One could argue the kingdom of Lowhen was in turmoil.

One could argue this, of course, but that one would not be Joanna.

During her time as a peacekeeper, she’d seen actual turmoil. To her, nothing qualified until society got to the point of beheading. Once heads were rolling, all bets were off.

That did not mean the situation the kingdom had found itself in was pleasant, however. The way she saw it, it was only a matter of time. In her great deal of years that she watched humanity continue on, she had never once seen the royal family sworn off to the temple, the separation of religion and rule seemed to prevent quite a bit of tragedy from her observation. Too many people seemed too willing to throw themselves into a cause if the gods were involved, that sort of thinking was not necessarily cohesive to productive legislation.

Then again, what did she know about rulers and law? Joanna was a peacekeeper, sworn to the night to protect those who could not protect themselves to atone for her own wrongdoings.

She wasn’t qualified to lead anything.

The peacekeeper hurried through the cobblestone streets, clutching her prisoner’s chain tightly.

The sun was setting and she needed to get to their safe house before word of his release spread, as it was more than likely beginning to already. Sure, the temple guard were cooperative now, but that would soon change as they became the only surveillance of the capital's streets.

The prisoner whined, trying to keep pace with Joanna as she marched forward, “Are we stopping anytime soon? I need a healer!”

Jo rolled her eyes and tugged his chain forward, “Silence.”

Fawkes frowned, groaning as he kept pace.

He looks just like his father, the peacekeeper mused to herself, and his father before him.

Jo quickened her step, eager to get the boy to safety. She hoped that her fondness for his parents was not clouding her judgement. She shouldn’t be doing this. He had committed treason.

But she also had her suspicions about the Augustine and had seen him make an example of more than her fair share of friends.

If nothing else, the boy’s hatred was surely justified.

There was no outright ban on magic, but as more children seemed to be born with an innate ability to perform it, the stigma attached to those who could wield it had grown tremendously unkind. The initial uptake in ratio had only began about twenty or thirty years prior, before that the innate ability to perform magic was actually quite rare.

It frightened Joanna, as she had only see this happen once before.

What concerned her more, however, was the reaction to the phenomenon by the common man. The last time, they had seen it as a blessing from the gods- children born with magic to heal and help them grow. But this time, it seemed humanity was stuck in older mindsets, insisting on hating that which they did not understand.

Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was envy. Regardless, more children had been sent to the peacekeepers in recent years than ever before, only for them to have to be turned away.

Demon hunting was for those that needed to be reformed, and Joanna stood by that.

There was no crime to being born different.

Once turned away from the peacekeepers, the city of Elderwood grew exponentially, filling every building to its’ brim with children born to magic. It had become quite nice, an actual town surrounding the large castle where the peacekeepers made base.

It was the one place it seemed the Augustine could not touch.

The sweeping of city streets for inborns had only started about ten years ago, when the Augustine claimed to find a way to purify them and make them “untouched by the darkness” as he had so kindly put it.

Joanna still wasn’t sure what it was he did, and trying to find out had almost driven her mad, but she knew that once someone was purified, they were never the same again. A mere ghost of who they once were, an empty shell only physically resembling the inborn.

She remembered hearing tales of one of the King’s sons being born that way... perhaps he had been purified. Perhaps watching that happen to his brother had been what spurned the boy behind her forward.

Although jumping straight into an assassination was not the wisest  course of action.

Joanna sighed, knowing she would certainly have her work cut out for her.

She nodded in the direction of an inn as they approached the large wall surrounding Lowhen, just barely tucked away into the city limits. Fawkes followed as they ducked inside.

“Is it safe to stay in Lowhen?” He asked, bright green eyes darting about the downtrodden building.

Joanna couldn’t help herself and smirked, “Don’t you think that was a question that’d have been better asked before you tried to kill someone?”

The prince’s thin lips became an either thinner frown, but he didn’t contest her, instead sighing in resignation.

He followed behind closely as Joanna moved through the main hall, nodding to the inn-keep as she took a door towards the back of the building that led to a flight of stairs down. The basement was cold, and smelled quite similar to the dungeon she had just pulled the boy from, but it would be safe to sit out the night in. Or at least she assumed, it didn’t appear that anyone had seen them make their way in.

Jo made her way down the stairs and into the large basement, several cots lining the walls. Fawkes nearly knocked her off her feet, his chain pulling harshly as he rushed to lay on one.

“Careful,” She hissed, letting go of the chain, “You accidentally snap my neck and I’ll kill you.”

“Wouldn’t you be dead?” He asked without looking up, burrowing himself into the cot further.

Jo didn’t bother correcting him. He would learn all he needed soon enough.

“Just lay down, I need to go find Emrys.” She said as she looked around the room, her companion not in sight. A part of her assumed he’d wander off. She had also assumed he would be hiding somewhere in the room.

A part of her worried her captive would run off, so she raised a hand, guiding the chain attached to his handcuffs through the molding grates above them. Hopefully that would be enough, she didn’t want to underestimate the boy, but it seemed highly unlikely he’d be able to find a way out of the room. He was as stupid as he was injured it seemed.

~

Fawkes had watched as the peacekeeper made her way up the stairs, closing the door with a loud thud behind her.

He strained against his restraints only once before realizing it was a horrible idea. Every single bone in his body seemed to scream out in pain. He wondered if it was from the guard before or the damage he’d taken after the burning.

Either way, he wasn’t in the best of positions.

Taking a deep breath, Fawkes closed his eyes. Maybe if he were lucky, they’d think him dead and leave him here.

Providing the nature of his luck changed dramatically over the next several minutes.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes again, this time everything was white.

Oh no, he thought in horror as he looked around, not again.

This dream was much more crisp than the others before had been, and seemingly much more real.

Fawkes could practically taste the chill in the air and smell the freshly fallen snow. Something he’d always insisted had a strange, metallic smell to it. Metal and pine trees.

He took a step forward, the snowfall so dense it was hard to see anything in front of him, but gentle enough that it didn’t bite at his bones. Then again, this was a dream. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d felt cold since it started.

If anything, he felt oddly warm.

Fawkes took another step forward, taking cautious strides forward as anxiety welled in his chest. He hoped this wasn’t to be like many of his dreams before this. As long as nothing real showed up, he wagered he would be alright.

A bit off in the distance, he noticed something small and black poking up through the snow. He squinted his eyes to see what he could make out, but the dream urged him forward, closer to the object.

He knelt over it, brushing some of the oddly warm snow away to help him ease it from the snow.

A raven’s feather.

He spun the feather between his thumb and forefinger, thrilled that this dream seemed to be more cryptic than it was terrifying. Fawkes could deal with cryptic, he was too stupid to notice what was happening and could just wake up confused, but peacefully.

The peripheral of his vision caught something just past his line of vision.

His breath stuttered from his lungs, gasps of steam puffing out around him.

The horizon shifted, becoming the walls of the castle within Lowhen. Tall and imposing, and creaking as though they whispered to Fawkes. He hated dreams of home; of castle walls and beckoning servants and his family. The family he hated seemed to make themselves much more present than the family he cared for. Then again, that was rather fitting, he supposed.

Anyone he cared about was dead. Or close enough to it.

Fawkes felt a cold shiver down his spine, and the heavy presence of eyes on his back. He spun on his heel, heart stopping as he saw absolutely nothing behind him.

Nothing, save for a small, black bird.

The bird looked at him with vacant green eyes, like lifeless, little marbles, and blinked once.

Fawkes felt as though he should draw closer, but couldn’t will his legs to move.

It stared at him, lifeless and cold, but very much not dead.

Once again, Fawkes felt himself compelled to go to the little bird, but did not.

The scene around him shook, crumbling back to snow as Fawkes woke up.

~

Emrys had avoided Jo’s line of sight when she marched in, but was immediately spotted when she knew to look for him. He was actually rather pleased with himself. It wasn’t the first time Joanna hadn’t noticed him in plain sight, it was just the first time that had it been his intention to go unnoticed.

“Oi.” Jo spat, her arms crossed impatiently, “What’s your chest all puffed out for? Come on, the boy needs a healer.”

“And I  needed an ale. As I see it, I’m not the one who’s in trouble so I deserve help first.” Emrys grinned, hopping down from his seat at the bar. Emrys leaned over, taking one last sip before abandoning his tankard, grabbing Jo by her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

She hated more than anything that he was now several inches taller than she was. She had watched the boy grow, but she had always hoped height wouldn’t be something that developed. At least, not to where he was any amount taller.

Jo huffed indignantly, shaking herself away and heading towards the door, “Just come on.”

“What is his condition? Is he in bad shape?” Emrys asked, easily keeping up with Jo’s strides.

“Well, when I found him his leg was stuck in between the bars of his cell. I’m willing to wager it’s more self inflicted, whatever is wrong.” Jo grinned, finding great amusement in the antics of her new captive.

Emrys sighed, injuries like that were mostly bruising, and bruises were hard to heal.

They made their way through the door and down the stairs, both pairs of eyes immediately falling to the prince, who was now passed out and sprawled across his cot in a rather undignified manner.

“Well, this is a sight.” Emrys said, making his way to the side of the bed, “Are you ...sure  this is the crown prince?”

“Well, one of two at least.” Jo shrugged.

Emrys rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, setting to work almost immediately.

Jo was grateful that he’d been such a quick study with healing magic, especially since it went so against the nature of that which he was born with. Then again, Jo supposed that was also a matter of perspective.

Jo took a seat on a cot towards the wall while Emrys rolled Fawkes over, a bright blue light covering the spots that seemed most critical, reflecting oddly off the prince’s copper hair.

Fawkes’ eyes fluttered open, immediately falling to his rather grumpy-looking healer. Fawkes couldn’t help but notice a deep scar peeking out from the collar that stopped at the boy’s chin, trailing its way up his face and stopping just short of his right eye. Both eyes looked rather annoyed, which Fawkes only found humorous as they were the color of forget-me-nots in springtime.

Such a beautiful color in such an angry looking light.

Such an angry oasis in a desert of cryptic dreams and aching joints.

A hundred different things to say made their way through his brain, but his mouth latched on to the worst that he could have chosen.

“What happened to your face?” He croaked, causing Emrys’ eyes to narrow.

Jo cackled from her cot, clearly caught off guard by the question as much as her companion was.

“Bit of a personal question to ask a stranger, don’t you think?” Emrys asked sharply, his hands still moving deftly over Fawkes’ injuries as he kept his composure.

“I don’t really consider people strangers.” Fawkes winked, “Just friends I’m not familiar with yet.”

In their many years together, Joanna had not seen many people attempt flirting with Emrys. This was perhaps the most overt she had ever witnessed it and took great joy in watching her apprentice fluster.

Without missing a beat, Emrys’ composure remained the same, “And do you ask all of your... friends  such insensitive questions?”

Fawkes smiled, having used this line hundreds of times before, he had only one response when he had been asked a similar question, “Only the pretty ones.”

Emrys’ hands faltered, pulling something incorrectly inside of Fawkes’ body and the prince yelped in pain.

The pale boy stood, brushing his hands off of his shirt, “It appears that I’m finished.”

Fawkes reached for his aching side, immediately noticing that while the rest of him felt completely better, his side still felt as though he were kicked. He frowned sharply, “Fine then, I was willing to wager it quite the boring tale, anyways.”

Emrys ignored him, only letting out an annoyed huff in the vein of response as he went to the cot closer to Jo, taking his seat.

Jo kept her composure, though it was certainly hard. It took quite a bit to ruffle Emrys’ feathers, seven hells, she herself had made quite the sport of it before. To see him so annoyed so quickly? It was humor at it’s finest.

At least, it was to Jo.

Fawkes stretched out, only wincing at the soreness still in his side, “So now what? We steal away into the forest once the sun has fallen completely?”

“No,” Jo corrected, “We get rest because we set out the minute the sun begins to rise.”

“Why sunrise?” Fawkes asked, genuinely curious.

Jo shrugged, grabbing for the chain that attached itself to Fawkes’ handcuffs, “Humans are less likely to be up early than they are out late.”