Azela Incarnate

When Azela woke, Catherine was already deep in a conversation with Phoenix at the table in the kitchen. Morning light filtered through the paper walls, scattering on jewels and filling the room with color. The air held the lingering scent of something brewed and bitter.

Nearby, a small girl with blond hair sat cross-legged on the floor, absorbed in a board game laid out between them.

Sitting up, Azela checked her hair with her hands. Whatever the mermaids had done to it was wearing off, but not completely. She was able to pat it into place without a brush, and in doing so noticed that it still felt silky and smooth at the ends.

"Hello," she said to the little girl.

The little girl looked up. She pushed the game board toward Azela with both hands. "I'm Tisha," she said. "You wanna play?"

Azela glanced toward Phoenix and Catherine. They hadn't noticed she was up yet. Then she looked back at the board, with its painted squares and worn wooden pieces, and Tisha's expectant face above it. The morning could wait a little longer. "Okay," she said. "Teach me how."

Tisha explained the rules with patient thoroughness. Azela listened, nodding at what she hoped were the right moments. The little girl had clearly tried to teach adults before who didn't pay attention, and eyed each nod with suspicion.

They had fun, but losing to Tisha twice was enough for Azela. Neither game was close. She got up and joined the other adults.

On one side of the table was the wizard's staff that Catherine had obtained the night before, now split in two lengthwise and surrounded by notes in Catherine's handwriting. Azela didn't know what she was planning to do with it.

Also laid out were the coins the merchant had paid for escorting him. "So, how much is that worth?" Azela asked, pointing to them.

"Not enough for a room at the inn," Catherine told her.

"You won't need one," Phoenix said. "You'll be staying here."

Azela pulled out a chair and sat. "What else have we found out?" She didn't want to bring up Rachael if Catherine hadn't yet.

"We have a few leads," Catherine said. "A library we can't get into. An academy we'd need to enroll in to access anything. And wizards that don't tell anyone anything without good reason."

"Catherine just finished telling me about your situations," Phoenix added. "Quite an adventure you had getting here."

Azela looked between them. "Well, now that we are actually here, I feel more than a bit lost. What do we even do now?"

Catherine gave it a moment of thought. "Our best bet is to talk to people in the academy or find work for one of the sorcerers. Only sorcerers have access to the kind of knowledge we seek."

Phoenix leaned forward. "I have another idea. Catherine said that there were records missing in Jastria's library?"

Azela nodded. "I overheard librarians speak about it. Something about an attack and escapees. And names. Sierrix and Evisceron."

"You mean the God-Dragon Sierra?"

"No, it was said like the name itself was a secret, with an 'ix' at the end. But I'm pretty sure I could have looked up whatever I wanted about Sierra."

"Hmm." Phoenix put a hand to her chin. "If you remember the dates of what they're covering up, I think I know how you two can find what you're looking for. The library in the center of the village is off-limits to most and has top-notch security. But the museum next to it is so big that the higher-ups can't always tell who's got proper access and who doesn't. You could probably get really far just by lying and pretending you belong there."

Catherine nodded slowly. "The mystics and historians in Pandoria's museum are why I thought to come here in the first place. I've heard that they chronicle every single important event that they can, to the point of eccentricity."

"They use an enchanted mirror," said Phoenix. "It lets them see into the past. Anywhere, anytime, as long as you point the mirror to where you want to see. They take it to historical locations and see events exactly as they happened." She gestured toward her own mirror on the wall. "Can you imagine the kind of mischief you could get up to with that kind of power?"

"So if we could get into their records, or get our hands on that mirror..." Catherine's eyes drifted, unfocused.

Azela pointed a thumb at her friend and said to Phoenix, "I know that look. She already has like, six or seven plans in her head."

Catherine laughed. "Only three or four. And that doesn't solve the problem of my sword."

"Couldn't you just toss it in the ocean or something?" Phoenix asked.

"It's not that simple." Catherine leaned back and looked at the paper ceiling. "I have to unlink it from my mind, but I don't want it to fall into the wrong hands and I don't want it to turn anyone else into a victim. I'll have to learn more about it before I can know what to do next. Perhaps I can pass myself off as a student at the academy."

"You might not have to," said Phoenix. "My sister is a student there. She may be willing to help."

Catherine and Azela looked at each other, then back to Phoenix.

"What is your sister's name?" Catherine asked.

"It's Rachael. But don't worry, I'll talk to her."

"Is that her, over there?" Azela asked, nodding toward the painting Catherine had found the night before.

"Yes." Phoenix tilted her head. "Why? You're acting a bit strange."

"If she ever lived in Misyrea, I've already met her," said Catherine.

Phoenix sat back. Something shifted in her expression. "Really? Such a small world we live in." She shook her head, and let some of the venom she felt slip into her next words. "I'm glad she's not in that cult anymore."

* * *

The library and museum both sat at the far end of Pandoria's main street, wide enough to be recognized from a distance. The street itself was made of stones worn smooth by generations of feet. It was flanked on either side by vendor stalls and hanging lanterns that swayed in the coastal wind.

Traders called out from their stalls. Children ran about freely and threaded between adult legs. People carried ledgers and bundled herbs and instruments she did not have names for. Azela was surprised to see people who weren't sorcerers floating about doing whatever sorcerers did, but it only made sense that a village needed more than that to function. Even a place like Pandoria still needed bakers, blacksmiths, and shops. It looked, at a glance, like any other busy village.

The library's columns were visible from where they stood. They were dark with age and carved with script that caught the light strangely. The museum beside it was wider and more open. Its face was less forbidding. If they stood in the right spot, the academy was also visible, but it was on a hill in the distance.

They wore clothes borrowed from Phoenix, which fit well enough. Catherine was glad to have full pants again, but since they were trying to blend in, she missed her leather jacket. Without it she felt slightly less herself. Azela had chosen only a blue and black robe. She was fairly confident it wasn't going to change color on her, and it was something that could let her walk around barefoot without anyone noticing.

The two did their best to blend in as they gradually drifted closer to the library, stopping at a fruit stall long enough to look like they belonged there. Catherine turned a piece of unfamiliar fruit over in her hand as if she were weighing its merits.

A figure was sweeping the steps in front of a merchant's stall across the road. Its broom moved in slow, mechanical strokes that barely lifted from the stone, back and forth across the same narrow strip with joyless repetition. Azela might have mistaken it for someone ground down by a long shift and a bad week. But then she noticed its shirtless back.

There were clear signs of wings that had been removed.

The trousers were also low enough that she could see the blunt, healed end of a removed tail. It kept sweeping the same strip of stone in silence, head hanging, eyes fixed on nothing. The broom reached the end of its strip and reversed without hesitation, the same arc, the same pressure, going nowhere.

She tugged Catherine's shoulder and said her name.

"I see it," Catherine said.

There was a second one further up the street, carrying a crate out of a doorway with the same flat, unthinking steadiness. A third was moving somewhere in the alley between two buildings. The same mechanical quality ran through all of them. Their clothes were mismatched and unremarkable, dressed with whatever was available just so they wouldn't be naked. No one around them paid them any attention.

"Those are dregs," Azela said. "Are they dead or alive? I can't tell."

Catherine could see how horrified Azela was at the sight of them, and put a comforting hand on her back. "Keep moving." She started walking again. Azela fell into step beside her, close enough that their arms nearly touched.

"They're using them as slaves," Azela said quietly. "This doesn't seem right."

"I agree," said Catherine. "Even if they are monsters." She kept her eyes forward. "But how did they get them out of the Void?"

They passed the sweeping figure. Up close, Azela could see that its claws had been extracted. The jolt of discomfort she felt made her turn away. One of her hands found the other unconsciously and rubbed her own fingernails.

A small child ran past the dreg, chasing a wooden toy. The dreg did not react. The child did not look at it.

Catherine watched the child disappear around a corner. "The people here are used to them."

The library was ahead of them now, a high building with barred windows and a sigil above the door that glowed faintly even in daylight. Azela looked at it for a moment, then toward the museum.

She spotted what appeared to be elflings among the human races, but every guard she saw was sapien. She was certain that, with the right timing, she could reach the walls unseen and still have time to spare. From there, she could scale the stone at one of the many sections left unwatched and slip inside through a window.

The guards would be none the wiser, but the people on the street would see her immediately. She would have to do it at night or in the early morning. Her sapien companion, however, would not be able to keep up. And she wasn't likely to approve of her going in alone.

Catherine produced a small folded paper from her pocket and studied a hand-drawn street layout Phoenix had given them that morning. Her eyes moved across it, considering plans of her own.

"Let's go back for now," pleaded Azela. "Please?"

Catherine put an arm around her. "Alright," she said, already turning them gently back the way they had come. "We've seen enough. We should wait for Rachael's response to Phoenix's letter before we do anything rash."

* * *

Tisha was quite intelligent for someone so young, as she soon demonstrated by defeating Catherine at chess when they got back. And she was clever in other ways, as Azela found out by playing a few outdoor games with her, all of which Tisha also won.

In fact, for the rest of the day they managed to accomplish nothing except to entertain the girl, who already treated them like family. Catherine didn't complain. She knew that it was probably good for Azela, since she couldn't remember her own childhood. And if she was honest, it was probably good for her as well, though she would not have said so.

Everyone seemed to come to the unspoken conclusion that telling Tisha about her father and grandfather should wait. After all, she hadn't seen them in a very long time, and the news about their demise was something they would have to handle delicately.

As night snuck up on them and Tisha went upstairs to bed, they once more found themselves at the table. The candle between them had burned down considerably. Outside, they could hear the coastal wind.

Catherine motioned toward the stairs. "She's sapien."

"Like her mother," said Phoenix.

"Glitchen and sapiens aren't supposed to be able to breed," Azela said. "Glitchen aren't human. We're not even born the same way."

"But Lance himself had a human father. You didn't find that strange?"

"I assumed he wasn't his biological father."

Phoenix looked out the window. "It's one of life's mysteries. I didn't exactly ask for specifics."

"How did you even know Lance?" Catherine asked.

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. She turned her own cup slowly, watching the candlelight move across the surface of the tea inside it. "We were adventurers, moving in similar circles. It's more common down south, away from the mysts. The damn things used to be everywhere. Some rolled across the land, coming and going like any other weather, but many just sat in place, making miles of land uninhabitable. Then, over the past few years, they all began moving slowly toward the mountains, gathering around that big black orb. And what they left behind…" She smiled and spread her arms. "Ruins of past aeons! Pieces of alien worlds! Insane dreamscapes beyond imagination!"

"That sounds awesome," Azela said.

Phoenix laughed. "We certainly thought so. But there wasn't just treasure. The mysts left behind monsters as well. Horrors and wonders in equal measure. It's not a profession for the faint of heart." She sipped her tea. "We were both hired for an expedition. It's a long story; I can dig up my journals of it later. But by the end, we were the only survivors, and we trusted each other in ways that few ever do."

Catherine nodded. "Adventures have a way of doing that, I've learned."