Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You can't take it back, it's good as gone
Well, flesh amnesiac, this is your song[...]

Take what you want, take what you can
Take what you please, don't give a damn
Ask for forgiveness, never permission
Take what you want, take what you can
Take what you please, don't give a damn
It's in the blood and this is tradition

—Tradition

Well, I'm perfection when it comes to indiscretion
Might fuck around and just succumb to my aggression
I taste blood and it’s turned to an obsession
Baby, I'm confessin', yeah

—Lilith (ft. Suga)

---

“And just what, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”

The half-elf — a couple of years older than Ashton’s 13, but still very much a ‘Greymoore kid’ — didn’t even turn to address Ashton at first, but he had a hand clasped firmly around Ashton’s wrist where it had been digging around in his back pocket.

Ashton winced, but when the half-elf turned to face him with a skeptical eyebrow raise, Ashton just gave him a shit-eating grin in return.

“Checking to make sure you don’t have any holes in your pocket?”

The older half-elf sighed and shook his head but released Ashton’s arm and cuffed him in the side of the head instead. “Idiot. If you want something you can just ask, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Bennet?” Ashton challenged.

Bennet crossed his arms then, and took a step back to look Ashton up and down. Ashton’s grin, if anything, grew wider.

Bennet Greymoore was a head taller than Ashton, curly black hair cropped short to keep it easy to manage through frequent dust-storms, with richly dark skin that practically glowed golden against the desert sunlight. Unlike Ashton, who was gangly and still growing into their full height, Bennet had filled out nicely, put on some real muscle in his arms and torso, and liked to use the heat as an excuse to wear short and tattered clothing that really showed those muscles off. Ashton was quite certain he was doing it on purpose, and if so, it was working — he absolutely had the attention of a wide variety of young admirers, helped along by a constant cocky smirk, gorgeous wide brown eyes that always looked amused, and eyelashes any girl would kill for.

He was, in short, the prettiest boy that Ashton had ever known. And the way he was examining Ashton so closely, sizing him up, giving Ashton his full and undivided attention, sent a thrill up Ashton’s spine.

They were pretty sure they’d do anything to get Bennet to look at them like that. Even make a fool out of themself repeatedly by trying to pick his pockets, when everyone knew Bennet was the best pickpocket on the streets, and Ashton probably couldn’t even manage to steal from the dead without getting caught. He wasn’t exactly light on his feet since turning into literal stone.

“Okay, look,” Bennet said finally, rolling his eyes but now matching Ashton’s grin in a way that made Ashton feel like they’d just won a prize. “If you’re gonna be pulling that shit, then at the very least let me teach you how to do it without landing yourself in a crawler gang’s cell.”

“Pickpocket lessons?” Ashton asked, immediately — and obviously — intrigued.

Bennet shrugged. “If you want. I dunno, maybe it could be fun. Besides, with me teaching, even you can probably manage to pick it up eventually.”

He was still grinning, though, and despite the too-cool facade he always put up, Ashton was pretty sure Bennet was actually enticed by the idea. The Bassuras streets weren’t exactly the greatest or safest place for a kid to grow up, but the Greymoore kids did their best to make the most of the situation and make their own entertainment. If that fun managed to also help them get by, nab them a little extra cash for treats the orphanage could never afford? All the better. And everyone knew that you could pull off bigger scores working as a team than working alone.

Ashton rolled their eyes and punched Bennet lightly in the arm. “Fuck off. I’m not that bad.”

“Oh, you definitely are. But you won’t be when I’m done with you, kid.”

Ashton bristled at the moniker, but brushed it off. All he had to do was be a quick study. With enough practice, he could get good enough to impress Bennet. Then Bennet would finally see him as an equal. And until then, well, at least it looked like they’d have his attention. Couldn't really complain about that.

-

Ashton awoke with a start, nearly jostling Laudna, who was still laying with her head in their lap. It took them a moment to find their bearings, remember where they were.

Bennet? he wondered, shaking his head with a frown as the lingering vision of the dream came back into shape hazily in his mind. Fuck. When was the last time I dreamed about him?

When was the last time they’d even thought about him, specifically? And why now? Not as if there weren’t plenty fucking else to be focusing on.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought, a vague nausea and the hint of a reason just out of reach that he somehow knew he didn’t actually want to grasp. He forced it aside.

It was morning, and Abadinna fucking owed them.

Indeed, as Ashton carefully extracted themself from beneath Laudna’s sleeping form and made their way to the kitchen, Abaddina was already finishing up preparing a light breakfast for the troop. Not what Ashton meant when saying she owed them, perhaps, but he wasn’t going to turn down a free breakfast. Ashton gratefully shoveled eggs and pan-fried vegetables into his mouth as the others joined them one-by-one, but his eyes never left Abaddina as they all ate, and at the very first available lull in the conversation he cut in.

“I was hoping—“ he started without pausing to think, only to realize he still had no idea what exactly to ask. He was sure she knew something, something important. But what?

“You mentioned something about my…condition,” he started again, aiming for intentionally vague. “I don't know, something that you saw? I don't know.”

"Oh,” she said, regarding him with suddenly renewed interest. “I am curious as to what this here is.” She tapped the left side of her head, then nodded at the analogue on Ashton’s, currently sparking with dull, flickering light as he honed in on her with his full attention. “I have not seen..."

“I don't really know.” You must, though. You’ve got to. The way you keep looking at me…

"Mystery to us both, then."

The rising tension in Ashton snapped in an instant, replaced by a violent wave of frustration.

Fuck! I thought…I thought finally…

No. She knows something. Press.

After a very long pause, Ashton gritted their teeth, shook their head, and kept trying. Maybe if he could just give her a little more to work with.

“It…it seems to bend the world, I guess. I have these dreams, they're strange and…inhuman, and sometimes I'm other people, but I'm not.” And sometimes you’re there too. There’s a fucking reason for that. “And the few people who've decided to go looking in there, it was not fun for them.”

"Hmm."

The non-response was maddening, but Ashton worked hard to keep their cool. Tried not to let their growing desperation show. Tried not to beg her to just tell him whatever it was she was holding back.

“Have you ever seen anything like this? I…I don't know.”

"Like that? I have not. I have not at all.”

The words struck like a blow. The bitter taste of the moment was so overwhelming, it instantly put him off the remainder of his breakfast. Ashton sat back in their chair, eyes closed, shaking their head and letting out a sharp exhale. He’d been so sure. So sure she had real information.

“However,” Abaddina started. A bit too casually.

Ashton’s eyes shot back open.

“If indeed you are going to continue to travel, maybe speak with the spirits.” Ashton blinked. Not, admittedly, what he’d been expecting her to say. Then again, he hadn’t really known what to expect, had he? “Maybe things that are older than all of us combined might have better insight than this frail form and experience would."

“Right. Speak with the spirits,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He had to fight back an eyeroll. “Okay.”

They appreciated the attempt at genuine advice, perhaps. And sure…that Earth Guardian had listened to him when the gods certainly hadn’t. That wasn’t nothing. But it hadn’t exactly been fucking talkative, had it? Besides, what the fuck would some random-ass spirit know about Ashton?

Not gonna lie, that sounds like a waste of time.

Abaddina watched them, clearly taking in their readily-apparent skepticism. “Well, you already hold a very strong connection to the elements, given..." She trailed off, but gestured to Ashton’s entire body.

Ashton froze. Considered. Held out a hand in front of their face, and really looked at it, maybe for the first time in their life. Not as if he hadn’t wondered before where the change had come from, or why it had happened, but at a certain point wondering itself began to feel pointless and they’d stopped bothering with such things.

All these years I've been starving for knowledge about who the fuck I am, and I've been ignoring the most obvious thing about me. Not like people spent a lot of time talking about nature spirits on the streets of Bassuras or anything, but still. I…fuck.

“You know, I've genuinely never thought about it,” he said. “This was done to me. This was not—”

Wait. Why did I say that?

When had there ever been any reason to think that? Who would even want to inflict this on another human? For what fucking purpose? No, that didn’t make any sense.

“I don’t know,” he finished instead, lamely. He was being paranoid.

“Done to you?”

Abaddina’s tone remained serene, but her gaze was just a hair’s breadth too sharp. Too interested.

You’re not being paranoid.

Ashton felt a rush of triumph, the buzzing in their skull returning full force. But there was an edge of darkness to that look in her eyes, and some tiny bit of self-preservation that still remained within Ashton’s mind kicked into gear just in time, urging caution.

We still need her. If I press too hard and piss her off, we lose the one thing we need to find the others.

She has answers!

Not. Now.

“Done to me by life,” Ashton amended smoothly.

The tightness to Abaddina’s smile loosened a touch, and she nodded. “I understand that.”

“I mean, it’s who I am,” Ashton said, eyes returning unbidden to the marbled green skin of their hand. “But who knows who I was. I don’t know.” That was the truth, no matter how it had come about.

“I hope you’ll find out.”

“Thank you.” They found, somewhere in their chest, a kernel of real gratitude to back the words. She was hiding something, sure; they were certain of it now. But she’d also just given them the first real lead of their life. ‘Speak with the spirits.’ Well, given my supposed ‘connection’, I guess it’s worth a fucking shot.

“You have a stout heart beneath that wall-like exterior.” When Ashton looked up at her comment, he was surprised to find a genuine smile waiting.

He met it with a wry one of his own. “Appreciate that,” he said, before adding, with deep sincerity, “and please never say that again.”

Abaddina laughed — a move Ashton noticed being mirrored by Laudna, when he glanced over and found her watching him with amusement — and promised she wouldn’t. But then, to the great relief of everyone in the room, she changed the subject by inviting them all to the next room for their promised reward.

It was finally time to learn for certain, one way or another, where the others were.

If they were alive.

They all took their places around the elder’s Scry bowl, and she lowered Orym’s music box inside to begin the ritual. As much as this had been the only thing Ashton could think about since their arrival, and with much as they’d risked and given up to ensure that it would happen, the moment Abaddina called up the magic, Ashton couldn’t feel anything but nausea and near-crippling fear. He did his best to cover it all with a mask of stony indifference, crossing his arms and not crowding the water’s enchanted surface like the others did, but the way he held his breath and his eyes glued to the picture hazily emerging gave away the lie of it.

Please. Please, gods or elementals or whoever the fuck is actually listening. Please. I can’t…

The picture in the water began to clarify, until it was no longer water, but a window. No, not even that — like a portal through space, the very same Ashton could create with his mind, as if Ashton could simply reach out their hand and touch the snow that came into view on the other side. As if he could step through it.

Oh, how he wished he could. Because the fact that they weren’t staring at inky darkness right now meant the others were there.

Or at least, Chetney was, he chastised himself quickly. The music box had come from Chetney, specifically. That didn’t mean the others had made it, or even were with him if they had. But it was a start, it was something, he hadn’t lost all of them—

Two people came into view of the Scry bowl, and Ashton couldn’t hold back a confused scowl and a rush of doubt. Because he hadn’t seen either of these people in his entire life. One, a tiny Black gnome woman in armor and knitted goods, the other…an aeormaton? Shocking, but not familiar; they were too tall and well-dressed to bear any real resemblance to FCG, and only the way they were conversing with the gnome lady gave away that they were no mere automaton.

But then the view shifted, and some steps behind them, trudging through the snow, came a grumpy old man grumbling and wielding a chisel.

The tiniest twitch of a smile pulled at one corner of Ashton’s mouth, but he schooled it quickly. Good, that meant the spell was working after all. And Chet was all right, he didn’t even look injured, that was great news but—

Behind him, suddenly, a traveler with a shock of purple hair. Ashton swallowed, nodded. Waited. Fought the urge to pray, knowing it to be pointless. But if Imogen hadn’t been killed by the soul-sucking energy at the Key, then maybe, just maybe—

Behind Imogen…Fearne.

Fearne! She’s…she’s really…

Never in his life had he felt such relief. Such affection. Such…desire. Not physical desire, though; the pure and simple longing to be near her. To be standing beside her once more, to hold her, to never, ever let go. To never leave her side again. It was an ache, one he knew would not stop gnawing at him until they were together once again.

He couldn’t stop the quirk of a smile that came to his lips unbidden and refused to leave. He was, thankfully, able to hold back the tears welling in the corner of his eyes, at least for the moment.

She was alive.

The relief continued as Letters finally rolled up beside the two witches, completing the set with the confirmed safety of arguably Ashton’s closest friend. But it was Fearne their eyes kept traveling back to, the sight of her that kept dragging soft smiles from him, up until the moment the picture finally faded.

Vaguely, Ashton registered Laudna calling out for Imogen. He could relate.

“I’ve spent many nights in the map room,” Prism cut in cheerfully, as Ashton and Laudna both continued to stare into the now-ordinary pool of water in the vain hope it might return its focus to their missing companions. “I know where that is. They’re in Kravarad.” She paused, leaned in front of Ashton until he shook his head to clear it and gave her his full attention, then smiled at him gently. “They’re alive. They’re on this plane.”

“They’re alive,” Laudna repeated weakly, but with a sparkling hope in her eyes Ashton hadn’t seen for days. They felt that same hope welling up within them too, along with a fierce, single-minded determination.

“Yeah,” he said, meeting Laudna’s gaze. “And they’re within reach.”

---

With confirmation of the one thing that meant the most to all of them — including Deni$e, who managed to verify the location and wellbeing of her ‘bag of dicks’ fiance as well — Bells Hells and company did not wait a moment longer than necessary to set off. Abaddina informed them of an old mentor of hers, an archdruid named Hevestro, who resided in the Irriam Canyon approximately four days away. Four days too many for Ashton, but it was their closest shot of finding someone with a teleport spell based in earthly magics, one which reasonably stood a chance of still functioning during the still-anchored Solstice.

A potential lead was far better than no lead at all, and when the next-nearest town was Vasselheim — home of the very temple whose angel they’d just murdered — well, that made the group’s choice relatively simple. Abaddina saw them on their way with a final parting gift: she summoned a guide for them. A cougar made of wind.

An eidolon.

True to Ashton’s initial concern upon being advised to ‘speak with the spirits,’ he found their feline guide to be astonishingly uncooperative when it came to conversation. In fact, it did not say a single word to anyone in the party as they pushed all day toward Irriam. He was fairly certain, by the time they came to rest for the evening, that it was not in fact even capable of speech.

Nonetheless, Ashton found himself singularly aware of its presence, aware of that same constant hum of attention, the same sensation of eyes on him, coming from the cougar that he’d had since arriving in Hearthdell. Of course, that was likely his imagination. Just his own over-attention to the issue reflected back at him.

But it turned out he hadn’t been imagining a connection to the Earth Guardian, according to Abaddina at least. So perhaps there was something to this as well. Just in case, he offered the big cat scritches behind its ears any time it drew near, and after a few offers it relented, seemingly deciding that the reward was worth whatever dignity it gave up in exchange. If he wasn’t mistaken, the creature made a point to seek him out on occasion after that, though always pretending to be unintentional about it.

Apparently Ashton was a cat person. Who knew?

He was grateful for its calming influence, however, as the company trudged on, for Ashton was finding it difficult to focus on whatever banter passed between them. Even when engaging with the conversation, he felt his attention tugged elsewhere. Somewhere very far away. Too far away. Every moment they remained apart from the group’s other half left Ashton restless and unnerved. So the others were safe as of that morning — incredible news. But were they still? Would they be, five days from now by the time Ashton and the other two reached them?

Even if they’re safe right now, it’s not like they’re going to stay that way.

Once we find them, we’re done. We failed. It’s too late. The old elf can do whatever the fuck he wants and the gods can fend for themselves; I’m out.

Even if you want to walk away, Imogen and Fearne are still Ruidusborn. They’re involved whether you like it or not. They’re targets. And you’re still just as weak and useless to them as ever.

Maybe. Ashton’s eyes flicked down to the stone skin on their arms, over to the wind cougar. But maybe if I can find out more… Maybe if I learn more about what made me, I can learn to fucking harness it. We’ve got another three days before we even see the others again, at best. It can’t fucking hurt to try.

If the big wind kitty wasn’t feeling talkative, well, perhaps Ashton was simply reaching out to the wrong element.

And so as the group finally settled into camp at sunset for a simple meal of rabbit and berries that Bor’dor had picked along their route, Ashton plopped down onto the ground next to Orym.

“So. Orym,” he started, and the halfling glanced over with interest. “I was wondering — do you know how to, I don't know, meditate? Or…I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” Orym said, though his face radiated surprise. “Is that something you want to do?”

“Well, there was…there was just an offhand comment from Abaddina this morning that I should, I don't know, talk to rocks?” Well when he said it that way, he sounded insane. Orym seemed inclined to agree, if too polite to say so outright.

“Talk to rocks?”

“I don’t know. Or just…” Ashton trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

“I mean, generally meditation is more the opposite of talking,” Orym said with a thoughtful frown. “You just sit in your thoughts. Let yourself experience them.”

“Nothing good comes from that,” Ashton grumbled under their breath, but as Orym clambered to his feet and helped them into a cross-legged resting position, Ashton sighed and allowed it.

“Here,” Orym said, examining Ashton’s posture with a nod. “Good. Now just close your eyes. Okay, to start, you just want to exhale.”

Ashton closed their eyes as instructed and crossed their arms, letting out a heavy, sputtering breath.

“...right,” Orym said, in that tone of voice Ashton was accustomed to hearing from teachers at Greymoore who’d had way too much of his shit, but were trying desperately to remain patient. “Okay. You’re present. Cool. That’s…that’s fine. So now you just want to keep doing that for…let’s go for one minute.”

“Oh.” I’ve been here for five seconds and I feel like I’m going to vibrate straight through the ground. How the fuck am I supposed to manage an entire minute? People actually do this??

“Just to start off,” Orym said, again with that gentle teacher-voice, and Ashton snorted but gave him a nod.

“Okay. Okay! Okay.”

They did their best. Truly. Sit, and don’t get hung up on your thoughts. How hard could it be? Except it was reminding them of all those times during their travel that day when it got too quiet, and Ashton’s mind started conjuring up images of what the others were up to in Wildemount, and what would happen if Ashton’s crew couldn’t reach them before they left for somewhere else, and whether this Hevestro would really be able to get them anywhere, and if he’d have answers for Ashton where Abaddina either hadn’t or wouldn’t give them up, and whether this multi-day trek would even be worth it, and how long the day’s travel had stretched on, and what he wouldn’t give for some delicious fucking Soot and Swill waffles from Pretty back in Jrusar, and a proper bed.

“I'm hungry. Can I open my eyes?” Ashton squinted one eye slightly open to check for Orym’s reaction without waiting for confirmation. “I'm really hungry.”

“It’s been ten seconds,” Orym said, and Ashton opened both eyes with an exasperated sigh. “I don't know where this is going, Ashton, but—”

“No.” Me neither.

“—you generally just need to take a beat, sit down and stop worrying about every single thing.” Orym winced. “Which is admittedly kind of hard in today's environment.”

Ashton heard Laudna suppress a chuckle from across the fire.

“Well, I'm not a big worrier,” Ashton said, brushing off the entire concept with perhaps a bit too much vehemence. The voice in Ashton’s head actually laughed at that, and he felt pressed to clarify. “And mostly that’s because I don't stop to, you know, sit with my thoughts. I'm a very big believer that if you just keep moving, then, you know, momentum means that you don't really have to focus on anything unpleasant. For too long.”

Orym gave him the longest, most deeply skeptical look Ashton had ever seen.

“Well, and when you do,” he amended after a lengthy delay, “that's when, you know, there's booze and people to keep you…” Orym cocked an eyebrow and Ashton cringed. “Okay. Yeah, yeah, yeah. No…no.”

When Ashton thought about hoping to know himself better, he hadn’t really meant a deep dive into unpacking all of his most unhealthy coping mechanisms. He stared blankly into the fire ahead.

“...you okay?” Orym asked.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” I am absolutely not good. I am, in fact, entirely fucked. “Damn. Well, also, you can always just…you know…” What were we even talking about? Sitting still? Fuck. How the fuck am I supposed to better myself if I can’t even figure out how to fucking sit in one place without losing my mind? Why won’t my stupid broken brain just leave me alone for ten fucking seconds?

I just…I just want to be better for them. For…for Fearne. She deserves…better.

Orym leaned over into Ashton’s field of vision to catch his eye with a little wave. “Are you okay?” he repeated.

Ashton sighed. “Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just…I’m starting to think about my situation in ways that I’m not…” Ways that I’m not used to. Ways that I’m not sure I’m ready for. Ways that hurt. “I’ve just decided maybe it’s time to start thinking about my situation.”

“That could apply to so many things right now,” Orym said, finally taking a seat next to Ashton once more.

He is not wrong.

“How I got here, what it all means, what happened to me.” When Orym cocked his head to the side, Ashton tried to elaborate, though he found it difficult to encapsulate everything that had been on his mind, constantly, all at once, almost since they set foot on this continent. “I mean, the Hishari shit, the fucking mask, this fucking thing.” He tapped on his crystal skull. And the gods, and the eidolons, and whether anything we’ve done is, or ever can be, worth the risks we’ve been taking. And falling…for someone, someone who is never going to feel the same and I need to figure out how the fuck to just be okay with that because I can’t lose her and if I don’t let this go I will, and—

“I don’t know,” he finished with a shrug. “Yesterday kind of threw me.”

“Yeah.” Orym gave Ashton one of his most piercing, knowing looks, and Ashton fully looked away rather than face it. Too late, apparently, given that the halfling followed up a bit too gently with: “How about a couple of days ago?”

How the fuck does he know? Is he just talking about the Solstice, in general?

It’s not like you’re subtle. They all saw your reaction to her kissing you that morning. He’s fully aware of how pathetic you are.

“That also threw me,” he admitted, before the urge to deflect won over. “But yesterday especially. I mean, they both did. But.” They squirmed under Orym’s continued close observation and looked away. “Yeah. I’m just…trying to recenter.”

“Well, it’ll probably help to get back to our other half,” Orym said with a small, encouraging smile.

See? He knows.

Ashton brushed it off. “Yeah. Well.” We’ll see.

“Then maybe you’ll find some answers, while we…try?...to fix all this.”

Is it really going to change anything though? We find them, and then fucking what? Try again? Against Ludinus fucking Daleth? We never stood a fucking chance in the first place. Does Orym seriously want to try again? After what we saw in Hearthdell?

We’ll get squashed like fucking bugs. It can’t be worth it. It can’t be worth risking ourselves for gods who don’t care. For strangers.

A memory of the prior night flashed before Ashton’s eyes: the townspeople, elated, celebrating, dancing and laughing and reveling in the joy of their newfound freedom. The freedom to choose how to live, who to worship.

Freedom Ludinus wanted to take from the whole world.

Or did Ludinus see removing the gods as its own kind of freedom?

Ashton was getting a fucking migraine.

“I’m starting to wonder what ‘fixing’ looks like,” he finally admitted, eyeing Orym with as neutral an expression as possible. “I’m really starting to wonder what fixing means.”

“Sorry, Ash. I really wish I had something helpful to say.”

“Are you starting to wonder what fixing looks like?” Ashton eyed Orym carefully. Because of course Ashton doubted the gods. Doubted their purpose, doubted his own purpose. Honestly, what was new? Maybe he was just being as paranoid and bitter as ever. But if Orym was doubting, Orym who had fought steadfastly all this time for gods he didn’t even particularly care about…then maybe just this once, Ashton was right to doubt. To reconsider if they should be doing any of this at all.

If Orym was willing to let it all go, maybe the others would be too. Maybe that would mean letting go was the right thing to do.

“I’m starting to doubt it,” Orym said quietly, after a long moment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m doubting it.”

“Me, too.” Ashton sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, that's…” They trailed off, before standing up and brushing the dirt of their pants. “Thanks, man. I'm going to go work on that quiet, ‘sitting down and not brooding’ thing.”

Ashton found a quiet spot just off the campsite on a tiny rocky cliff and sat atop it, settling back down into the position Orym had tried to teach them, and then, on a whim, reaching down both hands to lay them flat against the stone beneath.

Apparently, that was the correct move. Because as his fingers pressed down into the cool, rough rock, he began to feel that weight again, the one that had been dancing at the edge of his consciousness since their arrival, falling down upon his shoulders. But this time, instead of anxiety and unease attending the sensation, it wrapped around them like a thick blanket. Calming. Grounding. Reassuring. It somehow carried the weight of thousands of years of history and tradition and steadfast existence. Of connectedness. They could feel the eidolons that had gathered, curious, around their camp; the scurrying of bugs along the ground, a faraway rockslide, the purring of the wind cougar as it drifted into slumber.

The rocks didn’t speak to them, didn’t grant them any answers or tell them who they were. But for the first time in a while, Ashton didn’t feel alone.

---

Ashton tossed a couple gold coins at the bartender with a heady grin. It was always a good day when they could afford to buy their liquor rather than steal it, especially the quality stuff. And this had been a very, very good day indeed for the Nobodies.

The bartender passed over a pair of mugs without a second glance at the young teen paying for them — not as if anyone cared about a customer’s age in Bassuras, as long as they were willing to fork over real coin — and Ashton grabbed both, making their way over to the young man standing on a balcony overlooking the crowded, dust-covered streets below.

Bennet turned at Ashton’s approach and grinned, gladly accepting their offered drink and holding the mug up to clink Ashton’s in a toast as they sidled up beside him.

“Fucking cheers,” Ashton said, giving Bennet a lopsided grin and trying not to look too pleased at how happy the older half-elf seemed to see him. “What a job, eh? Few more like this and we may really make it happen.”

“Jrusar, you mean?” Bennet took a long, appreciative drink and leaned forward against the railing, staring off into the town they’d both been stuck in as long as either of them could remember.

Ashton nodded. “Yeah. Getting the fuck out of this hellhole. I mean I know it’s probably not gonna be all that much better there, but it’ll be something new, at least.”

Bennet shrugged and smirked. “Hey, you never know. Big city, big crime, big jobs. Maybe we’ll strike it rich or something.”

“Maybe, yeah. I don’t really care though. As long as it’s not here. And as long as we’re all together.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Bennet said. He flashed Ashton a wink and a grin and Ashton’s insides went molten. He looked away quickly to try to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Bennet sounded almost genuine, and Ashton chewed on his lip and crossed his arms.

“It’s nothing.”

Bennet seemed to consider for a moment, setting his drink down on a little round standing table nearby to give Ashton his full attention. “You know, you were pretty fantastic in there today. In case that’s what you’re worried about. You’ve really gotten good at this shit. Better than Sally, I’d wager.”

Ashton still wouldn’t look at him, and gave a little snort, but felt a smile tugging at their lips. “You? Complimenting me? Please. What is it you want?”

“What? I’m serious! You’ve come a long way. Honestly it was kinda hot to watch you work.” Bennet said it offhandedly, with a chuckle, but Ashton’s eyes snapped back to him with a little too much sudden interest.

“You mean that?”

Bennet shrugged easily and grinned. “Sure.” But before Ashton could say anything else, Bennet reached out and cuffed them on the shoulder. “You did good, kid.”

The hope that had been building in their chest all conversation crumbled into frustration, and Ashton slammed their drink on the little table next to Bennet’s with a thud, glaring at Bennet and fuming.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me ‘kid’??” he growled.

The amusement didn’t leave Bennet’s face, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “Why shouldn’t I? What’s it to you if I—“

Ashton didn’t even remember moving, but in the space of a heartbeat they had Bennet up against a wall, one hand on the back of his head and the other gripping his waist, lips pressed hungrily to Bennet’s own. He felt Bennet’s mouth give way to his tongue, their bodies move against each other, and they were kissing, they were finally kissing Bennet Greymoore, and—

Shit. Fuck. What?

Ashton pulled back, wide-eyed, stuck impossibly between horror at their actions, and steadfast defiance. They could barely catch their breath. But as they met Bennet’s stunned expression, they realized Bennet couldn’t seem to either.

While Ashton took a few steps back, granting both of them space, Bennet merely leaned back against the wall and watched them for another long moment. When Ashton made no move to say anything further, Bennet gave them the slightest of frowns. Not one of displeasure, though, or anger; rather, as if evaluating a stolen trinket he’d never quite properly inspected before.

One perhaps he’d undervalued.

“You really aren’t a kid anymore, are you?” Bennet asked finally, the low edge to his voice and the intensity in his dark eyes causing something in Ashton’s core to roar to life even before he took two very deliberate steps back toward Ashton. Straight up into their personal space, then closer, until their foreheads nearly touched, and he held up a hand as if to stroke Ashton’s face, but then paused, letting it hover just above their skin instead.

“Are you sure about this?” Bennet asked, tone nearing a growl but the question appearing to be genuine, judging from the way he was holding himself back at the last second.

Ashton grinned back at him with an unshakable confidence they absolutely did not feel, and an unrestrained hunger they absolutely did.

“I’m the one who kissed you, aren’t I?”

Bennet surged forward, and then they were kissing again, passionate and heated, and any other thoughts Ashton might have had melted away.

-

How precious. And how fucking naive. You always did know how to ruin a good thing, didn’t you?

The voice was ready for him when he woke in the morning, still feeling for a moment the warmth of Bennet’s bed. Then the shame of knowing what came next.

It all could have been avoided if you’d just let things be. Everything that happened — to them, to you. But you just had to go chasing after a pipe dream.

It was never going to end the way you wanted. All that damage you caused, just for a momentary rush that could never have amounted to anything more.

It’s fine. Let it go. I learned my fucking lesson.

I am really not so sure about that.

Ashton sighed, and packed up their bedroll, and tried with little success not to let the memories or the voice haunt him for an entire day’s worth of dull, plodding travel. If he kept moving, he wouldn’t have to think — that was what he’d told Orym, anyway. But when there was nothing to keep their mind busy but a looming apocalypse, gods who hated him but expected him to save them anyway, an aching longing for a far-away faun, and his own lifetime’s worth of failures…movement alone simply wasn’t going to do much to take the edge off.

---

Just as the sunny afternoon began to shift into evening, the group stumbled upon a large, mysterious crater in the ground. The smart move would have been to simply walk around the odd, suspiciously round pit of flowers. But Prism was intrigued, and Ashton had been trying to encourage her more impulsive side, so he, Orym, and Deni$e all dropped down into the crater with her to investigate.

It didn’t appear to be anything special until Laudna withered the flowers, revealing impact-hardened stone beneath — and one very, very old skeleton fused within that ground.

Ashton took note of the wind eidolon, who was watching curiously from the rim, and recalled their past night’s effort in meditation. Tentatively, and then with more certainty, Ashton knelt down beside the bones and set their hands against the stone.

And then merged his limbs into the stone itself.

Between his fishing within the rock and a bit of help from Deni$e’s chisel, they were able to dislodge a decent chunk of the skeleton, allowing Prism to gleefully Identify it as some kind of extraterrestrial. Ashton was pleased she got a bit of nerdy excitement for her efforts, but his attention was elsewhere. Namely, on the simple, smooth hematite-like ring that somehow still adorned its finger. With another quick stone dive, Ashton was able to yank it free.

The skeleton’s hand may have broken in the process, but honestly, what was it going to be using that hand for anyway?

Ashton tossed it to Prism for identification, and after consulting with Dynios, she grinned.

“It’s a Ring of Volcanic Flesh,” she explained. “Grants magical armor, and helps protect from fire, but also blasts fire itself and forces enemies away. This is great! Wouldn’t be very useful for me, though.”

A fire ring, eh?

Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.

“Could I have it?” Ashton asked the others, even as Deni$e reached in to inspect it more closely. “If you don’t mind,” they added quickly. “I kinda got a vibe from it. I mean, it’s for defense and attack, for someone who’s always in the middle of shit, so—“

“Not to mention,” Prism said, “you’re kind of earthen, and this is rock from the sky. It feels right.”

Not just rock, though. ‘Volcanic’. Earth and fire, together in one ring.

I swear to all the gods that hate you, if you start daydreaming about putting that thing on her fucking finger—

Too late. Ashton’s cheeks grew hot, and he eyed the ring with slightly-too-obvious desire.

“You go ahead, honey,” Deni$e said, motioning for him to take it. They plucked it up without a second thought, running their finger along its smooth curve. It felt warm to the touch, but otherwise unremarkable.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I’ll take it. I’m going to…” He trailed off.

You just swore you weren’t going to do anything this moronic.

I’m not! I want it for myself. Daydreams are just daydreams. I’m not stupid enough to act on them.

Just to drive the point home, he shoved the thing directly onto his pinky, allowing it to begin the process of attunement as quickly as possible.

That night, though, as Prism woke Ashton for second watch and settled in beside him near the fire, she nodded at the ring warming the stone skin of their finger.

“You didn’t grab that for yourself, did you?”

“What makes you say that?” Ashton kept their voice level, but glanced away.

“I don’t know, really. Just something in the way you looked at it when you put it on. Like you didn’t believe me when I said it was meant for you.”

“No, no. I mean — okay, there’s just another member of our group who gets in the thick of battle a lot, and her defense is worse than mine, so for a second I thought…” He shook his head. “I’m keeping it though. It’s a bad idea.”

Prism looked as if she was going to say something, but stayed silent instead, watching the fire. The silence apparently dragged on too long for her liking, though.

“You know, you don’t really talk about the others.”

Ashton looked over at her, surprised. “What do you mean? We talk about them all the time.”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “I mean, you talk about getting back to them, and clearly every single thing you do is with the single-minded purpose of finding them as soon as possible, which is understandable. But…” She shook her head. “You don’t really talk about them. None of you. In fact, I don’t think I’ve even heard you say any of their names. Aside from Laudna shouting after…what was it, Emily? Emmalyn?”

“Imogen.”

“Right.” She waited for a long moment, but when Ashton didn’t elaborate, she apparently decided to press her luck. “I feel like you’re maybe avoiding the issue a little bit here. Like, there has gotta be a reason that you’re refusing to elaborate. What is it, are they all criminals? Are you all wanted across multiple continents and worried about outing yourself to your pursuers? Are there bounty hunters after you?”

“What? No!” Ashton said, rounding on her with a baffled look, before pausing to consider, and remembering his little side adventure in Yios. And sneaking Cyrus out of Jrusar. And Deni$e mentioning Wanted posters of the Crown Keepers stuck up all over Emon. “Well, actually, come to think about it…maybe. In fact, very probably. But honestly, who the fuck cares? Not like it matters much if we’re being hunted when it’s the end of the damn world.”

“Well in that case,” she said, smiling sweetly, “would you tell me about them? Your missing friends? There were six of them, right?”

Ashton hesitated. Before they could respond, a light nudge on their shoulder startled them, and when they turned they saw the eidolon there waiting. As soon as he acknowledged it, it dug its giant head beneath one hand and lay between him and Prism, then looked back at him pointedly. Ashton chuckled, began running his fingers through the odd fur that reminded him of blowing wind, and relaxed very slightly.

“There’s four,” he said finally, the quiet presence of the creature bolstering him somehow. “Two of the folks in that scry, we don’t actually know.”

“Interesting.” Prism smiled, joining Ashton in petting the cougar absently. It began to purr. “Sounds like they’ve made some friends on the road just like you did, huh?”

Something twisted in Ashton’s stomach at the thought. It took them a moment to register the sensation as jealousy. Sure, he was grateful if they had extra protection while traveling, but…

They didn’t want to think about it.

“Guess so,” they said finally.

“So, Imogen’s the one with the purple hair, right?” Prism was still staring at Ashton eagerly. The cougar raised its head lazily to do the same. With a sigh, he realized she wasn’t going to relent unless he gave her at least a little.

“Right. Yeah. Imogen, she’s…clever. Really clever, and really powerful. And she can read your mind, like, literally, and it’s super annoying but it also makes her stupidly insightful. I guess being stuck listening to the thoughts of every person around you for decades will do that to a person. It’s good though, it helps.” He’d always hated when she turned the skill on him, but fuck if it wouldn’t have helped with Abaddina. “Life’s been rough for her, but she always seems to come out the other side stronger. It’s impressive.”

“And the others?”

Ashton considered. “Well, there’s Chet. The old man with the chisel. He’s…gods, Chet is the sort of person you just kind of have to experience to understand. He’s old and grumpy and weirdly obsessed with wood — like, do not get him started unless you want to listen to him go off about it all night. But I gotta admit he knows his fucking craft. Can make pretty much anything you ask him to, in no time flat. Also he’s a fucking werewolf.”

“I’m sorry?”

“He’s not. He fucking loves it.” Ashton grinned, and Prism mirrored the smile. She leaned in conspiratorially.

“Actually? That’s kinda badass. It is, isn’t it? Like I’m not crazy to think that?”

Ashton shrugged, trying not to think too hard about the night on the airship that left Fearne and Orym in tatters. “It’s gotten us into some shit. But it’s also gotten us out of plenty. He’d agree with you, anyway.”

“I hope I get to see him in action some day!”

I kinda hope you don’t need to, Ashton couldn’t help thinking, but he kept the thought to himself. “And then there’s the robot,” he said, pressing the conversation forward instead. “The little one, not the big one; never seen the tall one in my life.”

He shrugged again, but couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like for FCG to meet another like themself. Couldn’t help wondering if they’d leave Bells Hells to stick with this new companion instead. Shoved the thought aside aggressively. They would never. Right?

“That’s Letters — er, Fresh Cut Grass. And they’re…they were my first new friend in a really, really long time,” Ashton admitted, something they were pretty sure they’d never said out loud. “They’re obnoxiously cheerful and optimistic, they spend way too much energy getting up in everybody else’s business, and lately they’ve become worryingly obsessed with a god that they’re certain is speaking to them through a fucking coin…and…”

I miss them like I’d miss my own arm if someone hacked it off.

“...it just feels really wrong without them around, I guess. I don’t like it.”

“I see.” When Ashton fell incredibly silent, Prism waited for a moment, but eventually cocked her head to the side. “And the last one?”

Ashton dug his fingers deeper into the cougar’s fur, but while it was unreasonably soft, it didn’t give him the same steadying sensation he’d felt when digging into the earth. Then again, even that may not have helped, in this case.

“Fearne.” He nearly choked on the word. Odd how a name he never stopped thinking still managed to feel so foreign on his tongue. They realized with a start that they hadn’t spoken it aloud since the separation, not even when they’d been talking about her with Laudna. Saying it now felt like evoking an incantation. Or a prayer.

“The gnome lady? Or the faun? It kinda sounds like a faun sort of name.”

“Yeah. Yeah…it is. A faun sort of name. It…suits her.”

“And?” she pressed.

“And what?”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s…” Ashton reached for the words to describe her, but they fled from his grasp. “She’s…huh. Wow. How do I…”

“Ooooh.”

Ashton’s eyes snapped to her, and he glowered at her knowing expression. “What the fuck do you mean, ‘oh’?”

“Oh, nothing! Nothing,” she scrambled. “Well, just, obviously you’re — I mean she’s—”

“She’s what?”

“Special to you. That’s all.”

Ashton blushed so spectacularly they were quite certain Prism noticed, despite them looking away in the dim light of the fire.

“They’re all special to me.”

“Not like her, though,” Prism said with a soft smile.

“I…maybe not. I guess.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Then her smile faltered. “Oh. Does she not feel the same?”

“Oh, definitely not. Not a chance.” Ashton mustered up their own smile at that, somehow, but it was fairly clear that Prism could see the dejection through the mask from the way she frowned.

“You say that like it’s so impossible. Why? Has she turned you down?” She gasped. “Did you make some big romantic gesture and then get shot down in front of everyone so thoroughly you’ll never recover from the heartbreak and embarrassment?”

“Gods no,” Ashton rushed out, looking horrified. “No, no, I haven’t even said — I mean there’s nothing to say. Not really.” That was a lie. There certainly wasn’t anything she needed to hear, though. “It’s just…it’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. Love isn’t stupid.”

“That’s not…I mean I don’t—”

“Caring for someone, then. Wanting them, having feelings for them. I don’t think that’s stupid, Ashton. I think it’s the sort of thing people spend their whole lives chasing.” She looked thoughtful, then chuckled, and gave the purring cougar a little pat on the head. “But what do I know? I’ve been stuck in a library for years and it’s not exactly like I’ve spent that time getting frisky with other apprentices in the stacks. Though come to think of it, I’m sure that sort of thing happens all the time.”

Ashton grinned at that. “Oh, I’m quite sure it does. I absolutely don’t believe that squeaky-clean image all you academics put on. You’re definitely hiding some shit.”

“You’re so right,” Prism said, leaning in with a shit-eating grin and adding, “Once, I spilled tea all over a thousand-year-old magic text, and I didn’t even report it to the librarian.”

“Woah,” Ashton said, trying and mostly failing to maintain any sort of solemnity in their expression. “That’s some serious shit.”

“They maybe figured out it was me eventually anyway. Seeing as I was the only one in about a hundred years who had checked the thing out.” Prism cringed. “They stuck me on inkpot cleaning duty for weeks. Which, let me tell you, is way more annoying when you aren’t allowed to use Prestidigitation to do the job for you.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just use it anyway, you little rebel,” Ashton said with a smirk.

Prism sighed, dejected. “Ugh, you’re right. I should have just stolen the Prestidigitation scroll and copied it when they weren’t looking. That really would have made for a good dark secret. And it would have been way more fun.”

“You gotta make your own fun in this life. I learned that early.”

“That’s a good lesson, I think.” She smiled again then, gently, and prodded Ashton on the arm. It sent a shock of pain through him, but he let it slide this once; Prism didn’t know better. “She’s gonna be so happy to have you back. Fearne, I mean.”

The bittersweet, wistful smile returned to his face, despite his best efforts to repress it.

Will she, really? After you abandoned her at the Key? After you failed them all? Again? Honestly, she’s much better off this far from you, where you can’t keep hurting her.

Maybe. Probably. But I just can’t leave it like this. We’re all family now. We’re supposed to be together.

After the way you fucked over your last ‘family’, you honestly think you deserve another one?

No. I don’t. But I’ll find a way. I need to.

“I hope she will be,” he said. He tried to keep the doubt out of his voice. “I…am sure gonna be glad to see her.”

“She will be. I’m sure of it.”

Ashton gave her a skeptical look. “You can’t say that. You’ve never even met her.”

“I can just tell,” Prism said simply. “I’m very good at reading people. Also books.” Ashton rolled their eyes but couldn’t stop a tiny grin at the play on words and how unreasonably proud Prism looked for making it. “And anyway, you’re pretty great. I am definitely going to miss you when I have to go back to the Cobalt Soul, and she’s known you a lot longer than I’ve had the pleasure to. So I’m sure she misses you too.”

“I’m pretty sure no one has ever described knowing me as ‘a pleasure’ once in my entire life,” Ashton said with an incredulous laugh.

“Well, then the people who’ve met you are really missing out. And might be idiots.”

Ashton snorted, but when she caught his eye with a grin, he returned it with a shake of his head and reached over the now-napping eidolon to clap her on the back.

“You know, I think I might just miss you too.”

-

When Ashton woke in a blissful haze the morning after finally kissing Bennet — and doing a hell of a lot more than just kissing — he wrestled himself down to the breakfast tables still wearing one of Bennet’s shirts. Milo looked up at his gleeful arrival and let out a groan.

“You didn’t.”

Ashton didn’t bother playing dumb; he just grinned like an idiot. “You kidding? Of course I did. Fucking finally. About goddamn time.”

“Ashton…”

“What?” Ashton shoved some stale bread in his mouth and chewed, staring Milo down. He wasn’t about to let Milo be a killjoy. Not today.

“I just…are you really sure this is such a good idea?”

“What d’you mean? It’s Bennet, Milo. Fuck, I mean come on. You know how long I’ve wanted him. And it finally fucking happened. He finally saw me, Milo. He wants me. Me!”

“Yeah, Ash, I do know. That’s kinda my point. You’ve had a thing for him for years. And meanwhile he’s bedded half the people our age in town.”

“It hasn’t been that many,” Ashton protested. “Believe me, I’d know, the walls are not that thick here.”

Milo buried their head in their hands. “It’s been a lot. Including most of our friends.”

“So what?”

“So…nothing, Ash, except I know you. This means something to you.”

Ashton bristled. “It doesn’t have to.”

Milo gave him the longest, most skeptical look, and finally Ashton sighed.

“Okay, fine. Maybe it does, a little bit. But who says it’s not the same for him?”

“Bennet is great, Ash, you know I love him too, but you’ve gotta admit he’s not really the type to—“

“To what, settle down? I don’t care about that.”

“To get…emotionally entangled,” Milo tried, delicately.

“You don’t know that.”

“He’s my friend too, Ashton, I—“

“Look, just because this stuff doesn’t matter to you, doesn’t mean it’s meaningless to everyone else, okay?”

Milo looked a bit stricken, and fell silent. And Ashton cringed.

“Sorry. I am. I know it’s a touchy subject for you. I just…I don’t care who he fucks, that’s fine. But he’s different with me. He’s never treated me like just some pretty face. Hell, even when we…when I kissed him…he stopped to make sure I really wanted it. He didn’t have to do that if he just wanted to get laid, I’ve basically been throwing myself at him for months now. But he cares enough to check. Because I’m not just some random conquest to him.”

Milo gave a long, tired sigh, and shook their head. “Fine. Maybe you’re right. Just…be careful, okay Ashton? I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

Ashton mustered up a grin and shook their head. “Thanks, Milo. But honestly, you worry too much. It’s gonna be fine. I’ve got a really good feeling about this.”

-

Really missed the mark on that one, eh?

Ashton wasn’t even certain when he’d managed to fall back asleep the night before; after speaking with Prism, his brain was too wired to rest, and he lay awake well into the early hints of dawn colored the sky. Apparently, at some point, he’d grown exhausted enough to drift off.

This particular dream made for a rude awakening. The memory left a sour taste in their mouth.

He should have listened to Milo. Of course he should have. But…

How the fuck was I supposed to know? I was just a stupid kid.

What’s your excuse this time?

Ashton didn’t respond.

Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m you. I know what was going through your head in that crater.

That wasn’t—

She’s no different than he was. You get that, right? A pretty face, confident and flirty, desired by all and perfectly willing to take advantage of that fact. That type doesn’t care, Greymoore. They don’t commit. They have their fun and they move on.

She’ll never want what you do. Especially not from you.

I get it, I get it. And it doesn’t even fucking matter. I let my imagination run away from me for a moment; fine. But I’m not that idiot kid anymore. This time, I’m not going to do the stupid thing.

She means too much to me to risk driving away.

---

Their third day of travel passed as yet another beautiful, sun-shining, uneventful day. Too uneventful for Ashton’s taste. Certainly, he was grateful that nothing was slowing them down, when every second they were away from the others ticked away in his head like a clock and spurred him forward. But as they left the forest and entered the simple, rocky terrain near Irriam Canyon…it was just too quiet. Too much time to dwell on what the others were doing, if they were safe, if Hevestro would have the answers they needed. Perhaps even the answers Ashton needed.

And of course, there was the ever-present question of what to do with Ludinus and the gods.

Ashton was sick of talking about it, sick of thinking about it — wanted to find the others and then just stick his head in the damn sand until the danger had passed or the world exploded, whichever came first. But there was no denying it remained heavy in the minds of everyone present. And so, of course, the subject kept coming up.

It did again that night as they camped near the approach to the canyon, settling in for the evening meal around the fire. Despite a shockingly excellent meal cooked by Deni$e, Bor'dor was once again staring off into space, so Laudna checked in to see if he was okay.

Bor'dor, like all of them, was not in fact okay. He looked a bit traumatized when he spoke, to be honest, which Ashton figured was fair. But while the Bor'dor they’d first met had fainted at the first sign of danger, his fear had been replaced by something else over time.

He was being polite about it, as always, but Ashton knew anger when they saw it.

Well, Ashton could relate to that plenty. Anger at the gods, at Ludinus, at whatever shit luck had them shunted here and the others there — it had been fueling him for days. It was a constant drive forward, leaving him wide awake every night wishing they could have kept moving, resenting the need for food and rest.

But to be honest…he hadn’t thought much about what waited on the other side of this. Oh, he’d thought about the others plenty, almost nonstop. But it was their reunion he dreamed of. What came after, for all of them, Ashton didn’t have the faintest idea. He hadn’t wanted to think about it. But as the time for their reunion drew hopefully close, they knew they would have to.

Bor’dor, apparently, was of the same mindset.

“You say that your friends are stronger than you?” he asked everyone as they ate.

“Well, I mean, I’d say they’re on par,” Laudna said, with a grin that told Ashton she didn’t want to sell herself short. “You know? Equal.”

“Not Chetney,” Ashton said, matching her grin, and finding joking around preferable to the alternative of seriously considering Bor’dor’s question.

“But Chetney turns into a werewolf,” Laudna offered.

“Yeah, but how long is he going to live?” Ashton countered. “Let’s be honest. Months at best. He’s very old.”

“You think the seven of you are strong enough to kill a god killer?” Bor’dor asked, straight faced, apparently determined to bring down the mood. It worked.

“Oh, no,” Ashton said, without a second of hesitation. He looked to the other two for confirmation that they’d reached the same obvious conclusion.

“Not…when you put it like that,” Orym said.

“Well, that’s what it sounds like you’d need to do.” Bor’dor’s tone struck Ashton as less concerned, and more like a challenge. The kid had sure grown a backbone.

“I think—” Ashton started, an automatic reaction to being challenged, before realizing they weren’t really sure how to answer. They frowned. “I guess I don’t really think of it that way.”

“Or,” Bor’dor pressed, “is it that you hope to stop Ludinus, who can’t even manage to scry on?”

Ashton tried to respond carefully, watching the reactions of the other two Bells Hells. They hadn’t had a chance to really properly discuss this yet — or at least, hadn’t taken the chances given. He suspected they’d been trying to avoid the topic too.

“I will feel pleased if we…stop him,” they settled on, after a pause, before backtracking somewhat. “Or at the very least, if we can get some people out who shouldn’t be there.”

I’ll be pleased if we all just fucking get out of this safe. Hell, ‘alive’ even.

“How many of his people did you kill?” Bor’dor asked, more quietly.

“I don’t know,” Ashton said after a long pause. They closed their eyes, shook their head. He hadn’t been thinking about that, either. Hadn’t wanted to dwell on the guard whose neck he’d snapped just to keep their presence quiet, or the way Fearne had grimly agreed with the action afterwards.

What were they becoming? Ashton had been a criminal all his life, but a few instances of self-defense aside, ‘murder’ hadn’t been one of his crimes.

Is this self-defense? Will all these deaths be worth it if we stop the madman, or are we just making things worse without even leaving a dent in his fucking plans?

“A decent amount,” Orym answered.

“I don’t remember,” Laudna said. She looked as stricken by the question as Ashton.

Bor’dor shook his head. “I just hope you took out enough.”

“When you said that you hope to get people out, who are you talking about?” Deni$e asked through bites of spiced rabbit. “Has he got people prisoner? Or are you talking about his followers, like he’s a cult leader? What?”

“Oh, he’s definitely a cult leader,” Ashton said. “That was a cult. I mean, I know cults. That was a cult.”

You know cults?

Ashton paused. Why had he said that? He didn’t have any experience with cults. Unless you counted All Minds Burn, which was really more a gathering place for drug-using hippies than a true cult.

The buzz of white noise in their brain kicked up again, and there was a flash of the vision they’d been granted when Imogen’s power had exploded in Bassuras. Ashton’s parents. That damn mask. A gathered crowd.

But not enough to make sense of. Never enough for that. And the others were still speaking.

“He did have some prisoners,” Orym said.

“Or maybe you’re just looking at mitigating the damage that’s going to be done?” Deni$e offered.

Orym looked back and forth between Laudna, who sat across the fire, and Ashton beside him.

“I don’t think even we know what we’re talking about yet.”

“Yeah,” Bor’dor said, still with that oddly challenging tone. “Because are you trying to kill Ludinus? Are you trying to stop the gods from dying, or are you trying to stop a man whose followers believe in him? Are you trying to destroy their belief in him, or are you trying to destroy this…Predathos?”

“I don’t know if we can do that,” Orym said quietly.

“When you talk about him being a cult leader,” Prism cut in, “it makes me think of a person believing that something is true, when it isn’t necessarily true.”

“Yeah,” Deni$e said. “We don’t even know for sure that there’s a god eater on this moon, do we? It sounds fake.”

“What I do know,” Bor’dor said, “is that we just saved an entire village from the wrath of god.”

“A god,” Ashton specified.

But you don’t really believe in any of them anymore, do you? You’re starting to realize what a waste this has all been. That none of what you risked was worth it.

No, no, Ashton thought, even though the voice was right. It has to be. Maybe…maybe I really don’t give a shit about the gods. Maybe they’re all fucking awful, I don’t know. But that doesn’t make Ludinus right.

He looked across the fire at Laudna. She locked eyes with him and gave him a single tiny nod, as if to encourage him to say what she knew he wanted to.

“I gotta be honest,” he started. “I’m finding it harder and harder to—” To care about the stupid gods at all. But this wasn’t ever about them for me, was it? “I think I want to stop Ludinus, not because of what he wants to do, but because I don’t know if he’s the person I would like taking charge in a vacuum.”

“Yes,” Laudna agreed.

“I’m not even against the vacuum at this point,” they admitted. “The idea of getting rid of all of them. Or some of them.”

“I’m not sure if I am, either,” Laudna said.

It pained Ashton to admit it, to a degree they didn’t quite comprehend, but perhaps Abaddina had been right about this one thing. Maybe Ludinus’s intentions weren’t the problem. How he was going about it, though, was a different fucking story.

Laudna’s look of agreement as she continued to meet his eyes made him feel a little less disgusted at himself for agreeing with Ludinus about anything at all. If nothing else, they knew they had Laudna on their side.

“Maybe,” she said, still watching Ashton, “we just need to accept that Exandria’s going to change. Maybe it’s just about making sure it’s not a change for the worse.”

“I gotta be honest,” Deni$e said, shaking her head. “Aren’t you tired? Don’t you wanna be done fighting?”

“We’re exhausted,” Laudna said. “At least I am.”

“Always.” Ashton shrugged. “When have we not been tired?”

“So why not just find your friends and leave?” Bor’dor asked.

“I agree,” Prism said. “If you want to just find your friends and relax and not feel like you have all of this on your shoulders…you don’t have to do it.”

Ashton snorted, crossed their arms, shook their head. But found themself surrendering to a sad, resigned sort of smile.

Because they knew, in that moment, that as much as they longed for what these three were suggesting…it hadn’t ever really been an option.

And part of Ashton didn’t even want it to be.

“We’ve thought about it,” Laudna said, echoing Ashtons’ sentiments. “This issue is that we just know too much now.” She met Ashton’s eyes again with a similarly sad smile. “We can sit here and say that all we want to do is try to control what’s in our very small sphere, but we know too much to leave it at that.”

As much as Ashton didn’t want to agree with her, they did. They glanced over at Orym, realizing the halfling had been mostly silent this whole time. He had his head in his hands now and was rubbing at one temple.

Backing down was never an option for him in the first place, was it? Ashton realized with no small amount of guilt. Ashton had been fighting to keep their family alive. Orym was fighting for the family he’d already lost.

This wasn’t self-defense, for him. It was revenge. But it was also fighting to make sure no one else had to experience that pain at Ludinus’s hands.

No matter the cost. No matter what was risked or who was killed in the process.

“I can’t walk away,” Ashton said finally, emphatically. “Everything that we…everything that I’ve done has to be worth something. I can’t walk away. If we do nothing, people are going to die. If we do something…”

Then at least there’s a fucking chance.

---

“Ash, come on. Focus.”

The pair of them sat in an abandoned old belltower, no longer even a bell to its name, overlooking the mansion of one Jiana Hexum. The job they’d been hired for wasn’t until the next night, but Bennet decided not to trust the intel they’d been given on the place and do a bit of scouting of his own in advance. Ashton had gladly volunteered to join, but they’d been there for hours now and Ashton was bored out of their mind. They’d taken to pacing the dusty space, but paused to glance out the opposite side of the tower from where Bennet sat, leaning their elbows against the railing and rolling their eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about. Jeto’s got a handle on it. She’s a rich old lady who lives alone. This’ll be a piece of fucking cake.”

Ashton glanced over their shoulder in time to see Bennet grimace and shake his head.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about her that sets me on edge. You don’t get that rich by accident. Either she’s got power we don’t know about, or she’s got connections who do, or both.”

“She’s not even gonna be home tomorrow night. We’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Never underestimate a job, Ash. That only ends poorly.” Bennet was glaring now, and Ashton cringed.

“I get it, I get it. I hear you, promise.” He flipped around to lean his back against the railing and crossed his arms, grinning. “And anyway, I’m not underestimating it, I swear. I mean, this is huge. Even aside from the information we’re paid to grab, place like that has gotta be full of pricey goods to nab on the way out. Between what the job broker’s promised us, and what we could make off fencing that shit?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bennet said, staring them down without any of their easy nonchalance. “If we’re careful, we could make bank. Which is why we need to be fucking careful.”

“It’s why we need to be bold!” Ashton said, standing to their full height again and resuming their pacing with an eager expression. “Just think. With the money from this job alone, we could…we could finally buy our own place. A real home, Bennet. For the first time in our lives.”

“Yeah.” Bennet appeared thoughtful, though he turned his attention back out over the railing to the street outside Hexum’s, scanning the crowd. “I mean, it probably wouldn’t be much, but it wouldn’t be renting out ratty old cots in hostels or boarding houses whose ‘rooms’ are just hanging blankets full of holes, anyway.” He chewed on his bottom lip, then shrugged. “Yeah, that could be kinda nice, actually. Good change of pace for all of us.”

“All of…” Ashton’s pacing halted, and after a second or two of confusion, a look of disappointed comprehension overtook his face. “Oh.”

Bennet did look over at that, with a small frown of concern.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Ashton stammered. “I just — I meant you and me. A place for just us. Not that I wouldn’t want the others to come visit all the time or anything, but—”

How long has it been since that first night we hooked up, now? Years? And it’s never stopped. It’s not like there haven’t been others, but I’m the one he always comes back to. We’re closer than ever. I just thought…

Maybe they’d been wrong.

“Ah.” Bennet watched him for a long moment, expression giving away nothing, and for a beat or two Ashton was convinced he’d said the wrong thing. But Bennet ultimately smiled, even if it lacked its usual bright luster. “Tell you what. We’ll…talk about it later, Ashton. Okay? Right now I just want to focus on the job. Make sure we don’t fuck it up.”

Ashton’s heart leapt. That wasn’t a no.

“Right. Makes sense. No point in making plans until we’ve got results.”

“Exactly.” Bennet shook his head and a bit more of his normal exasperated fondness re-entered his expression. “Now stop pacing, come over here and sit with me and help me scan for plainclothes security, eh?”

Ashton grinned and stepped over to Bennet, scooting onto his lap with an arm around him, and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. Bennet smiled and returned the gesture, but then let his eyes return to the job at hand.

There was something bothering him. Ashton could tell. He’d felt off for days, but Ashton figured it must just be uneasiness over the job. All they had to do was get through tomorrow. Then everything would be fine.

“Hey, Bennet,” they said quietly after a long period of silence. “You know I…I really care about you, yeah?”

Bennet didn’t turn to face them, but they could make out the edge of a smile on his lips. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. It wasn’t until much later that Ashton would look back and register that the tightness in his expression wasn’t stress, but something closer to sadness.

“Yeah. I know that, kid. I know.”

-

Seems to me that you’ve always been far too quick to rush headlong into danger. Generally without even stopping to realize that it’s dangerous. No wonder you’re such a walking disaster.

If you’re talking about Ludinus, I’m well fucking aware—

I’m not.

…if you’re talking about Fearne then I’m well fucking aware of that danger too. But I’m not gonna let how I feel push her away. Her friendship isn’t worth that risk. Even I'm not stupid enough for that.

Even being her around is just going to bring you pain, at this point.

No. It’s not. Not only. I mean yeah, maybe it’ll hurt a little. But I’m well accustomed to pain. And it’s worth it, to have her in my life. Even though she’ll never feel like…this.

‘This’ has always made you act like a reckless fucking idiot. You’re going to hurt her too. Is that worth feeding your selfish desire to keep her around?

That, Ashton didn’t have an answer for.

---

Thankfully, the day did not give Ashton long to dwell on the question. He felt the approach to Irriam Canyon even sooner than he saw it; the heavy thrumming in his veins grew thicker the closer they became, the white noise in his mind louder. If he’d thought he felt the presence of the eidolons, the weight of expectations, back when he’d first meditated, it hit an entirely new level as he dropped into a canyon filled with magic-enhancing crystal and written Primordial chiseled into its walls. As if the space were meant for him.

He did not have time to consider the implications at first, as their arrival stirred an ancient fey being released by the Solstice magic disruption, which they had to fight to submission before rescuing the archdruid they’d been sent to locate. And once they all sat, exhausted and bruised on the ground of the cave chamber as Bor’dor offered the bewildered, beaten-down Hevestro a touch of healing, the focus immediately shifted to how this man was going to get them all home.

Which was the correct focus, of course. Of course it was. A way home was the entire reason they’d come. It wasn’t important that Ashton’s skin was itching with unasked questions, that he had to fight the urge to stand up and pace while the others politely explained the situation and Hevestro introduced himself. It didn’t matter — it wasn’t the group’s priority, or Ashton’s, he reminded himself — if Ashton couldn’t stop staring at the glowing prismatic crystal along the walls, crystal which reminded him of his own makeshift skull, all the while Hevestro droned on about the history of this shrine, and archdruids of eld who once bound themselves to eidolon spirits to become protectors, protectors whose name sounded suspiciously like—

“Did you say Hishari?” Ashton cut in, Hevestro and the others all glancing over at his interruption. Ashton winced. “I’m so sorry, I got a little—“

“Gau Drashari,” Hevestro corrected, enunciating the words carefully.

Ashton deflated in an instant. The others were still watching curiously, and he tried his best to hide his disappointment. He was fairly certain it still colored his voice, though. “Gau Drashari,” they repeated flatly. “Okay.”

“Not Hishari,” Hevestro confirmed.

Of course not. What else was I honestly expecting? There are only ever more godsdamned questions, never any—

“Definitely not Hishari,” the archdruid muttered with a dark chuckle.

Ashton’s eyes snapped to Hevestro.

—answers!

Yes.

It took all of Ashton’s energy to keep their voice even.

“What do you know about the Hishari?”

“Not a terrible amount, only what the locals are aware of.” The wryness had left his tone, replaced by hesitation.

Dig. Don’t let him sidestep! He knows something!

“Well, we are clearly not locals, so…” Ashton prompted. Their gaze pinned Hevestro in place.

Hevestro cleared his throat. Glanced away.

You are owed answers. Take them!

“We have just done you a great service,” Ashton pressed. He leaned forward with all the intensity of a starving predator who’d finally caught a scent, unmoving, all earlier restlessness discarded.

Answer me. Answer!

“…where to begin?” Hevestro murmured, finally. Ashton’s heart leapt, and he found himself holding his breath. Anything else they’d come here for was forgotten. Laudna reached over to offer the frazzled druid a water skin, and he took a long drink from it.

Too long. Ashton felt like they were about to vibrate out of their skin.

“Can we talk to…Omadea? Oma-Dua?” Bor’dor cut in, referring to the spirit who resided in the shrine. Ashton brushed the question off with one hand, their eyes not leaving Hevestro for even a second.

“We’ll get there.” We’ll get to all of it. I’ll wring every last drop of knowledge right out of him before we set one foot outside this room. The smirk that came to his face had a manic edge to it. “Oh yeah, we are going to get there.”

“Are you alright, Ashton?”

The question from Laudna caught him off guard, and as he looked over to see a genuine frown of concern on her face, it took a moment for the question to even process. When it finally did, he shook his head but smiled.

“I’m— I’m a little tired, but I’m fine,” he said, waving off her concern, not really comprehending where it came from in the first place. Sure, I've barely slept in days, but I’m fine. I’m more than fine. I can’t remember the last time I felt this…alive.

She did not look entirely convinced, however, and when Hevestro turned to Bor’dor to answer his query about Oma-Dua instead, Ashton felt the restlessness creep back in. He leaned back, rubbed at a knot in the muscle of one thigh absently, felt his gaze wandering to the crystals growing out of the various walls as Hevestro spoke. And it was Laudna, in the end, with another long analytical squint in Ashton’s direction, who redirected the conversation.

“What was wrong with the Hishari?” she asked Hevestro, pointedly, bringing the topic back around. “Why don’t you like them?”

Ashton could have kissed her, right then.

Hevestro looked a touch uncomfortable, but seemed to realize that they were not going to let this go, and relented.

“Well…I have not personally encountered them. But about 50 years ago, a charismatic figure arose in the region named Efterin.” And as Ashton listened in rapt attention, Hevestro wove a tale of a man whose belief in the powers of the elemental spirits, and his own abilities, was unshakable; who together with fanatical followers took over a small village, renamed it and his people ‘Hishari,’ and sought a way to restore the Primordials to their rightful place of power and rulership in Exandria.

“A task that is impossible and foolish,” Hevestro was sure to emphasize, with an obvious edge of scorn. “They were scattered by the gods long ago. But even so, he drew many to follow him. The last I heard, the source of Efterin’s power was likely his downfall, leading to the destruction of the village, with the few survivors scattering.”

For a moment, Ashton was transported back into the vision they’d had when Imogen lost control, the authoritative man wearing that endless mystery of a mask, the gentle woman leaning down to speak to them then turning to a crowd, the world and everything in it being ripped apart in an instant. And suddenly, finally, all the puzzle pieces came together.

There were…survivors?? The thought was incomprehensible. All of it was, really. Except that, at the same time, it made more sense than anything had in the entirety of Ashton’s life.

Hishari. That’s who I am.

And where I come from.

That is who, and what, made me.

“It is now considered a tale to pass down as a word of warning to those who delve without understanding what powers they seek,” Hevestro was saying.

Ashton interrupted.

“Where was this town?” They tried not to sound too interested.

“It was fairly far west of here, on the edge of the Utesspire Mountains.”

Shit. That’s not nearby. How long would it take? Would it be worth the trip? How…how could it not be? I’ve come all this way and I’m so fucking close compared to normal and—

“Abaddina was one of those Hishari,” Hevestro added offhandedly, abruptly cutting off Ashton’s runaway thoughts. “One of the surviving members. But she has since come to see the fault in their ways of thinking.”

Ashton blinked, leaned back and crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed, and he felt the hint of a dark smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth as yet another piece fell into place.

That’s why she’s been in all my fucking dreams.

Prism spoke up, raising her hand like she was in a classroom. “Do you think it’s possible with all the changes happening right now that she could be re-radicalized?”

Ashton flashed back to days earlier, sitting in Abaddina’s house as she related stories of the titans, their eidolon children; the way the world belonged to the titans first, was created by them, and was stolen from them by the gods who then wiped them out. ‘We merely wish to bring this world to a new and natural state once more’ -- was that what she’d said?

Oh yeah. Those are the words of someone who has not let that idea go no matter how much time has passed.

But is she wrong? When the eidolons call to you, but the gods who created you, who you’ve been fighting to protect, want you dead? When they already stole the world from the titans, do you really think they won’t steal it back from mankind as well?

Hevestro said what Abaddina wanted was impossible.

Hevestro doesn’t know what you are.

“If there’s power to be grabbed, might she use it to fuel these ideas of Primordial resurgence?” Prism asked.

“The gods are weakening,” Ashton said, eyeing Hevestro. They weren’t certain if it was an observation or a warning. Maybe…it’s not exactly the problem we were led to believe.

“I certainly hope not,” Hevestro said, in answer to Prism, sounding grim. “There was a heavy lesson and price that was paid that day.”

Ashton thought back to the moment that reality ripped apart in front of him, the moment everything in his life was torn away from him, and felt nauseous. Was he really considering if what they did was right?

Except…if Ludinus can have the right idea, but go about it in the worst possible fucking way…why couldn’t this Efterin fucker, or Abaddina, be the same?

Ashton’s migraine was coming back. They needed more. More information. More context.

Good thing he was now friends with a consummate, diligent scholar.

“May I ask…” Prism started, delicately, before Ashton could even get around to it. “What happened? I don’t— I’m not trying to pry, but…”

Hevestro sighed, and Ashton crossed their arms, staring him down.

They’d been waiting their whole damn life for this. They were done waiting.

“I was not present,” Hevestro said. “But from what I’ve heard, they were attempting to channel an extremely powerful source of elemental magic. An artifact of some kind. Something that became a centerpiece to their cult.”

Elemental—!

‘Talk to the spirits,’ Abaddina had said. ‘You already hold a very strong connection to the elements, given…’

They’d thought she meant their skin, their hair, their nature. But the way she’d reacted when he’d said out of nowhere that this had been ‘done to him’...

“In not knowing what it was they toyed with,” Hevestro finished with a shrug, “they could not control it. The site is now considered cursed; anyone who goes there does so at their own peril.”

Ashton wasn’t listening.

“Do you know what elemental power they pulled?” he asked.

Was. It. Earth?

You already know the answer.

They tried to sound casual, but apparently the sharpness in their eyes gave them away, because Hevestro gave them a curious look and hesitated.

“You ask intense questions,” the archdruid said finally. “I think you might be somehow connected to this.”

“Sure,” Ashton said with a shrug, and resumed staring the man down until he relented.

“Well…the power of the Primordial Titans, I imagine.”

“Huh,” was all Ashton could manage. He stared into the middle distance as his mind flitted through fragments of dreams — or were they memories? — of his mother handing him a large uneven stone, alive with a power that fortified even as it shook his foundations. Just that — nothing more.

Something resonated deep in his chest at the memory; rumbled, then fell silent. But Ashton…every nerve was on fire, energized, alight with possibility.

They hadn’t known why they’d said it, but they’d been correct. Ashton had been made this way. Created for a purpose. Imbued with power…of some kind. Hevestro said the archdruids sometimes merged with eidolons to become powerful protectors.

Is that what they’d done to him? And if so…was that power actually within reach?

Yes. But this is only the start, only a direction. You’ll need to seek it out.

It took him a moment to register that Laudna was watching him again.

“Abaddina was certainly looking at you with curiosity,” she said carefully.

Ashton narrowed their eyes. Because it was true.

I fucking knew she recognized me. She must have. I don’t know fucking how, I don’t exactly look like I did when I was a fucking child, but—

You likely bear some resemblance to your parents, though. And if she knew they’d been toying with the element of earth, and met someone years later who had been turned into stone and looked like them, it wouldn’t exactly take a genius.

No one who survived that massacre has seen you since that day. She was probably so obsessed with your crystal skull because she thought it was part of all this. Easy enough mistake to make.

They didn’t know what they were creating when they made you, and she finally got a chance to see firsthand.

“I’m surprised she didn’t say anything,” Ashton grumbled.

“I think she knew that would be a mistake,” Laudna said. Still watching him with that odd, evaluatory gaze. Ashton glowered — not at Laudna, but at Abaddina, despite the elder’s absence.

If she’s one of the people who fucking did this to me? To all those other people who died that day?

“Definitely would’ve,” he said, darkly.

They gave you a gift. Don’t be angry; fucking embrace it.

“She also talked quite a lot about the rise of the Primordials,” Laudna was saying, her attention back on Hevestro for the moment. “The return of them, I guess. How this world rightfully belongs to them, first.”

“She’s not incorrect,” Hevestro said simply.

Ashton’s mind raced at the implications of that statement, of everything they’d just learned. At the need to find more information. This…this cult had ruined his life. But the voice was right, they’d also left him with a gift — one he wasn’t currently using. Wasn’t able to use. But maybe if he could go to the site, dig around, find out more…maybe he could harness it. Maybe he could become one of those legendary protectors Hevestro spoke of, like the one housed in this very shrine.

Maybe he’d finally have the power to save the others. To deserve them.

If he could just get to the village—

“Abaddina also seemed to believe we could find aid here,” Orym cut in, having been silent this entire conversation. “We need to cross the ocean. Fast.”

The abrupt change in topic ripped Ashton out of their reverie with a harsh tug.

We need…the others. Our…our family. Fearne. Fuck. That’s…that’s the whole damn reason we came here in the first place. We need to get back to them. ‘That’s all that matters’ — wasn’t that what I told Laudna? Didn’t I fucking mean it?

The ache roaring back into their chest at the thought of the others made it very clear to Ashton that he had.

Stupid. I’m being an idiot. We’ve got fucking priorities. I can’t believe I let myself forget for even a minute—

What’s the point in getting back to them, if you can’t keep them safe when you get there?

It was right. But when Ashton glanced at Orym, always so focused and on mission, at Laudna who he knew was missing Imogen just as much as he was missing Fearne…he couldn’t ask it of them. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask it of himself.

He wanted her back. Even…even if he couldn’t have her the way he now knew he wanted. He just wanted her back.

Anything else could wait.

---

Perhaps the way Ashton’s thoughts circled endlessly around everything they’d learned, turning the facts over and over in his mind in an attempt to wrest any additional insight from them, was why it took him so long to notice.

The way Bor’dor fidgeted uneasily in his seat as they all gathered around a firepit for dinner, preparing to rest for the night until Hevestro could gather enough power to send them all on their way. The way Deni$e was staring daggers into the shepherd, her words more cutting than seemed justified. The way Laudna remained flawlessly polite as Deni$e questioned Bor’dor about his history, but narrowed her eyes at him regardless, her delicate frame growing tense.

They were just having dinner. They had a place to sleep for the night with actual beds. They’d found their way home and it was only hours away. Everything was fine — hell, everything was better than it had been since they’d found themselves here, by a long shot. Life was finally looking up.

Until Deni$e grabbed Bor’dor’s arm and wrenched it behind his back, demanding honesty. Until Bor’dor admitted he’d been lying to them all, stood, and began to tell his story.

Then Ashton noticed. Then, all at once, all of the inconsistencies in Bor’dor’s actions and stories and abilities came rushing back, and Ashton had one hand on his hammer in a fraction of a second.

A fraction of a second too late, as Bor’dor revealed that he was actually a devoted member of the Ruby Vanguard, and exploded an acid bomb in the center of the room.

The splash hit them all with a hissing, horrific burn, but Prism took the brunt of the damage and fell unconscious. Ashton made the fleetest eye contact with Orym — just enough to be sure that Orym would head straight to Prism and keep her safe — before launching himself at Bor’dor hammer-first, black-and-white rage pouring from his skull.

But somewhere within him, a kernel of restraint held him back from a killing blow.

His mother trusted the gods and they abandoned her when she needed them. How the fuck am I supposed to blame him for his anger when I feel the exact same fucking way??

The hammer smashed into Bor’dor’s ribs with a crack, however, and Deni$e helpfully rammed into Bor’dor’s chest, arms wrapped around him to restrain him in place. He tried, frantically, to mutter a spell under his breath.

From across the room, Ashton heard a single, quiet word crackling with darkness.

“Counterspell.”

When he looked up, Laudna was walking toward them with slow, deliberate steps, eyes black with a rage Ashton knew far, far too well, because it lived within them both.

“I’m really sorry, Bor’dor,” she whispered, her voice only half her own. “I just can’t stand having anyone else betray me.”

Ashton already knew what she was planning to do as he watched her transform into her Form of Dread, the tree-like structures draped with a mourning veil that served as a confirmation and a warning. And while Bor’dor wept and Deni$e begged Laudna to leave the kid alive, to get information from him if nothing else, Ashton took a step back.

He’d made up his mind, sure. But he wasn’t about to take away Laudna’s chance to make up her own.

As she slowly curled her fingers around Bor’dor’s neck and a purple power surrounded her hands and began to suck the life force out of him, a crying, bloodied Prism came out of nowhere and decked Bor’dor in the side of the head. He fell unconscious in Laudna’s hands.

This wouldn’t take long, then.

Ashton reached out and put a protective arm around Prism, turning her into his chest to cover her eyes and moving them both back and out of the way.

She doesn’t need to see this, he thought. But he didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch.

Bor’dor deserved that much. So did Laudna.

Ashton watched as Orym gave Laudna a silent, tiny nod that Ashton wasn’t even sure she registered, as the last of the life force drained from their erstwhile companion. The body dropped to the ground, bursting into a fresh bloom of white and blue flowers, and Laudna stood stock still before it.

“Can I turn around yet?” Prism asked shakily, after a long moment of silence in the cavern.

“Yeah,” Ashton confirmed. As soon as she stepped away with a small, grateful smile, he moved to Laudna’s side instead, stepping in between her and the corpse. She lashed out at him with a hiss, but he stepped forward resolutely and placed his hands on both her shoulders, steadying.

“It’s okay,” they said, tone calm and soothing.

He’d been there before — coming down from the rage, stepping out of the fog of fear and anger. Wondering what the fuck he’d just done. What mistakes he might have made.

“Ashton?” Her voice was fragile, raw, and as she transformed back into her usual frail self, black tears began to stream down her face.

“It’s okay,” he said again, meeting her eyes determinedly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“What…what have I done?” she stuttered.

“Nothing I haven’t done.”

That shouldn’t make her feel any better.

At least she’ll know she’s not alone. She’s never alone.

“I’m weak,” she whispered.

“No. You’re just hurt.” And at that, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, one hand gently behind her head as she cried into his shoulder.

She shouldn’t be going through this. None of this should have happened.

This…this is fucking Dusk all over again. How did I not see it? I was the one who kept insisting we brought him along, and now—

I told you that you don’t deserve them. So are you going to do something about it, or what?

---

An explosion. Shattered glass. Weightlessness. Scattered pieces of stone. Pieces of Ashton.

Darkness.

pain pain pain

“Oh god…”

“Go go go! Run!”

“No, wait—"

“He’s dead! Leave him!”

Raw skin dragging against gravel. Broken, color-drained flashes of vision, of roads and alleys, of feet skidding and hands clinging.

so much pain

The dragging stops. A shadow looms. Someone tries to piece him together, frantic. Pieces drop. It only hurts worse.

“Come on, come on…” Milo’s voice cutting through the growing fog. “Shit shit shit—"

“You fucked it up!”

“No, just let me— I can still—"

“Stop it! Just let him…” A pause, a grunt of frustration. “He’s dead. I told you. Just leave him.”

“I’m not going to do that!”

“Then you’re on your own.”

-

More darkness.

And then blinding light, and blinding, incandescent pain.

Ashton squinted his eyes back shut. He couldn’t…he couldn’t really remember what happened. Why…why the fuck did everything hurt so much?

He tried to sit. Regretted it instantly, groaned, and lay back down with a heavy and agonizing thud.

The movement drew someone’s attention, and in a moment, Milo’s face hovered over him, equal parts concern and momentous relief.

“Ash! We thought— I thought— I didn’t know if it worked. Oh my god, you’re really alive. How are… Can you move?”

“Can,” Ashton grunted. “Don’t really want to. What happened?”

Milo’s face crumpled. “We didn’t see, but we think you touched something. Set off a trap or alarm or something. Something that alerted Hexum. She spotted us, there was an explosion, you got thrown from the building, and…”

Hexum spotted us. Fuck. It wasn’t lost on him that Milo said Ashton was the one who triggered the alarm. Bennet was never gonna let him live that down.

Fuck, that must have drawn so much attention too. I just wanted…I just wanted to give us something good, but I fucked it all up, and—

“Milo?” he asked, suddenly on edge. “Where are the others? Did they get out?”

Milo looked physically pained. They didn’t respond.

“Milo, what the fuck? Where are they? Are they okay? Where’s…where’s Bennet?”

Milo looked away.

“They’re…okay, Ash. They’re all fine, they got out clean. But they knew Hexum saw their faces, so…they left.”

“They…left? I don’t understand.”

Milo looked back to Ashton with pity in their eyes. “I’m sorry, Ashton. They helped me drag you out of there but when it looked like you weren’t going to make it, they took off. Left the city, I think. They’re all gone.”

-

Ashton woke with a groan and rubbed at his face with both hands. They should have seen this dream coming, they supposed, what with all the nightmares that had been plaguing them recently and the events of the prior night. And it wasn’t as if this particular nightmare was an infrequent visitor.

Didn’t make it hurt any less each time.

Especially as, for the first time, Ashton realized whose voice had been the one telling Milo to leave him behind.

Are you really surprised? Part of you must have known.

Ashton didn’t respond.

They always leave. Even the ones you care for most. Especially the ones you care for most.

…yeah. Well, I fucking deserved it. I fucked them all over. I nearly got Bennet and all of them killed because I was too damn greedy. I’d have left me behind, too.

Anyone would have. You’ve known the truth this whole time, haven’t you? You’re the real reason everyone leaves. It’s not their fault; you just aren’t good enough for them.

No one will ever love you because you aren’t deserving of love.

Yet you dare to dream of someone new? As if the last disaster weren’t enough to get the point across? As if you didn’t just fuck her over too, mere days ago?

Ashton’s stomach twisted into knots. The voice was right. Every damn word it said was right. And yet…

Things have changed since then. I know things now that I didn’t before.

I can be better. I can become good enough. I have to.

I’ll do anything to keep them safe. If that helps the world at large too, great. But this is about protecting my family. Deserving them. And I swear, this time I won’t be the reason I lose the people I care about most.

---

As the others finished packing up their few belongings — and sorting through Bor’dor’s for anything of use — Ashton eyed the prismatic crystals clinging to the corners of the walls. He still felt a tingle beneath his skin every time he drew close, a wordless voice that whispered of connection, the same way he’d felt near the elemental in Hearthdell. He approached Hevestro on a whim.

“Do you mind if, I don’t know, if I grab a little bit of this crystal before we go?” He shrugged. He didn’t feel like trying to explain the sensation, the odd feeling of kinship; he was pretty sure he’d just sound crazy. “I don’t know, it kind of calls to me. In a way.”

Hevestro closed his eyes for a moment, then graced them with a serene smile. “You have permission.”

As Ashton sifted through some fallen rock from their battle with the fey creature to find a piece of crystal of suitable size, however — locating one and appreciating the pleasant resonance he felt from it as he touched it — Prism came up behind him.

“Will you grab a little for me too?”

She laughed nervously, and Ashton just shook their head and smiled, and plucked another piece from the pile to hand to her. They had a feeling this wasn’t why she’d actually followed them — a feeling which was quickly proven correct.

“Ashton, um, actually…can I maybe talk to you?” She paused, then added, “Dynios, you should come out for this too.”

The sentient book floated to her side on command.

“Yes?” he asked. “What is it you require?”

Prism fidgeted in place, and Ashton gave her an encouraging nod.

“Um…I’ve actually been thinking about how I don’t want to go back to the Cobalt Soul.”

I fucking knew it.

“Are you suggesting,” Dynios asked imperiously, “that we abscond from our duties at the Cobalt Soul and go missing?”

A grin slowly spread across Prism’s face.

“I’m asking, Dynios, if you want to be outstanding.” After a beat, she added, grinning even wider, “An outstanding loan from the library of the Cobalt Soul.”

Ashton groaned at the pun, but shook his head, crossing his arms and grinning. Prism was staring at Dynios expectantly.

“Sometimes,” the book started slowly, “books that are checked out just don’t get returned to the repository.” As Prism’s eyes lit up, he added dryly, “A shame.”

Well who fucking knew. The book is a delinquent too! This was too good. Beneath the amusement, Ashton also felt a tiny bit more at peace; it seemed she’d continue to be in good hands when they parted ways.

“Okay,” Prism said, bouncing in place a bit and seemingly trying to psych herself up. “So I have Dynios’ approval.” But then she looked to Ashton, hesitating. “Do you think it’s okay? We could go back to Vasselheim. We could. Do…you think this is wrong? Because right now I’m really questioning my own morality.”

Ashton let out a low whistle and winced. They rubbed at the side of their head.

“Boy. I…think you might be asking the wrong person about that.”

She wants your advice on morality? You are this girl’s role model? What a fucking joke.

Kinda my point.

But Prism instead gave him a wild grin, leaning in toward him conspiratorially.

“I know. I think that’s why I’m asking you, honestly. Because you feel like a sick fuck who’s going to egg me on.”

“I—"

“And I want to be egged on,” she pressed, leaning even closer. “Come on, you sick fuck, egg me on!”

Ashton chuckled and shook his head in exasperation. But somewhere, below it all, they felt…uneasy.

If I’m her fucking role model…fuck. She’s gonna get herself fucking killed.

And…and that’s her choice, they realized a half-second later. But she needs to know what she’s getting herself into.

“Here’s the fucking deal,” he started, tone clearly more serious by several levels than Prism was expecting. Her face fell, but she gave them a single quick nod and listened.

“If you do this…the thing you just felt last night? You will feel that again. And it will not feel better. More adventures end this way, than the other way.”

Prism screwed her face up in distaste, a look that matched the disquiet Ashton was feeling. Clearly not what she wanted to hear, even if she needed to hear it.

But it’s not the whole story here, is it?

He took a deep breath. “You’re pretty fucking good at this.” He watched her eyes light up once more and did his best to keep a level expression, to make it clear that he was still being serious. “And you…impress. And I think, maybe, if you try not quite so fucking hard to be someone else…” Ashton paused, considering how to get the idea across in a way she’d understand, and more importantly, actually take to heart. “I think all this is not a good way to run from yourself. But…I don’t think you have to. Just be a criminal nerd.”

He couldn’t stop the grin from cracking his face at that. Because the idea was positively ridiculous. But it was absolutely what she was, regardless.

Talk about learning how to be yourself.

“You are clearly good at being a criminal,” he offered, chuckling a little at the way she puffed up her chest in pride at what was, they supposed, technically a compliment. “And definitely a nerd.”

Prism broke out laughing, and Ashton joined in, watching her with no small amount of affection.

“So yeah, I’d do it. If you’re asking me? I’d fucking do it. I’ve done worse. And yeah, I think you’d be pretty good at it.”

Prism nodded emphatically and positively beamed at him, grabbing Dynios and unceremoniously clutching him to her chest, muffling what had previously been words of encouragement. Ashton had a feeling Prism wouldn’t be lacking for an instigator, even after she’d left Ashton’s side.

Yeah. She was going to be just fine.

“Okay,” she said, any remaining hesitance having well and truly left her countenance. “Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing people curse your fucking name,” they said with a grin, clapping her on the back. They returned to the others, laughing the whole way, Ashton feeling lighter than he had in some time.

Feeling like, just maybe, for the second time on this otherwise cursed little adventure, he’d actually done something right.

As soon as they’d all finished gathering their things, Hevestro guided the group out of the shrine and up through a hidden crevasse, climbing a steep set of stairs until they emerged on top of the cliffside overlooking the canyon. It was another impeccably beautiful day, the sun shining down on the trees that marked the edge of the lush forest and baking heat into the rock pathway. Ashton reached into their pocket and fingered the crystal he’d taken from the shrine, closing his eyes for a moment and taking in the sound of birds, the scent of fresh air, the solidity and familiarity of the stone beneath their feet.

The sense of being watched, being surrounded and judged by something ancient and all-encompassing that had dogged Ashton the entire time they’d been in Issylra remained, but now, it granted them a sense of solidarity. A strong foundation. And also expectation.

The eidolons were watching. And for just a moment, Ashton wanted, with all of their being, to stay.

Then the moment passed, and he looked to the weary smiles of anticipation on the faces of his friends, and knew he was doing the right thing.

It was time to go. Time to keep his word, and get the others back. Safe and sound, their group finally whole once more.

Deni$e was the first to go, giving them each a kiss on the cheek on her way out, promising to give Dariax the beat down he deserved and to send Dorian their regards. And then the remaining four stood before Hevestro, who awaited their instruction.

Just to be safe, Prism volunteered to Scry the other half of Bells Hells one last time, just to ensure their destination. And it was a good thing they did, because the vision she described was not the snow-covered wilderness of Wildemount, but a city of carved stone spires in a temperate jungle, with six individuals gathered around in a familiar-sounding pub, hope and concern plain in their faces.

Ashton would have given anything to see what Prism saw. But the knowledge was sufficient.

They’d be there with them soon enough.

“They went back to where it all started,” Laudna said, a look of wonder in her eyes that Ashton felt soul-deep himself.

“Back home,” he said.

They went home. We get to go home.

“Is that where you thought we were going?” Prism asked, and Ashton shook his head, the softest of smiles overtaking his face.

“No.”

“To Jrusar, then?” Laudna piped up, glancing at Orym and Ashton in turn. She was clearly trying not to sound impatient, but she needn’t have worried. Ashton wasn’t about to wait a single second longer, ready to jump through Hevestro’s portal the moment it appeared.

“Come on, family,” he said, and for once no part of him questioned his use of the word. “Let’s go get the rest of the kids.”