Spirits of the Earth

@MadEmperor

---

Marvelous Mortimer's Mysterious Menagerie was sold to its Connloathian patrons as the traveling home of dozens of exotic--and often intriguingly dangerous--animals. And of course they were just animals, because while mages were a delicate subject at the best of times in any of the duchies, magical creatures could often be sold to the populace as pure spectacle. The people could gawk at a glowing deerfox without fear of retribution from the church.

This was why Ghost had not taken the shape she'd been born in for the last six weeks. When the hunters had caught her in the form of a snowy white doe, they had thought her simply a moderate prize--albinism was eye-catching enough to hold some audience members' attention briefly, so she might be worth a few coins in the show. For a while.

After a week in the Menagerie, she had made her first mistake; there had been a moment, just the briefest chance at escape, and in her desperation she'd taken it. She had shifted from deer to dove and darted through the narrow opening of the door to her netted cage when the caretaker they'd assigned to her cluster of wagons had cracked it to slide her food in. Of course, she didn't get far. Mortimer himself had downed her with a surprisingly accurate shot from a sling.

And just like that, she went from being a mildly entertaining, edge-of-the-show sort of attraction to one of their main "stars". Her cage was moved to the center of the caravan when they moved, along with an ashen gray dire bear, a scrawny lion from the Serha plains, and a single, tiny cage which hung near the tent entrance and was the home of a listless, dull-plummaged teacup dragon.

Her second mistake came three weeks after they'd moved her place in the menagerie. She'd been poked and prodded and gaped at and called a cursed thing, a wretched creature, a marvel, a gift, a monster, a demon, a spirit, and she'd borne it all in silence.

But she was tired, just so, so tired. So when a group of visitors to the menagerie were tramped through the tent and they came to her cage, when her "caretaker" gave her a little poke with his long, thin walking stick to get her to change shape, she slid from raven to lion--she'd learned the shape from her time in this place--and tried to lash out at him.

That only earned her a solid beating and a week out of the eye of the public. A respite that she only had so that by the time she was out in front of people again, her wounds had mostly healed.

So there she was, a new town, a new cluster of gawking fools every day, and her just laying listlessly on the bottom of her cage, once again in the form of a pure white doe. A living ghost.

One day, a new creature joined the Managerie. She would likely never have seen a creature as majestic as the rare Kilanthroan White Tiger before one was wheeled into the tent. It was fierce, strong, and beautiful—possibly the largest cat Mortimer had ever seen. Strangely, it didn't lash out once, content to simply eye its captors like it was plotting revenge.

When the humans left them alone, its bright blue eyes locked on her. There was no hunger in them, but what looked suspiciously like compassion. It was as if it could see that she was no mere animal, because it wasn't either.

The doe raised her head slightly, more disturbed by the commotion than she was curious. She felt too tired to be curious, really.

"Oh, we feeling uppity again, eh?" one of the men who had wheeled the tiger in chortled, catching sight of her. She flinched back--this was her "caretaker", the human mainly in charge of her feeding and upkeep. Also the one who had been responsible for her beating after she tried to lash out.

The man scoffed at her, waving the others out of the tent. "Let 'em be for a few hours. Need to get used to the smell of each other, or that damned cat will be trying to hunt the rest, just you watch."

Ghost watched them go, trembling lightly. Only when the tent flap swished closed behind them did she look back to the new arrival. She simply stared, eyes an almost disturbingly pale shade of blue as she looked the tiger over.

Something was...off.

The tiger stretched, arching his back like a lazy housecat, before sitting down. He licked his paw and rubbed at his face as it watched her watching him. His interest seemed too thoughtful, as if...

Finally. I thought they'd never leave, the great cat said in beastspeak. She was right, he was no normal beast, if he was even a beast at all. The voice was too kind, too breezy for him to be just an intelligent predator. It's alright, I won't eat you. I couldn't even if I wanted to, not from this cage.

Ghost reared her head back, startled. While she could change her shape into most any animal she was familiar with, she couldn't always understand them so clearly. It was more often a general sense, signals she got from noises and body language that she interpreted instinctively. This was...something else. She'd heard beastspeak before--it was the most common way that druidically inclined mages communicated, creatures like familiars, or even animals that spent a majority of their time around humans.

She'd never heard it so clear from a creature clearly so wild.

She stood on shaky legs, her body still worn and sore despite the lack of visible wounds. What...are you?

Her own beastspeak was shaky, communicated as much in the natural language of the shape she currently inhabited as with the mind. But it was understandable.

The beast chuckled inside her head. My, aren't we perceptive. Most would assume me to be a shifter, like you. I am no more human than the wind itself.

A gentle gust blew through the tent in an impossible direction, and the tiger was gone. In its place was a white cat that slipped effortlessly out of his cage. It is good I allowed myself to be brought here. No being deserves this cruel farce, least of all intelligent ones.

It strolled over without a care, sitting before her as if a royal thing; a king of beasts.

Ghost staggered back until her haunches pressed up against the thin metal netting of her cage; she was one of the "lucky few" creatures who had been kept in an herbivore's enclosure, which in Mortimer's Menagerie meant no conveniently spaced bars to slip through. After she had had shown her shapeshifting abilities, that had not exactly been likely to change.

How-- She shook her head. How do you know...I'm a shifter?

Despite the fact that he was now much smaller than her, she didn't trust that situation not to change in a hurry. She shifted her weight nervously between her hooves.

You are wild like a beast, but you are no beast. And your magic isn't strong enough to be a true magical being... not like me, anyway. He was just a little vain, as any feline would be.

As if the conversation already bored him, he suddenly said, would you like me to free you? I could cut your bars with my claws, pick the lock with a breeze, maybe blow through this place like a storm, tearing it to the ground, or I could even kill them all... if you so wished it.

No...I'm no mage, she agreed warily. I can just...change. I've always been this way...

When he said he could free her, her ears perked up, nose twitching, all the tell-tale signs of interest that she couldn't hide. She shrank back again when he said he could kill them all.

N-No. Despite her anger, her fear, despite the torment, she found she couldn't ask it. She would not grieve these people, no: but neither could she allow their deaths to be her whim. Please. Please, just let me out, I want to be free again. Please.

And she made what would possibly be her third, and last, mistake at the Menagerie. She sank down to the floor of her cage and allowed to the surface the shape she had been born to. A young woman with wild white hair that hung long enough to provide some modesty for her naked form; her frantic, pale eyes bored into his, and she hooked her fingers into the metal netting of her prison.

"Please..."

The truth was, he didn't want to commit bloody vengeance either. He was simply one usually content to go with the flow, and the victims deserved to be the ones to choose. With a quick purr and another small gust, he became a man.

The man grew claws from his fingers and slashed the netting away as if he were still a tiger. He withdrew the claws and offered her his hand, smiling helpfully through the stark white hair that hung over his eyes. "Come, you'll be safe with me."

Ghost flinched back from his claws, and when he offered his hand she hesitated. But in the way of a wild animal, she sensed instinctively that even if this creature was a threat, whatever waited her here was worse.

She placed her hand in his, nodding. "Thank you..."

Her legs were a little shaky as he helped her down from the cage. While in animal form the worst of her bruises had been hidden by fur, in her human form, with naught but her hair to clothe her, they stood out stark against her pale skin. Nearly a week old, they were mostly sickly shades of green and yellow by now, though a few burst blood vessels under her skin had left darker marks.

"The—the others." She coughed. She hadn't used a human voice in a long time. "We can't—the creatures here, they don't deserve this. We can't...leave them..."

Seeing her bruises brewed a storm within him. No innocent living being deserved such treatment. While he didn't exist to seek retribution, it was a very tempting proposition. An all-too-animal growl emanated from him as he said, "I had no intention of doing so. These... 'people' don't deserve the mercy I show by allowing them the breath in their lungs."

Clouds gathered around him and coalesced into a fur cloak, which he draped over her shoulders. Without so much as a word, he walked over to the dire bear's cage and seemed to converse with it. He waved his hand over the lock, and it clicked open. It eyed him warily, but it remained calm as he swung open the cage. Repeating this process, he opened every cage in the tent.

The teacup dragon fluttered onto his shoulder as he returned to her. "Are you ready?"

Ghost skittered back a bit when her literally pulled a cloak out of thin air, habit making her wary of anything new. She held still when he draped it around her shoulders, just staring at him, in a state of semi-shock from the whole situation.

She could do little more than watch as he moved about the tent, freeing all the creatures. The barest flicker of a smile crossed her face when the tiny dragon perched on his shoulder, peeping quietly. She reached up to offer her fingers for the creature to sniff, and the smile grew when it nibbled curiously at her fingertip.

"Yes," she said, voice stronger than it had been. She clutched the cloak a little tighter. "I'm ready."

"You may call me Zephyr." He gave her an easy smile and a nod as he pulled the bow off his back. Peeking outside, he aimed skyward and fired off several arrows as if pulling them from thin air. They banked like birds in flight, divided, and rained back down as if the menagerie was under attack from a force at least a dozen strong. Somehow the only wounds that resulted were ones that could be easily healed, but would serve to cause a panic.

When the alarm sounded and the guards rushed towards the perceived attackers, he signaled for the other creatures to follow as he slipped out. When she did emerge, she would see the whole menagerie camp covered in fog

She dipped her head to him in introduction. "I'm Gh— Asta." She smiled a bit. "My name is Asta."

She could only watch with wide eyes as he called a volley of arrows down on the menagerie, then hurry to follow him along with the rest of the escapees as he led them out into the fog.

"Where are we going?" she chanced asking in the barest breath of a whisper.

"Into the wild," he whispered, "The may not all belong in this land, but I can lead them somewhere better."

Every now and then, the spirit would vanish for a moment only to return with other freed creatures. It was strange seeing such a variety of creatures following quietly. The entity must have had much sway over them if he could get them to restrain their fight or flight instincts.

Asta might have been confused by the way so many disparate creatures followed him so easily, if she hadn't experienced his way of conversing herself. She still didn't think she trusted him—trust was something one had to earn, and quite strenuously in her case—but she could understand how the wild creatures of the menagerie sensed the potential for freedom from him.

The tiny teacup dragon hadn't left his shoulder—only when he vanished would it relinquish its perch with indignant peeps, then quickly take it up again when he returned.

"The humans will come after us," Asta murmured as she followed him, still clutching his cloak made of clouds. "They will bring others—hunters, mordecai even."

Some of her fellow attractions were too valuable to be forgotten easily.

Zephyr gave a surprisingly steely gaze for a creature so tied to the air. "Let them. We will be long gone by the time the fog lifts, and their hounds will find no scent."

Come to think of it, the dogs weren't so much as barking at the escaping creatures. It seems they knew their place. They were simply ignoring the whole procession.

A guard patrolling the perimeter suddenly happened upon them, and Zephyr was on them before they could shout. He punched them in the gut, grabbing onto the resulting exhalation and pulling enough air from their lungs to disable them for a while.

Asta froze when the guard caught sight of them, but she didn't even have time to considered fight or flight before Zephyr had incapacitated them.

"But we're so far from the wilds here," Asta whispered as she hurried to catch up with him again. She didn't know where they were exactly, but she knew they were close enough to one of the humans' cities that visitors to the menagerie hadn't been complaining about too much travel.

She knew most of the animals would likely get themselves to their proper homes alright, once they were free of the threat of capture. But there were certainly some—like the minuscule dragon—who were impossibly far from their homelands.

Zephyr thought for a brief moment. "I will lead them to my sister. She will take them beyond Connloath's reach."

Asta would get the impression that the spirit was making this up as he went. At least he had the power to carry out his whims, though that could be a good or bad thing. It made a sort of sense for a wind elemental to live in the moment.

He led the procession into the forest. The creatures that were native and more common peeled away first, returning to their simple lives. Not long after, the more rare and dangerous ones left. Looking back at her, he said, "You may leave at any time, or you can stay until we reach my sister. The choice is yours."

"I—"

She bit her lip, watching a pair of rare ashen foxes scamper off into the brush. Six weeks. They had traveled for six weeks since she'd been captured.

She didn't even know where home was anymore.

"I will stay," she whispered, glancing up at his back. "If...that's alright."

A smile crossed his lips. The spirit hadn't had a mortal companion that he'd shown his nature since time out of mind. He would enjoy speaking with her.

"That would be grand. I don't get to be myself with a mortal very often." He was nonchalant about it, but he seemed genuinely excited for the company.

The teacup dragon on his shoulder chirruped at him, and he laughed. "You are welcome too, little one."

Asta found herself smiling a bit, entirely enchanted by the tiny dragon. Perhaps she should have been more intrigued by her strange rescuer, but honestly he was just...something so far beyond her ability to currently process that her mind seemed to be focusing on the strangeness that she could comprehend.

"I didn't even know her kind existed until I was in that place," she murmured, reaching up to the teacup dragon with one finger. She sniffed at the offered finger, nibbled on the tip, then cheeped and rubbed her cheek along Asta's hand.

The shapeshifter laughed quietly, scratching under her jaw. As though still speaking to the dragon, she asked, "So you aren't, then? Mortal, I mean."

Zephyr surprised himself by answering without the obfuscation popular among magical beings. "I'm what some might call a greater spirit. I am the embodiment of the wild winds that come down from what you call the Kilanthro Mountains and the protector of all that live in Connloath and northmost Serendipity... whether or not they approve."

"My siblings represent the other four prime elements and directions. Our true names would mean nothing to you, nor is it wise to share them."

Asta blinked. "...Oh."

Right. A greater spirit. Of course. That was...completely not mind-blowing or world-view-altering in any way.

For a woman who had been raised primarily by a dryad, she actually hadn't had all that much interaction with...well, pure magic. Or--was he even magic, technically? An embodiment of an element...gods.

"You're a...protector?" she repeated cautiously. "Of--of all of Connlaoth?"

"Well, I obviously can't be everywhere at once; I'm not a god. I merely help where I am drawn. It seems that this time I was drawn to you."

It was a relief to be honest for a change. He was so tired of deceiving even his closest allies. For a creature who often acted on his whims, maintaining his mortal identity was especially taxing.

"But...why?" Asta frowned slightly. "I'm--I'm no one special. I don't even know if I'm Connlaothian, really..."

That wasn't strictly true; she'd been primarily raised in the wilds of the Sirantil Valley, which made her Connlaothian of a sort, she supposed. But the creatures of the forest hardly observed human boundaries, and so she never really had either.

Maybe she should have. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten caught.

Zephyr shrugged; he had no clue why fate placed him where it did. The spirit simply followed the winds of fate wherever they blew.

"I don't know the will of fate any better than you. I just know I was meant to find you. You weren't meant to languish in that place. None of you were."

She shuddered lightly, remembering. "No one is," she murmured, frowning at her feet. She held the cloak a little tighter--then suddenly paused, looking the fabric over.

"Is this...an illusion? Or is it real?" she asked curiously. It have been made from coalesced clouds, after all. She wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't as solid as it seemed.

"It is real, so long as I'm within proximity of it. Beyond the reach of my power, it will dissolve back into air. We should find you something more substantial if you are going to remain in that shape."

They were already deep into the forest. The bear grunted and left the group behind, leaving only magical and foreign things. That only left finding Zephyr's sister spirit.

"Oh, I don't have to stay like this," Asta mused thoughtfully. "I could take another shape, if that makes things easier."

She smiled a bit as the bear ambled off, waving to it though she knew the gesture didn't exactly translate.

Glancing sidelong at her rescuer again, she found herself remembering the animal form that he'd worn when they first met. "I've never seen an animal like you before," she noted quietly. "I mean, back at the menagerie, the—the cat. The big one, I mean."

"It's called a tiger. I've heard they are common in jungle regions, but that particular breed can only be found in the northern mountains and tundra. However, that is not my true form." He spoke with pride at being a creature like no other.

"Perhaps I will show you in the future."

---

They continued to speak of wild things as they traveled deeper into the western wilds. Eventually they stopped in a clearing, where Zephyr told the remaining beasts to wait in peace and restrain their natural impulses just a bit longer; his sister, the Great Earth Bear, would meet them soon.

Before leaving, he turned to her and asked, "What will you do now? Will you go with them, return to your life as it was, or something else?"

What would she do?

Asta but her lip, looking at the creatures waiting placidly where he had directed them.

"I..." She frowned. "I want to—can I come with you?"

The words tumbled out of her in a rush as she looked up at him with wide, pale eyes. "I feel as though I've spent so long just surviving, one day to the next, but this—this meant something. This was important. I want to—"

She flushed a bit, the color more than obvious on her pale skin. "I want to...help."

Zephyr smiled in his easy way. "I thought you might say that."

Seriously, he asked, "My task can be dangerous. Can you fight, or take a form in which you can?"

She bit her lip again, but nodded. "I—I can." Whether or not she was any good in a fight relied on an uncomfortably wide variety of factors.

But then her eyes lit and she added quickly, "But I can learn more shapes. Bigger, fiercer. The better I know an animal, the easier it is for me to be one."

"Then perhaps I let you know me as a tiger." Another gust passed, and he was a white tiger again. I don't behave like a true tiger, but you can observe their form in me all the same.

Zephyr approached her slowly so as not to frighten her. Up close, his size was even more apparent, and his fearful symmetry was at once threatening and... beautiful. No mere housecat or even a lion even compared to the savage grace in his every moment.

Asta held very still as the massive feline approached, then slowly knelt to be at eye level.

It would likely take quite a bit of time before she could take such a shape herself, but...

She closed her eyes and allowed her body to become malleable, changing into the form of a forest cat, with tufted ears and proportionally large fangs. She wasn't even half Zephyr's size, but it was the only wildcat form she knew.

Sniffing at him curiously, she took a step forward and stretched her nose up toward his, a cautious thrum in the back of her throat.

The tiger smelled real enough, though perhaps cleaner than an actual specimen. He lowered his head to her as if to let her bump her head into his.

Well met, fellow feline. His voice sounded pleased.

Asta mewed quietly and hopped up onto her back paws for a moment to rub her head along his cheek. Well met.

She settled back on her haunches, head tilted curiously and the tip of her tail twitching back and forth. I don't use this form often, she admitted. It tends to draw too much attention--white forest cats are not common in the woods where I live. It--oh!

Her head snapped around as a tiny fluttering of wings drew her attention. The teacup dragon seemed to have chosen not to remain with the other creatures; he circled Asta's head, cheeping, then settled to perch between her ears.

Asta chuffed quietly, amused. Hello, little friend.

Zephyr chuffed along with her, but it was a much deeper sound. Narrowing his eyes in a feline smile, he said, He seems he likes you. His kind are good judges of character.

Turning, he added, Come, we will head north where we will blend in better. Besides, I am stronger there.

Alright. She shook her head lightly, causing the teacup dragon to shuffle down her back and take up a perch between her shoulders, then stretched and trotted off after him.

The minute dragon cheeped happily and scampered up and down her back, sniffing at the air curiously.

He needs a name, Asta noted, glancing back over her shoulder at the little creature. He seemed young--she didn't know a lot about his species, but she'd overheard some of the menagerie workers mentioning that he was a fledgling, that he'd been "rescued" from mortally wounded parents; though she had a feeling that cause of those wounds had been the collectors themselves.

Zephyr looked at the little dragon as if asking a question. It cheeped and the tiger nodded. He says to call him Windstrider.

He chuffed. Dragons. Even the little ones are proud of themselves.

She chuckled a bit in a feline way and dipped her head to her tiny passenger. Well met, Windstrider.

Increasing her pace so she could walk beside Zephyr, she asked, How far north do we need to travel?

He glanced at her and then at the path ahead. To the mountains, or at least the foothills. It will be a long trek, but we won't be such an odd sight there, in whichever animal forms we wish to take.

Zephyr shifted into something new in that sudden way of his. He was now some kind of tiger man, dressed in the same manner as his human form. "Such as this beastman."

Asta skittered to the side a bit, seemingly ever-wary of sudden motion--though that perhaps wasn't so surprising, given her recent experience.

She cocked her head at Zephyr's new form, then gave a little sniff. I've never seen a creature like that, she noted curiously. Sort of...in between.

"Remembering the past is difficult for me, but I have a vague memory of getting the idea from a pack of wolfkin up north. Its uses are limited; however, it is good for combat, and there are races that respond to it more favorably than my human guise."

Zephyr was struck by the sudden realization that he hadn't taken his true shape in a very long time. Most mortals were either terrified of it, or sought to use him for their selfish ends. He wondered if her skittish nature put her in the former category.

Why is remembering the past difficult? Asta asked, hopping over an old fallen tree in the path. She flicked her tufted tail and looked around, tasting the air with a pale pink tongue.

Windstrider seemed to have taken up residence between her shoulders, curled up tail-to-snout with his colorful plumage fluffed up for warmth.

As Zephyr casually walked over the same tree, he said, We are creatures of the now. We don't put much value in the past, remembering only the last few decades with any clarity. Or perhaps we lost something during the days of the Fell when the curse returned us to the aether. It's hard to be sure.

The days of what?!

She stumbled a bit, looking up at him. Maybe that shouldn't have surprised her—he'd been honest about what he was, after all—but it did. It was one thing to hear that someone was some sort of guardian spirit; it was another entirely to hear the phrase "the days of the Fell" uttered so casually.

"Not even we remember the name of the nation in which we were born; only that it was swallowed by The Fell. We ceased to be for a time before waking to the world as it is now, with our charges having divided into two very different peoples."

The spirit didn't seem sad, wistful, or even nostalgic about the loss—it was just a fact. Those required too solid a picture for him to feel.

Asta digested that quietly as they continued to walk. She had more questions, but she wasn't sure which she should—or could—ask. Zephyr was certainly amiable enough, but she'd seen how powerful he was; and she'd heard many stories of captions nature spirits throughout her life. She had no interest in inadvertently earning his ire.

They travelled in a surprisingly companionable quiet for a while longer, until the trek that they'd already finished and her weeks of imprisonment finally started to catch up with her body. Her steps began to slow, almost stumbling, and she found herself blinking frequently as her vision threatened to fade.

Windstrider was napping quite contentedly in her back, and she found herself envying him.

Zephyr watched her curiously until he remembered that mortals needed sleep. For him, sleep was only a deception. He stopped, nodding as he fully understood. "We should rest here. You look tired."

Expecting no argument, he returned to his tiger form and lay down to provide a comfortable place for her to curl up in. Come, sleep at my side.

She was not so prideful a creature as to argue when he suggested rest. She just nodded thankfully and watched him as he settled in to sleep in his tiger shape.

She hesitated a bit when he seemed to be waiting for her to join him, still just a tad instinctively wary. But he'd had a hundred and more opportunities to hurt her—she knew he wasn't going to, it was just an instinctive wariness that had only been enforced over her time in captivity.

Eventually though, she settled herself into the curve of his body, their differences in size rather making her look like a kitten curled up next to her mother. The teacup dragon on her back huffed and burrowed down into the warm spot between the two of them, chirping tiredly.

It had been a couple of days since Zephyr had found her, and the spirit was just as mysterious as ever. He was straightforward enough but volunteered little beyond what was asked of him. The moment was all there was.

Simply scavenging was beginning to make him restless. He was a tiger at heart, and no mortal guise could change that. He needed to hunt, to feel the fear of his prey in their last moments, and to taste their fresh blood on his tongue.

A tiger again, he looked at her and stopped. If you truly wish to take this shape, you will need to be able to think and act like a predator. Beasts such as I do not... scavenge.

Asta had been traveling in the of a wolf pigeon for most of the last day—though with her natural coloration she looked more like a dove—and had to pause in an inane chase game that she'd been playing with Windstrider to look down at him from her branch.

I have taken on predators' shapes before, but I don't... She fluffed her wings, looking somehow embarrassed. It is difficult for me to properly hunt. I'm too noticeable.

He chuffed in amusement. Less so than I. That's why I usually hunt as a man when this far south. But that doesn't compare to the feeling of killing with one's own jaws. I find myself in need of it now.

Thus, it is a good time for you to learn.

Asta fluttered from her branch to take her wildcat form on the ground, looking skeptical in only the way a feline can.

As someone who frequently finds herself living as a prey animal, allow me to express my dubiousness about just how much I'll enjoy this, she chuffed at him. In the last few days she seemed to have grown more comfortable expressing herself around him.

Rolling her shoulders, she added with a flick of her tail, Though I know the hunt is a natural part of the cycle. I suppose I should learn to do it properly.

Zephyr rumbled approvingly. Excellent. At the very least, doing so will give you new insight on how to continue to not get eaten.

He started by making sure she could properly stalk, pounce, and chase by having her practice on him in his cat form. It took many tries before she caught him, though he most likely allowed her to. His smug expression as he looked up at her pretty much confirmed it.

"You learn quickly."

"Well, I have to, don't I?" She sat back in her human shape; she knew he'd likely let her have the victory, but it was still mildly gratifying. "Learning new shapes, how to live as those shapes—the world doesn't slow down and let you get your bearings just because it's your first day as a wolf or an owl."

She shrugged, head cocked to one side. "So? Am I ready?"

The white cat cleaned himself off before turning back into a man. "I believe so. And  I believe I smell our prey."

He had become much more comfortable changing shape on a whim around her. That seemed to be how he did things: suddenly and without warning, like the element he embodied.  But he couldn't have remained unnoticed by the Connloathian Church for so long if he couldn't turn that off. 

Asta nodded, taking her wildcat form so she could scent the air, trying to smell what he smelled.

How long have you...you know, been wandering, I suppose? she asked suddenly. The curiosity wasn't new, but she was slowly becoming bolder in the kinds of questions she dared to ask.

She could smell a rabbit not far off, possibly several.

Zephyr followed her into animal form and gave her a contemplative, somewhat lonely look. Since long ago, before I can clearly remember. I have the vague sense that it has been ever since we returned to this plane and were forced to carve out new, larger domains for ourselves.

And...how long have you roamed Connlaoth? she asked carefully, swinging her head in the direction of the rabbits' scent. It just...seems like someone might have, well...noticed you.

Long enough that I can't answer that. He chuffed and did something vaguely like a shrug. "Some have. Most aren't believed. The others just think there's a rogue mage on the loose or have the sense not to talk about me openly."

The rabbits were near a stream, she could smell that much.

Pausing to scent the air again, Asta adjusted her course slightly so she was heading upwind of their quarry.

Doesn't that get tiring? she asked, tilting her head first one way, then the other. Constantly worrying someone may turn you over to the mordecai? She had to assume the anti-magic soldiers would have some effect on him; not on his shapeshifting perhaps, but she rather thought his arrow volley trick may be magically based.

Zephyr stalked alongside her, staying further upwind. This was her hunt.

What she asked made him think. Was that really why? Could they really do more than impede his task? It is an annoyance, but a necessary one. For I would be at a great disadvantage if I had them on my scent. I am nothing but magic, so at the very least I would be unable to defend myself.

...Do you think they would listen? she asked after a long moment. If you told them what you are?

She sank into a stand of tall grass, making sure to keep her almost glowingly white fur out of sight.

They've given me no reason to think that they would. The only power beyond themselves that they think is good is their arrogant, jealous god. They even think they own the very word "god".

Clearly, he was no fan of the Connloathian Church. To him, what good they do is dwarfed by the mass of their crimes. Despite their pretenses of not hating anyone, their faith was founded on the murder of mages and magical creatures that refused to lessen themselves for a people that will never accept them.

He kept back, watching her like an expectant parent.

She made a soft noise of agreement; even from her limited experience with the Connlaothian church, his words rang true.

There was a reason she had spent most of her life in the wilds, after all.

She began to creep toward the rabbits, weight spread between her paws as he had shown her. She sank into her crouch, haunches wiggling to calibrate her stroke, then pounced.

The hare she managed to pin was older, not as quick as its brethren. She bit down on the back of its neck quickly, hoping to end its life as painlessly as possible.

Zephyr appeared out of nowhere (figuratively), tackling one of the fleeing rabbits and snapping its neck in one smooth motion. Showoff.

Well done.

---

When they were done with their bloody business, he licked the last of the blood from his fur as he sat back on his haunches. Ahh, a fine snack. Did you enjoy your meal?

Asta was busy daintily cleaning her paws with the fastidiousness of a true feline. She chirped quietly at him and blinked slowly with a bob of her head. Yes, I believe I did.

Windstrider, who had been waiting in the trees while they hunted, cheeped and fluttered down to begin nibbling at the bits of meat still left clinging to the bones of the hare she'd hunted, growling in a way that he clearly thought was ferocious but was really just plain adorable.

Zephyr chuffed in amusement at the little dragon. Yes. You are a great and terrible dragon. I, for one, am terrified.

He turned to Asta. You will make a fine tiger.

You think so? She purred quietly and padded over to brush against his leg, back arched and tail flicking.

She sat back with a quiet chuff in Windstrider's direction. Come, little friend. We should be off.

The tiny dragon cheeped and fluttered over to land on Asta's head. He was ready for his grand dragonage to be carried. Surely, he couldn't be expected to walk.

Zephyr laughed in her head. Spoiled already, I see.

---

Several days later, the edge of a town materialized beyond the trees ahead. Zephyr took on his human shape and peeked out. "Ardyn's Glade. I almost can't remember the last time I was here. It's... bigger."

"Is that surprising?" Asta took her human form behind him, poking her head around to take a look. Windstrider—who seemed to have taken up a semi-permanent residence on her head—cheeped and squinted at the town in the middle distance. "If you can't remember the last time you are here, any number of things could have changed, right?"

The man nodded, chuckling airily. "Yes, I suppose it would have."

"Say..." he thought aloud, "Are you up to going into town with me for a while? I want to refresh my memory of it before it fades entirely. There... there were some people special to me that lived here."

"I—I can come." She looked decidedly nervous about the idea, but tried for a firm nod.

Stepping up beside him, she glanced up at his profile and hesitated a moment before asking softly, "Who were they?"

"The Lord and Lady Norbraith. I've never met kinder, more humble nobility than the Count and his wife. Their son Eryck should be a man by now." He smiled fondly at the memory. His only regret was having to deceive them for the safety of everyone involved. It wouldn't do to get friends arrested for harboring a magical being that couldn't do anything but use magic. His pleas of benevolent intentions would fall on deaf ears. 

"I believe I'll claim to the son of the man I pretended to be."

"And me? Who should I be?" Asta guided Windstrider down to perch on her shoulder, scratching his shoulders between his wings. She glanced between the two of them, brow furrowed. "I could claim to be your sister--but I'm afraid aside from our coloring, we don't actually look all that much alike."

She considered, shrugged, then added, "I could always be an animal, I suppose."

"You could be a cousin, perhaps?" He looked at her inquisitively, tilting his head slightly in the way that a cat would. 

"But if you'd prefer to be my pet, that is acceptable."

She nodded slowly. "It might be best if I...remain human." Her nose crinkled as she said it, as though the idea was vaguely distasteful. "If we are visiting nobility, they may be finicky about the kinds of animals they allow."

While a smaller animal shape could be useful for blending in among humans, she had found--in her incredibly rare excursions into human territories--that those often considered "upper class" tended not to respond as well to a stray cat or strange white bird.

"Excellent!" He smiled merrily. "That just leaves the proper attire. It's a shame we didn't keep those clothes we acquired, though those would hardly do for greeting nobility."

His clothes seemed to whirl as they became the traveling clothes of a lesser lord of some distant duchy. He generated her an outfit as well, in stormy grays to not overwhelm the eye with white. "For until we can secure something tangible." 

"Right." Asta shifted a bit, as ever unused to the feel of fabric against her skin--even if it was only temporary fabric. Once she felt a little more comfortable, she nodded at him. "Ready."

Windstrider peeped and climbed up onto her shoulder and tucked himself into the fall of her hair. He gave a regal nod of his own.

Zephyr took a step towards the road into town before chuckling to himself. "Right! Names!"

"Now, what was it is it I called myself?" He tilted his head as it studying the large clocktower that rose above the town. "Orion? Gael? Ah! Baron Hermes Auster. That would make me... Caelum Auster? How does that sound?"

She nodded. "Very official," she chuckled lightly. She considered a moment, then noted, "My name isn't actually known--anyone who did know of me back in the forest called me The Ghost. Asta Auster should be fine, right?

She crinkled her nose. "Although I'll admit the alliteration sounds a bit contrived."

"If that bothers you, I could suggest Selene or, perhaps, Thea?"

Facing her again, he said, "Though your real name will be the easiest to remember and the least confusing."

She nodded. "No, it doesn't bother me. I'm just imagining the joke that could be made." She smiled a bit. "I--I like my name. I will keep it."

The tiny dragon on her shoulder cooed and curled up against her neck, minute claws digging into her knew clothes to keep himself in place.

"Very well. Asta Auster it is." Zephyr nodded approvingly, and led them into town.

---

Ardyn's Glade was bustling burg, well on its way to becoming a proper city. Merchants lined the main thoroughfare, hawking everything from local wares to exotic goods brought in by caravan. It was by no means lacking in the variety of its denizens, but the colorless pair drew several curious stares as they passed by.

They could soon see the Norbraith estate looming in the distance on the far side of the town. Before they could proceed, however, they came across an unusually crowded square. They immediately saw why.

In the center was a gallows. Two men, one human and one elf, stood prepared for their execution. Before them stood the young lord and a man in the uniform of a Mordecai, addressing the crowd. "For the crime of magery, these men have been sentenced to death by hanging! Let this be a warning to all who would endanger this great nation."

The human man's hopeless eyes took on fresh desperation. " Please! I'm not even a mage! There's been a--" He was silenced by a town guard, who punched him in the gut.

"Even now, the treacherous fiend lies! Numerous witnesses saw his deed, so have no doubt of his guilt!" the Mordecai declared.

As the Mordecai led a brief prayer, Zephyr looked... ill. It wasn't clear whether it was because of the barbarism on display or the so-called holy warrior leading it. 

Asta was horrorstruck; she'd had one arm hooked through Zephyr's, in the way that she'd seen noblewomen do when they walked with a man through the menagerie, and her hand tightened unconsciously as they drew closer to the execution.

She'd never actually been so close to a mordecai before. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, joints aching as though she was struck with a sudden fever. "This--this is madness," she whispered. "Can't we do something?"

Zephyr growled under his breath, a noise as quiet as it was angry. "We can't. Not with one of those here. I... can do nothing to stop this. But, perhaps can prevent the next one. I sense that is what drew our path here."

Though his senses were weak around the range of the Mordecai's powers, he could feel that the accused human was telling the truth. This overzealous magic hunter had either been deceived, or was lying. What troubled him more was the current Lord Norbraith's smug expression, as if this were a personal victory. 

"I--" Asta swallowed thickly; she knew he was right, that there was nothing they could do, but the truth of it sat like a stone in her gut. "I can't watch," she whispered, turning her face into his shoulder.

Windstrider peeped sadly from her shoulder and she quickly scooped him down to hide the little dragon between their bodies, hoping to shield him from the sight.

The executioner pulled the lever and the two men dropped, desperately writhing for one more second of life. But it was too late, their necks snapped the instant the ropes jerked tight. Zephyr watched the event unfold with growing certainty that he was meant to stop, not the unjust law, but the sentencing of those innocent of it. 

"It's over. Let us... move on. Something tells me we will find some answers at our destination.

Asta could do little but nod, mute, as he led them passed the gallows. She tried to keep her eyes away from the hanging bodies, but she couldn't avoid the sight entirely. A soft whimper rose up in her throat and she pressed a little closer to Zephyr's side as they walked.

"Do you think...they'll know?" She glanced in the mordecai's direction as she spoke softly. "What we are?"

Zephyr answered in a whisper. "Not if we do nothing to raise suspicion. Well, or if I don't enter his domain of influence." 

He didn't look at the Mordecai for fear of lingering too long. Instead, he kept walking. However, they were suddenly approached by young Lord Norbraith and his bodyguards on their own way to the manor. 

"Say... good sir! Are you, by chance, related to a Baron Auster. You do look so like the painting in my late father's study." The lord asked politely. 

Zephyr didn't miss a beat. "Ah, yes, he is my father. Was my father. He, too, has left us." He gave a polite bow, the kind lesser nobles gave their betters. "Baron Caelan Auster, at thy service."  

"A pleasure. I am Count Eryck Norbraith the second. And the enchanting lady traveling with you?" The lord took her hand and kissed it politely. 

Enchanting lady. Asta had to keep her lip from curling. She knew it was a common turn of phrase, but after what they'd just witnessed... Gods. These people would welcome her with the right hand and condemn her with the left.

She much preferred the wilds. At least the things trying to kill you out there were straightforward about it.

She managed something of an awkward smile--which she hoped would pass for a minor lady's shyness--and dipped into her best attempt at a curtsy. She was a little wobbly, but hoped it wasn't too noticeable. "My name is Asta, my lord. A pleasure to meet you."

"She's my cousin, on my father's side. Though she is more like a dear sister." Zephyr said with a brotherly smile.

"I apologize for not informing you of our visit. The truth is, we were traveling through the region, and I remembered father's stories of your family's hospitality, so I had the idea to visit and see this lovely town of yours for myself. Sadly, we were waylaid by highwaymen who took everything but the clothes on our backs."

Eryck gave a look of sympathy. "My God. I can forgive the oversight If that is the reason."

Asta nodded along with his story, hoping she looked properly skittish about having being "robbed by highwaymen". Lucky for her, "skittish" was never far from her genuine reflex, so she thought she probably did okay.

From under the curtain of her hair, Windstrider suddenly cheeped. She froze, then said quickly, "Everything but our clothes and this little darling, of course." She reached up to coax the teacup dragon into her hands, holding him gently to her chest. "He's, um, such a loyal pet..."

Sorry, little friend.

Norbraith made a face, as if he didn't like such creatures. "Oh. My younger sister adores the things, but I've never seen the appeal." Truly, he was a monster."

Zephyr assumed that, as a child, the young lord provoked one and it bit him. It was the only explanation. The animals were just too precious.

"Do not worry, my lord, Windstrider is quite well-behaved." He figured the little one had been a pet once, from how it wasn't wary of people.

"See that it is." He grew more cordial. "Well, now that you're here, I insist you stay at Norbraith Manor. The inns in town are nicer than they used to be, but they are hardly fit for nobility."

Zephyr gave another, slightly different, small bow. "We would be delighted, wouldn't we, cousin?"

"Oh--yes, of course. Thank you." Asta dipped into another shaky curtsy, still holding Windstrider with one hand. The teacup dragon snorted, then scampered back up her arm to resume his perch on her shoulder, eyeing Norbraith with tiny, adorable distaste.

"I'm afraid I am...unfamiliar with the are," she said hesitantly. "Where exactly is the manor?" She assumed it was separated from the main town, as none of the buildings in easy view struck her as "manor-like".

"Just north of town. Come, follow me." Norbraith led the way, smiling in an overbearing effort to be charming. 

---

The manor was a tad larger than what was normal for a low ranking noble, even for a town on the cusp of becoming a trade hub. Something didn't smell right. Eryck felt corrupt, and could the false charges of magecraft really be a coincidence? 

Zephyr gave Asta a questioning look. You see it too, don't you? The rot beneath the veneer of prosperity? 

Asta did not like this place. For a while, she couldn't actually put her finger on why; sure, it was more "civilized" than she was used to, but it felt like...more than that.

Eventually, she realized. Glancing up at Zephyr, she murmured, "This place feels like a poisonous swamp flower; bright and beautiful as a warning, and smelling of rot underneath the perfume."

Windstrider sneezed, as though agreeing with her.

Quietly, Zephyr whispered, "Not in the least bit like I remember. His father never would have let it get this bad." It was the first time she had seen him sad, but he had been off ever since seeing the Mordecai.

The butler greeted his master, who excused himself and asked commanded that his guests be led to the parlor for tea. He would join them shortly. The butler did as instructed, introducing himself as Tomas before leaving them alone in the luxurious parlor.

"Idrane, how could your son have fallen so far?" Zephyr asked the painting of the previous Count placed above the mantle.

Asta watched him for a moment in silence, then moved up to his side and tilted her head back to look at the portrait.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, glancing up at him sidelong. Then: "Tell me about them. About Idrane, and the count's mother. When did you know them?"

Zephyr watched the painting with fondness as he remembered as much as he could. It was hard to recall the details, but broad strokes were as clear as the present. 

"Eryck is a little older than you, so almost 30 years ago. Idrane and Ralora came across me in the forest, where I posed as an adventurous young nobleman trying to prove himself by hunting alone. With me pretending to have sprained my ankle, they brought me here to recover."

"All day long, we talked about poetry and philosophy and art. They were both so open and kind, but also intelligent and discreet. Instead of finding a mission, I found new friends."

"Honestly, I think they knew I was lying around my identity. But they said, and did, nothing about it. They could feel that I meant no harm by it, or perhaps they thought me a mage on the run and, rather than fear me, sympathized with my plight."

Asta smiled a bit, though the expression faded some as she glanced back to the door that the butler had disappeared through, toward the wider house beyond. "A rare trait to find in the valley these days. A pity it doesn't seem to have been passed down to their cub..."

She sighed and moved an insistent Windstrider from her shoulder to her hands, bringing the tiny dragon up to her face so he could nuzzle her cheek. "I think you'd best keep your head down while we're here, little one," she told him quietly. "Our host doesn't seem like an...easy-going sort."

Zephyr smiled at the tender, adorable moment. "It may be an oversimplification, but no good man hates teacup dragons."

Windstrider cheeped as if to agree. 

"I can almost swear he understands us." 

Asta chuckled and agreed with a small nod that Windstrider mimicked before skittering back up to her shoulder, around the back of her neck to her other shoulder, and then making himself scarce in the fall of her hair.

"Well." She looked around the room, already feeling...confined. "I suppose now we just...wait?"

"Insecure nobles do love making people wait." Zephyr chuckled. 

No sooner had he said this than Tomas returned with a tea set and a tray of tea cakes and fresh fruit. Eryck and a younger woman followed him in. 

"Apologies for the wait. My dear sister wanted to come with me and see your little pet," he said, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh. Ahm..." Asta glanced at where Windstrider was currently making a nest of her loose hair on her shoulder. "Er...of course. One moment, lady..."

She trailed off, realizing she didn't know the woman's name, and flushed a bit. Gods, how did humans keep track of all these social niceties.

Mumbling some sort of half-apology, she coaxed Windstrider down from her shoulder so that he sat in her cupped hands, peeping quietly.

Forgetting propriety, the noblewoman squealed with delight. "Eee! How absolutely precious! Can I hold him? Pretty please!" She batted her eyelashes pleadingly. 

Eryck looked mortified. "Sister! This is har--" 

"Shush, you grump. He's cute and you know it." 

"O-oh, well, I...errr..." Asta glanced down at Windstrider helplessly. "I—I suppose? Just, please, do be careful. He's very young, and we've had a, ah...a rather trying journey."

"Oh of course, of course!" The young noblewoman clapped her hands and hurried forward to cup them around Asta's, allowing the shifter to transfer the teacup dragon to her grip. "Oh you are just darling!"

Windstrider looked back at Asta and Zephyr as she cooed over him, clearly skeptical of the whole situation.

Eryck rubbed his temple as if nursing a headache. "Since my sister forgets her manners... Introducing Keryn Norbraith, soon to be Marzane. How Mylen tolerates her fancies is a mystery to me."

"You seem perfectly charming to me, my lady." Zephyr chuckled lightly. "And congratulations on the engagement." 

"Yes, congratulations." Asta latched onto the social nicety, hoping she didn't sound too much like she was simply echoing her "cousin". Hoping she was saying the right thing, she added, "When, ah, when is the wedding?"

Keryn's eyes lit up as she launched into an emphatic, detailed account of the day of the wedding, as well as the several weeks leading up to it, all of which had apparently been planned down to the last fastidious second.

Asta shot Zephyr a wide-eyed, helpless look. She had no idea what she'd just started, or how to stop it.

Zephyr shrugged, chuckling silently. The young noblewoman reminded him of her mother, cheerful and optimistic. He had to fight to keep from smiling too fondly.

When the woman was finished, he said, "That sounds most lovely." 

Keryn smiled happily. "Thank you. It may have been arranged by father, but I have already come to love him dearly."

"May I..." He hesitated, trying to be delicate. "May I ask how Lord Idrane was lost to us?" 

Both Norbraith siblings went quiet at that, exchanging glances. Keryn looked crestfallen, but she cleared her throat and said quietly, "There was a...an accident. Forgive me, I--I don't like to talk about it."

Her brother reached out to pat her shoulder kindly, nodding, but there was something in his expression that reminded Asta of the way the menagerie workers would try to sell a sad, half-starved lion as a terrifying and dangerous beast.

Zephyr noted the dishonesty in Eryck's eyes, filing it away for later. Would he really have caused the death of his father? The spirit knew that staged accidents were a favorite method of murder among the nobility, but had never imagined that such truly noble souls would produce such an heir. 

"It's quite alright. We don't have to discuss it. It's simply a shame we couldn't meet one of father's dear friends." He was more disappointed and saddened than he could show. 

"What of your mother? Is she well?" 

Keryn sighed, looking even more crestfallen. "She...hasn't been well, since Father passed. I'm afraid she's not much up to visitors at the moment." With a smile, she added quickly, "She had her better days, though; maybe she'd like to see you tomorrow."

Zephyr smiled sadly, sipping his tea. "I would very much like to meet her. Father told me how bright a person she was. That she lit up every room she was in. She was, well, a lot like you, if I may be so bold."

Eryck narrowed his eyes for a moment at what very nearly sounded like flirtation. That clearly wouldn't do at all. Whether this was brotherly protection or something else, no one could say. 

"I'm afraid you'll find a much different woman now. Grief can change a person."

Asta nodded, hoping she looked appropriately sorrowful.

Despite herself, she was actually a little sorry for Keryn. The woman didn't give her quite the same feeling of artifice that she got from her brother, though she still wasn't sure about her.

Still, she made a sympathetic noise and nodded again. "I'm sorry for your loss," she murmured.

Keryn gave her a sad smile of her own and moved to pass Windstrider back to her. "Thank you, Lady Auster. You're both very kind."

The rest of the conversation was nothing but idle chatter and meaningless formality. Neither sibling seemed entirely honest, but then very few nobles were or could survive long being. They lived in a dangerous world. 

The pair were escorted to adjoining rooms, where fresh clothes awaited. Aside from being expected to join the siblings for supper in the evening, they were left to their own devices. 

Zephyr had changed into the generously provided clothes by the time Asta joined him again. He looked entirely different and very uncomfortable in the fancy, colorful outfit of tangible materials. Like, well, someone forced clothes on a cat. 

By the time she had rejoined him, Asta didn't look anymore thrilled to be in the generously offered clothes that had been left on her bed. They seemed to be Keryn's cast-offs, with lots of lace and frills that she was constantly worried she was going to snag on something. The collar sat a little awkwardly along her shoulders, which Windstrider didn't seem to care for; he had taken up temporary residence in her corset, tucked into her bosom where he was both warm and out of sight. She didn't have the heart to shoo him out and leave him alone in the room.

"... I hate this," Asta informed Zephyr once he'd opened his door at her knock. "I feel...itchy."

"You and me both," Zephyr complained, fidgeting with his sleeves. "I don't how how anyone can stand being confined like this."

Letting her enter, he asked, "What do you make of our hosts? I'm skeptical of Erych and, though she seems nice, I'm not sure about Keryn. She wouldn't be the first noble to be adept at feigning innocence."

Asta shrugged. "She seems more...willfully naive that outwardly malicious. I wouldn't necessarily trust her, but...she doesn't make me nervous the way her brother does."

She paused, then gave him a sympathetic look. "I--I'm sorry about your friends. I'm sure this wasn't exactly what you might have been hoping for..."

"Mortals die; I know this. That's why I try not to get too close. But..." Zephyr sighed, the loneliness of his existence written in his eyes. "Sometimes I need a touchstone, someone to remind me what it is I protect. That's what they were to me."

"What I think you might be."

Asta continued to stare at him for a long moment. Then she said again, softly, "I'm sorry."

She hesitated, then reached out to touch his arm gently. "Just—just because they're gone...it doesn't mean the touchstone has to be. This place...if we can figure out what's happening here, maybe we can fix it."

She didn't comment on the idea that she might be a touchstone herself—that felt like a strangely important responsibility that she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for. Though the idea did color her cheeks with a pleased sort of flush.

Though not his usual easy expression, Zephyr smiled at her. He straightened his shoulders and took a cleansing breath. "Thank you, Asta. Your words help more than you know."

"Now, let's talk about what we need to do to accomplish that. First, we need to piece together what it is we need to fix. Then, we can find evidence against whoever is responsible. Otherwise, this won't truly end."

"Surely what we saw in the village isn't...I mean, I know that things have been worse for mages since the war started, but that can't be legal, can it?" Asta frowned as she remembered the execution with a shudder.

"Unfortunately, this far from a major city, it's usually up to the Mordecai what's legal. But if we can get evidence that he's being misled or that he's knowingly executing the innocent and make sure it gets to the right people, then this can be put as right as possible."

"Sadly, the day when mages are executed regardless feels more possible with every passing day." The idea made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

Asta winced and shivered again. "But...then how do we stop it? How can we prove these people are innocent?"

Not to mention, well, someone of them might actually be mages. Of course they didn't deserve punishment for that, but she imagined it would be more difficult to keep them away from the wrong end of a noose.

"We find these so-called witnesses and get one to talk."

Zephyr grew grim. "And if there isn't enough proof to convince someone higher on the food chain... we will have to make our own justice."

Asta swallowed nervously. "Won't that...I mean, you've been trying to keep a low profile. Won't that...draw attention?"

She glanced around, as though expecting to suddenly catch someone eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Not if I do it right. But--" He paused, sighing. "I'd rather it didn't come to that. Death outside of the natural order isn't my purpose."

His sad expression showed, if not remorse, some understanding of the value of mortal life.

Asta looked at him for a moment, then took a breath and crossed the small space between them. She started to reach out as though to touch his shoulder, then seemed to hesitate, drawing her curled hand back into her chest.

"Then we'll just have to make sure we find the evidence we need," she said with a nod and a confidence that she didn't entirely feel, but rather aspired to.

"We don't have long enough before supper to return to town. It would be best to poke around here after dark. Until then, we just have to act normal and pay attention to everything they tell us."

"And be careful what you ask. We don't want them to feel they are being interrogated."

"R-right." She swallowed nervously. "I'm...not sure I'm going to be any good at this," she murmured, shifting anxiously from foot to foot under her new skirts. "I'm not sure how well I pass for nobility. Maybe I should've posed as your pet after all."

He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes, trying to be encouraging. "Hey. None of that. The only way out is through, right?"

"I can't say why in words, but I have faith in you."

Asta found herself flushing under his gaze, though her shoulders straightened and her spine uncurled a bit. She realized that, almost as much as wanting to fix this place, she wanted to prove him and his faith in her right.

She nodded once, her mouth thinning into a firm line. "Okay."

That night...

The siblings and their guests were seated along an unnecessarily long table of fine, imported wood. They had already been served the appetizer, and now the four were engaged in more serious conversation as the soup course neared completion. Eventually, the subject drifted into one about the evils of magic.

"I suppose we should talk about the... unpleasantness that you witnessed earlier today." From his seat at the distant end of the table, it was clear Eryc quite enjoyed showing his status as the most important man in town, even to his sister.

Asta had been slipping Windstrider bits of food throughout the meal, though she managed to keep the dragon's presence hidden from their hosts. Despite herself, she'd been able to ignore her nervous awkwardness in favor of good food--though Eryc's words quickly put a stop to that.

She tensed, lowering her spoon back to her plate and sitting up a little straighter. She glanced sidelong at Zephyr, pointedly not looking at their host. It wouldn't be unheard of for Connloathian nobility to have at least minor sympathy toward mages, so she thought she might be able to get away with disguising her rage and disgust as general discomfort.

Noting her expression, Zephyr gently patted her shoulder. "My dear cousin has never had to confront the ugly side of the law."

He looked over to Eryck, expertly suppressing his own deep rage. He wanted more than anything to tear something apart. "But surely such summary judgment is not necessary in such a peaceful place; the war isn't so close that such urgency is required."

Eryck shook his head and rolled his eyes as if humoring children. "You know as well as I do that the war could spread at any moment, even to Castavar. We can no longer afford to coddle these mages. Punishment must be swift and harsh if we are to contain this rebellion."

Asta curled her fingers in her skirts, staring down at her bowl of soup with silent fury. "But...punishment for what, exactly?" She risked glancing up in Eryck's direction, fighting to keep her emotions in check. "Surely so long as they...aren't using their magic, there is no danger?"

"But these had! I saw one of them commit the crime myself. He was always such an upstanding citizen, so I was shocked to learn he had deceived us all." Eryck was too used to being believed to properly hide that he was lying, at least from a pair so astute at nonverbal communication.

"And the other?" Zephyr asked.

"The elf? Nasty fellow. I never met him personally, thank God. I can't stand long ears. Accursed lot. If you ask me, allowing these magical races to run free is asking for trouble."

Oh, this one will fun to tear down.

"But...what crime did he commit?" Asta pressed, hoping she wasn't playing too much of her hand. Whatever hand it was she had. "Surely it must have been something serious, to merit such an...extreme punishment."

"What crime?!" Eryck was flabbergasted by the question. "The crime, dear girl, is magic itself. In this time of war over the issue of mages, the only punishment can be death. Otherwise, we risk letting these criminal mages join up with the enemies of righteousness."

He narrowed his eyes at the pair. "Take care with such questions. One might think you were sympathizers, or worse, mages yourselves." It felt more like a threat then friendly advice."

Asta quickly dropped her head, shrinking back under the only-slightly-veiled threat.

She'd like to think that her time with Zephyr had taught her how to better embrace her "hunter" side, the forms she could take with fang and claw, but at her core she was still a solitary creature who had survived mainly by running when she sensed danger.

She sensed it now.

Swallowing, she resisted the urge to shrink against Zephyr's side and tried to eat another bite of her soup. "Excuse my impertinence, my lord."

Zephyr didn't even understand what it was like to truly fear anything. Death would never come for him as long as magic existed. Connloath, on the other hand, sought to erase it, to erase him, so he was wary.

"My apologies, my lord. I only mean to follow the value of loving the sinner, but hating the sin."

"Yes... it is so," Eryck said begrudgingly, his eyes suggesting he didn't care for that particular Connloathian value.

"I wouldn't presume to preach to my betters, but is it not true that no soul chooses the body they are born into. If they could, we'd all be nobility. Strong, fast, and immortal, too." Zephyr almost smirked at the irony of actually being those things.

"A fair point, I suppose," Karyn cut in with a clear attempt to smooth the conversation. "But enough of this dreary talk! Surely there is something more appealing about our lovely town that interests you? Oh, did your father ever tell you of the public orchards? They're quite lovely this time of year."

She continued chattering away pleasantly, though Asta thought she could sense a faint echo of something like her own anxiety from the young noblewoman. As though she was uncomfortable with her brother's zealotry—but clearly not enough to say anything.

Or perhaps she was afraid.

Zephyr believed he smelled a little fear from Keryn and imagined she must be afraid of the consequences of publicly disagreeing with her brother. Yet, he was glad that the subject shifted before he did something he'd regret.

---

The rest of the meal went smoothly, with no further uncomfortable topics. Now that it was dark and everyone was asleep, Zephyr crept into Asta's room as a cat. He stared at her with expectant eyes.

Asta had quickly excused herself after the meal, citing the "trying day" that she and her cousin had supposedly had. She didn't really leave her room after that, though she didn't sleep either. So she sat up quickly when Zephyr padded up to the bed.

She turned toward him and patted the blanket beside her. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly.

The spirit jumped up onto the bed like a real cat would, but didn't curl up like a pet. I am going to poke around. Are you coming?

She nodded quickly and slipped out of bed, making sure Windstrider was snoozing happily on her pillow before taking the shape of a pine marten and winding herself quickly around the Zephyr-cat.

Should we look together, in case we run into trouble? Or split up to cover more ground?

Splitting up might be best. The less time we spend here the better. Zephyr hesitated. I'd... like to see Ralora by myself.

Asta dipped her head and sat back on her hind legs. Of course. I will begin with the servants' quarters. Should we plan to meet back here at moondown?

She hesitated a moment, then darted her head forward to give his ear two quick licks with a little pink tongue: both cats and marten were social groomers, to an extent, so the gesture of comfort felt instinctive.

I wish your friend well.

Zephyr flicked his ears and gave a short, quick purr. Yes. At moondown.

He leaped down and became human just long enough to crack the door open. Good luck. And the cat slipped out like a little ghost, headed to find Ralora's bedchamber.

And to you. She waited a beat, then skittered out of the room and made for the stairs, intending to find the servants' entrance on the first floor.

---

The Dowager Countess seemed to be in a restless sleep, her skin sallow and her breathing a bit to quick. She certainly didn't seem well.

Her chambers were meticulously clean, with an air of stagnant sanitation that made them seem unlived in, despite their occupant lying in the center of the four poster bed. It was clear the servants were meant to keep the place tidy, but that the lady had been unable to rouse herself to ensure that they had anything to clean for quite a while.

Zephyr the cat hopped up onto the bed and sniffed the air, using his magic to guide her breath to his nose to check for the scent of poison. It wouldn't do to have Ralora wake up with a strange cat in her face. He was, however, amused to recall some silly human superstition about cats stealing breath.

Did he start that? He supposed that he had no way of knowing.

Ralora frowned in her sleep, head tossing back and forth on the pillow. Even with some distance, she was clearly running a fever of some sort--and one that the faintest scent of hemlock on her breath would tell Zephyr was certainly not entirely natural.

It was an obvious plant for poison, and highly toxic, which meant both that the doses must be incredibly small to keep her in a state of semi-permanent illness without killing her outright--and that whoever was dosing her was likely doing it directly, without a go-between like a cook or a servant who might recognize the plant's properties.

Zephyr growled quietly. He was eager to exact vengeance on the bastard that was hurting her. Breaking a personal rule, he took a risk and directed a breeze into the room to help cool her down. It hurt to see her as she was.

The Dowager Countess seemed to relax slightly as the breeze ghosted over her skin, her breathing becoming just a bit steadier. Finally, she seemed to actually be resting.

Aside from the slight rustling of curtains under Zephyr's breeze, her room went still and quiet.

Zephyr curled up beside her. He could afford to stick around for a little while as keep the room cooled. Maybe if she got a little actual rest, she would be more inclined to accept visitors. He needed to warn her, but didn't want to wake her to do so.

A soft smile curled Ralora's lips, and she curved automatically toward the furry body beside her; perhaps the Norbraiths had once kept cats as pets, or perhaps in her unconscious sense the familiarity of the wind spirit reached her, because she slept peacefully for the first time in months.

---

Asta had managed to slip through the entrance to the servants' quarters from the kitchen, and began sniffing around for anything that seemed off; she may not know much about the minute, detailed machinations of nobility, but she knew that the people serving drinks often heard and saw more than their "betters" thought.

The corridors were dark and silent, save for the rare snore of one of the servants. Nothing smelled abnormal in the hall. Perhaps one of the footmen had been present for the "accident," or perhaps the household healer had records of it or of the Dowager Countess' ailment.

Asta began creeping down the long hall that led to all the servants' chambers, trying to get her bearings as much as she was looking for answers.

There was an office, which she thought must belong to the household steward, at the end of the hall. There had to be some sort of records in there—about the accident, or the illness, or even any of Eryck'a business opportunities. Maybe even something about Keryn's marriage, though she wasn't entirely sure how helpful that might be.

The office door was closed and most likely locked, but she'd have to shift to check. Or she could find a window. Stirring from one of the rooms meant that she'd have to think fast.

With a soft chitter of anxiety, Asta quickly moved from the marten's shape to a tiny white mouse and darted for the office door, hoping she could slip under the gap at the bottom.

At the very least, a mouse was much less incongruous to find indoors than a pine marten.

Huzzah! She could just squeeze through the gap. It was just in time, too, as someone emerged into the hall, perhaps in search of a late-night snack.

The office was fastidiously tidy and meticulously organized. It should be easy to find what she was looking for, but difficult to leave no trace of snooping. 

Once she was through the gap, Asta quickly took her human shape and darted for the desk, starting to search through the recent household files.

She would be be able to put them all back in exactly the right place, but she should be able to get back out of the room without touching the lock—hopefully that would be enough to keep suspicion off the waifey, quiet noblewoman she was pretending to be.

There was a lot to sift through. The first notable thing she discovered was a hefty stack of deeds acquired in the past year. Eryck was slowly buying up every business in town. He stood take in more than taxes could ever provide without raising the ire of the local populace. After all, an increasing quality of living came with higher prices for goods. Who would notice a few extra coins tacked on for a secret tax.

Several of them were seized when the owners died without a proper heir. Died, by execution for performing magic or selling magical goods. It wasn't proof, but it did suggest a certain narrative.

Second, a record of a payment to the apothecary for large amounts of hemlock for treating "exhaustion" in small doses. It was dated before the Dowager Countess got sick.

Thirdly, there was nothing recent about the arranged marriage. Likewise, records of the accident were suspiciously absent except for funeral expenses.

Asta worried her lip, debating for several long moments. Then she snatched up the record of payment for the hemlock, folded it as small as she could, and dropped back into her mouse form.

The paper was several times her size in this shape, but she managed to squeeze herself back under the door and drag it after her. Then she was a snowy white dove, clutching the paper in one foot as she fluttered out a window that had been left cracked for a bit of fresh air and circle around the manor to find her guest chamber window.

Once Zephyr had been satisfied that Ralora was going to get enough quality sleep, he slipped back into the hall. He silently padded to Idrane's--Eryck's master bedchamber. He became human and opened the door a crack before he disappeared inside.

He moved like a ghost, silently searching for some clue as to what the lord was doing. Someone who was that enamored with themselves was bound to keep something they shouldn't have. Many a prideful man had been brought down by as much.

Eryck's chambers had the air of a man who wished very much to come across as worldly and educated, but whose many shelves of books appeared almost entirely untouched.

All but one, by his correspondence desk; there was a thin book of manners and etiquette that had clearly been slid and back forth across its shelf, as though it was frequently picked up and put back.

Experience had taught the spirit much about observing the small details, such as a small worn area under a single book. And Eryck was no expert on manners, nor was he the type to consult a book on the subject on a regular basis. So, Zephyr pulled out the book, careful not to make any unnecessary sounds.

Underneath the book was a hairline seam near the back of the shelf, nearly impossible to see in full light, let alone in the gloom of night. At least for human eyes.

Closer inspection would also seem to indicate that the shelf itself was perhaps a bit thicker than it should be.

Zephyr ran a finger along the seam, using the air around his fingertip as to feel for the mechanism. He smirked toothily as he got a clear picture of the mechanism.

Got you.

He pushed down on one side and felt a click. Lifting up the cover, he looked inside.

Inside the hidden compartment there was a slim stack of papers, all printed on official Norbraith stationary, and signed in the deceased count's hand. At the top of the first page was scrawled in bold, sharp print: Notice of Disinheritance of One Eryck Norbraith.

Zephyr was tempted to take the papers, but Eryck would most certainly notice their absence. He would panic, and gods only knew what he would do. On the other hand, he could destroy the evidence before they could act. Operating on gut instinct over logic, he swallowed his uncertainty and took the disinheritance papers after all. At the very least, they could get him stripped of his title.

Closing the compartment, he replaced the book and turned back into a cat. He took the rolled up papers in his mouth and returned to the guest rooms.

Asta was perched on the outside sill to the window of her room. The moment she saw the flash of Zephyr's tail, she pecked at the glass, hoping to alert him to her presence so he could let her in.

Zephyr's ears perked up and he became human. He closed the door before walking to the window to let her in. With a small, proud grin, he stepped back to give her room.

"Successful too, I see."

Asta fluttered into the room and landed in the bed, dropping her papers and taking her human shape in one move.

"I hope so." She gathered up the papers and held them out for Zephyr to see. "I'm not sure how long it'll take someone to notice these are gone, but they will, eventually. What did you find?"

"That lines up with what I smelled on Ralora's breath. Good work." Zephyr smiled, though a little sadly. "And with what I found, we have leverage if nothing else."

He held up his prize with a flourish. "It's not the murder weapon, but it's a clear motive and enough to get his title stripped."

Asta curled her legs up underneath her and sat up on her knees to better read the papers he held, relieved to be back out of--shudder--stifling human garments. She knew she'd have to put another ridiculous dress on in the morning, but she was more than happy to put that off as long as possible and relish in the ease of movement in her own body.

"Does anyone else know?" she asked, softly but eagerly. "These sorts of things have to be...recognized, don't they? Notarized?" Though, there was only the old count's signature on the disinheritance papers--it seemed he hadn't had time to have the declaration officially recognized. Which implied he had likely been attempting to spare his son some dignity by offering him the opportunity to publicly step down, rather than be disinherited.

"Look here." He pointed to the text of the document. "The handwriting of the document itself is different than the signature. Someone helped Idrane write it, either a scribe or his steward. Did the steward's office seem like a new one had come in? If Eryck didn't think to get rid of his father's steward, that means he thinks Idrane penned it himself."

Asta bit her lip as she tried to picture the space. "I'm not sure," she said slowly. "But...all of these papers I found seem to be from after the accident. It wouldn't surprise me if Eryck had dismissed the old steward after his father's death." She frowned, considering. "Although...I mean, the town isn't that big. Would it be possible he still lives in the area?"

"It's likely, unless he had an 'accident' of his own or was executed for false charges." Zephyr tilted his head in thought. "Did you see anything about the falsely accused mages?"

She nodded, mouth twisting sourly. "Eryck is buying their lands and businesses at less than half their worth, or seizing them outright--sometimes the same day that they were publicly executed. And..." She paused, tilting her head as she considered the detail properly. "I didn't actually find anything official about Keryn's engagement. That's...not normal, right?"

"No, it isn't. But I can't imagine Keryn is lying about it, not with that much unnecessary detail. So I have no idea what that could mean." Zephyr thought hard. "We need to talk to Ralora. Hopefully before she gets another dose of poison; she won't survive much longer like this."

Asta nodded. It might mean nothing—maybe Eryck simply didn't care to keep records about Keryn with the rest of the household papers, seeing as she would be part of a different household soon.

Still, she couldn't get the idea out of her head. Something about it jagged at her.

She gave Zephyr a sympathetic look when he mentioned Ralora. "How—" She paused, licked her lips, then continued softly, "How bad is she?"

She knew it must be difficult for him to see his old friend in such a state—at the hands of her own child, no less—and she wanted to be a comfort, but she was afraid she didn't know how.

Zephyr didn't meet her eyes. He was unused to such depths of emotion and didn't quite know how to express them. So he just let his shoulders sag. "Weak, pale, and thin. I... cooled her fever so she could sleep, so maybe she'll be well enough to talk with me."

"We can't let her die. This... this is not her time."

Asta nodded, wringing her fingers a little nervously. She didn't know what to do for him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, looking around for her borrowed nightshift and slipping it on. Windstrider cheeped sleepily at the stirring, and she stroked his tiny head with two fingers until he curled up again.

"Maybe she'll be well enough to speak with you tomorrow?" she offered Zephyr carefully.

He smiled sadly. "That's the hope."

---

In the morning, they left their rooms, once again in uncomfortable finery. The first thing that they saw upon stepping out of the guest wing was someone walking into the opposite wing, where the family slept. They were carrying a silver tray with a breakfast for, presumably, the Dowager Countess.

It was...

"Oh!" Keryn drew up short, then gave them a slightly flustered smile. "Apologies--I was just going to check on Mother, I didn't expect you two to be awake yet. Ah, we're serving breakfast downstairs, if you like? I'll be down shortly."

Asta, once more with Windstrider tucked out of sight, though now in a pocket in the folds of her frilly skirts, glanced sidelong at Zephyr questioningly.

"I do sincerely hope she's up for visitors today. I'd hate to miss the chance to meet her. Company might do wonders for her, I know visitors always cheered father up during his last days." As he spoke, he subtly smelled for hemlock. He didn't want to believe that the seemingly innocent young woman would knowingly poison her mother, but he had to approach this carefully.

Keryn gave him a slightly sad smile and said, "I'll ask her if she's up to it--I'm sure she'd be delighted to meet you, but she's just been..." She trailed off, then gave her head a little shake and lifted the tray she held. "This tea is supposed to help, and she does usually seem a bit more lively just after she's had a cup. I'll be sure to tell her you asked for her."

She smiled again and dipped their head to them before moving off toward the dowager countess's chambers.

There was no way to stop her subtly, but she couldn't give her mother that tea. Following after her, he said, "Your mother has been saying strange things, hasn't she? About your father's accident or about your brother."

Karyn paused, looking at him with the briefest flash of what might have been fear. Then she shook her head and looked away again. "I'm afraid paranoia is one of her symptoms," she admitted, sounding just a little cooler, uncomfortable.

Asta risked pushing a little further: "Is that what Eryck told you?"

Zephyr eyed Keryn with new suspicion. "Normally, one would ask how I knew that."

The noblewoman dropped her eyes. "I--I'm sorry. I have to tend to my mother. Excuse me."

Asta found herself reaching out to touch her arm as she tried to pull away. Without thinking, she told her softly, "We want to help. You don't have to be afraid."

Keryn stared at her for a long moment. Then her eyes welled up and the tray began to shake in her hands until it dropped with a clatter, sending tea and sugar spilling across the floor. She collapsed into Asta's arms, sobbing.

The shapeshifter staggered, entirely taken aback, and shot Zephyr a panicked look over the young woman's head.

Zephyr looked equally clueless. He had very little experience comforting mortals. But he had spent more time among them than his siblings, so he was at least comfortable trying. He placed a comforting hand on the noblewoman's shoulder and spoke with the softness of a summer breeze. "You can trust us. You don't have to be afraid of him anymore."

Keryn only wailed harder, clinging to Asta so tight that the shapeshifter swayed in place, threatening to send them both to the floor.

"It's been s-s-so much worse since Mama t-took ill," the noblewoman managed to sniffle eventually. "Eryck said it was j-just paranoia, b-b-but I think he's lying, and she won't get b-better and--and--"

She devolved into hiccupping sobs again. Windstrider poked his head out of Asta's skirts to cheep at her, wondering what all the fuss was about.

"Easy. Easy." His voice was soothing, like a cold breeze on a hot day. "She should get better once she stops getting that tea. It's not your fault; you couldn't have known. All you can do now is let us help you put a stop to it. The first thing is to listen to what she has to say with an open mind. Do you think you can do that?"

He kept watch for Eryck, in case the man heard the commotion and came to investigate.

"The t-tea?" Keryn blinked at him with watery eyes, then looked down at the spilled tea tray. The realization seemed to hit her like a physical blow and she clapped her hands to her mouth. "Oh no...oh no..."

"Hey hey hey." Asta caught her shoulders as she swayed, seeming on the verge of fainting. "Ze--Caelan is right. You didn't know, it isn't your fault."

Keryn seemed nearly nonsensical, but she tried to nod. Windstrider cheeped at her again and crawled fully out of Asta's skirts so he could scamper up onto the weeping noblewoman's shoulder and nuzzle her cheek.

Zephyr gave Asta an apologetic look. "Asta here will stay to help you through this, while I make sure Ra--the Countess is alright. Okay?"

Keryn said something that sounded like permission between sobs. That was enough for him. He gave Asta another apologetic look and walked into Ralora's chambers.

Despite how unequipped she felt to deal with the situation, Asta only gave him a pained nod when he ducked into the countess's rooms.

"Here, why don't we...find you somewhere to sit down?" she suggested cautiously to the distraught Keryn, who only nodded and sniffled, allowing Asta to guide her onto the chaise in her guest room.

Zephyr stepped into Ralora's room. He had adjusted his human face many times over the years, but he found himself worrying the Countess would see his flimsy disguise for what it was. If anyone could, it was Ralora; she was the most perceptive person he could recall that he couldn't say with any certainty didn't have magical sight.

"Sorry to disturb you, but your daughter is... having a moment... so I volunteered to come check on you."

The Dowager Countess was propped up on her pile of pillows, eyes closed and face turned to her window, which was opened just a crack from the night before.

"I missed the fresh air," she murmured, not seeming to hear Zephyr, entirely. "The healer said I may catch a chill, but it's so stuffy in here, Flores--"

She looked over, finally, and blinked. "You are not Flores," she noted with a slightly arched brow. "Nor my daughter with my tea. Who..."

She squinted at him suddenly. Sounding not at all like a woman whose illness had left her less than lucid, she demanded, "Come closer. Please." Her lips twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile. "My ailment is...not contagious, I assure you."

"I know it isn't," Zephyr said, a little too tenderly for a stranger. He came closer, a little tentatively. Despite every reason against it, part of him hoped she would see through to his true heart. He loved her like a sister, and not in the way his fellow spirits were his siblings. She was special in an entirely different way than Asta.

The Dowager Countess frowned. "Who...?"

She blinked. Then, in barely a breath: "...Hermes?"

She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head and closed her eyes. "I--forgive me. You...remind me quite strongly of someone I knew..."

"It's alright. Hermes was my father." His heart wasn't in the lie, but he did his best to disguise his true feelings. He was oddly saddened when she had corrected herself.

"And I do look a lot like him." The spirit chuckled. "Just about the spitting image, I'm told."

He gave a gentlemanly bow. "Caelan Auster, at your service, my Lady. And here to listen to anything you have to say."

It took Asta the better part of half an hour to get Keryn calmed down enough to sip at a cup of tea--which it took Asta an additional seven minutes to figure out how to ring for--and by then the shapeshifter was so convinced that her brother might be getting suspicious of how long his sister's errand was taking that she found herself pacing the floor of her guest room like a caged animal.

Windstrider was curled up in Keryn's lap, snoring quietly as she stroked his colorful feathers and sniffled and sipped her tea.

Zephyr returned, looking almost ready to kill someone. He swallowed the rage down not to frighten Keryn with his savage ferocity. "That was very--" Sad. "--illuminating. I now have no doubt of Eryck's guilt."

He looked to the noblewoman and took care with his words. "What we should be up to you, but to decide you'll have to know everything he's done. Can you handle that?"

Keryn sniffled, but nodded, still stroking Windstrider in her lap. Not knowing what else to do, Asta sat cautiously beside her and offered a hand.

Keryn took it, gripping tightly, and nodded again.

Zephyr explained that, according to the Countess and supported by the document he uncovered via well-intentioned snooping, Eryck had been about to be disinherited when the Count had his accident. He couldn't yet prove it was murder, but they could prove Eryck was poisoning the Countess with hemlock. Any man capable of that was certainly capable of killing his father.

Then came the documents in the steward's office that, coupled with the Countess' testimony, showed Eryck was having local land and business owners without heirs framed for magic so he could seize their property. If they could keep the evidence from getting destroyed before the proper authorities could arrive, Eryck didn't have enough clout to avoid serious punishment.

"What you and your mother have to decide is, well... to turn him over for everything, hold something back in hope he won't be executed, or attempt to blackmail him into stepping down peacefully. Keep in mind that it's your people his crimes have hurt most of all, and that he will inevitably harm more people in return."

"I—I think..." Keryn's sniffed again, then wiped at her eyes and nodded stiffly. "I must speak with my mother. You said she is...awake? Alert?"

Asta gave her an encouraging Pat on the shoulder, or at least her best attempt at one. Windstrider skittered up to her clavicle, where he settled himself and cooed contentedly before flicking his tiny tongue against the lady's cheek.

"Yes. She slept better last night, and my visit raised her spirits significantly. You'll want to hire your own healer, but without that tea weakening her, she should stay more alert now that she'll be able to sleep."

"We'll wait outside the room in case Eryck shows up."

"Thank you, Caelan. I can see why mother trusts you." Keryn smiled politely, but sadly. They followed her into the hall to keep watch while the noblewomen chose Eryck's fate.

"I don't envy them. Turning against family is a tall order," Zephyr commented.

Asta nodded, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "I just..." She sighed and leaned back against the wall beside the door. "I can't even imagine," she murmured. Then she chuckled, a little sourly. "Literally. The closest thing I've ever had to family was a dryad--and the fae aren't the most attentive folk."

She frowned at the ceiling. "I can't imagine having family as wonderful as you say these people were and even thinking of harming them."

"The closest thing I have are three mercurial elementals that are even worse at conversation than I am." He spoke quietly so as not to be overheard.

"Sadly, even the best families can bear rotten fruit."

Asta nodded, mouth a thin line. She was quiet for a long moment, then asked quietly, "Do you ever...wish you had more?"

She glanced over at him, pale eyes almost haunted. "Is that...something you even worry about? Family? I mean you're--you're a manifestation of nature. Does it ever...bother you, I guess?"

It bothered her. She loved her forests, her wilds, she loved the creatures and nature spirits she had known, and she was grateful to those who had helped her survive, taught her how to carve out her place--and she supposed that was a sort of family.

But there was a part of her that yearned for something more. To know who her people were; she'd never even met another shifter like herself, only been told fractured stories by forest creatures.

"I do occasionally find myself envying the connections mortals form in their short lives, but it's difficult for me. And that's without the fact that I will outlive anyone I get attached to."

Zephyr sighed sadly. "Perhaps it's a blessing that I ultimately forget everyone. I fear that I would never be content otherwise. Or become too much like a human to fulfill my calling."

He grew quiet as footsteps came up the central staircase. "How long can it possibly take to--" Eryck said as he entered the hall, pausing abruptly upon seeing the pair seeming to be guarding his mother's room. "Oh, Lord Auster, what is the meaning of lurking outside my sick mother's room like a pair of ghouls?"

Zephyr debated confronting the man right then and there, but that would only give him time to destroy the uncollected evidence. So he decided to attempt to stall him. "My apologies, Lord Norbraith, your mother has had a rough morning. Your sister is consoling her and we volunteered to make sure they weren't disturbed."

"Apologies," Asta echoed, dipping quickly into a curtsy with her head lowered, eyes downcast. "We meant no disrespect—we only wanted to help."

Count Norbraith looked unconvinced, but also unwilling to argue the point. "Perhaps I should send up her lady's maid with another cup of tea—it seems there was a mishap with the tray Keryn brought," he noted, looking pointedly at the spreading tea stain still on the floor of the hall.

"Ah—I startled her, your grace," Asta said quickly, hoping she sounded properly contrite. "I—I often forget that I have a light tread, she didn't hear me leave my room. It was an accident."

"Asta, please go downstairs and inform the lady's maid that the Dowager Countess is in need of more tea," Zephyr said. He was curious how Eryck would react.

The nobleman appeared to twitch, likely wondering if the pair knew anything. Their unusual presence in the hall had begun to make him suspicious. At this rate, they might have to resort to something ignoble.

Eryck frowned. "Yes, girl, do make yourself useful."

Zephyr looked at her with an expression that said, "don't go too far out of view, we may have to act."

She found her hackles raising slightly at the casual way he ordered her around, but she just dipped into another curtsy and moved to edge passed him down the hall.

She glanced back over her shoulder, catching Zephyr's eye and giving a subtle nod to show she understood before ducking back around the corner that led to the stairwell.

Eryck watched her leave before turning back to Zephyr. He headed for the door to his mother's room and was surprised when the spirit stood in his way. "Surely my sister couldn't have meant for you to keep me out as well?"

Zephyr tried to look apologetic. "I apologize, my lord, but she was very clear that no--uh--men could be allowed in." He hoped to throw the man off his footing by citing feminine issues.

Eryck looked properly horrified, though he was seemingly then caught between suspicion and disgust. "Well—that—I mean—regardless," he blustered, "My mother needs her medicinal tea. It's quite vital."

"I'm sure the lady's maid can find the medicinal herb. Surely you aren't the only one who knows what to use and how much." Zephyr looked suitably dubious. Though, perhaps prodding at Eryck's lie wasn't the best choice.

Asta held her breath from where she was listening just behind the corner, feeling her flight or fight reflex start to rise to the surface.

Eryck's expression went stony. "And just what exactly are you insinuating, Auster?"

"Only that such a menial task is beneath you, good sir. Men like you and I are tied up with more important duties." Zephyr said lofty, touching Asta with a small breeze  as he said "tied up."

"Not that caring for a loved one is in any way unimportant, we simply have better ways of helping." He didn't know if Eryck would buy that after being goaded with implications.

Asta popped her head back around the corner and gave Zephyr a desperate sort of look, showing her empty hands—what did he expect her to use?—as Eryck continued blusterung about his need to see his mother and sister.

Then, Asta remembered her guest room. She debating tiptoeing her way back, then quickly decided that was too risky. She dropped down into her mouse form instead and scurried down the hall and under the crack of the door, where she quickly took human form again and hurried to yank the curtain cords from their anchors in the wall.

As soon as Asta disappeared into her room, Zephyr stepped aside in surrender. Eryck grumbled something impolite and walked past the spirit. Suddenly, Zephyr gave him a chop to the back of the neck. He caught the nobleman before he hit the ground.

"So much for the civil way," he said, carrying him across to the guest rooms. Using wind magic, he dragged the discarded dress with him.

"He was getting too suspicious." He put Eryck in a chair and retrieved a pillowcase, with which he gagged him.

Asta nodded in understanding, hurrying forward with her pilfered curtain cords. "How long will he be out?" she asked as she quickly sat him up in the sitting chair by her fireplace--grunting with the effort--then bound his hands behind it.

She darted for her discarded dress and quickly wriggled back into the shift, but left the rest; in her opinion, the Connlaothian shift and its underskirt covered as much as she'd seen on a good deal of Serenian women, and she saw no need to lace herself back into that wretched corset.

"Do we know if Keryn and the Dowager Countess heard anything?" This could be impactful to what they were deliberating.

"He won't be out long. Maybe fifteen minutes." Zephyr double-checked her knotwork and nodded in satisfaction. It should hold a physically unimposing nobleman like Eryck.

After Asta got dressed, he answered, "They may have heard his strange insistence about handling the so-called medicine personally. He's far too egotistical for that."

Asta worried her lip. "Should we...bring him to the dowager's rooms? I'm worried one of the servants might walk in on...all this."

She waved between herself, Zephyr, and the unconscious and bound count.

Zephyr tilted his head for a moment. "Good point. You should go first and explain the situation. Seeing this without warning could be very upsetting." With bestial strength, he hoisted the chair and nodded for her to get the door.

---

The noblewomen stared incredulously at Eryck, who was trussed up like he had been kidnapped. They clearly hadn't considered just how to contain him until they could turn him over or they came up with some alternative.

"Was that really necessary, Lord Auster?" Keryn asked, setting aside the obvious question of how "Caelan" carried her brother in with such ease.

Zephyr gave them a gentle, apologetic look. "Apologies. I didn't have much time to think, so I just acted."

Asta nodded, not really sure what else she could do to back him up. "I--I know your decision must be painful," she said softly, "but have you come to an agreement on what must be done?"

The sooner the better, with the current count bound and unconscious.

Ralora and her daughter exchanged heavy looks. "I...will ask him to relinquish his title, and he will be sent to the temple," the dowager countess said after a long moment. "If he does not wish to comply, then..."

Zephyr knew it had to be their choice, but that felt like too light a punishment to him. "We can discuss that when he wakes."

"I feel I must ask... What's to stop him from continuing to falsely accuse people of magic for his own ends?"

Keryn gave him an odd look. "Surely you don't think the temple allows such behavior. Need I remind you these are holy men, not an angry mob?"

Zephyr caught himself. "No, of course not." They only whip up the mobs to do the dirty work for them. "I meant no disrespect."

Asta seemed to be similarly restraining herself—but she knew it wasn't her decision to make. She moved a little closer to Zephyr, that same hunted-animal instinct that had kept her alive for most of her life raising its head and chirping that there was safety in numbers.

Windstrider, who had remained on Keryn's shoulder, cheeped and began grooming the loose hair that fell around her face, which earned a tiny smile from both her and her mother.

"Should we...still be here? When he wakes?" Asta asked her companion quietly.

It seemed it was a moot question though, because Eryck began to stir.

"It looks like our time to prepare is up." Zephyr stepped back, deciding to let him see family first.

Eryck's eyes shot open and he immediately started trying to wriggle free, groaning in an effort to speak.

"For once in your life, brother, you are going to listen when we speak. If you can do that, then we can discuss what it is we are going to do with you. Understood?" Keryn said resolutely.

Eryck nodded slowly and settled down, but his eyes were both furious and disbelieving. When the full scope of what they knew was laid out, his gag was removed, with a warning not to yell. 

"And where is your proof?" the count demanded, though even he seemed to know it was mostly bluster. "What will you do, Mother? Take me to the courts? On the word of these strangers?" He glared at Zephyr and Asta. "Strangers who have already lied to us."

Asta tensed. How—what did he know?

"That is not your cousin, is she Lord Auster?"

Zephyr tensed in much the same way. There was no way Eryck knew who or what they were, but clearly he knew, or thought he knew, something. "I don't know what you're implying?" His confusion and disbelief was entirely genuine.

"You don't, hm?" Eryck sneered, disbelieving. "Tell me, did your sainted father truly never speak of Miss Abigail Blythe?"

It was Ralora's turn to tense as the name of her old lady's maid was spoken. She had fallen out of touch soon after Hermes' departure; she had only heard that she'd taken ill and her family had moved her closer to Uthlyn for better treatment.

"Eryck, you cannot deflect from what this conversation is about," she said firmly, but the count just glared at her.

"I can when you choose to take the word of proven liars over my own."

Zephyr's confusion deepened. What did Abigail have to do with anything?

"We have the disinheritance papers, brother." Keryn was firm. It didn't even matter if Auster was lying about his cousin. "And we have proof that you've been keeping mother sick with hawthorn that you purchased before she ever became ill. You were slowly killing her, brother. All to present her suspicions about father's death as delusion."

Zephyr looked at Asta, really looked at her, his mouth drying. He had felt a connection to her from the beginning, but this--this was impossible. His kind couldn't... could they?

Asta winced as the Norbraiths devolved into arguments, Eryck now well and truly backed into a corner. She glanced away, uncomfortable watching it unfold, and caught the way Zephyr was looking at her.

Her brow furrowed, exactly the way Abigail's did, and she raised one eyebrow as she mouthed, What?

Abigail had been a colorful woman: vibrant chestnut hair, freckled olive skin, and bright green eyes, all vivid against her typically modest lady's maid gowns. But if one looked passed that...

Asta could have been her pale, colorless shadow.

Zephyr tore his eyes away, to find Eryck's smug amusement staring at him. The nobleman laughed, though he was obviously disappointed that he hadn't caught Auster in a lie after all. "God, you didn't even know, did you?"

Asta suddenly felt distinctly out of the loop. "Know what?" she demanded, scowling at Eryck.

The count sneered. "That you're Hermes' bastard. Which makes you dear Caelan's sister."

Asta snorted, rolling her eyes. "That's not..." Her voice petered out.

Hermes.

Hermes' child.

Except Hermes wasn't real.

Her mouth went dry and she snapped her head around to stare at Zephyr, the question burning in her eyes. "That's not possible," she muttered. "That's—that's not possible, right?"

"I wouldn't have thought so. After me, father was supposed to have been sterile because of... an accident." Zephyr was incredibly perplexed, causing his ability to lie so easily to waver. He could only hope that Eryck didn't take advantage of his thoughtful pause.

Asta seemed to have entirely forgotten that they had an audience, let alone one to whom they hadn't told the truth of their identities.

"But that's not possible," she repeated. "Tell me that's not possible."

Eryck, despite his situation, seemed to be delighting in the distress he had caused.

Zephyr couldn't bring himself to answer her or even look her in the eyes.

Ralora glared at her son. "Enough. Who Hermes chose to sleep with is none of our business. He was a fine man, and I will not see his children shamed for it. Do not make your own situation worse. You are fortunate that we do not hand you over to the Mordecai you deceived for him to decide your fate."

Eryck's cruel glee withered as she continued. "I will have your father's final wishes verified, and you will lose your title, along with your inheritance and every bit of your ill-gotten wealth. Then, you will spend the rest of your days working off your sins under the watchful eyes of the Church. Should you leave, the full extent of your crimes will be revealed, and you will be hunted down like a criminal."

Eryck bared his teeth at her, but his shoulders were slumped. He was truly trapped by his own misdeeds.

Keryn's eyes were watery, and she shook her head. "It is only to preserve our house's legacy, to honor his original wishes, that you won't be executed yourself for what you did to Father," she hissed at him.

Legacy.

Father.

Asta shook her head, unable to process what was happening. Without another word, she turned on her heel and fled the room.

Zephyr excused himself and ran after her. He could think of nothing else but her, least of all a concept as abstract as justice. If she was his daughter, that changed everything. The world as he knew it would never again be the same.

He looked everywhere for her, asking every staffer he came across if they had seen her. Eventuall, he...

The household staff were all in a rather frazzled state, seeing as they had heard some sort of undefined commotion from the private quarters of their employers. They gave Zephyr fractured directions for "Lady Auster", who had fled out into the gardens.

She wanted to keep running, but she didn't know where to go. Or what to be; her human shape was suddenly suffocating, but the idea of a bird—her usual preference when in such a state—brought her too close to the mercy of the wind, and she didn't think she could do that just now. A cat, innocuous and lithe enough to find a good hiding space, was distasteful for similar reasons.

So she found herself slumped on a stone garden bench, head bowed and knees drawn up to her chest, almost childlike as she struggled to control her breathing.

Eventually, he found her. For a few minutes, he just watched her, unsure of what he could possibly say. He could never make it right that he had never been there for her, but what kind of father could a wandering nature spirit be?

Finally he decided to just push through. He approached and quietly sat by her. Softly, he said, "I actually planned to keep in touch with your mother. We even had a system for contacting each other. But she never did. Time slips away from me, and by the time I came looking, she was gone. I never found out where she went."

"If I had known about you—about the possibility of you—I never would have stopped looking. I would have found a way to never forget you were out there."

Asta tensed when he sat beside her, but she didn't move away. she shook her head slowly after he spoke--not a denial, not exactly. More...lost.

"I was abandoned," she said dully. "My mother was a shapeshifter who left me to die in the woods. That's what the dryad told me. I--I don't know who Abigail Blythe is. I don't know who you are."

She looked away, arms wrapped tight around her knees. "If--If she wasn't a shapeshifter," she whispered, "if she didn't leave me because I'm bad luck, if she was just some, some woman, just a person with a family and a life, why did she--why was I...?"

She realized she was crying, but she couldn't stop it.

Uncertainly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I don't know why she would have abandoned you. It doesn't fit with the wonderful woman she is. But, together, we can find out. I don't know where she is, but I at least know her family took her somewhere closer to Uthlyn to seek treatment for an unspecified illness. I didn't realize that was a pregnancy. I sincerely wish I had."

Asta shook her head again, but she let him pull her close. And it was only then that she realized she didn't think she'd ever been truly held in her life.

She devolved into shuddering sobs, curling into Zephyr's side and hiding her face against his chest as her shoulders shook.

Slowly, the sobs passed, and she managed to pull herself away and wipe at her eyes, sniffling. "What...what was she like?" she asked quietly.

Zephyr surprised himself with how much was coming back to him. He smiled fondly. "She was Ralora's lady's maid, but that was only to appease her family. Though she was no mage, her interest in magic worried them. However, to me, her endlessly curious mind was a breath of fresh air in this stifling country. She was a little bookish, but she was also free and even a little wild when she wanted to be."

"I was drawn to her immediately. I didn't know I was capable of romantic love until I met her. At least, that's what I understood to be love. All I can say for certain is that returning to my duty after that period of my life was incredibly difficult."

"So, you did...love her, then?" she asked quietly, glancing up at him. He'd said it, but she was still struggling to process the enormity of...well, all of this.

She sniffed and swiped at her eyes again. "Do you think she—she knew? Before you left, did she...know what you are?"

"I don't believe so. But if anyone could have figured it out, it was Abigail. One look at you would have been all the confirmation she needed."

He sighed deeply. "I can only imagine that her family couldn't accept that she'd born a child out of wedlock with a supposed noble that there was no record of. They must have taken you from her."

"I can't bear to think it was her idea to do something so cruel."

Asta sniffed again and nodded desolately. She didn't know how to feel about that; she had spent twenty-five years believing that her mother had left her to the mercy of the wilds. And to be perfectly honest, she hadn't given her father much thought in that situation—surely in the tale her dryad foster parent had told her, her father would have simply forgotten her existence once she was suitably abandoned.

The idea that someone might have wanted to keep her, that she may have been taken unwillingly...

She couldn't process that.

"We—" She swallowed thickly. "We should...make sure the Norbraiths are alright. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have run off like that..."

"You were given a lot to process. It's perfectly normal to fear your world being turned upside down. Besides, if you had broken down there, they could have learned that you aren't my sister, but my daughter."

"That said... yes, we should return before they worry too much." He helped her to her feet and they headed back.

---

After the dust settled, Eryck was lord no longer and was off to the Temple to be made into, if not a better man, a more controllable one. The Norbraith's wished them well, and the two were on their way as mysteriously as they had arrived. Yet, as they headed out of town, something was eating at Zephyr.

Asta said a slightly tearful farewell to Windstrider as they departed the manor; the tiny dragon had chosen to remain with Keryn, who nodded very seriously when Asta told her that he preferred chestnuts, and that she should look into finding him additional companionship—they were incredibly social little creatures, after all.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that her took her longer than it might have normally to notice Zephyr's apparent melancholy.

She still didn't know how to feel about what she had learned of their relationship. Father...what did that even mean for them? She wasn't a child, she didn't need a parent—and seeing as she'd never really had one before, she didn't entirely know how she was suppose to react to one.

"...Zephyr?" she tried after a while of walking in silence. "Are you...alright?"

He didn't know how to feel about having a child. Zephyr wasn't exactly promiscuous by any stretch of the imagination, but he had explored the act a few times. Did that mean he could have had others?

And then there was Ralora. Something she said as they left gave him the distinct impression that she knew more about him than he had believed.

suddenly, he noticed Asta speaking. "Oh. Yes. I--did it seem like the Countess had figured out that Hermes and I are the same person? It felt like she did."

Asta sighed and shrugged apologetically. "Honestly? I'm not sure, I'm sorry. I don't know her that well—but she certainly seemed perceptive. When she wasn't being poisoned."

She looked at him sidelong. "Would that have been a bad thing? If she knew?"

He shrugged, sighing. "I don't know. I've been hiding as much as possible from Connloathians for so long that I tend to presume bad things will happen if anyone learns that I am, at best, a magic user. Even people I thought were sympathetic to magic users have turned against me before when I let the veil slip."

"Only mages and shifters have ever accepted me after knowing everything. Though, your mother could well have been the exception had I given her the chance."

"Do you think she..."

She trailed off, biting her lip. It was a thought that had been nagging at the back of her mind since Ralora had told her—softly, as an aside while they said goodbye—that she hadn't heard from Abigail in over twenty years.

"She might not...still be around," she muttered eventually, trying not to let any of her confusing emotions bleed into her voice.

Zephyr grew solemn, his own confusing emotions about the matter put aside for the time being. "I don't have any idea. But what do you say we go find out together? I think knowing what became of her would help us both, even if it turns out that she is no longer alive."

Asta considered that, then nodded slowly. "Okay." She let out a tense breath. "Okay. Yes. Let's find her."

[ OOC: Continued In (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=27092.0) ]