Phobos bit her nails as she paced agitatedly across the living room of the suite in Zariah, wearing a rut into the floor.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on hers and pulled it away from her mouth.

“Don’t bite your nails, ya. It took you forever to kick that habit,” said Deimos as she wiped the fingers on her sleeve and inspected the extent of the damage. “I can see the beds of the nails now,” she sighed.

Phobos snatched her hand away from the girl.

“How the hell can you act so unconcerned about this?! How can you talk about nails when husband could be suffocating under tonnes of earth or getting eaten by some monster on the other side of the globe?!”

Deimos crossed her arms under her chest and stared her down, unimpressed by her outburst. Phobos held her gaze for a long moment, before her shoulders slumped and she wilted.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just that…”

“Shh,” said Deimos, stepping forward and hugging her. “I know.”

Phobos hugged the shorter girl back, resting her chin on top of her head.

“Demi…”

“Ya?”

“They couldn't find him… Karim called up all the other Gate towers. He wasn’t there at any of them. Our bonds weren’t mistaken.” She sighed. “I wanted them to be, this one time.”

Deimos hugged her tighter.

“Me too.”

The two girls embraced each other in silence, before Deimos finally broke the hug. Stepping back, she grabbed onto Phobos’ shoulders and stared her in the eye, her determined green pupils holding her confused yellow ones in place with their intensity.

“Phi-Phi, I’m scared too, you know? Master could be facing anything right now and I wouldn't know. I wouldn't be able to help. And every moment we delay, could be a moment too late.”

“How’re you so calm then?" asked Phobos. "It feels like something’s clutching my heart. My stomach’s churning. I feel sick.”

Deimos chuckled mirthlessly.

“Me, calm? I’m not calm. I’m screaming inside. Screaming and clawing at the edges of the Void while the rational part of me desperately tries to keep me out. The only reason I’m even functional right now – and not curled up crying in a corner – is because I’m using magic to hold myself together.”

She sighed.

“It’s funny. I always thought Father’s method of Mastering Wind wasn’t suitable for me. That I was too in tune with my emotions to discard them like that. In the end, it turns out that they were just too pleasant for me to want to discard them. Now that all I have are anxiety and despair, I couldn't wait to run away into the Void.”

Her grip on Phobos’ shoulders loosened and her arms fell limply to her sides. She turned away; her eyes downcast. “I’m a coward.”

She felt a pair of arms encircling her waist and a soft body pressing up against her back.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m one too," said Phobos softly, resting her cheek against hers. "I wish I could magically lock my emotions away. I’m jealous that you can.” Her voice hitched. “It hurts, you know? It hurts that I'm so useless. That there's nothing I can do."

Deimos felt her cheek becoming wet. Reaching down she entangled her fingers with Phobos’ over her stomach. Closing her eyes, she nuzzled her cheek against hers.

“You’re not useless,” she said. “At least not as much as I am. You took the lead to talk to the officials of the Caliphate. You pinned the blame straight on them and didn’t give them an opportunity to shirk their responsibility. You got them involved. Now an entire country is obligated to help us look for Master.”

She gently licked up Phobos’ tears. “All I did was lock myself in my mind and turn myself into an emotionless monster.”

“Demi…”

“Hmm?”

“If you badmouth yourself one more time, I’ll spank you.”

Deimos chuckled.

“I suppose you're feeling better if you can say that.”

“I am, thanks to you,” said Phobos, giving her one last squeeze before stepping away. "Anyway,” she asked, wiping her tears. "Where is everyone else?”

“Arty’s off using her status as Princess to pressure the Caliphate nobles into getting off their asses," replied Deimos. "She’s also contacting the managers of her bookstores in the Caliphate and gathering funds and information. Ceres is trying to get in contact with Isabella and get her involved. She’s also leveraging her political connections in Regiis to escalate the issue. And Hei Lian is syncing information with her original.”

She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Everyone’s busy.”

“Except us,” said Phobos.

“Except us,” Deimos agreed.

Phobos took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Haa... Well, there must be something we can do, if only to keep ourselves busy and our minds off all the gloom and doom.”

Deimos opened her mouth, then hesitated. She shot a glance at Phobos then looked away, biting her lips.

“Out with it, girl,” Phobos finally snapped with an impatient frown.

Deimos visibly resigned herself. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea in your case…”

“What?”

“Taking your mind off the gloom and doom, I mean... You should make use the negative emotions to increase your cultivation speed. The higher our collective cultivation base, the stronger our link to Master. Since we can't participate in the larger scale preparations, the best we can do now is train.”

Reaching into a pouch strapped to her waist, she brought out a fist-sized Aeolian crystal. It sparkled a pale greenish-blue under the light of the smokeless torches.

“With my Mastery of the Aspect of Wind, I can feel my Tier 3 bottleneck has become less crowded. I’m going to close up and impact the barrier. And I’m going to succeed, even if I have to use a crystal to do so.”

Phobos stared blankly at the crystal for a moment before the corners of her mouth curved upwards in a smile.

“I see,” she said softly.

Deimos’ concerned gaze flickered between her yellow eyes, trying to see if she was fine.

“Shoo!” she exclaimed. Grabbing Deimos' shoulders, she turned her around and pushed her towards one of the meditation rooms. “Don’t you worry about me, now. Go, go, go!”

Pushing Deimos into the room, she shut the door and latched it from the outside.

“Go ahead then. Close up. Break through. The next time I see you, I want you to be Tier 3. Don’t you dare come out if you aren't!” she shouted through a slat in the door, before sliding it shut and latching it too.

Turning away, she pressed her back against the door and slid down to the ground. Drawing her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her forehead on her knees.

Drops of moisture dripped from her chin and soaked into the weave of her skirt, creating a patch of dampness that expanded as her shoulders shook with muted sobs.

“Damn it…” she cursed under her breath. “Damn it all.”