Sundeera marvels at the strange set-up of the Wiovan’s arena. Instead of a stage or platform surrounded by spectators, there are several tanks scattered throughout the room, everything but the very tops and bottoms obscured by dark, starry curtains. Several clumps of people gather in various numbers as individuals mill about from group to group as if at a party.

“At least the Wiovan are living up to their secretive reputation,” Kywen says as she walks to an open area near the back.

Sundeera follows, trying to take in each face without looking directly at anyone. Her plan to head back to the outskirts of the festivities had failed miserably, Kywen immediately insisting upon visiting the Wiovan’s arena in return for missing out on the opportunity to try and join them. She didn’t need their current connection to know that trying to talk her out of it would be useless.

The steady crash of waves outside the arena creates a rhythmic pulse that only adds to Sundeera’s discomfort. After a few moments, her mouth begins to water heavily. She raises her scarf above her nose for relief, wondering if something about this ritual is responsible for the thick salt content in the air.

A small boy offers the girls a wooden bowl filled with a murky liquid, motioning for them to drink. He looks amused by their puzzled faces.

“Just take a sip, okay? It’ll help to ignore the salty air. We need a ton of salt to attract the creatures!”

A small spark of static sizzles at his ear, and he gives a small yelp.

“Oops. Wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

The girls take turns drinking from the bowl, and as promised, the uncomfortable salt tang begins to fade. The boy trots off just as a bell chimes from outside the tent, and a man in deep purple robes walks to the center of the room. When he turns in her direction, Sundeera can see the faint blue glow coming from his oversized sleeves.

“The next round of candidates shall gather upon the dais now.” His voice is deep and rumbles hypnotically in her ears.

Several people shuffle around, but only four bidders come forward. Each one looks to be a different age, though all four stand at about the same height.

“Ah, we may be reaching the end of our visit. This has been quite the experience,” he says as he walks up to the nearest child and places his hand upon her shoulder. “Listen well, children, for I will not repeat myself. Upon my signal, your test shall begin. You have one, and only one, opportunity. Failure is as eternal as the circle you four stand within now.” He walks up to the remaining three children, placing a hand on their shoulder one by one before returning to the center and clasping his hands behind his back. “To begin, follow the marked path into the sea. Once you’ve reached the buoy, swim back and await further instructions.”

Raising both hands into the air, he snaps, and the air crackles with electricity.

A voice rises into the air from outside the tent, soft and feminine, chanting just loud enough for everyone inside to hear. The singer shifts her monotonous intonations to an enchanting melody that quickly grows in volume as the bidders walk forward.

The unseen woman’s voice is lovely, and Sundeera is surprised to find herself pressing her hands to her chest. A tugging sensation begins to pull from her navel and up into her ribcage until it starts to bloom into an intensely familiar ache.

A flash of anger darts across her awareness, and even though it dies down as quickly as it flared, it’s enough to shatter Sundeera’s concentration. Whatever the song had reminded her of is gone as she watches Kywen from the corner of her eye, unable to see anything but the disappointment she feels in being excluded from this mysterious ritual. Guilt quickly shuttles itself across the tether in both directions, and Sundeera is only barely able to stop herself from flinching when Kywen grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

The last of the bidders walks out of the tent, her hands trembling violently enough for the tremors to visibly ripple up her arms.

Kywen leans over and pokes her in the ribs, “At least we get to watch, right?”

Sundeera nods, and the tension in her shoulders begins to ebb out.

The singing continues for several minutes until the tent flaps open and each candidate shuffles in, covered from head to toe in a dark blue shroud and leaving a trail of sea water behind them. Four Wiovan members peel away from the group and begin to attend to the children as soon as they settle next to a tank, helping them climb in while remaining concealed from the onlookers. The heavy curtains then prevent anyone from seeing inside once they close the lid.

Kywen leans over to whisper in her ear, “Are they drowning them or something?”

Sundeera giggles and shrugs her shoulders. “I feel like someone would have stopped them by now.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, the tank nearest the far wall brightening with a noble blue that shimmers against the ceiling. The Wiovan sitting clustered on the far end clap softly as they wait to see who is let out.

The youngest boy emerges, sputtering and coughing but sporting a wide grin as his eyes twinkle. Someone drapes a towel over his shoulders, careful not to cover his hands as they pulsate and swirl with alternating flashes of blue tones.

A second tank lights up to the left, this time in a spray of coppers and golds. Sundeera looks over to the Wiovan, expecting their gentle clapping once again, but she is surprised to find them with their mouths hanging open instead.

Seconds tick by until someone finds their voice.

“Impossible! It’s always blue,” a stout woman shouts.

Nervous chatter breaks out, but before anyone can generate any steam, the metallic aura sputters and goes dark. The wind outside shrieks with a sudden ferocity, silencing the entire room. A booming gust swings the tent flaps inside on both ends, and they snap sharply as they whip against the interior walls.

A warm white light shoots out from the tank and quickly shifts to a soft teal, and the crowd settles down, their curiosity over which child will come out victorious outranking their previous concern of improper color.

The older girl who emerges has the same wide-eyed twinkle, but she isn’t smiling. Her arms tremble, and her skin breaks out in a wave of gooseflesh while they display her hands and drape her with a towel.

The initial bell chimes again, and the other two children are let out of their tanks, falling to their knees and spitting water between half-restrained sobs. They quickly accept, with terribly disappointed faces, the same plain hands they went in with as they stand, trying to gather themselves with some semblance of pride. The man in purple pays them no mind, and they slink back into the crowd to be soothed or chastised by their friends and family.

“Congratulations,” he says, beaming at the two successful children in front of him. “You are Wiovan now. What is done cannot be undone. We leave shortly, but you may have a moment to say your good-byes. No one may accompany you, not even nexum or wombkin.”

A few gasps ripple through the room, and Sundeera can't tell if the newest Wiovan are pleased with or frightened by the results, but Kywen’s agitation is pouring out for the room to see. Though her arms dangle loosely to either side, the hardness in her eyes betrays her easy-going posture.

“That’s it? A song and a quick soak?” she shouts.

Sundeera winces as nearly everyone turns to look in their direction.

“Does no one else care to know what in the spirits just went on in those tanks?”

Several people look back and forth between the cluster of Wiovan and Kywen, but the Wiovan seem to consider her little more than amusing and waste no time in returning to their tasks. After such an embarrassingly ambivalent snub, the majority of the crowd suddenly find themselves unable to look in Kywen’s direction, conveniently occupied with much more pressing matters like frayed hems or dust settling upon their kaftans.

“Was all that necessary?” Sundeera says as the remaining interest wanes.

“The whole thing was a joke. Tell me this spectacle wasn’t meant to rub their silly little club’s exclusivity in our faces!”

"Did you not feel the way that song pulls at you? At something deep inside your core?" Sundeera says with a small edge to her voice.

"I didn't feel anything other than an obscene level of boredom."

She sighs, gathering her thoughts before speaking in even softer tones, “Say you joined those two in their success. Correct me if I’m mistaken, but at no point did anyone make it clear how swiftly things move after passing their little test. I wouldn’t be allowed to go with you, and I get the sense that refusal isn’t an option, either. Instant and permanent Wiovan Order status. What would be of all our plans then?”

Kywen watches the Order gather their belongings and leave the tent in pairs. “All we ever get these days are questions. I’m sick of questions!” She tries to glare at Sundeera, but she knows she isn’t fooling anyone and stalks out of the tent.

Sundeera watches her leave, waiting a few moments before following her into the night. Used to the way Kywen’s temper flares white hot before it immediately dies down to a smoulder and burns itself out, she meanders down and around the pebbly path to the edge of the rising tide to wait her out, dividing her senses between enjoying the bright glow of the foamy caps and keeping tabs on Kywen’s emotions through their tether.

Neon blues, greens, and yellows light up the water like starbursts. Intrigued by so much of the glowing material in one spot, Sundeera searches her pockets until she finds her medicine pouch and selects a half-empty vial of feverfew powder. Dumping its remaining contents onto the ground beside her, she takes a few steps across the densely-packed sand and carefully fills the vial with a small amount of sea-water, capping it tightly and holding it up to the moonlight.

For once, she feels grateful for the odd connection they've managed to forge once again, and bolstered by this new sensory information, she can’t help but smile as she spots Kywen strolling across the beach towards her, nowhere near as tense as she was when she stormed off. Kywen returns the smile and wraps her arm around Sundeera.

“I don’t know why I expected more, but what I wouldn't give for an answer. Just one,” Kywen says, poking the tip of her sandal in and out of the sand.

Sundeera had always been grateful that, unless she’s continually being poked at, Kywen rarely manages to stay grumpy for long. This day being the same as any other, Kywen’s mood continues to lift with the passing of each boat ferrying people and goods to and from the numerous ships bobbing in the glittering darkness of the Cimmerian Sea.

“The Wiovan really just showed up and left,” Kywen muses.

“Seems like it. And hey, I’m sorry you feel so disappointed, but the good news is that you didn’t look ridiculous bidding only twenty paces away from the Heir Watcher himself.”

Kywen’s head whips around.

“I could have reached out and touched him, he was so close to me. He knows about the gems, certainly, but I lost track of him after we met up. How about you finish telling me how, exactly, you got your hands on the Starfall Anklet?”

Kywen perks up and grins, only to nearly fall to the ground as her knees buckle under the sudden weight of two large hands clamping down on her shoulders.

“Starfall Anklet? You guys named it?”

Kywen stands frozen as Sundeera steps to the side and spins, her razor-sharp wind and fire wheel at Jorrel’s throat just a second before she realizes it’s him. She quickly pulls back, but doesn’t drop her defensive stance.

“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but from the way you watched my nexum back there, I should have known you’d follow us,” Sundeera says. “I hear you raided the storerooms and weaseled your way out through our tunnels. They don’t feed you enough at the Capital?”

“Show me how you made yourself look different,” Kywen blurts out as she remembers how to move and tries to pull herself from his grasp.

The Heir Watcher frowns with irritation and sighs, releasing Kywen. “I’d rather you just give me back what’s mine,” he says, eyeing Kywen's ankle.

“You tell me why you loaded a boat with our goods and I’ll hand it over, no problem,” Kywen says.

Jorrel smiles, but his eyes remain flat. “I don’t really think you’re in a position to bargain here. My reasons are mine and none of your business, but since I don’t want to cause a scene by exerting the authority we both know I have, rest easy that your excess food and supplies are going to the starving Hindari who need it.”

Sundeera blinks and swallows the reply she had ready for his refusal.

The Heir Watcher puffs out his chest, clearly amused that he rattled them with his candor. “Oh, you aren’t aware of the food shortage plaguing over half the countryside? I wonder why.”

He says nothing more and continues to soak in their reaction.

“I’m sure I would have heard something,” Kywen says, finding her voice again. “My father’s a trader-”

“I know who your father is. Shame he’s the type to carry on in such secrecy, especially keeping things from his own daughter." He shakes his head in disapproval. "Things like the fact that he's been flagged for one too many shipments arriving lighter than expected or that his smuggler friend is now wanted in three districts. If we stop making it all about you, I could go on to say that people are going hungry, and no one wants to acknowledge how bad it’s about to get. I decided to do something about it. Now, I gave you what you wanted, so hand it over.”

Kywen leans over and unclasps the anklet. It shines in the moonlight as she holds it out for him to take.

“Want to know something funny? I almost nominated you for our apprentice to get that thing back, but when you two started talking about me, I figured I’d just step in and-HEY!”

Kywen snatches the anklet back just as his fingers brush the metal. "Did you just call a powerful remnant from one of the greatest battles of our history 'that thing'?” she says and stuffs the anklet into one of her pockets. "Sounds like a good plan, Your Greatness, please honor me with such a noble nomination."

The Heir Watcher reaches out to grab her arm at the exact moment an explosion rips through the night.