eyes wide and bright in the daylight.

But she was a much different angel now.

She glanced to the side, where another angel had come in after her, accepting the bag of corn offered to him easily.

He noticed Ennanis’ staring, noticed her grey belt, then scowled at her. Ahh. Much better.

There was a line of humans sitting on a row of benches, waiting for their turn to be heard at the front desk. Ennanis had to remember, as an angel, not to queue up with the rest of them, lest she receive very strange looks. When the previous person had finished their query, she walked up to the front desk.

After some mundane minutiae—it doesn’t seem like you’re listed on the current Knights registrar, I’ll have to log you into the systembook—Ennanis picked up the brush the officer handed her, and began to fill in the report form. Details flowed onto the page, the muscle memory of recording returning to her as she wrote: about the theft of the amethyne, the chase, the culmination, the culprit.

When she slid the form back to the officer, the officer took it and looked over it. Her eyes widened.

“Commander,” she said slowly, reading the page. “You ran into a teal-haired, clumsy teenager who threw himself into a canal?”

“He could’ve fallen in by accident,” Ennanis reasoned.

“No, he didn’t fall in,” the officer shook her head. “This boy… he’s a recorded Beast.”

“A Beast?”

The officer rifled through a cabinet and brought out a file. She spread out rustling sheets of paper, then drew out a thin stack of clipped-together photographs and artistic sketches, depicting the very same kid that Ennanis had seen.

“That boy,” the officer pointed at the photos, “is known as the Loch Ness. He was first spotted three years ago in Archizoun. He uses his timid appearance to trick citizens into letting down their guard, then he robs them blind. Pretty typical behaviour of young human thieves, sure, but we’re certain because he was once seen transforming.”

She pulled out another sketch. An artist had rendered a massive, long-necked and smooth-skinned reptilian creature, with a small bean-shaped head stretched above the inked approximations of a lake’s rippling surface.

With a sheepish chuckle, she added, “But really, there’s still much about the Beasts we don’t know. Angels should know better than us.”

“He didn’t have any signs of being a Beast,” Ennanis mused. While frisking his cloak, she had done a cursory check for the common tells of a Beast disguised in human form: scaly skin, horns, et cetera. The boy had appeared perfectly normal. She had probably missed out on something in her hurry, because there was only one other alternative…

The only Beasts that could disguise themselves as 100% authentic human, were those who had been originally humans themselves, rather than those converted from animals. To date, there was only one human being who had ever managed to survive the Moon's transformation.

The Cockatrice. Purportedly, she had volunteered herself to Queen Medusa. Many kidnappings of humans had been done since in an attempt to recreate the Cockatrice’s power, none of them successful.

The officer noticed how quiet the angel had gone, and asked with concern, “Is everything alright?”

“Do you have a similar file on the Cockatrice?” she asked.

The officer said uncertainly, “Um, you mean the Princess of Beasts? That boy seems more like a petty thief, I’m not sure the Cockatrice has anything to do with this case-”

“-Do you or don’t you?” Ennanis persisted.

“...We do have a file on her,” the officer relented. “That being said, she’s remarkably careful. There isn’t much information in that regard.”

“Can I have it?”

The officer frowned. “You technically need a warrant to retrieve files, Commander.”

“I’m here on a reconnaissance mission from Emperor Prometheus on the Beasts,” Ennanis intoned. “The file is critical to its success. Can I have it?”

At the Emperor’s name-drop, the officer’s mouth instantly gaped. “O-of course! I’ll have a copy of it made for you right away.” As she flagged down one of her assistants, she turned to Ennanis and asked, “And what are you going to do with the file, Commander?”

Ennanis glanced aside.

“…Only what I have to,” she said.

~~~