"What in heathens is wrong, Blight?"

"Shhh."

"What is going-"

She spins around, putting her palm against my mouth to cut me off. "Just trust me and shut up.'' Rolling my eyes, I nod, and then she's turning back around and walking through the forest.

It's nearly two bells, and everyone is outside and laying down on blankets to enjoy the warmth of the sun in winter, meanwhile, I'm being dragged to Gods know where without having a single fucking clue as to what is going on.

Siscilla said that winter will be a bitch and we should take in whatever sunlight nourishment we can. I gave her a knowing look knowing very well that it was to unsuspiciously keep an eye on Sibella and who she takes an interest in. If we figure out who she's after, we can keep them and everyone else safe.

Blight grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the brush before I could ask her why her face was drawn taut. Having listened to and watched Lance, I've picked up a few things about reading someone's body language. Hers is too hard to pin, and her face only showed a few seconds of emotion before she slipped back into her blank mask. She hasn't said more than for me to shut up, and just keeps walking through the woods toward Darius's clearing. Haven't really been able to ignore which direction the black pit of land sits ever since Roseia's tantrum.

I see the clearing coming up, but instead of continuing towards it, she turns left and keeps to the perimeter of it. I keep an eye on its center, wondering if there's some kind of trap that Sibella might've set in the middle of the night. I'd almost believe it if the bags underneath my own eyes weren't evidence of me staying up all night on the roof to keep an eye out for her going somewhere while everyone else slept.
Siscilla, Blight, and I take turns staying up, but even when it's not my turn to stay awake, I'm up still watching the lights in the sky. Sleep deprivation is getting to me, making it easier for me to sleep because my body has no energy to keep my eyelids up. Keeps me dead asleep for hours, but one night's rest isn't enough to save a month's worth of a fucked up sleeping schedule.

Blight stops in a random spot, the clearing to our right still showing no sign of a trap or someone being there. I look at her with my hands on my hips, my foot tapping, and an eyebrow raised with a tilted head. I'm not particularly a dívaish person, but fewer hours of sleep is having all kinds of personalities that are usually in my head, coming out. Saints know that the people up here are all kinds of crazy.

"You remember that day that we found you and Rosie over here," she asks in a voice quieter than a whisper. "Both of you passed out?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You weren't the only one who was thrown back from Rosie's-" her hands gesture wildly in front of her "-thing."

"What do you mean?" She looks up and I follow, not finding anything but tree branches and the thin clouds in front of the blue sky. I learned how to faintly read people, not nature. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"You don't see it?"

I give her a blank look. "I'm a trained servant, not a trained assassin who can see every little detail in a room full of pointless inanimate objects that are stacked everywhere, and on everything."

Her eyes nearly fly out of her head with how hard she rolls them. "You could've just said no, and I was talking about the broken branches, smartass."

"This forest is full of broken branches." I look back up, finding several broken branches and a few of their ends by my feet. For good measure, I tap a few with my feet. Nothing happens, but considering that superpowers exist, supposed wolves made of water exist, and a man with red eyes and shadows at his beck and call exists, I haven't really put anything past me when it comes to mysterious magic stuff.

"These branches here are all broken in the same direction, by a single body," Blight explains. She points a finger upward, drawing the line in which the branches seem to leave a bigger gap.

"And you're sure that it's a human body, not one of the many creatures that live here?"

"I've spent days over here without lavender, citrus, or any other sweet scent coating me. No creature has come within a ten-yard radius of this clearing."

I look down at myself, noting the stains on the collar of my shirt from the scented oils we keep stashed in one of the kitchen cabinets. All of us put a few drops on ourselves every morning to keep away the creatures who, funny enough, hate the sweet smells. It's how we were able to get to the cabin. A secret Lance and Fauna had shared when changing the Vandarian escape route out of the castle for the royals. They said their parents had known about it, but they never shared where they learned it from. A mystery, but one I'm grateful for. Unlike the current situation of broken branches and the unidentified body that did it.

"Why not?" I ask her, once again concerned as to why such creatures who seem to do anything for food, wouldn't travel within their own territory.

"I don't know, but something tells me it has to do with how the clearing was made." Her head shakes and she bites her lip as she squints at the trees behind me. This has been bothering her for a while, it seems. "It's like they can sense something that we can't feel."

"It could be magical," I suggest. "If it were elemental then it'd have something to do with Fauna since she's connected to the earth, right?"

Sibella mentioned that Fauna could connect to more than just the dirt and plants of the earth. She could connect to any living thing if she mastered it well enough to feel it. I wouldn't believe her if Siscilla hadn't agreed that it's a possibility for her to do such things. She doesn't know much of elementals, but she's been caught more than once trying to come up with theories of her own on just how much Darius and Fauna could actually do if they mastered their powers. It's like a puzzle for her, and according to Claritia, she loves her puzzles.

"If it were magical then Siscilla would feel it," Blaise answers swiftly.

"Did you ask her if she does? Feel anything, I mean."

"She hasn't said anything, but if she were affected by it then she would've told us to stay away from the beginning. It's been almost two months since our prized elemental possession killed a part of the dead forest. She would've said something."

I nod, knowing that she has a good point. "Or maybe she thinks that it's nothing harmful."

"Considering that Rosie had a sudden power surge that no one saw coming, I'd say it's anything but safe."

We both look at the clearing, the black ash still coating it despite the number of times that we've walked on it. She's right though. Siscilla would've said something if she knew that there was something off with this spot, and it is weird that none of the creatures go near it. They're the ones that make everyone else run the other way to avoid. If they're avoiding this spot, then perhaps there is something - or someone - that is causing them to stay clear.

The troubling question now, is who?

Looking back up at the branches, I can begin to see the pattern which Blaise pointed out. "Wait a minute." Squinting, I find that the branches go from breaking in one direction to the next branches being fully intact. It's like someone disappeared mid-air...

"You can see now why I'm worried."

"We're not alone in this forest." Just as I finish saying it, there's the sound of a twig snapping, and several voices coming from our left.

Blight steps in front of me on silent feet, and though it's practically useless, I still reach into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the dagger in the trick sheath. The voices come from in front of us, but I know better than to expect them to be the only ones around. I turn my back to hers and keep an eye out for anyone that might try to get us from behind. The voices get louder until I can begin to make out words, and then sentences.

"-if that little shit was lying, I'm going to find his ass and kill him." I look over my shoulder to Blaise who motions to her chest, telling me that the voice is female.

"If you can kill him." Blight motions between her legs. A male.

"He's well trained and human, not a damn God. He bleeds like the rest of us."

"Have you ever seen him bleed?"

"That's not the point. The point is-" The woman stops mid-sentence, and I glance over my shoulder and find her and a whole group of men and women behind her standing across from us.

"Guess we'll never find out if he's human or God," one of the very muscled men says from beside her. He's the one that looks like a God carved from solid stone. Holy heathens...he could probably snap me in half like a wishbone without breaking a sweat. His size is so startling that I completely miss the shorter woman in front of him. He makes her look like a toddler.

She's dressed in odd clothing, as are the rest of them. High boots, a black corset top over a loose blue blouse, and a long black coat that matches the big hat she has on her head. The others wear the same pants, boots, and loose tops that aren't tied at the top, revealing quite ample and equally broad chests, but it's clear that she's the one who leads the rest of them.

I may not get out much, but I know scavengers when I see them - though others call them pirates. Pirate does sound more accurate to me looking at them now. They don't look like people who would be hiding in alleys to scoop up the first glimmer of something shiny. They look perfectly alive and far from one to beg for something.

"Who are you?" Blight demands loudly, shifting on her feet so that I'm hidden behind her as much as possible. I do still peek over her shoulder, trying to count how many of them are there. Even as I count, more seem to emerge from behind the trees to join the rest of them in our eyesight.

The dark-haired woman puts her hands out in front of her, exposing her palms. I can spot a few gold rings on her fingers and the start of a tattoo on the inner part of her wrist. Her hands lift in surrender, but there's a dark gleam in her eyes that makes me uneasy. "Allies."

"And we're just supposed to believe you? I don't think so. I'm going to need more information about who you are."

"You've already determined that," the male states again.

"You've got about ten seconds to explain who you are, or I'll have a knife in between your eyes before you can blink." Blaise flips her dagger in her hand, emphasizing it with a larger throw than I know she could easily do so. Not a single one of them so much as blinks at her knife.

"Well, she's definitely one of them."

"Ten. Nine. Eight-"

"We can prove it." Blight stops counting, and I once again check over my shoulder to make sure no one's behind us. When I turn back, I find the woman staring directly at me, not Blaise. Her dark eyes feel like a hook, and I'm the stupid fish that gets caught on it. "Please don't jump."

I look at her closely, wondering how in heathens that of all things is supposed to make us trust her. But then she says it again, slower and in a way that has me remembering a time when I, myself, had said those same words to Lance back at the castle. His father had just died, and he told me about how he thought about leaving his sister in this world alone because of how empty he felt. I told him that if he did, I'd follow, and then I asked him not to jump. I used those exact words, and despite the lack of the vow, he promised.

"I won't," I recite, remembering his own words and hearing them in his voice echoing in my head.
Gods I miss him.

The female pirate smirks and it somehow makes me even more nervous. No one should be able to look that menacing. "Good, because I kind of like how my life is going right now."

Awestricken, I look to Blight and nod for her to stand down. She does, but she doesn't sheath her weapons. The men behind the woman also seem to ease up, and she takes slow steps toward us.

"How did you know what to say?" I ask, still cautious of a stranger who smells faintly of peppermint as she gets closer. More scents start to hit my nose, and I realize that they knew how to get through the forest without the creatures nearing them.

"I'm old friends with your boyfriend."

My eyes snap to hers which still looks like a trap. I haven't really heard anyone call him that, but...I guess it's true. I mean, we basically are boyfriend and girlfriend, it's just so weird to hear it. I've never heard it in regards to me. Never really thought I would either, having grown up as a servant and all. I kind of like it.

"And he told you to come here?" Blight questions, still not seeming to buy their story. Perhaps if she knew that those words were part of a private conversation, she'd reconsider. "We don't have space for you and your men."

"Why do you think we have tents?" the pirate retorts just as coldly.

I look at the people behind her, finding everyone with at least two bags on their shoulders. Some look to be full of softer things like clothing and bedding, while others look like food or weapons.

"Why would he tell you to come here? And who are you, exactly?" I ask, still trying to piece together how far my trust can go with them.

"My name is Svenja Catarribera. I'm Comandante of the Devil's Pride Fleet. I was originally summoned by Clarice Rheasydia to pay back a life debt she called in, but then we ran into her brother and he changed our course, though the destination was more or less the same." She eyes the dark forest with a disgusted scrunch of her nose.

"But why here?" Blight pushes.

"Extra protection. As far as I'm concerned, four out of the five Vandarian rulers are currently hiding in a cabin nearby. Arthur, the Prince, as well as the other twelve men, were your best bet at protection, and now they're gone, so we came."

"What was the original destination that Clarice gave you?"

"Unless you're the one who plans on relaying this information - and it's a lot of information - to the other fourteen people in your group, I'd suggest we head to them and explain everything once. I don't like having to repeat myself."

I wait for Blight to answer, knowing she has far more experience with judging people and seeing if they're telling truths or lies. After she nods once, she turns and walks straight towards the clearing to cross it and head for the cabin. I follow shortly after her, wondering if she made the directional choice to see if any of them pass out or explode as Roseia did. It's one way to see if anyone with bad intentions means to cause us harm, I suppose.

Still, they all pass through it easily enough, though many of them reach down and touch the ashes to find out what it is only to have their hands stained with black. I keep glancing back at Svenja, trying to determine whether or not to question her about how the others are doing.

I do it again, and this time she catches me doing it. "Little birds are meant to sing, Katarina Benoldi, not sit in silence."

"You know my name?" I ask, slowing my pace to walk at her side - the opposite of her muscled companion. He looks bigger up close. The scary kind of big.

"Your King Arthur sure did like to mention it a few times every hour," she answers, almost sounding annoyed. "Yours and his fathers, God's and their Saints protect him in the next life."

At the mention of Lance's father, curiosity gets the best of me. I didn't know the man and Lance doesn't talk too much about him. "Did you know him? Their father?"

"Only by name and spoken word from Clarice. She adored him thoroughly, as I did my own father. Sad to know that both men were lost in the midst of the same action."

"How did your father die?" From the way her face turns hard and shoulders stiffen, along with her companion's, I'd say I crossed the line on appropriate things to ask.

"Same as hers. Loving his family."

I resort to silence once again, letting the anger in her eyes muffle out. I've spent enough time with quick-to-anger people to know that it's best to let them be the ones to continue the conversation once they've cooled down.

"Your Arthur is one of a kind, Katarina Benoldi, lose him, and you'll lose things you never knew you had with him before."

"I don't plan on losing him-" her brows fly upward at my harsh tone "-and you can call me Kat. Everyone else does."

"A nickname of Clarice's doing, I suspect."

I shrug. "She didn't bother saying my full name the first day we met. Just called me Kat."

"I don't believe I'll be getting a nickname for her anytime soon," she whispers, eyeing the back of Blight's back. She's probably listening to everything. I swear the Jades have superhearing.

I change the subject, knowing that Blight's own anger-prone personality could clash with this new stranger's. "What did Clare call you?"

"Little Dove."

"Doesn't sound like much of a nickname."

"No, but it's all she called me."

"Why?"  

"She refused to provide such explanations in the short time we spent together, but I rather like the name. And before you go thinking that you may call me that, you can't. Only Clarice may."

"She beats your ass if you do," her companion shares. His voice sounds like gravel, yet it's thickly enchanting. A trap, I conclude, like her eyes.

"I still have the bruises!" another man yells somewhere in the crowd behind us.

I look back at her, finding a pleased smile on her lips. Most of her crew seems to be our age or older, which likely means that Lance and Fauna will know most of them. Odd how I've only ever known their friends to be us, and now I'm realizing that their allies are far more numbered than I realized.

The sound of Mira and Levi playing makes its way through the trees, and I find us coming up on the cabin. Though the two children still run around, I can see how everyone stops and looks in our direction. I suddenly feel like a nervous wreck walking towards them, so I leave Svenja and her people to stand on one side of the cabin and ignore everyone's eyes as I walk to Thomas's side. He's the only one who I can guarantee won't scorn me for anything.

Blight gets Reynald, Julian, and Aillard who all pulled out their own weapons to relax, and then gives the brief introductions for everyone. I expected Neven to step forward and take control of negotiating and talking to Svenja, but he just stays in one of the rocking chairs on the porch next to Claritia, Allerick in his arms. He doesn't seem to have a single intention of getting up, and for some reason, I don't have a problem with it.

Siscilla is the one who takes control, stepping forward, and sizing up Svenja. The pirate isn't fazed at all. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"And you're the Comandante of the Devil's Pride?"

"So she claims," Blight says stiffly, clearly not believing a word of it.

I don't understand what's so hard to understand about it. Maybe it is the age, but they shouldn't be surprised considering that Fauna is my age and she's just been crowned the Queen of Thralia. If she can be a fully trained assassin and a Queen, why can't Svenja be the commander of a few ships? Not to mention that every single man and woman behind her clearly holds the utmost respect for her. Some even look at her with admiration, and that's exactly how we all view each other here.

All except Sibella. She can happily die at their hands.

Svenja repeats her earlier explanations to me and Blight to the others but doesn't go further