Chapter Text
Sen
Most Shadows feared the sun.
As children, they’re taught to stay below ground, to cower from its terrible glare lest it burn them despite their fur. The world of sunlight was one of danger, destruction, and death. Darkness, in contrast, held beauty, comfort, and safety. Time and again, Skrell had warned: “Nothing good ever came of mingling with surface dwellers.”
Sen never listened.
Though he lingered on the edges of the mountaintop festival, the night’s crisp cold did not bother him. He’d piled far too many layers atop his already thick fur. Not even the harshest hours of daylight harmed him when covered liked this; even better, the humans mistook him for one of their own. (Of course, the first time he’d ventured among them, someone had thought him a lost child. After that, he took a larger form when he snuck into their gatherings.) Sen still didn’t know how he would protect himself after the Change, but he did not doubt he’d figure something out.
“Too stubborn by half.”
“…can’t imagine where he got it from.”
Readjusting his scarf (the first one he’d ever crocheted!), Sen watched the revelers as they celebrated the last night of Winter. They’d built a brilliant bonfire to welcome the Change from one season to the next, blotting out the stars that had captivated him upon escaping emerging from the mines. Once, he and Ebb had lain on the floor of the caverns, admiring the crystals glittering in the granite above. Ebb had whispered to him how on the surface, so many gems filled the night sky it shimmered and sparkled like the waterfalls in the upper levels.
If anything, he’d undersold the stars’ brilliance.
Sen missed his family terribly. Most likely, they had their festivities well underway. The Elders, no doubt, gossiped and tutted about him choosing to spend this sacred night on the surface, but he couldn’t bring himself to truly regret it, not when he saw the pure joy on the faces surrounding him. While many of the humans remained enamored of the bonfire, more had moved to the western edge of the clearing. They gyrated their bodies to the fiercely joyful music played by a trio of musicians. It fascinated Sen. While Shadows would dance as a part of their rituals, none of them looked anything like that.
Songs flowed one after another, and his gaze followed the Solanen as she flitted from partner to partner. (Call her Callie, he reminded himself, remembering her kind smile within the Void.) Ever since the man with spiky blond hair started singing, she’d danced. Every step radiated her delight in both music and movement. Sen had noticed, however, that she danced most often with one human in particular—one of the workers at the general store, or so Sen believed. Forced to lurk on the edges, he’d found it difficult to learn much of the valley’s human residents. Still, he felt fairly certain that the tall, auburn-haired human belonged to the Sol—Callie.
Krobus hated the way he had risked himself to free her from the Void. Every visit, the older Shadow admonished him yet again to steer clear of her, but Sen bore it with as much grace as he could. Those grumbles paled in comparison to the tongue lashing Skrell would give if he ever learned of Sen’s adventure.
The very thought made him shiver.
But Callie had shown that she held no ill-will towards Shadows. She’d known of Krobus’s home for a month or more, and yet she’d never sought him out, never hunted him. She’d simply looked around, left, and never returned, seemingly satisfied. And she’d thanked Sen.
She’d taken his hand.
No, Sen did not believe the Solanen of the Valley meant them any harm, whatever his kin may think.
Silver hair glinted in the firelight as an even taller human claimed her next dance. The Solanen’s mate frowned with obvious discontent. Sen watched all three with curiosity, wondering why. Callie had danced with so many other humans, and the auburn-haired man had never seemed bothered. But something about this new partner clearly upset him.
Something shifted in the night.
Frowning, Sen turned, seeking out the source of that disquieting feeling. The song concluded and another began before he eventually spotted the source perched in a tree. A different trio hid in its needled branches, observing the festivities with interest as keen as Sen’s own. Red scarves wrapped around necks and faces, but his gaze lingered on the smallest of the three. Two looked human—though Sen himself proved how appearances deceived—but the smallest looked like… looked like….
His eyes grew wide.
Was that a Junimo?
Jio
“Of all the places you could linger, you chose here?” asked Daia, breath visible in the frigid cold. Her red scarf dangled from her graceful neck, draping down his shoulder.
Jio nearly frowned, grateful that his own scarf and mask hid such a betrayal of his lips. “Kiwi wanted to come,” he lied.
His little friend chirped, “Kiwi likes pretty light.”
“Uh-huh,” said Daia, doubt dripping from the pair of syllables. Her short, dark hair nearly brushed Jio’s shoulder. “You’re almost convincing, hottie. Try again.”
Jio said nothing.
“She’s here,” trilled Kiwi.
Daia’s eyebrows stretched towards her dangling hair, amber eyes laughing as she hung by her knees from the limb above Jio, her round ears even with his pointed ones. While Jio took care to hide within his mask, Daia arrogantly left her face bared to the world. It continued to elude him how a woman who left herself so open to observation remained such a successful ninja. The results, however, spoke for themselves. “I believe nearly every human from the ridge and the valley are here,” she smirked, her words low and breathy in his ear. “You’ll need to be more specific. Unless you mean that delicious little protégé you found…?”
Jio studiously ignored her, refusing to give her the reaction she so clearly desired.
Kiwi had no such compunctions. “The Solanen.”
He shot his little friend an annoyed look, but the Junimo appeared impervious to his irritation. Instead, she continued practicing her flips and landing daintily upon the branch they shared. Jio missed the days when she refused to speak.
…no, not really. But sometimes….
Daia’s smile turned sharp, predatory. “Oh, you mean that cutie over there?” she asked, gesturing at the dancers.
This time, Jio did frown. “She complicates things.”
“Seems to me, she’ll be a help. I know the Lady has an interest in her,” said Daia, expertly flipping herself to sit next to Jio without making the limb so much as shift. He tensed. “You disagree?”
“We cannot make assumptions. For all we know, Gabriella—”
Daia laughed. “We’d sense it if the bitch had her claws in the new Solanen.”
Jio was not so certain of that. Not everyone who served their enemy sacrificed their so-called humanity. Most did, to be sure, but not all—as evidenced by all those the Lady’s cult eradicated. Just as Jio and his comrades worked from the shadows to thwart Gabriella, others worked to aid her in broad daylight. Recent reports indicated that her minions had devised a way to summon corrupted spirits outside the bounds of the ridge. If any mage would have such a capability, the Solanen would. “Perhaps,” he finally sighed, not wanting an argument just then.
“Aww, don’t pout,” she cooed. “It’s not a good look on you.”
Jio considered violence. Unfortunately, Daia was far more skilled than she looked, and such a skirmish would undoubtedly draw far too much attention… and the ire of their Lady.
When he did not rise to the bait, Daia heaved a dramatic sigh. “You’re no fun anymore. Maybe I should join the party. So many tasty morsels on display. Why, look at….”
The feel of a familiar ki snatched Jio’s attention. Tuning out Daia as she listed every human she thought attractive (which appeared to be all of them), Jio turned his attention to the area opposite the dancing, honing in on the feeling. Such raw power—only barely trained and yet full of potential—was a rarity in this world, especially one without a trace of enhancement from any spirit. Eyes that darted from human to human soon came to rest on a woman who sat half in shadow, her back to the bonfire.
Jio remained still, all of his senses attuned to her. A minute passed, and yet the woman remained unaware. Unacceptable. He would need to adjust her training. The long dark would claim them all before he failed her.
Daia dropped down to the snow-packed ground, clearly giving up on making a nuisance of herself. Gratitude washed over him, but he noted it only vaguely. All he could do was wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And—
His pupil turned, looked straight at him, and rolled her dark eyes before once more talking to the young, scarred man who sat beside her.
Yes, it seemed she required a massive adjustment to her training.
Qi
“You found it,” marveled Qi. He knew they had—as if he’d pass up the opportunity to observe them at work—but he’d still expected something to prevent its delivery.
Gloved hands carefully set the package upon his expansive desk. “I did,” said Mateo.
Dragging the package closer to him, Qi could feel the power within—the delectable malevolence. “You did good, kid. I expected it to take you far longer.” Indeed, when the archaeologist had deviated from the script, Qi had wondered if he might have to take matters into his own hands, but it would seem that some things could be achieved via different routes.
A rather disconcerting thought.
“I have another little quest for you… if you’re interested,” he said, watching Mateo closely from behind his sunglasses. Even in the dim light from his monitors, he refused to forego his favorite accessory. No need to alarm the mortals, after all.
The longer Mateo paused, the more calculations Qi ran, ascertaining which alternate route they may take. He’d already meddled by planting a seed in Sandy’s mind, but if it didn’t bear fruit, he had other pieces to play.
Qi had always excelled at these sort of games.
“I’m done.”
Pleased but not wishing to show it, Qi raised his eyebrows as though surprised by this pronouncement. “Oh? Should I stick a fork in you?” he joked, smirking at the combination of amusement and annoyance glowing in those orange, inhuman eyes.
Not that Qi had any room to judge on that score.
“My debt to you is paid many times over,” they retorted. “Especially after collecting that,” Mateo added more quietly, unable to suppress a shudder. Qi supposed he couldn’t blame them; even the most stalwart sort quailed in the face of such corruption. Clearing their throat, they pressed on, “The time’s come for me to pay a different debt.”
Excellent.
“You and your little obsession with debts,” Qi sighed, unable to resist needling them. At their frown, he waved a dismissive hand even as he internally exalted. “You paid your debt to me long ago—why else do you think I’ve paid you for all but the first venture? In fact, with the retrieval of this,” he said, laying his bare hand atop the package, relishing the mute horror in Mateo’s gaze. “I’d say I owe you a debt in this moment. Where ya wanting to go, kid? The big city? The Ember Isles?” He paused just long enough to flash them a sly smile. “Back home?”
They gaped, as though anyone who knew their tale wouldn’t know exactly where Mateo intended to head—especially after the reminder of the Farmer’s work in restoring the museum. “A debt to me?” they repeated warily.
Or, Qi supposed, there was that. “Of course. Not just anyone could have tracked this down,” he said, growing serious for a moment. At least they’d managed to track it down before the so-called Empress could. He disliked that she’d grown so bold in this particular offshoot. “It seems to me, if you’re intending to repay that old debt, that you’ll need a bit more than your usual trinkets to avoid detection,” he added, dangling the bait.
Mateo frowned. “Oh? They’ve worked well enough in my line of work.”
“You’re talking about waltzing right into ground zero of some of the strongest wards in the world,” he pointed out. “Wards actively maintained and tied to a rather powerful—if ultimately foolish—wizard. But even still, there are ways around and through them.”
They hesitated, clearly mulling over his words. Qi gave them a moment. The pair had worked together long enough that he afforded Mateo the respect of deciding on their own. If they declined his offer, Qi would simply have to adjust things a different way.
“A bonus for collecting your request earlier than expected,” said Mateo carefully, watching him like a hawk. “With no debts between us afterwards.”
“Exactly!” he beamed.
Their mouth twisted in an echo of the horns curving away from their brow, a vestige of their trollish heritage. “Very well,” they finally sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Qi.”
“Not a problem, kid! I’ll have everything set up for you in a day or two. For now, why don’t you stay in one of my spare rooms.” When they started to protest, Qi shook his head, saying, “Now, now. You’ve lived out of a tent for months and will do so again when you leave here. Sleep in a bed and make your plans. In two days’ time, I’ll have everything ready for you.”
An even longer pause, and then acquiescence. “Very well.”
Qi subtly pressed a button hidden under his desk. It served two purposes: first, it ensured his room aligned with the casino. Second, it alerted the help.
His guard immediately answered by opening the door, ready for orders. Qi quickly gave them. “See Dr. Luiz to the Red Room. They shall be our esteemed guest for the next couple of days.” Glancing back at Mateo, Qi gave a beguiling smile. “Feel free to enjoy the tables and slots.”
Mateo shook their head but did not answer. Just as well; their luck ran between extremes.
Waiting until the door obscured the pair from sight, Qi sighed, hand tracing over the top of the package. Yes, things had gone awry this past year—or, at least, along a roundabout path—but even still, everything had worked out. Turning in his chair, Qi hit a different button, bringing to life dozens more monitors. Each observed a different target, though most focused on a particular valley—the very one Mateo would return home to.
He watched as the Solanen wended her way past her snow-covered fields and laughed merrily at something her lover said. He watched as they paused on her porch to share a sweet kiss that grew far more heated. He watched as she finally fumbled the door open and dragged him inside. Briefly, he considered shifting the view to follow, but after a quick glance at the clock, he refrained. The so-called Void hours approached, and Qi would hate to miss the Change.
Besides, it’s not as though he hadn’t observed the lovers before.
This version of Yoba’s Farmer had thrown him quite a few curveballs, guiding the valley down paths unfamiliar to him. Though, she had not wandered so far astray that he considered this world a threat. Not yet, anyway. Even when things veered off course, they still somehow wound their way back to their proper place. It made him uneasy, wondering just what Yoba had up her sleeve this time. Whenever she grew bored and changed her gardens, it inevitably corrupted something. After the chaos that Gabr—
The clock struck two.
Every monitor went blacker than black. Qi kept watch, waiting.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Along the bottom of the monitors, an eldritch language briefly flashed.
Qi tensed. The Change had completed, but that didn’t mean that other changes couldn’t still occur.
A breath. Another. Another. Another.
Slowly, Qi rela—
Several screens suddenly fuzzed with dozens of colors, jagged lines cutting across the screen before the pixels began coalescing. A specific window revealed more eldritch lines of text—this time in a mix of unsettling yellow and ominous red.
Qi’s grip tightened on the arms of his chair.
The sound of a cock crowing filled his office as every screen lit anew, revealing the world. People who moments before had not existed in this world slept peacefully. Each had a haze of darkness clinging to them, tidbits of the Void keeping them trapped in their beds until they fully integrated. On the outskirts of East Scarp, a small house appeared. While part of him admitted it looked adorable, the thought barely registered. To his eyes, black cracks spiderwebbed around it, tearing at the fabric of the world.
But even worse, people and places had vanished.
His gaze darted over the screens, cataloging the various changes. He zeroed in on the Deep Mountains and grimaced. Gaping holes revealed that Yoba had failed to fully uproot her seeds. The Void oozed within, yet it feasted slowly, the lesion in reality oblique enough to retard its ravenous onslaught. Even better, the two biggest wounds remained far from civilization. With any luck, they’d go unnoticed by those attuned to such things until the injuries could hopefully heal and scar. The last thing they needed was for the Empress to realize—
Wait.
Those places belonged to the wolf—the tree.
He flipped through his tabs, pulling up a room far closer to home. Peering into the Red Room, he found no trace of his guest. Turning in his chair, he looked back at his desk and discovered the package they’d delivered had also disappeared.
Qi cursed.