Death is nearing.

Thirst has made Yue’li’s tongue swell enormously so that she can no longer distinguish where the leather gag ends and where she begins. She tries swallowing, and stars appear behind her blindfold.

I'm going to die.

She wants to cry but she's run out of tears days ago. Her limbs are sore from struggling and her head aches from knocking against the side of her cage.

She’s wet herself, too, sometime during the morning.

Or was it yesterday morning? I can't tell anymore. Maybe dying isn’t so bad.

The carriage stops, too abruptly for Yue'li to notice. When she does, she's already listening to footsteps crunching outside.

Something rustles.

Warmth. Sunlight. A gust of cold air tingles her skin. Someone has removed the cloth covering her cage but Yue’li can’t tell who. She smells salt and in the distance, hears waves crashing.

“I brought her.”

Zoldan’s low voice cracks through the calming buzz.

"I used the smoke bomb you gave me. It worked well."

A girl answers him. “Otsukare.”

“What?”

“It means well done, in my native tongue.”

“I don't care,” Zoldan says. “Where is the ship you promised? And the gold.”

He doesn’t get a reply. Yue’li hears footsteps softly pattering closer to her.

The scent of roses wafts faintly into her stale bubble, mingling with the salt of the ocean.

“You didn’t stop for bathroom breaks?” the girl asks, obvious disdain in her voice.

“I was followed for a while,” answers Zoldan. “Now, the gold-”

He is cut off sharply. “I heard you the first time, human. I am neither deaf nor suffering from dementia.”

Yue’li hears her cage being opened, then small hands dragging her out by the horns. She tumbles to the sandy ground and tries to cower away but whoever is dragging her is incredibly strong.

Her blindfold comes off, then her binds, and lastly her gag.

The light is blinding and orange from the setting sun. Yue’li instinctively gasps in lungfuls of air, feeling fresh tears springing to her eyes.

“What are you doing?” demands Zoldan. “She can fly.”

“So will you if you don’t start showing some basic decency,” says the girl. “Even slaves are allowed to stretch their muscles.”

Yue’li squints through her crusted eyelids. A girl is standing over her, pretty but too eerie to be attractive. Her small frame is covered in a decadent white dress and across one shoulder rests a red parasol.

She smiles with lips so red that at first, Yue'li mistakes them to be bleeding.

“I am Hikari Chinen,” the girl says, offering a waterskin to Yue’li. “But you must address me as Kari. Only my Onee-chan gets the honor of calling me by my full name.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, girl?” says Zoldan. “Do you mean to go back on our deal?”

Kari answers Zoldan without looking at him. “Do not put me on the same level as those of your kind,” she says. “There will not be a ship today, or any this month.”

“What?” says Zoldan. “But the deal was-”

“I have altered the deal,” Kari says. “Pray that I do not alter it further.”

Then shockingly, she giggles.

“I’ve always wanted to say that,” she says. “Next time, I’ll dress up in a cape and helmet first.”

Through the silence, Yue’li catches a glimpse of Zoldan’s speechless face. She swallows down the rest of the water and gives her wings a discreet shake.

If I can get some distance away from them, just enough to take to the air…

Kari continues, “There’s been a change in circumstances. You must go into Jinyu via the northern mountains.”

Zoldan shakes his head. “The Dragonspines? That is insanity. Even if I have the equipment, I don’t have the death wish to go through the Battlefront.”

Kari’s pretty face darkens into something that does not seem… quite human. It strikes Yue’li with such a morbid wonderment that she momentarily forgets about escaping.

“You seem to think this is a negotiation,” Kari says.

“I sell my sword,” says Zoldan. “I don’t throw it away on a child’s whimsy.”

“Then sell it,” says Kari, “for four times the original payment.”

“Gold isn’t worth shit in the hands of a dead man.”

The stillness is so quiet, even the ocean seems to be quelled.

Yue’li feels a hand on her shoulder. Kari is standing next to her. “Alright,” says the girl, suddenly enthusiastic again. “Gold does not seem to sway your sword. But what about love?”

Zoldan frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I can give you Dragon-chan,” Kari tells him. “Forever.”

Yue’li tenses. She looks between the girl and Zoldan, fear bubbling from deep within her gut. She knows she must run, but the dainty fingers on her shoulder feel like steel clamps.

The power within them is unmistakable. Monstrous in their hold.

“I don’t plan on keeping a prisoner for the rest of her days,” says Zoldan.

“Ah,” says Kari. “What if she isn’t your prisoner, but your lover?”

The winds shift. So does the look on Zoldan’s face.

“Speak plainly or pay me,” he says. “I did not travel all the way out here to be led around in circles. What exactly are you offering for me to go into the Dragonspines?”

“Simple,” says Kari, squeezing Yue'li's shoulder. “I can make this girl love you. Whether that's as a wife, a child, or a slave, it's up to your choosing. Either way, she will have no thoughts about ever returning to her previous life, and will by her own desires remain yours for as long as you wish.”

Yue’li feels fear unlike what she’s ever felt before. She tries to get up but the hand holding her is exerting strength no child should possess. In desperation, she looks to the only other soul around, and she wishes she hadn’t.

The smile on Zoldan’s face is one of twisted joy, pure in form and vicious in intent.

Kari sees it too, for she asks, “Is that a deal, then?”

Zoldan answers without hesitation or pause.

“Prove it to me first.”

For someone who is used to waking up to the scent of fruit muffins, getting up to the beat of hammers and saws is a nightmare.

But nightmares end. And 11’s reality does not.

Opening her eyes, she sees sunlight seeping through a gap in her blinds.

Somehow, despite everything, she has slept in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

11 gets up, shrugging off the soreness in her muscles. Many of her internal components have suffered damage from the rogue Scout-type and his stupid drones, but she doesn’t have the luxury of hunting down a Demonic Entity for its core. She’ll have to make do with cupcakes for the time being.

Except even those are lacking.

Abetah sits in her usual spot on the porch, overlooking the busy streets. Her expression is blank. The workers move carefully around her, as if afraid the little old lady might be blown away by anything stronger than a breeze.

A loaf of bread lies untouched on the table, next to a plate of browned apple slices.

11 picks up the bread but then puts it back down.

She feels like a stranger.

“Good morning, dear,” Abetah says with a voice more monotonal than a God Gier's.

“G-good morning,” 11 answers softly.

Abetah taps a thin finger on the plate of apples. “Don’t forget to eat your fruits.”

11 picks up a slice and takes a bite. It’s sour but sweet and too much. Her eyes start to sting and before she can stop it, a small sob slips between her lips.

Abetah turns. “Do not blame yourself, dear. You’re doing everything you can, I know.”

11 shakes her head. The piece of apple is still in her mouth but she can’t swallow it.

“Sometimes,” says the old woman with a broken smile, “things must fall apart a little before they can be put back together again. I've always believed that. Yue'ling does, too.”

11 bites her lower lip. “I need to go,” she says, and races down the stairs before the floodgates open.

The streets are busy with people and carriages. 11 hurries without looking up, shouldering past annoyed citizens and adventurers alike. She hears some people gossiping about the oncoming tourney for the Gate Captains, but right now, taking part is the last thing on her mind.

She rounds a corner and walks straight into a bearded face.

“Nranhana’s belly button!” a short man yells as he tumbles onto his back.

“Shoot.” 11 reaches down to help the dwarf up. “I’m so very sorry…” she begins, then frowns as she recalls his name. “Umm... Safir Silverbeard, Dwarf of Fortune, Hero of Peddlers, and -”

Safir guffaws as he takes 11's hand. “Dear me, lassie, it’s good to see you are still well and humorous!” He pats gravel off his tattered robes and regards 11 with smiling eyes, which darken as he takes in the sight of her.

“Is everything alright? You look like you’ve caught the most vicious of maladies.”

“I’m fine,” says 11 a bit too quickly. “How was… that cup?”

Safir’s face brightens. “Aye, you were right, lassie. It was a fake. Cursed swindler tried to pull the sheep’s skin over me eyes.” He reaches over and gives 11’s arm an affectionate pat. “Good thing Nranhana placed you in my path, ey? Once more it seems and quite literally this time!”

The dwarf’s joy is infectious. 11 starts to feel the edges of her grief starting to wear.

It doesn’t last, though.

“I was just on my way to pay a visit to an old friend,” says Safir. “And give this to her little girl.” He holds up an oily bag.

The scent of raw coffea cherries is overwhelming.

It’s too much then. Tears trail down 11's cheeks, rolling over her fumbling fingers as she tries to push them back.

“Nranhana’s elbow,” says Safir, running up to gather 11 as she collapses to her knees. “Whatever is the matter, lassie? Is it these seeds? They can have quite the potent scent.”

“It's Yue’li,” says 11. She shoves her palms against her eyes but she can’t stop what’s happening, can't stop the heartache tearing her apart.

“I lost her.”

“You know Yue’ling?” Safir asks, sounding bewildered and concerned at the same time.

11 answers by crying harder.

“Come, come,” says Safir, helping her up and towards a nearby bench in the shade. He sits her down and lets her lean into him.

“Tell me everything.”

11 buries her face in that fuzzy, warm beard, and does just that.

Once she's relayed the events of the past week with Safir, 11 watches as the dwarf ponders for a long time in silence. He sits with his elbows propped on his knees and his chin resting on his clasped hands. Still as stone, he gazes out at the passing crowds.

"I see," he says.

Behind them, the river masks the sounds of their words, but 11 still notices many passersby are deliberately slowing as they pass, trying to glimpse into this strange sight of a girl confiding in a dwarf.

“It’s my fault,” she whispers.

“I was wondering why she didn't come to the marketplace,” says Safir.

11 twists the hem of her shirt. “I should’ve done something sooner. I could’ve torn them to shreds before any of them lifted a finger at Yue’li.”

Safir runs a hand through his silvery beard. The coffea seeds sit untouched on the ground. He snatches it up suddenly as if preparing to throw it or dash it against the walls. But after a heartbeat, he tucks it into his discolored robe.

"The past is unchangeable," he says, "or we'd all be peddling regret pills. What have you on their whereabouts?”

“Barely anything,” 11 says miserably. “All I know is that an enchanted smoke bomb was used, and there may or may not be a sorceress called Hephoene who may or may not know anything.”

Safir looks at her surprised. “You know of the Mistress of Mischief?”

“Um,” 11 says. “Sort of?” She takes out the jewelry case with the bird feather. “I have this as well. I can’t say who gave it to me, but I’m fairly certain she was being truthful.”

Safir is quiet. 11 glances up to see him staring at the feather with wide eyes.

“You have an invitation,” he whispers, and then with startling speed reaches over, shuts the case tight, and pushes it back into 11’s pocket. He then glances down both ways of the street before turning to 11 with an expression that’s equal parts alarmed and awed.

“Hold on to that dearly, lassie,” he says. “It is a coveted thing among the initiated.”

“Initiated?” says 11. “It’s just a feather.”

“Nay, nay, nay,” says Safir. “But we must not talk about it here. Tell me, do you hold any secrets, lassie?”

11 looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean secrets,” says Safir. “Things no one else in the realm knows but you.”

“I… What does that have to do with anything?”

“Your answer tells me much,” says Safir. “Good. Then we have a real chance to learn something.” He gets up and offers a hand to 11. “We must get going. And quickly.”

“I still don’t understand,” says 11. She takes the dwarf’s hand. Rough but warm, his thick fingers encompass all of hers. “What do you mean by we?”

Safir pulls 11 to her feet. “I may not look it,” he says, “but this old fool has quite the number of adventures under this here belt.” He slaps his bulging stomach. “Methinks there is room enough in here for one more.”

The news lightens 11’s spirit considerably. But before she can thank him, Safir’s joviality sobers.

“Do not get me wrong, lassie,” he says. “I am not doing this for the thrill. Little Yue’ling is the second-most important person in my life. Should the time ever come, I wish you’ll understand if I place her safety above everyone else’s. Yours including.”

“I’ll be doing the same,” 11 says.

Safir grins. “We are going to get along just fine, lassie. Let us be off. But first, I shall do the right thing and pay Abetah a visit. Goddesses are good, because I just so happen to have my famous Chili powder with me today. Time to see if this old fool still knows how to cook, ey?”

Safir begins in the direction of the bakery. Standing tall, the dwarf barely reaches 11’s chest, but watching him stride purposefully through the crowds, she sees the back of a giant.