Kir’s eyes glared at the text, his heartbeat rapidly increasing. Trying not to fumble as he tapped at his phone, he called her the second he was able to comprehend the situation. First call, no answer. Second call, no answer. Third call, straight to voicemail.

With a thread of sanity he tried to rationalise everything. Hoping that she was pranking him, but she knew how much he would worry, she wouldn’t do that.

His brain began to give off white noise, the kind that occurred when one became overwhelmed with stress. A disgustingly deep pit began to form in his stomach, almost causing him to evacuate its contents. His foot began to tap aggressively, desperate to figure out what to do. It took a few moments of unbearable worry until his fingers flew across the screen, searching for an app in the recesses of his phone.

Kir was slightly insulted when Amber told him to sign up to a phone tracking service with her, but acquiesced after she insisted that it would make her feel more comfortable. It took a moment for the app to load, waiting for the spinning wheel to reveal her location was agony.

An agony that loosened slightly as a flashing red dot revealed her to be in the Bluelake district. Though that pit deepened somewhat as he remembered what the district was famous for. Pocketing the phone, Kir made a mad dash for the train station, entirely ignoring the burning in his lungs. At the very least Bluelake wasn’t on the other side of the city, if he was lucky it would only be a short commute. With some level of obsession Kir continued to check the phone, and was increasingly frustrated at the fact that the dot wasn’t moving.

The scenery rocketing past the subway windows gradually changed, initially it was just the pitch black of an underground railway system. That darkness soon gave way to the looming buildings barely in sight for more than a second, the density of the city now becoming suffocating rather than comforting. To somebody unfamiliar with the city streets, the atmosphere would seem almost identical. But as Kir frantically scanned the landscape, he worried as the buildings became more dilapidated and the people less densely populated.

After a less than peaceful trip the train came to a screeching halt as the intercom struggled to gargle out the location name. Kir took a step off and immediately considered casting a mage armour. Pushing aside his fear as Amber came to the forefront of his mind, he began to press on. The Gallows district was by no means a clean locale, but Bluelake was something else. Despite its somewhat picturesque name it was locally known as the location with the highest density of crime in the entire city. The roads were more potholes than cement and there didn’t seem to be a building with less than fifteen tags on them.

If people weren’t huddling by in hushed tones they were slumped down in side-alleys staring off into space. It was somewhat similar to Sirani’s neck of the woods but you were more likely to get rolled then shot here rather than surreptitiously ensorcelled. Kir eventually stopped at one of the many identically built brown tenement buildings. From what he could tell this was where she was supposed to be. Forgetting any fear that he might have, he pushed open the front door only to find that it was off it hinges and fell down with a deafening slam. That fear returned as he winced at the noise waiting to be yelled at, but the chastising never came.

Each step up the length of the building squeaked ominously, not a great omen. Kir expected having to go room by room but it seemed most of the walls had long since decayed, leaving one lovely open floor planned crack den. Kir strained his eyes, maintaining his arcane sight until he could find one among the many that he could recognise. The interior was sparse, most of the residents lay upon ratty mattresses, with cracked pipes and used needles dotting the floor. Kir would venture a guess to say not all the buildings were like this and this was purpose-built. Finally on the third floor a familiar aura lay entirely sedate, almost half decayed. She lay among many in a considerably worse state than herself, but in the same ostensible euphoric ecstasy.

Without a second thought Kir rushed over to what he confirmed was Amber, dropping to his knees to check on her physical state. Her once well kept orange hair was completely dishevelled and knotted, track marks dotting her arms. He had never seen her in such a pitiful state. Kir shook her, slapped her, called her name but she wouldn’t respond.

“I don’t understand”, he muttered to himself, holding back a quiver in his voice.

It had only been a week, how did she get like this? People usually didn’t move from a perfectly healthy uni student who wouldn’t even drink, to face down in a crack den overnight. Too many things didn’t add up, she still had her keys and wallet on her. No way someone spends that much time in a place like this and still keeps those things, intoxicated or not.

He looked around, searching for her phone, wondering who could have sent the text, judging by the damage to her aura she had been in this state for a while. That was when it hit him, her aura. There was no mundane made narcotic that could affect someone's metaphysical being in such a way.

This made his search even more paranoid, a paranoia that was justified as he found a small plastic baggie tucked beneath the mattress. Within it was a small amount of colourful powder. Bringing it up to what light was visible from the boarded up windows showed it twinkle, almost like glitter. A small amount of the same substance could be found on Amber's upper lip causing Kir’s panic to turn to dread.

Checking her aura again he found that it wasn’t somewhat deteriorated, it was still deteriorating. Pixie Dust was borderline lethal to humans, even more so to humans outside the violet shade. In a hopeless fervor Kir wiped off what remained on Amber's upper lip and hoisted her arm up on his shoulder. Lacking the strength for a princess carry he opted for a half drag support, walking her forward like a wounded soldier. This act was not at all thought through. Kir refused to bring her to his apartment much lest she have some kind of volatile reaction to any of the magic flowing through it. Anywhere in Hallowvale street or inducted within the Violet Shade was entirely out.

The closest place available was likely where she currently lived. It was around the same short commute back to the Gallows district and as far as he knew had no arcane influence around it. Kir morbidly laughed to himself, attempting to hold back a sniffle

“I always planned on visiting but this isn’t really how imagined it”

His voice wavered slightly through the statement. After reaching the train station, he cast some illusory magic to make her seem more drunk than anything else and waited silently for the train to arrive. The flickering lights around the station buzzed to life as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. For such a dense city the train station was largely empty. Kir’s mind soon began to wander.

It drifted back to memories that hadn’t been remembered for quite some time. Memories of getting his ass thoroughly beaten by pimpled teens, then watching as what he considered a superhero, beating their ass in retaliation. Those particular memories spanned his adolescence, though in different iterations. Another arrived straight after. Someone holding his hand in primary school when he had to present in front of the class, and then doing it again in highschool. That time may have had more negative consequences.

But looking even deeper were the memories that weren’t as happy. Arguments they might have had, or long winded disagreements. And even then she was just trying to help him, telling him off for forgiving his mother or insisting he move in with her family. Through every crevice of his mind all he could find was Amber caring for him. He looked over to her face, now resting on his shoulder. She really hadn’t changed that much, not really.

As they approached closer to the necessary stop his mind focused back into the situation. How did Pixie Dust make its way into the hands of those still wearing the Crown of Arcanis. If there was a single cardinal sin for all those within the Violet Shade it would be damaging the crowned through magical means. People didn’t just stumble onto this kind of stuff, and no one would be foolish enough to leave a bag of it just lying around. Well some might, but someone like that wouldn’t be able to surpass the preventative measures put in place by the Order.

At the moment there were too many questions and no answers. His mind raced with possibilities but calmed back down when he remembered his main priority, getting Amber somewhere safe. There was another emotion starting to well up but Kir couldn’t really place it, leaving him to just focus on the travel.

They quickly reached their stop, and with increasing difficulty, Kir essentially dragged a weight across the street. He got some weird looks but it was pretty standard for the area, keeping a drunkard on their feet. It took some time but they soon reached the surprisingly nice brownstone Kir assumed was Andrews.

It was either that or the address Amber texted him months ago was wrong. With a sense of relief Kir was able to unlock the door with Amber's key and place her as gently as he could on the couch within the living room. The interior was well designed, a consistent rustic theme, lots of fine woods and antique clocks. He knew Andrew was older than Amber but he didn’t know he was seventy five. Kir checked Ambers aura again. It seemed the deterioration had slowed down somewhat but it was still slowly yet surely corroding.

Kir went to go through his phone for any contacts he might know able to help, but was interrupted by the creak of the floorboards behind him. A snarl came first, then a guttural bark. He could already smell the cursed magic coming from behind him.

“No way”

He mumbled to himself, turning to see the figure standing before him.