Roland’s ethereal form materialized just outside of Dire Fortress. This was one location that he’d been where the hero would likely not think to look for a while. The quick travel wasn’t at all disorienting. More importantly, it worked exactly as intended. He breathed a sigh of relief as the cold sweat that covered his body began to dry in the southern breeze. The sun was just rising on what seemed like it would be a beautiful summer day in this part of Relmgard.

The grounds of the house looked well-kept, and it smelled like a wood stove was burning. Looking up, there were plumes of smoke coming from the chimney. Someone was here. The door was unlocked so he went inside.

At the end of the long entrance hallway, Roland could see Nick walking around with a cup of tea. This was just like when Roland and Mallory first arrived at Dire Fortress over two years ago. It seemed like Nick hadn’t seen him yet and walked out of sight into the kitchen. Roland followed him.

“What’s up, dragon pup?” said Nick as Roland entered. “You’re about twelve hours too early for the barbecue.”

Nick had his back to Roland but must have caught a glimpse of or heard him. Roland didn’t say anything. When Nick turned around and saw who we was talking to, he choked on his tea.

“Oh shit, Eliza.”

He started coughing, “Went down the wrong pipe.” He hit his chest with the hand that was holding his tea cup. This caused tea to spill all over his shirt.

“Ouch, that burns.”

He threw his empty cup at Roland and started to run towards the back door. Roland thought something like this might happen. He was about to use a cantrip to tie Nick’s shoelaces together to stop him when he noticed that Nick was wearing sandals. This turned out to be inconsequential, as Nick ended up tripping on the door sill and fell over.

Roland stood over him as he writhed in pain.

“Hiccups, a stubbed toe, and first-degree tea burns. Why did I laugh at that fortune teller who told me this was how I’d die? If I’m reincarnated, I hope I won’t come back as a sceptic of cartomancy. My one failing. Oh, who am I kidding? Tarot cards are just props for failed actors. Truly, fortune telling is the last refuge for untalented entertainers. To think …”

It seemed like Nick was trying to filibuster what he thought was his own execution so Roland cut him off, “I thought you didn’t do bits, Nick?”

“… You can step on my head now. Just use your heel, maybe I’ll have an undiscovered kink for that and it will give me some pleasure in my final … Huh?”

Nick finally processed what Roland had said and stopped rambling.

“I’m not Eliza,” said Roland as the two stared at each other.

Nick composed himself, “Really? I know my petite ladies and you’re definitely Eliza.”

“I’m Roland. I swapped into Eliza’s body. My original body - the body the actual Eliza was in - was vaporized by the fires inside the Mouth of Infernos.”

“Cool, cool,” said Nick as he stood up. He gave Roland a fist pump on his shoulder. “I’d ask how that queen puss was, but I guess you’d be telling on yourself now.”

Yesterday Roland was arguing about the truth of the world with the Hero of Relmgard, today he was back to this inanity.

“What’s happening? Why are you here? I thought you went to Valdt with Mallory?”

“My man, that was two years ago. I know time flies when you’re getting mad trim on the reg but come on.” He paused, “Although I’m actually heading back up there next month.”

“Well, we need to leave sooner. The Hero of Relmgard is after me and it won’t be long until he comes here.”

Nick’s usual grin disappeared when Roland mentioned the hero.

“Lead with that next time, sister.” Nick took a deep breath, “Can l be honest with you? I am totally fried right now and this is like way too lit. I’ve been painting all night and, wow, the wavelength you’re on is too intense for me.” Nick coughed, “I know that metaphor didn’t make any sense, but you get the picture.”

Looking very anxious, Nick kept talking, “Sorry, I wasn’t painting. I’ve actually been up smoking golden herb. Tried that to get the creative juices flowing. Didn’t work. Felt like I was going to have a heart attack. So I got totally blasted breathing in paint fumes to bring myself down. Made things worse, so I went back to basics with the tea. Then you come in, looking exactly like the Queen of Serene and tell me the hero is going to show up …”

“Nick! Calm down!”

“Right, right. Does he know you’re here?”

“The hero? No, but he’ll probably begin searching the Bright Port area soon. I used a void stork feather to get away from him at the Star Chamber. I think he knows what parts of Relmgard I’ve been to.”

“Ok, I’m relaxed. Not as bad as I thought. Although wasting a void stork feather like that is bush league. Those are worth more than Celestial weapons. Listen, Jace and I are throwing our third end of summer barbecue is tonight. A real sloth hopper. We can head out tomorrow after the champagne breakfast.”

Roland rolled his eyes, “I hope you don’t have to cancel your fourth end of summer barbecue because of me.”

“Huh, you’re kind of adorable now that I know you’re not going to smash my ribcage.”

Nick went to rub Roland’s hair like he would with a little kid. Roland instinctively grabbed his wrist and turned it.

“Mercy short queen!” yelled Nick as he laughed a bit. “I yield kind sprite!”

Roland didn’t have Eliza’s strength anymore, but he seemed to have her muscle memory and incredible reaction time. He twisted a bit more because he didn’t like being called ‘short queen’ or ‘kind sprite’ even though he was now only five feet tall. He let go Nick’s wrist.

“Is this how you treated Mal growing up?” asked Roland. “I’m suddenly more sympathetic to her disposition.”

“If you only knew …,” began Nick before trailing off. “Anyways, I gotta crash for about ten hours, so help yourself to the pantry. Also, are you really going to walk around wearing Eliza’s Heroic Age outfit? Mal has some old clothes upstairs in her room. Anything from her Gothic Lolita phase would probably fit you well.”

***

Mallory’s room had an enormous walk-in closet that contained all sorts of clothes and accessories. Most of the clothing was too big for Eliza’s frame and those pieces that did fit looked like costumes a child would wear if they were playing dress up. He finally found a dark blue shirtdress, some black leggings, a red belt, and a scarf that all seemed to go together well. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he knew something was missing. Sighing, he put on a pointy hat that matched the shirtdress.

I guess Eliza really does look good in a wizard’s hat, he thought.

As he stared at his new body in the mirror, melancholy began to overwhelm him. What have I done? Wiping away tears, he closed the curtains in the room and crawled into Mallory’s bed. Too exhausted from the last 24 hours to reflect on his decisions, he shut his eyes and fell asleep.

When Roland awoke, it was dark outside. A crisp smokey smell drew him to the window where he could see a large bonfire burning in the yard. Nick’s party was well underway. He headed downstairs and, after grabbing some food, began searching for Nick. He must have slept through most of the party, as it seemed like things were already winding down. For the most part, people were either passed out or engaged in intimate whispering that Roland didn’t want to disturb. He finally came across two guys debating who would win in a fight between a weretiger and a werelion. As a scribe at Sages’ Keep, Roland often had many such conversations with his peers. He had no qualms about interrupting this important discussion to ask where Nick was. They pointed to a man sitting by himself, far away from the bonfire.

As Roland got close to Nick, he could see that he was staring at the sky, completely lost.

“What’s wrong?” asked Roland as he sat down beside Nick. “When I saw you at the party in Bright Port two years ago you were way more engaged.”

“Nah, this is my new play. Brooding and mysterious is in, playful and funny is out.”

Nick then lowered his voice, “For real though? I took red vein elixir that Kyson brought. No one told me that a normal dose is a single drop, so I downed the whole vial by mistake. Now I’m just pondering the infinite midnight sky. Trying to accept that there really won’t be another end of summer barbecue. I’m having a breakdown. Talk me off the ledge, Rol.”

“There’s always next year.”

“After everything that’s happened and is going to happen, you believe that?”

“Why not? Things have worked out great so far. I don’t have to worry about shaving anymore. Who could have seen that coming?”

Nick chuckled at this stupid joke and replied, “Tell me how great things are going when you get your first period.”

With his usual wry smile having returned to his face, Nick went back to staring at the sky. Given Nick’s unusually contemplative state, Roland saw an opportunity to pry him for information.

“Nick, how old are the Chosen?”

“Don’t know, brother. When they made the Twinned Barrier they stopped ageing. That was probably 100 years ago? Longer?”

“So you don’t age either then?”

“Huh? No, I age. So does Mal.”

“Then how can you be Zothis’ son if he was killed at least a century ago?”

Nick’s look of ease was once again gone.

“When dad was murdered by the Chosen, Mal and I were at one of his safe houses. The Chosen scoured Relmgard and the World of Darkness for any of his remaining allies. When they found our location, the servants told us to hide. I was only nine and Mal was seven, but I knew they’d find us if we hid in a closet or under a bed. So, we hid in a painting.”

Roland thought he had misheard Nick, “In a painting? How is that possible?”

“My magic ability was that my art could become reality. Not actually that useful because the creations took a long time to paint and didn’t last more than a few minutes. Anyways, I was always jealous of Mal because, even as a kid, she got to play with all sorts of cool enchanted weapons. I had no skill for wielding those things, so I wasn’t allowed to even touch them. Dad recognized how unhappy that made me and, perhaps on a lark, he gave me a paint brush with bristles that were cut from the hair of a Celestial. He told me that it was more powerful than any weapon in Relmgard. I could tell by his voice that he wasn’t serious, so I guess he hadn’t realized what he had really given me. With that brush, I discovered that I could also make my power work in reverse. Even though I was a kid, I could trap creatures in paintings if I used it properly. Then, the last time I used it, I trapped my sister and myself in a painting.”

Roland was taken aback by this story, “Incredible. I’ve never heard of that type of magic before. So how long were you stuck in the painting?”

“Don’t know. We didn’t feel time go by. One moment we were in, the next moment we were out.”

“How? I mean, how did you break the spell and get out?”

“I didn’t get us out. Like I said, when we were in there, we were frozen in time.”

“Then who helped you?”

“You spoke to the hero? If you’re captured by him, you’ll be tortured until you give up my name and Mal’s. If I told you the name of the one who got us out the painting, you’d give that up too. Better you don’t know.”

Nick took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Neither he nor Roland said another word.

***

When Roland woke up the next day, it seemed like most of the guests were gone. He had slept fairly late, so maybe this wasn’t surprising. Through the front window he saw Jace shaking hands and hugging what was likely the last group of people that were leaving.

In the kitchen, he found Nick by himself, eating pastries. Whenever he took a bite of one, it sounded like a boot hitting gravel. Roland couldn’t tell if they were stale, very dense, or heavily toasted. Either way, he waved `no’ when Nick offered him one.

Nick was wearing white pants and a bright pink shirt. It seemed like the journey to Valdt was the last thing on his mind.

“Shouldn’t we try to be a bit inconspicuous when we’re travelling?” asked Roland as he pointed to Nick’s shirt.

Nick scoffed, “That magical girl thing you got going on will attract way more attention than my ironic `Party Nick’ vibe. The zeitgeist right now is endless summer. Girls who wear wizard hats are the opposite of trendy. You’ll stand out like a fire gopher in dry leaves.”

He crunched on another pastry, “Anyways, we’ll take the wagon to Valdt. Go along the old Footracer path. Should take a week. Psyched for some classic wagon-life music?”

“No, we need to go up the Windswept Coast.”

Nick nodded and smiled, “You’re away from the harem in Serene for five minutes and you’re already that thirsty? You mini-legend!” He then took in a deep breath and began to speak wistfully, “Just two dudes travelling up the dirty coast slinging dick with every saucy bar wench from here to the Northern Lakes.”

Roland gave Nick one of Eliza’s unimpressed squinting stares.

“We can stick to massage parlours if that’s more your pace. There’s one called `The Late Night Milk Maid’ where they make you get on all fours and the girl gets behind you and licks your -“

He paused as Roland was now scowling at him.

“Hey, it’s pretty relaxing. A bit filthy. Although I guess for the girl it’s only filthy. You know what, I’ll go there by myself later.”

Nick took another loud bite of a pastry.

“Anyways,” he said as he crunched away. “It’s quite a dangerous detour to travel through the Windswept Coast if you’re not visiting the puff-puff houses. All risk, no nut.”

“We need to stop at Charredweb Manse.”

“What’s that? A smoke shop?”

The Windswept Coast was one of the most lawless regions in Relmgard. Brigands regularly traveled the main roads and pirates would seize any vessel that dared to sail down the coastline. The entire region was run by robber barons, and it seemed like its economy was based solely on vice and extortion. Christoph was supposed to govern the area but, after his death, there must have been a complete breakdown in order. Charredweb Manse was the ancestral home of his family. Perhaps more information about him could be found there. It was still unclear to Roland why the hero would kill him. Further, translating that hidden journal had not left the top of his mind.

“Oh yeah,” began Nick before throwing the final bit of pastry in his mouth. “You’ll probably need a new passport to get into Valdt. Which one of these pun-based names do you like the best: `Rol Leeta’ or `J. L. Bate’? Alternatively, I can go with something based on the fact that you no longer have a penis. Thoughts on `Miss Ng Dong’?”

Roland was in no mood to be reminded about his body, “Can you stop?”

“I don’t know, those are pretty good. I also got a couple about your short height if you’re interested.”

“Just use Alys Fireborn.”

“Sorry, did you say `Fireborn’ or `Firebush’?”

“You know I said Fireborn.”

“Good, good. Because you don’t have red hair, so that second one didn’t make much sense.”

Nick thought for a moment, “It will take a few hours to make the thing and it’s already lunch, so I guess we’ll leave tomorrow. Oh, and I should warn you that you’re only going to draw more eyes with such a clichéd protagonist name.”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns at this point.”

“Also, Mal won’t like it either. Of course, once she sees your new body, she won’t care.”

“It’s strange, I kind of miss her insults,” said Roland.

“Well that’s a cringe thing to say out loud, but it’s not what I meant.”

“Huh?” replied Roland. “I don’t follow.”

“She’s always been into small, flat-chested girls. Didn’t you know that? She’ll totally dig Roland, the cute witch.”

Roland couldn’t believe what he had just heard, “Mal likes girls?”

“Damn, this is some peak virgin energy. How sheltered are you?”

Roland had a sudden realization, “Wait, so at the party in Bright Port, when Jace was teasing Mal about Mason and Emily, it was because Mal liked Emily?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Nick as headed down to his art studio.

When Roland had walked through the door to Dire Fortress yesterday, he had hoped that he would find Mallory standing inside. Even though she could be relentless when she mocked him, there wasn’t one thing about her that he didn’t look back on fondly now. He thought back to when they kissed and teased each other as they first made love. None of the pleasures from Serene Castle ever came close to matching that experience.

His embarrassing daydreaming was interrupted as Nick walked back into the kitchen.

“Before I forget, you’ve read a lot of books - do paint fumes cause brain damage?”

Roland rolled his eyes for what must have been the seventh time since he got here, “Well, they likely won’t improve your memory or ability to think critically, if that’s what you want to know.”

“So probably fine,” said Nick. “Got it.”

After Nick left, Roland’s mind began to wander once again. He went through the conversation that he had with Nick last night. Was it just the drugs that Nick had taken that made him so unnerved? No, he was perfectly coherent when he told that fantastical story about being trapped in a painting. There must be something else. He did seem genuinely upset about leaving Dire Fortress and going to Valdt. Like it would cause his world to end. When they murdered Talon Tabor, Nick was calm throughout the entire ordeal. He smiled and joked with Talon for hours, knowing that he would be killed if any detail of their plan failed. That didn’t shake him, but the thought of whatever him and Mallory were going to do in Valdt did? They must be planning something truly terrible. Now a less wistful feeling crept up inside of Roland. It was a coldness he hadn’t experienced since the last time the three of them were together: Dread. Back then, he would be nearly paralyzed by this feeling. Now, though? Now, he looked forward to the horror that awaited.