Vantra wafted down the hazy road, head down, sunk into darkening thoughts. She should be happy Katta asked her and Kjaelle to discover whether other map collections in Selaserat had suffered the same fate because that meant he trusted them to investigate.

Unfortunately, she had the sense he kicked them out. What could she add to the investigation, anyway? Her knowledge of intricate spells did not rival Lorgan’s, and she would probably mess something up with an accidental but well-intentioned application of Mental Touch.

“What’s wrong?”

She looked over at Kjaelle’s boots, whose black laces wafted around the ethereal leather as if they were underwater, and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Hmm. I know things seem a little unfair right now. All Redemptions have their frustrations and terrible moments, and sometimes those appear insurmountable. But small steps can lead to huge leaps, so don’t worry.”

She did not know how to respond to that. So far, all her steps had led to deep crevices in the ground, and she failed to scrabble up multi-story heights to get out. Laken deserved better than her efforts.

The elfine grinned. “I don’t think anyone’s told you, about the time we lost Dowl’s head.”

Vantra blinked. “The bond—”

“Didn’t work.”

She gaped at the elfine. “Didn’t work?”

“No. We were in a cave trying to find his left leg, and I slipped. I triggered Ether Touch to keep from falling, but he was in my pack. He, as a Physical head, plummeted into the dark depths, and we heard a splash. I couldn’t sense him and panicked. Katta and Red reassured me, but it took days to discover where he washed ashore—right next to his leg, actually.” She smashed her lips together, and Vantra could not tell if embarrassment or the remembered success rode her.  “My apology included his first caravan wagon and team. That incident led Katta to research a different way to link a ghost to a Redeemer, and create variants of the Recollection ceremony to attach a ghost’s essences.

“I thought Dowl lost, but I was wrong. He led us to his essence, in a roundabout way. I know, Laken’s Redemption is as fraught, and outside interference is our foe, not my fumbling. But from me to you, know that this journey will succeed. Know that Laken’s essence is not lost, only misplaced. We will discover it and make him whole.”

“Kjaelle! Vantra!”

Relieved at the interruption, Vantra turned; Tally waved at them as she and Mera zipped up, shimmery in a transparent Light coating that matched their yellow outfits. They looked like how she once pictured fairies in her children’s stories; beautiful and sparkly, with bouncy curls, tall-flower elegance and grace. Mera’s tunic and pants and Tally’s skirt even had petal edges, a style she adored. Their turquoise eyeshadow and lipstick matched their hair and emphasized the coral undertones of their dark skin, creating a perfect look.

Vantra felt rather dull, in her Passion-red cloak and purple dress that had seen better days, with unstyled tresses and a plain face.

“How’s Red?” Kjaelle asked with a half-amused smile.

“Pissed he’s still under the weather,” Mera laughed as they caught up and the four of them continued on.

“Under the weather?” Kjaelle snickered. “I guess you could say that.”

Tally smacked them both on the shoulder, lips pursed. “I don’t think he meant to get sick.”

“Fyrij’s still with him, tweeting with worry,” Mera said, her brown eyes twinkling in merriment. “He’s pacing on Rayva’s head. I’m surprised she puts up with him.”

“He’ll push her a bit far at some point, but today is not that day, especially when he’s expressing such concern,” Kjaelle said.

“I suppose it’s in her interest to let a sweet ball of fluff take the lead in guilt-tripping Red for bad behavior.” Tally dropped her voice as they avoided a group of ghosts huddled at a corner, heads together, insistently whispering. “After Katta contacted the tavern,” and she tapped at her temple, “we decided to help.”

“Wanting to check on Yut-ta? Or to keep me from getting snippy with the map makers?” Kjaelle asked.

“More like keeping them from getting snippy with you,” Mera said. “Snobby Kanderites aren’t a fun lot. That’s why Leeyal thinks it’s a good idea to visit the healing house and get Jare to come with us.”

“Because he gets snobby back?”

Tally slung an arm around Kjaelle’s shoulders and squeezed. “He was the one to crown Red,” she reminded her. “That makes him a unique and worthy Light.”

Crown Red? The ancient ghost had yet to share the particulars of his gauntlet battles with her, and she did not wish to push him to revisit bad memories. Besides, she already knew, from her studies of Talis’s ascension, the terrible trials that lay in wait for the Light-blessed in the final Light gauntlet.

Talis passed the ordeals, defeated the temple’s champion, and accepted the victory crown that solidified his bid to become Light-ascended. Once in possession of the artifact, he used the magic embedded in the gemstones to power his destruction of the primary Aristarzian Light temple. Modern religious writers praised Talis for his bravery in ending a corrupt practice, but during his time, cautionary scholars reminded their readers that the high priest had crowned him and promoted him, which made his subsequent demolition a traitorous act.

Had Jare been a high priest? She would find that odd, considering Red’s hatred of the established Light temple, but who else had the authority to crown a Light-ascended?

“KJAELLE!”

The enraged scream froze them in place. Kjaelle’s eyes widened, her face wrinkled in fury. Mera and Tally whirled and placed themselves in front of her, stiff and resolute. They folded their arms and waited for the tall elfine stalking their way.

Vantra wondered how much effort he put into molding his appearance. His cheekbones seemed a tad too high and perfect, his ears a tad too pointed, his lips a tad too full, his nose a tad too small and straight. His shoulder-length brown hair gleamed with frosty blond highlights like the heroes she had read about in elfine mythology, and his eyes had a sharp brown spark that hinted at steely nerves. He wore an open-necked white tunic that revealed chest muscles and sun-kissed skin, and tight black pants stuffed into tighter black boots.

Every general physical aspect of him screamed handsome champion, but the wrinkles between his eyes, the elongated downward pull of his mouth, the way his eyes bulged, spoke of a sulky villain instead.

“You,” he said with ugly hate, jabbing his ringed finger at his target. Vantra’s mood plummeted; ancient noble elfines of a vicious nature placed two rings on their index and middle fingers, the gemstones stuffed with magic meant to fuel protections if they got into trouble. Considering the nastiness of those long-ago aristocrats, the defenses were essential to keeping them alive.

“Me?” she asked as Mera and Tally widened their stances and grasped the air before them. Their halberds formed in their hands, shining with Light, and they crossed them to prevent him from barreling past and to Kjaelle. He jerked to a stop as his guards caught him; all four eyed the two acolytes with firm-lipped distrust, but refused to draw their swords.

“You were there, this morning!”

Kjaelle raised an eyebrow. “Was I, now?”

“You discorporated me!”

“If I discorporated you, you wouldn’t have reformed so quickly,” Kjaelle purred, her wide smile a dare for him to attack her. “If at all.”

“You brag on empty power. Confine Kjaelle,” he said, pointing with imperious poise at the elfine. His guards looked at each other, regarded the twins, and did not move. He turned, his rage turning into a whiny frown. “Did you hear me?”

“Maybe they remember the last time,” Tally said. “Discorporation in a river is hard to forget.”

“Leave us be.” Mera’s words shook in anger. That, more than Kjaelle’s hate, hinted at a despised foe, and Vantra wondered if this were the Yeralis Vesh mentioned that morning. “Kjaelle did not cast Clear Rays, a Sun acolyte did. If you wish to complain, visit the Raining Sun Temple.”

Their confronter flinched and his face turned a deep red. Vantra readied herself to form a shield in front of the twins; she did not trust his intent.

“Or are you that eager to bring a rain of Darkness upon your head?” Tally asked.

He snorted, loud enough they knew his disdain. “And where is he, Kjaelle? This lover of yours? The avatar of Darkness, wasn’t it?” He leaned forward, barring his teeth. “I doubt he’ll be much of anything if you stay in Selaserat. We’re a city of Light. From me to you, we’ll drive him back to the Sea of Winds, outcast and desperate.”

Vantra clenched her hands on the slurred words, their nastiness pricking her. “Light and Darkness walk hand in hand in the Evenacht,” she snapped. After traveling with Katta and Red, she knew this on an intimate level. They were two sides of the same card, non-existent without the other.

He glanced at her, his gaze traveling up and down, before he eyed Kjaelle with a petulant sneer. “I see your friends are degrading. Not surprising.”

“My friend will use you to wipe the cobblestones if you push her,” Kjaelle replied, her smile relaxing into a lazy smirk. “For all the bragging you do concerning Mental Touch, you won’t harm her, no matter how hard you try.”

Rage, disgust and pride replaced his sneer. His guards shifted in nervous agitation as he raised his arms. Vantra’s neck tickled, as if her fine hair rubbed against staticky fur. She shoved her hands in front of her. “Anznet emi.”

The Light bolt bounced off her protection and the guards ducked; his shields rose a moment too late. He shrieked as licks of flame lapped his essence, and he faded into near nothing before they fell from him and evaporated. He reappeared along with a defense containing so many layers, he looked as if he stood underwater.

“You Sun-cursed monstrosity!” he screamed, the sound vibrating his spell.

The afternoon dimmed, as if someone extinguished a light in one room, but the flickering fire in the next provided a modicum of illumination. The elfine froze, frowning, and his guards took a step back, unwilling to defend him against whoever he upset. Ghosts and living beings outside the confrontation glanced skyward, then hastened on their way down the street.

Vantra would have assumed Katta had arrived, but the touch did not feel like him—or Kjaelle. In fact, if she still resided on Talis, she would have anticipated a storm coming in, the thicker clouds swallowing the sun’s rays and blanketing all below in midday dusk. But it was not just that; she sensed that the light itself retreated, rather than something external blunting its glow.

“What kind of spell is this?” their opponent asked in a sulky tone.

Tally giggled. “You don’t know, oh great whizan?”

The twins and Kjaelle laughed in unison; Vantra could not manage the fake humor, so kept quiet.

The disquiet left him, and his eyes lit in realization as bright as a lamp in a storm. “You,” he said slowly, wagging his finger at her. “They want the ghost who dared use restricted magic in a crowded square. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“They?” Mera asked.

“Sounds ominous.” Tally did not sound impressed.

“Restricted magic? How is Clear Rays restricted magic?” Kjaelle settled her hands on her hips and glared. “It’s a healing spell, one used to clear an unwanted Touch away. Or is that your problem with it?”

“You won’t escape this time,” he hissed. “I’ll stake you in the Elden Fields to rot for the centuries denied.”

“No, you won’t,” Vantra snapped, her essence shuddering at the unthinkable. She knew the rage-fueled, tainted aura surrounding unrepentant Condemned, and Kjaelle held nothing of it.

“You’re right, he won’t,” the elfine murmured. “Because he’s all talk. Screaming threats has yet to affect my afterlife—though it has affected his.”

He clenched his teeth and smiled. “The Beast answered me,” he gloated. “He ripped you apart for your transgressions.”

“The Beast was a false Judge,” Vantra said. All beings, in the Evenacht and on Talis, knew that. His legacy was one of poor judgment, retribution, and evil intent. “And he paid for that on Erse Parr’s blade.”

“How dare you?” he screamed, vehemence causing him to lurch to the side, unsteady.

She hated that rhetorical question; too many Sun acolytes used it on her, to dismiss her as her mother’s daughter and heir. Daring to ask, daring to wonder, to puzzle at strange syimlin demands that seemed so unsuited to the events they sought to change. Illumination was the purview of both the Sun and Light, and she saw nothing wrong with delving into murky acts.

He steadied himself and pounded his chest with his fist. “I asked for justice and received it!”

“Justice was never the Beast’s intent.”

Did she sound as resentful as she thought? Probably so; their opponent barred his teeth and reared back, a glinting yellow bolt forming in his upstretched palm. He made certain to meet Vantra’s eyes with a disgusted smirk before he threw it; it broke at head height on her shield. Sizzles raced across the surface, but they puffed into non-existence within a breath.

His eye twitched as her companions howled in laughter. He formed another and tossed it, then flung more in rapid succession, their demise producing a burst of over-bright light. Vantra squinted at the painful brightness and fought to keep the layers active, one after another, only a step ahead, but still a step ahead.

“Enough,” Kjaelle gritted through her clenched teeth.

“I’ll discorporate you all!” he shrieked, his words slurred together. “I’ll send you all to the Fields!”

“Not if you can’t break our companion’s shields,” Tally said. She and Mera tapped their weapon’s tips together and levered them at the elfine. “Unless you want a repeat of the embarrassment you suffered this morning, you’ll leave.”

“We’ve no reason to be nice.” Mera jabbed at him to make her point.

“A Sun acolyte that’s fallen into Darkness,” he said with a sharp bark. “Two fake lights and a reprobate. I’ve no reason to be nice to you!”

The air stilled, and the ground rumbled. The ground? Not wishing to fall into the earth and touch the roots again, Vantra shoved a Sun shield beneath their feet, a thumb-length below the surface. The contaminated magic rammed against it, and the earth shuddered at the impact.

“That was unwise,” Tally whispered, flaring bright. She zipped from the shield, swung at the elfine’s defensive layers, and shattered every one of them. She dug her halberd into his shoulder before he could move. He yowled and pushed back through his guards. A Darkness barrier surrounded them, and though they drew swords, they could not attack Tally as she pressed her advantage, slicing through her opponent’s incorporeal form as an axe cut water. Vantra did not know how much damage she caused to his essence since wisps did not fly away with the strikes, but the woman drove him far enough away, his shouts faded into buzzy noise.

The guards hacked at their confinement; it dropped unexpectedly, causing them to slice each other. They shot Kjaelle enraged glares before heading for their employer. A thrill for Tally’s safety swam through Vantra’s essence, but neither of her companions moved to aid their friend.

“Tally—”

“Will be fine,” Mera said.

“Those guards know better than to interfere with her,” Kjaelle murmured. “Not only do they suffer humiliation at her hands, Red gets involved. The last time did not end well for them, and that was after Tally shredded them into wisps.” She looked at the elfine, nonplussed, but her grim concern focused on the ground. “These roots. Can you sense their width, Vantra?”

She concentrated, uncertain why the elfine asked her and not Mera. The magic was but a trickle compared to the morning’s attack, but it infused the soil and spread away from them in rivulets. She traveled along the taint for street after street, through squares and under buildings, and did not protest when she felt a firm, ethereal grip on her consciousness that drew her back to her essence.

She blinked, readjusting to her surroundings. “I didn’t find the end of it.” Oddly, she did not see that as another failure of her Mental Touch, but a dire warning.

“Neither did I.”

“I don’t understand.” Mera looked at the cobblestones between her feet. “Even if Hrivasine and Anmidorakj ignored the magic, you would think the Light temple, the Sun temple—for Talis’s sake, the Aristarzians!—would be aware of this corruption. They’re living above it.”

“Maybe that’s why they haven’t noticed,” Kjaelle said. “A trickle over time, to acclimate the city to the Touch, the build-up ignored because it’s normal.”

“It wasn’t here the last time we visited!”

Kjaelle held up a finger. “What did Resa say, when we watched the theater production?”

Mera looked after Tally, who had disappeared behind a street corner, and deflated. She released her weapon and rubbed her hands together. “The days seemed brighter during our stays.”

“We believed it Talis’s blessing. We may have believed wrong.”

“Adding to a myth to undermine it. That stinks of Hrivasine’s plots.”

“It’s receding,” Vantra whispered. Her two companions stared at the ground, disturbed, until the final trace of taint vanished. Only then did the dimness surrounding them brighten to a typical Evenacht day.

“We need to tell Katta and Red,” Mera said. Kjaelle nodded, snagged her friend’s arm, and floated to the side of the street as wagons and walkers filtered by, chatting and laughing as if nothing strange occurred.

“Especially if Yeralis is involved.” Kjaelle lifted her lip, her expression promising pain the next time they met.

Vantra almost—almost—asked after him, but decided a public place was not the time to pry into her past. Why did the two hate each other? What had she done, that he felt justified in asking the Beast to condemn her to the Fields?

“We’ll send a runner once we reach the healing house,” the elfine continued. “And I think we need to split up and inform as many map makers as possible. If they haven’t lost their collection yet, they can take precautions.” She huffed. “They may get pissy about it in our presence, but pride will make them cautious outside it.”

And, hopefully, preserve what they needed to find Laken’s essence. Kjaelle has said each Redemption had its difficulties, and Vantra was far ready to dispense with the jagged cliff edge and tread on a nice, wide, soft-dirt path, instead.