Skylar looked up as Mistress Stelancia entered the baishin and took off her cloak. Skylar sobbed, the dull pain in her mouth and limbs an every present agony. Mistress Stelancia moved in front of Skylar and stared at her silently, her fists on her hips and her face grim.

"You leave my house today, little one," She said softly. "You move from my hands to the hands of another," she turned and began to gather up clothing that had been left in the baishin while she was gone by one of the craftsmen. "I will dress you and escort you but you would do well to listen to my warnings, little one."

Skylar nodded, thinking to herself that she'd do anything if it meant having the barbed jewelry removed.

"You will be turned over to House Ralvden, an ancient house of the Arch-Duchy of Alben. There you will learn to control your powers, undoubtedly beneath the hand of their mistress of the arcane," Stelancia said, turning with a complex top made up of mist-silk with thread woven from morning dew, the slate gray cloth would keep Skylar cool and resist burning or charring from mage-fire. "I must warn you, little one, that their mistress of the arcane may not be as loving and gentle as I am."

Skylar moaned in fear and pain at the idea of someone hurting her more than Stella had over a simple argument. She hadn't even done anything, really, it was all Jack's fault that the explosion happened. She had rightfully called out his racism and toxic masculinity and he'd somehow reacted with typical male aggression and caused the explosion. Of course, Skylar heard that he hadn't even been punished, his male privilege insulating him from punishment like had been laid upon her.

"House Ralvden's mistress of the arcane bears the markings of having fought in the Lich King War, and she undoubtedly assisted her sister, Warlord Bloody Elshon, in the civil war here in Alben. She may be a harsh and unforgiving task master, little one, but if you remain attentive and follow her instructions, you should learn far more than I could ever teach you," Stelancia told Skylar.

Skylar winced at the thought of being treated even more harshly than Stelancia had treated her. Stelancia had struck her, ignored Skylar's dietary preferences, made Skylar be naked even if Stelancia's friends came to visit, had yelled at Skylar, and abused her in many other ways.

Stelancia helped Skylar sit up and carefully dressed the young Xue'nghozi in the outfit Stelancia's cousin had dropped off. The cloth was mage rated, highly prized and expensive, and the outfit was designed to provide some modesty while allowing for the most heat transfer to keep a mage from overheating.

Skylar looked down and felt mortified by how much flesh the outfit showed. The tops of her breasts were bare, her thighs were uncovered although wrapped in sheer silk. It felt like a two piece bikini with sheer materials wrapped around her thighs, her midriff, and acting as sleeves. Skylar felt over-exposed and whined, trying to cover herself.

Stelancia watched the girl try to cover herself and sighed heavily. The outfit was more than acceptable, demure for a young mage, and the mist-silk would augment Skylar's own perspiration with small drops of morning dew and mist. Stelancia had seen female human arcane weilders wear much less, or wear much more stylized outfits that exposed more skin.

Her body modesty is stronger than a forgekin's, Stelancia sighed to herself.

"Stand up, little one," Stelancia ordered. Skylar nodded, standing slowly, sobbing and wincing at the pain of the barbs tearing at her muscles.

"I'll warn your again, little one, be very very careful with your new teacher," Stelancia warned, using her own arcane power to detach the heavy iron ring from the wall so that she could lead Skylar to the wagon that would take her to Elshon's court. "Your new teacher is a devotee to the inner mysteries. I am powerful and knowledgeable, but your new mistress knows things that most mortals are not allowed to even wonder about."

Skylar nodded, still sobbing as she was led out into the morning sun. She winced at the sudden bright light, startled that the clouds and ever present rain had vanished, leaving a clear blue morning sky.

Looking up, she gasped at what she could see in the sky. A ring. She could see that it was made up of large chunks of white, with a band of dust.

This world has a ring around it! Skylar thought to herself. She tried to sink down to her knees and sob, but Stelancia yanked on the ring, forcing her up. I'm never going to get home. This isn't Earth and I want to go home. I was supposed to go to college, start dating Ryder, and lead humanity to a Golden Age with my Indigo Child powers, Skylar thought as she sobbed and followed Stelancia to the wagon.

With another glance at the stripe of shattered rock and white dust across the sky, she climbed into the wagon, letting her head hang and staring at the floor of the wagon as she cried, her tears falling to the wooden floor.

I just want to go home, Skylar sobbed to herself.

In the massive sledge six rows back Ryder raised his head, staring at the iron masks of the women surrounding him. One of the small women was gently drying his head with a soft cloth, his skin sensitive from having his head shaved again.

"You must travel unclad, Black Rider," The tiny women said behind their masks, their words blending and mixing into a choral whisper. "While it is lewd to ones such as we, it would be unwise for you to enter the presence of Warlord Bloody Elshon clad in your true skin."

Ryder nodded, the knowledge of proper ettiquette coming back to him. He could remember entering the court of lords and kings, warlords and chieftans, over and over, learning how to comport himself and the proper methods of greeting and meeting.

"Your true skin is out there somewhere, Black Rider. Eventually you shall be clad, but that is beyond our sight," The tiny women said as Ryder was helped to his feet by braids of hair woven with barbed metal and shards of rune-glass. "You take your first steps upon the path of shattered destiny and riven fate."

They urged him to turn and move toward the exit of the massive sledge, to leave the House of Steel and Blood, but he resisted, turning to look at the block of gray stone in one corner.

A nude phealani was curled in the fetal position on top of the block, shivered, her body covered in sweat, her face twisted in torment. Blood was pooled around her head from where it had flowed from now-empty eye sockets. Her fingernails and the ends of her fingers were bloody from where she had removed her own eyes.

Ryder took a step toward her and felt the braided hair of the half dozen iron masked witches around him wrap around his torso and limbs. He brought up his warfire, ignoring the braids attempting to bind him, and moved toward the shivering young/old phaelani. He ignored the whispers of consternation and alarm as he moved over to stand over her.

This one had been unmasked, had fed him with her own fingers, had smiled at him as he sipped at the cup of cool liquid she had held for him to drink out of. During the eternal moments Ryder had learned what it meant to be war-fired, she had been kind to him.

Ryder brushed the phaelani's hair from her temple, bent down, and gently kissed her feverish skin before straightening up and laying his hand on her shoulder.

"I will miss you, little sister," He said, staring at her.

She had seen sights not meant for young witches, had witnessed things not meant for the unmasked, and Ryder hoped she would pass through her own trials as she had helped him pass through his.

Ryder turned and let the witches lead him from the House of Steel and Blood, into the bright and sunny morning.

He looked to the sky and saw the ring. For a moment he relived a memory that was not his of looking up at the large white moon right as it crumbled apart silently in the night sky. Ryder blinked and the memory was gone but the ring remained.

The witches merely stood with him, watching carefully.

They had all seen the silvery handprint he had left behind on their youngest sister's flesh.

Ryder looked around, noting the buildings surrounding the large open space. The baishin and the large working sledges were all pulled into rings, many of them had humans removing wheels or jacking the wagons up to perform repairs.

"I'm ready, mother," Ryder said, looking at the oldest witch.

The witch nodded, her black iron mask unreadable. She didn't understand his words, but she understood him regardless.

The witches led him to a wagon where Ryder saw Skylar huddled up, staring at the floor, their hair caressing his skin as they emulated heavy shackles and chains with their own ways of binding.

Ryder understood the heavy jewelry adorning Skylar's skin immediately. The heavy bronze and copper to restrain and bind her arcane fire and titan fire. The heavy iron ring in the phaelani's hand called out to him, promising to bind even the strongest witch to him should he braid her hair into the ring and seal the ring to his armor.

When the braids slithered off his skin he found he missed them, that he felt far more naked than his loincloth made him feel. He felt slightly embarrassed, as if he was exposing himself in public. Still, he climbed into the wagon and sat down toward the back.

His instinct, his new instincts, had him sit at the back so that he could easy jump out of the wagon and be ready if...

...if...

...if they were attacked on the street by armed brigands or soldiers of...

or soldiers.

Ryder relaxed, let the conflicting and confusing memories pass through him.

The oldest witch climbed into the wagon with him, a thick braid of hair, woven of smaller braids, sliding up Ryder's back to gently wrap around his throat.

Ryder relaxed, feeling less exposed, less naked, when he felt the wire and hair wrap around his throat. His warfire dimmed, receded, until it couldn't be seen in the bright sunlight.

Skylar looked up, her eyes widening.

"Ryder, help me, please," Skylar said.

Ryder looked over her jewelry, looked at the phaelani holding the ring Skylar's hair was braided and tied to, and looked around.

An unbound, untrained mage is dangerous, not only to themselves, but to everyone and everything around them, his 'mother's' voice floated up in his memories.

"No," Ryder said, his voice stern. "You must submit, Skylar. In submission comes mastery over yourself and your powers."

A lesson Ryder had learned in the House of Steel and Blood.

Skylar looked past Ryder. "If you won't help me, Jack will," She said, trying to put a cutting tone into her words but failing to much more than whine.

Ryder managed to keep his lip from curling at her weakness.

Not far away Jack leaned forward to kiss each of the phaelan gathered up to wish him good luck for the future. Some had worn lip stain or gloss that tingled, sparked, or left a pleasant aftertaste. More than a few parted their lips enough to touch tongues. Many of them put their hands on either side of his face and threw themselves into the kiss.

Jack was unashamed of the tears on his face. He'd miss them all. He'd miss the games, the stories, the singing, and their company. He gazed wistfully at the complex board of Consortium that sat unfinished in Matron Dulgarzia's baishin. Part of him wished he could stay with Matron Oldami and Matron Dulgarzia, play Consortium, learn more about her people, and enjoy the company of the small people.

Jack stood up and turned around, holding out his hands. Matron Oldami took his right hand, Matron Dulgarzia his left, and Craftsman Markathik opened the door to reveal a bright sunny morning outside the baishin.

I wish I didn't have to go, Jack thought to himself again.

Matron Oldami could sense Jak's reluctance through his body language and the slight tension in his body. She patted his arm and tugged gently.

"The court of Ralvden awaits you, Little Jak," Matron Oldami said gently as she led him into the sunlight. "While I wish you could stay your fate and destiny are interwoven with House Ralvden and Alben for the near future."

"Do not fear, Little Jak," Matron Dulgarzia said, patting his other arm. "You will always be welcome in my baishin, just remember that."

Jack nodded, stepping out and into the sunlight. He blinked a few times and then looked up.

The Walk of the Gods, he thought. His eyes sought out the largest chunk of white and saw it a few handspans over the eastern horizon. The Throne of the Gods, he thought when he saw it. He had heard the tales of how only fifty years ago, during the carnage of the Lich King War, the moon had suddenly crumbled, many places suffering under impacts from debris, but most of the wreckage staying in orbit around each of the Six Worlds.

That alone further verified to Jack that he was nowhere near Earth. He could see the glimmer of the red moon and the blue moon even with the daylight.

The tides here have to be difficult to predict. That would have slowed their exploration of the seas as well as inhibited seafaring, Jack mused, staring at the white ring.

It was beautiful in a strange way. A wispy band of white two fingers wide, scattered with gleaming spots of larger debris. Sunlight gleamed off of some of the debris and the Throne of the Gods seemed to sparkle.

"Come, Little-Jak," Oldami said.

Jack sighed, giving Matron Dulgarzia's baishin another wistful look and waving sadly at the phaelan who had gathered up to wish him well.

Jack turned his attention to the buildings surrounding the Consortium. He could read the signs proclaiming metal working, baishin repair, leather working, wood working, everything needed to maintain the vehicles and animals of the massive caravan. The doors and shutters were open, showing wares in every shop. The sides were open of the smithies, exposing the metalworkers and blacksmiths to Jack's curious gaze. The ringing of blacksmithing, the chanting calls of children on the steps of stores to come shop at that store over others, the sound of the animals, all combined into a heady, intoxicating mix that made Jack wish he could wander around the square and investigate almost everything.

Instead, he followed Matron Oldami and Matron Dulgarzia to a wagon being pulled by six white mules.

Jack was surprised to see Ryder Black sitting at the tailgate of the wagon, his head shaved bare and gleaming in the morning sunlight. Ryder was dressed only in a crude fur loincloth under a thick leather belt with a heavy iron buckle. A phaelani wearing tattered rages and an iron mask was sitting next to him, her hair around Ryder's neck. Jack noticed that Ryder seemed distant, distracted, his face stern.

Beyond Ryder was Skylar, bent over and hugging herself, her face turned to look at Jack. Jack could see heavy bronze and copper jewelry on her, could see the play of arcane around the edges of the jewelry, like blue electricity arcs, and could see the misery on her face.

We are done! rang in his head.

"Jack, help me," Skylar said.

Jack remembered how Oldami's beautiful and comfortable baishin had exploded, how easily the phaelan who had been on the bed as well as Oldami could have all been killed when Skylar had attempted to force him to obey her with her magic.

Take your medicine, Indigo Child, Jack thought to himself.

Instead of answering Skylar, who repeated her request, Jack looked at his long time friend Ryder, nodding as he stopped near his friend.

"Ryder," Jack said, a little tentative. Ryder looked a lot different than he had. While Ryder had always been in shape, spending time in the gym, Ryder looked stronger, more defined, his muscles looked harder. His black hair shaved away made Ryder's strong features stand out more.

"Jack," Ryder nodded, his voice distracted and distant yet solemn. Ryder pointed at the seat across from him. "Join us, if you would."

Jack noted how formal Ryder sounded and wondered what he had gone through at the hands of the iron masked phaelani sitting next to him.

"A moment," Jack said. He knelt down, facing Matron Dulgarzia. "I will miss you," He said. Matron Dulgarzia put her hands on either side of Jack's face and kissed him. Jack turned to Matron Oldami, who copied Matron Dulgarzia's actions.

"I will miss you most of all," Jack said, tears starting again.

"I will miss you too, Little Jak," Oldami said, wiping her eyes. "You are always welcome in my baishin and in my bed."

Jack kissed Oldami again, then climbed up into the wagon.

"Why won't you help me, Jack?" Skylar sobbed as the wagon started moving.

Jack looked away, staring at Matron Oldami until the wagon turned a corner to go down a wide boulevard.