The Drake of Craumont

To hunt a stalker, we must lure them out.

"Ech. How would I… that's a tricky one, Lena. Let's spin it around: how would you try and attune to Fire? I'm not sure what you know already."

Give them confidence in our contentment. Relax, ease up, bare our necks to the world.

"Well, ah… Alkhutan is the Spark. That's, that's innovation, rebellion, and… I think his third domain is change? So, if I discovered something new, or—"

"You're jumping ahead there. Sure, Alkhutan is a God of Fire, but so are Vulcanis and Amar, and change is within the domain of at least four Gods. How would you attune to Fire? Just the archetype, none of the Gods that use it."

And then, when the shadows draw close, when the dark tricks them into thinking they might slip closer… we strike.

"But… no, o-of course you can attune without a blessing. I'd need to meditate on passion, right? Passion, ambition, and the movement of heat. Metaphorical and literal heat, I think. So maybe I could…"

Not sure how we got to theology and archetypes, though. I've somehow missed a few chasm-sized leaps in the conversation, or maybe they've fallen down one while I wasn't looking. Worse, they're talking about the Archetype that wasted months of my time; if I want to breathe fire, I'd need a Fire crystal, and I'd run through them absurdly quickly.

I don't need to breathe fire, anyway. Lightning is just as cool.

"Left here," Ruby drones, pointing at the pavilion ahead of us. "All testimony of your character, Lena, has indicated you are ambitious. This should be adequate."

Lena flushes red, and Verity giggles.

"Can't just be the ambition to have Fire magic, mind you," I add with a snort. "That's just a want. You'll need a proper goal, bu—"

"I can show them how useful magic is, for doing good. For, for Service!" Lena's voice bowls over mine, and her hands curl into fists. "I want to, um. I might have to think it over… how do you become an Archmage? Like Archmage Promelia? I-is that a good ambition?"

"You're not thinking small, are you," I snort, eyes sweeping across the streets.

Gods, Lena's a perfect distraction, isn't she?

Verity and Lena bounce words back and forth, Ruby stops to ask random passerby questions, and I interject myself at steady intervals to seem engaged. Well, I am engaged, but appearing distracted from our surroundings is exactly what we need. After all, we're investigating, as Ruby is proving to the world; looking for the group that sealed the portal because not doing so would be even more suspicious.

The more focused we seem on that, and the less interested we hold in dark alleys, the more confident our stalkers will become. That’s the hope, at least. Let them draw closer, let them think they’ve slipped beneath our notice.

And overconfident prey is far easier to hunt. Once they’ve gotten too close, firm in the belief that we don’t know we’re being followed, it’ll be easy to capture them.

Click, clack. Scales meet stone, tapping in rhythm, as I pull part of my focus back to Lena.

"It's good if you want it, Lena," Verity trills, her taloned hand curled around Lena's shoulder, "But I want permission to brag about being friends with Archmage Harkness, okay?"

Lena's ears shoot straight up, to say nothing of her heartbeat. "Um— wh— I. Archmage Harkness? That sounds…"

She trails off into mumbles, and it's a good thing she's not looking my way. Verity shares a lopsided smile with me, and I won't hide my own.

"You'll need to attune to six Archetypes, not counting your native one," I say, clearing my throat. "Means you have to get one of the light archetypes, mind, but you'll figure it out. I can help with Lightning, though."

"Ice, Water, Fire, Earth, Lightning, and one of Sun, Moon, or Star," Lena rattles off, taking a shuddering breath. "Okay. I'll need to think about that. Wait, does Alchemy count? It's not a classical archetype, but I read that, hm. It meets the definitions of an archetype, same as Armament and Rune—"

She shakes her head vigorously, one hand up to hold her muffler cap in place. “Oh, and, thank you, Ivy! I’d love to learn about how you handle Lightning, you seem like a natural.”

I blink. “Took some work. I should have some Lightning crystals stored somewhere for practice.”

"Oh, Goddess, let’s go back a step. Lena, where did you read about minor archetype theory?" Verity laughs, her yellow eyes flashing to a darkened alley. "And, sorry Lena, don't ask me for the details, one of my friends talked about it and it just went right over my head."

Movement in the corner of my eye, a flash of something that flits between the stretched shadows of evening.

"—mont's library. He, ah, likes to keep up with papers from Von Arden's academies. Um, no, it’d be Ard Ardens, right? Von is the lord, Vas is the family, but Ard Ardens sounds weird. A-anyways, I don't understand all of them, but—"

Verity and I exchange glances once more, and a moment later, Lena turns just enough to peer up with one turquoise eye. Once Verity launches into her reply to whatever Lena said, Lena mouths something— how long, I think.

Mm. I pin our path to a map in my head; our curling, meandering walk that weaves past every alley and crosses constantly with Celine's usual routes. We're quite close to the edge of the Wildflower District, actually, in the section that largely survived the fire from a few years ago. Despite that, we're just under halfway through, and with our current pace…

I shrug, drop my voice to the softest I can manage, and whisper, "One hour."

Her ear twitches, and a shard of something lodges itself in her expression. She takes a steadying breath as she turns around, her voice hitching just slightly as she replies to Verity.

Goddess knows where they're going to end up next, when their conversation's meandered more than our route. My chest warms with each smile, laugh, and swerve of topic; today has stretched on and dragged Lena through far too much.

But Goddess willing, tomorrow will be a better day, because the plan is working.

Our stalkers become more than a feeling, more than a flicker in the corner of my eye. Flashes of purple as we round corners, glimpses of boots slipping into darkness when we sit down to eat a quick dinner. It’s a stew with root vegetables and fish from the river, salted well and simmered properly. Could’ve done with more seasoning... though, I have to stop mulling that over before it takes my focus away from our task.

I think one of them even trips as we stand up to leave, lurching back into the shadow and thumping audibly against someone else. Guess we’ve at least two stalkers, or one stalker and an unlucky bystander.

And bit by bit, they ease into our trap. It becomes a dance, a game of temptation; they move in, weaving around our gazes and slipping through the bustle, more and more blatant while we act the part of the fool. They stop lurking at the heads of alleys, choosing shadow but putting their backs to the wall. At times, they settle, finding a new safe pattern, and we weave through strange alleys to drag them back in. Ruby opens her journal and angles it for privacy; the stalkers angle as they walk by to catch a look. I can’t quite see them without giving up the game, but I can hear what I think is them, and Ruby’s even expression slowly creeps toward a grin.

They are ever more confident and assured, taking more and more, watching their steps but not where the dance takes them.

Not even when it’s far too late to escape. I see them, watching me far more blatantly than ever before, and tap on Ruby’s shoulder.

Nothing happens at first, of course. She takes us around a few more corners, stops to speak to five people about suspicious sightings, and even sits down to write furiously in her sheaf of notes. Verity charms them with a bright smile and kind questions, Lena asks about the bangle they all wear and learns that all five of them are wedded.

That is a proper distraction, and Ruby ending our conversation sharply for a “critical discussion?” With our prey close at hand, she has set bait to the trap, a trap they don’t even know they’re standing in.

She leads us down an alley, her stride swift, then turns down another to enter a small park. We stop under the eaves of a breathtaking young elm tree, speaking in hushed words of dinner while Ruby points at her notebook. The eyes watching us sharpen, and I have to strangle a growl before it slips free.

"There is insufficient information," Ruby says, her voice rising over the whispers, "But testimony has yielded several suspect locations. Observe."

“I think I’m seeing a pattern,” Verity replies, matching Ruby’s volume. “But there? Goddess, I wouldn’t have expected... hm.”

I raise an eyebrow at Verity, and she winks back. Hardly a subtle bait, but for curious prey...

Boots, two pairs, clicking on stone then pressing into grass, and Gods I wish I could savor this success. Two people in purple robes, walking from one alley, conversing about gardening and angling for the alley behind us. I can see the tension in their frames, hear their hearts thud with every shift of my tail. Their eyes constantly twitch to the notebook, and finally, finally, they come to a stop near another alley.

They are not as subtle as they hope to be, and not as stupid as I hoped they would be.

But they watch me like they would a chained animal, a thing behind bars—

A look I’d seen on other faces recently, on the people held by the Constables for their part in sealing the Delve. Bah.

My eyes meet Verity's, and she tilts her head. Her claws flex as she bends down to prod at Ruby's journal. Her words come out in a pleasant trill. They cling to the fringes of my thoughts, pushed aside by the plans I've had stewing.

Wards? I dive through the abstract, grit my teeth against the headache, and look. No wards, but magic hangs around their robes; likely enchantments.

Weapons? Their gait is stilted, and I can hear things clicking against each other. Glass, wood, a bit of metal. Yes to weapons, and there might be potions or crystals.

Weaknesses? I track the gap between shifting my tail and their hearts lurching. Not as long as I'd hoped; could be some degree of Mageblood. Wind magic, possibly, and their fear of me might just be worth using.

Ruby looks my way, and I nod. She glances back at Verity. One last yank, one last confirmation before the trap snaps closed.

Verity clears her throat. "Good evening! Any chance one of you lives close by?" She says, turning to look at them. "We're not quite sure where something is."

They stop seven-odd marches away from us, and their hearts sound tempted to halt with them.

The taller one looks to the shorter one. That'd be my first target, then.

"S-sorry, Lady Paladin, uh," the shorter one croaks, shaking their head. "We're on business, you see. Can't stop right now."

"Not even for a moment?" Verity says, and her smile is as brilliant as ever.

She takes a step toward them…

…and they take a step back. Eyes flicker to the alley, hands flash to seams in their robes.

Lena sighs. Her ears droop, flattening against her cap. "This isn't us," she murmurs, far too soft for our prey to hear. "This isn't what the Restoration wants."

No, it isn't. Even I know that.

Verity takes another step—

And before our prey's boots can finish their own retreat, I pounce. No Wind, no magic, not while my soul still aches, but I am more than enough. My muscles sing as the gap closes, time measured not in seconds but the thumps of my own heart.

My prey moves, eyes thrown wide, hands diving into the seams of their robes before Ruby's so much as twitched. Doesn't stop them from backing away, though; Short rocked back enough to turn, Tall's still off-balance. Focus there, then.

Seven marches becomes five, then three. My lips pull back, my teeth sharpen, the world shutters save for the battle at hand.

Tall's hand comes out with a vial, its contents gleaming red in the dying light. Fingers go slack, the vial tumbles free— intentional, no tremors or twitches. Smoke, maybe? A flash vial to blind? Their eyes are slipping shut, same as Short. This is planned, then.

A plan for me. Hah.

A tug on my Wind sends shudders down my soul, but I find myself grinning anyways. A hunt without magic, but a hunt nonetheless!

"Eyes closed!" I snarl out, tail curling.

My eyes flick to Short. They've drawn a palm-sized white disc from their robes, etched with scribbles—

The vial is just barely off the ground—

I catch the barest flicker of green light in those scribbles before I shut my eyes. Glass cracks, Fire curls, and light bleeds through my eyelids. I don't even have to slow down for it.

Then comes the sound. Hot iron pulled to a needle and thrust through my ear, shrill and sharp enough to drown out all else. The glow still presses against my eyelids, and now pain denies me my hearing. I yank the magic away from my ears, dampening the sound from agonizing to just painful.

I hiss out my frustration as my stride stutters, tail thrashing against the park's soil. I'll need to get past the flash source blind and deaf. I lose another moment to planning, to catching my balance and dripping my limited magic into my remaining senses. But my smile remains. A proper challenge, a proper way to vent a day wound tight with anger.

My tongue flicks out— longer, pointed, perfect— and through sound and darkness, I savor their sweat and fear. I can feel the tremors of their footsteps when my tail touches the ground, and Goddess guide me, it will have to be enough.

And, two heartbeats after the flash went off, I set off running. Only three steps to pass the first flash; my eyes open, snapping shadows of shapes into fleeing prey. They are afraid. I can taste their sweat on the breeze, and they bolt straight into the alley only two marches out of my reach.

But I can't hear their movements over the pervasive sharp whine. Can't plan around the clatter of metal or wood to prepare for weapons, can't track their hearts and lungs to gauge when I can lunge.

I don't think I'll need to. I know enough.

Closer. Closer. I can see the sweat trickling down their necks, taste the desperation in each ragged breath they draw.

Another vial flashes in the fading light, slipping from Tall's hand, and my eyes slam shut once more. I keep the image firmly in my mind, pushing forward, they're just barely out of reach now…

But there's no glow. No flash bleeding through my eyelids.

I crack my eyes open. My prey's gained just a bit of ground, but the corner they're slipping around won't save them.

The vial is right where I saw it before, rocking in the bend of a tiny Sun Shield. Gods, that's a good trick, Verity! Well done.

Grinning, I bolt past, swing my tail around to take the corner sharply—

The whine stops.

And the alley is empty. I can still taste their sweat on the air, but there's no heartbeats, and I can't feel their boots against the cobbled street.

Gods. What?

They’re not here.

They have to be here. People do not vanish.

I run up the alley. Nobody’s in sight. I taste the air. The trail is weaker here than where I last saw them. I push my hearing to its limit, just for a moment, and hear dozens of heartbeats... none of them fast enough save those of my friends, and none are moving away from us. Rage builds in each thrash of my tail, each loop of thought that yields no answers. My tongue flickers over lengthened canines, blood trickling down my throat.

I leap onto the wall, then push off to reach the rooftops.

Nothing here, either. The only damage is my own, and...

Goddess damn it all.

“Where did you—” I cut myself off, nearly biting my tongue in the process. The streets are near empty, where are they? Unlike my hunt of Dongbaek, they hadn't managed to slow me down by much. Even the tools meant to disorient me hadn't done so for long. They should be in my claws, pinned to the wall, spilling their secrets so that we might hunt the rest of their cowardly lot.

How did I fail? I did not let pride best me, I planned properly, and I acted carefully.

I drop back down to the alley with a thud, cracking the stones and finding no joy in it.

Maybe they’re in a sewer? No, those don’t run through alleys, they run under the streets. No, there’s no cover or entrance, and the windows in the alley are too high up to reach.

Maybe…?

"Ivy! Are you—" Verity's voice rasps across my ears, and her cough yanks at my heart. One cough becomes many, and the splatter of blood on stone is painfully audible.

That's all it takes for the hunt to flee my body. My heart steadies to a dejected march, and I'm left standing in the cold of dusk. Feelings pass to me as if through a thick fog, dulled and rosy enough that my fury is frigid rather than burning.

My mind slumps its way back to the practical, the physical, and what I can actually do following failure. Verity is slumped against the turn of the alley, teeth flashing white. Blood hangs upon her lips; yet more stains her scaled hands and mixes with the broken glass around her boots. I can hear Lena and Ruby, some marches behind and around the corner.

I check myself next, leaning into habits earned from years of Delving. No equipment to check save a knife I didn’t have time to draw. No injuries on my part, and Verity looks similarly unharmed.

Unharmed, but in pain for nothing. Because I had failed.

Taking a shuddering breath, I step forward. “Will you be alright, Verity?”

"You don't seem that mad," Verity muses, yellow-gold eyes gleaming in the shadows. "I expected a few… erg. A few broken cobblestones. I'd think of it constantly, with a tail like yours."

Her words drag a raw laugh from my lips. "That's what you're worried about, Verity? Don’t dodge the question."

"Bit late to, ach. To worry about pressure sickness," she counters, coughing into her fist. "So you think they—"

I hold up a hand, stalling her before her drying voice can give way to a worse cough. “Lena’s about to arrive.”

Verity smiles, white teeth flashing beneath tired gold eyes. “Now there’s some good news.”

"Gods! Ivy, Verity!" Lena's voice echoes down the alley, and the woman herself isn't far behind.

I open my mouth to say something, but I don't quite have time to say it. Lena storms up to me, cap as crumpled as the scowl on her lips. A red-splotched handkerchief comes up, thrust into my space and against my ear. She's a fair bit warmer than I am, enough that I have to fight back a twitch.

"Are you two alright? No, no, you’re both bleeding... I don't have any spells that could hit without hitting you," she sighs, turquoise eyes pinned to my ear. "Ah, I'll fix that for next time. Can you teach me how to dampen my hearing?"

I shouldn't tell her that she looks like an angry ball of fluff from this angle. But it's quite tempting. So I offer a smile that isn't quite a lie. "Yes, thank you, good, and yes."

Her cheeks flush red, but her eyes hold steady. "…good. Gods, though, I can't believe they escaped. Now they'll know, and…"

She shakes her head, turning towards Verity. "Verity! Gods, I'm sorry, I should've gone to you first, but I’m all over right now. Could you turn? You've got blood on you too," Lena blurts, and her handkerchief dabbing its way up Verity's neck before Verity so much as parts her lips.

And when she does, she smiles and laughs. "And here I thought it made me look dashing. Fine, fine..."

"Anyway," I cut them off with a sigh, "Let's not dance around it."

In the quiet that follows, Ruby finally catches up. Her eyes flick over us before turning to the ground, and she drops to a crouch.

"They got away," I say, as if that isn't plainly obvious. "Dongbaek almost certainly knows, and they had tools to make sure we wouldn't catch them. I'd be more mad if their escape made sense, but it doesn't."

I gesture to the ground near Verity's feet, wincing at the scattering of blood. "The scents stop there. They vanished, just like—"

"—like with Elizabeth," Verity continues, and her smile is far less bloodied this time.

"I'm beginning to think they actually vanished," I grimace, and my tail comes up in reach of my claws.

"Unlikely," Ruby cuts in, curt as always. She peers at the street, leaning to focus on a particular section. "But these escapes are unlikely. We do not have the full picture. Perhaps..."

"And there's no such thing as vanishing. Invisibility is Moon magic, and that doesn't mask smell, I think?" Lena frowns. “Maybe—”

“Then how,” I hiss, heat bleeding back in, “Did we lose them?”

A pause, long enough for Craumont’s sound to filter back in. Gods, I’m sick of this nonsense. Sick of impossibilities, sick of the truth being dangled just out of reach. And this time, I have no excuses; I simply failed when failure wasn’t possible. We failed.

“And they’ll be more prepared next time,” I grind out, turning away from everyone. I run a claw over my tail, anchoring myself in the clicks and clacks. “There was the whistling... thing, and in a closer fight it’d be a risk. Flash vials could blind us, and Gods know what else they’ll have next. We don’t know, and we don’t know what we don’t know. Ech.”

In warmer moments, I might smile at my own wordplay. Now, I just hope my grousing draws a smile from someone.

“But what do we know?” Ruby counters, her voice oddly soft. “There must be an avenue forward.”

“That it’s... connected to Priest— to Dongbaek?” Lena offers.

Verity coughs. “And it’s, ach, important enough to try and seal us away.”

“With the knife my parents gave him,” I add, flexing the tip of my tail, “The one they probably snuck him through the puzzle box. I don’t know what he’s planning, but—”

Oh.

The lab.

I should feel better, knowing I’ve found the way forward. All I feel is an ache in my fingers, and a thousand old pains flaring to life. I don’t want to go back there, not now. Not ever.

“There’s somewhere we can look,” I say, and my voice sounds wrong. “If it has to do with the knife and my parents, we can go where they made the damned things.”

The words are poison on my tongue, bitter and prickling.

“The lab.”