Several hours later, as the sun was just beginning to set, the two returned to Angel Haus. Despite having spent the afternoon dashing through the streets of the small village looking for any sign of the glowing man from the night before, their frantic search had yielded no results. Lapis's flutter of excitement had faded to the same muted disappointment that always clung to her, weighing her down like wet cloth. I should have known it would be a waste of time...

The bell above the tavern door jingled as they entered, and inside, several small empty crates littered the floor. Agatha perked her head up, waving to them over the bar counter.

“Oh! Lapis, there you are. I was wondering where you had disappeared to,” she said cheerfully.

“We, uh… Went on a little walk after I finished cleaning," Lapis said, trying to hide her disappointment over an afternoon wasted.

“Well, ain't that lovely!" Agatha smiled. "I worry about you, you know. You always spend so much time cooped up in your room.”

Lapis said nothing as she took Dave out of her shoulder bag, set him in his usual place on the bar counter, and moved to help Agatha in the kitchen. Stacks of wooden produce crates were haphazardly piled in a corner, and Agatha was sorting the contents of one into the kitchen's bulky preserver box. Lapis hefted another crate onto the floor and pulled off the lid; inside were piles of freshly picked vegetables, still smelling faintly of soil. Lapis set the lid aside and started passing the contents to Agatha.

“So, heard an interesting tidbit this afternoon,” Agatha said, talking as she organized the produce. “You remember that murder in Trilsboone a few months ago?”

Lapis grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“Well, I was talking to Denna—the lady from the bakery, you remember her, right?—and you know how everyone was all in a tizzy thinking that it had to have been a Mirage that had done it?”

“Yes,” Lapis sighed. “Did they ever catch the actual killer?”

“Not yet—BUT!” Agatha said, snapping her head towards Lapis dramatically. “Apparently, there was another murder up there last night, they haven’t found the one who did it, and now everyone’s all fluffed up like scared hens again, trying to suss out if there’s a shapeshifter hiding in the village.”

“Good grief, not again,” Lapis groaned. “Do they actually have any reason to think that, aside from the killer not being caught?”

“Oh, who knows,” Agatha shrugged. “But the rumor’s sure to be all over the village next week. Which means we’re in for another round of ‘secret phrases’.”

“Great.”

“Ooh! You both remember yours, right?” Dave rattled back and forth on the countertop, his skull clunking excitedly against the wood. “Agatha!” he shouted. “How many dragons can fit in the tavern?”

“I sincerely hope I never find out!" Agatha replied, chuckling.

“Okay good, you’re in the clear!” Dave said, seeming satisfied with himself. “Lapis! What’s your favorite song?”

Lapis turned to him, annoyance stretched across every muscle of her face.

“Come on, say it!”

“This is ridiculous, I’m not a—“

”Saaaaay iiiiit,” he said, egging her on.

She sighed, defeated. “…Celery.”

“Okay, good!” Dave chirped. “You aren’t a Mirage either!”

“And ‘Celery’ isn’t the name of a song!“ she snapped. “Why did we decide that was the passphrase? It doesn’t even make sense!”

“But that’s why it’s perfect! It means that if a shapeshifter kills and replaces you, it’ll be next to impossible for them to guess!”

“They don’t even know for sure if a Mirage did the murders, though!” she replied. ”The killer hasn’t been caught—what reason do they have to think that a Mirage did it? Did the killer imitate one of the guards to escape? Pose as the victim before the body was found? How would anyone know?”

“Well, there must be some reason,” Agatha said, turning back to the preserver box.

Standing up and dusting off her dress, Lapis turned to the stack of produce boxes, took another off the top, and hefted it onto the floor with an annoyed grunt. “I just think it’s a ridiculous assumption. Besides, the two murders might not even be connected! Did the two victims have any connection to each other? Or do people just want to play detective and constantly pester their friends with useless question-and-answers to prove that they are who they say they are, hoping they can be the one to catch the killer? I—”

Frustrated, she pried the lid off the produce crate with more force than intended, causing it to slip out of her hands and clatter loudly to the stone floor. Startled, she scrambled to pick it up, though the damage had been done. The loud sound had interrupted her momentum, leaving only awkward silence in its wake. Dave and Agatha both stared at her.

“…Sorry,” she mumbled awkwardly.

Agatha smiled sympathetically. “Well, maybe you were a detective before you lost your memory.”

“Ooh! A bard-tective!” added Dave.

“I’m just not looking forward to customers pestering me about secret passwords again,” Lapis sighed.

“Ah, just tell them to knock it off if they’re pushy about it,” Agatha replied, shrugging.

“Easier said than done.”

“Alright, well, you just tell me if anyone’s bugging you, and I’ll give ‘em a good talking to. Like this.”

She punctuated the conversation by punching into the palm of her hand with a smirk.

Lapis chuckled. “‘Talk to them’, huh?”

“I can be very persuasive,” she grinned.

“Hey, I just thought of something,” Dave interrupted, rattling on the counter again. “Why didn’t we ever come up with a passphrase for me?”

“Because I don’t think a shapeshifter would be able to turn into a talking skull,” Lapis replied. She also didn’t think a Mirage serial killer would be interested in taking Dave’s place, unless they were really interested in gossip. But gossip flowed through Angel Haus like water; no one would need to pretend to be Dave to get that sort of information. Besides, a murderer probably had more interesting things to spend their time doing. Like killing people.

“Well, all that said, just be careful when you go out, alright?” Agatha said. ”Be smart. Don’t stay out too late. Don’t go following strangers down dark alleyways, or anything.”

“You really think the murderer would come here?” Lapis asked.

“Eh, not likely. We’re so far out in the fields we don’t get anything exciting like that.” As she turned back to her work, however, her eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! Although—“

Shutting the door to the preserver box, Agatha rifled through the pockets of her dress, and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Speaking of exciting—Here. Got handed one of these when I was out on my errands. I thought you might find it interesting,” she said, unfolding the paper and passing it to Lapis.

Emblazoned at the center of the page was a printed charcoal sketch of a Cynderan man with a charismatic smile, ram-like horns sprouting from his head between waves of dark hair, and a whip-thin tail curled dramatically behind him. His dark, wavy hair was tied into a loose ponytail, blowing in the illustrated breeze along with a majestic, shimmering cape. He held one hand out to the viewer, the other clutching the neck of a violin. Bold letters at the top read “ZEPHYR MELODIAN: WAYWARD PRINCE OF THE WANDERING BREEZE”, with smaller text at the bottom reading “THE MOST MARVELOUS SHOW IN ASTRAM, LIVE ON STAGE IN EMERALD COVE‘S CENTRAL SQUARE FOR 3 NIGHTS ONLY!” before listing off performance dates—the first of which would happening that evening.

“Looks like some sort of traveling musician's show!” Agatha said, returning to her unpacking. “Seems like fun—not often we get performers all the way out here.”

Lapis looked over the leaflet again. Something seemed off about the sketch—while the rest was rendered in thick, dynamic linework, the man's irises were drawn so lightly it almost looked like his eyes were fully blank. Odd.

“It seems… interesting, I suppose,” she said quietly, staring at the blank-eyed man in the picture.

“Now, don’t brush it off too quickly!” Agatha replied. “I was thinking that watching another performer might help… inspire you, you know? Get a fresh perspective.”

Lapis picked up on the unspoken hint— clearly Agatha thought seeing this Zephyr person perform might help her work past her stage fright. However, the thought ot it made Lapis’s stomach turn. It was more likely that watching another performer would only highlight her own lack of skill. What could she possibly gain from comparing herself to someone who could run circles around her in every conceivable way? Aside from frustration, anyway.

"First show's tonight," Agatha said, tapping the page. "I really think it'd be good for you."

"Maybe," Lapis mumbled. "But it's probably going to be crowded, won't it? The town square isn't very big..."

"Oh, maybe. Less crowded than seeing a show in the city, though, I'd bet!"

"And the flyer says it starts at sundown. I'd probably miss the beginning..."

"Not if you leave now. The square's not that far."

Lapis stared down at the pamphlet, her well of excuses having quickly run dry. Agatha sighed and reassuringly touched her arm.

"Lapis, sweetie—I really think you should go," she said, her voice kind but firm. "It'd be good for you to learn from another bard, wouldn't it?"

Lapis sighed; maybe Agatha was right. Could she really afford to be so gloomy? If she wanted to find people who knew her in the past, performing was going to be the best way to do it. And if watching this Zephyr person could help even a little...

"...Okay. Can I take Dave?"

"I don't see why not! As long as he stays in the bag."

"Aww, but I wanna watch the show!" Dave whined.

"I know full well you can see just fine in there, you daft little thing!” Agatha snapped back. “Lapis sewed eye holes in it for you and everything!"

"Yeah, well- It- Alright, fine," Dave sighed, as much as a disembodied skull could sigh. "But let's try to get good seats!"