Somewhere in the Aztec Empire, 1519

The Knights of the Order had been given one simple task: find the monsters released in Denmark, and bring them to Aetherill.

Given that, from a combination of a very angry Fae breaking his friends out of prison and an even-angrier shadow being with a vendetta against living things, the Hall of the Order had been destroyed and most of its operatives with it, this task had been a complete failure.

That meant, among other things, that the monsters were still roaming freely across space and time.

It wasn't entirely clear if they were hopping through little pre-existing portals, or if they were somehow creating them with a strange, unstudied magic, or if they were simply sliding across the pages of human history. Given that they were appearing in mythologies and legends in growing numbers, Varek decided that he didn't entirely care. The Knights of the Order had been meant to deal with this task. Their ineptitude (this wasn't a surprise, merely an inevitability) meant that it was finally his turn to get involved.

Varek took no joy in this monster-hunting pastime. It was (among other reasons) why he'd left it to the lesser Fae. He had greater things on his plate: the hunt for Solimar, the disappearance of Elysande Eltheron, and the great clash between himself and Aelric that was looming on the horizon. Even Umbraxis, alarming as it was to see, wasn't at the top of his concerns. However, his responsibilities as one who guarded order directed him to at least look into the possibility that monsters from the land in-between might be causing problems that the guardians needed to fix.

That was how he found himself in Anáhuac in the year 1519.

Varek had tracked the wretched thing through hundreds of years, watching as it appeared in legends and myths and otherwise changed the course of human history. These changes meant very little - ultimately they replaced similar events that would have sent human history on a similar trajectory (that was Time's responsibility, not his). Finally, he estimated a landing point for the creature (where it might spend more time than in other places) and decided to meet it there.

Anáhuac, which would later be called Mexico, was a place currently celebrating the vast curiosities of death. Varek found it amusing. Perhaps he'd find Sydara here also, reveling in her festivities; and then he would ask her, Sydara, darling, why did you let me rot beneath Aetherill for one hundred years?

Perhaps they'd brawl. There'd be no winner, but he liked the idea of breaking her perfect nose.

Being the Guardian of Order, and given that he'd been frozen in a block of ice for one hundred years, the list of retribution was a long one. Many things in the universe had spun out of their allotted realities. Varek's priorities started with the monster from the land in between. Next followed Aelric - and after that, dealing with the insufferable Jasper Ravenscroft.

---

This is the story of Elysande Eltheron, as told by Yorihito to his guests: a comatose Aurora, an exhausted Rohan, a very put-out and very muddy Jasper, and Lucrezia (who was only in her usual state: slightly irritated).

Elysande Eltheron was the daughter of Elion Eltheron, High King of Elarith. (Count the e's, Rohan used to say - a game he played when the stories bored him).

Elysande, known as Ellie but her closest friends, was exiled from the royal family when she committed a terrible crime: she fell in love with a human man, who compared her beauty to the moon.

Some would argue that Ellie would never have been exiled in the first place if her father had listened to her: she didn't want to become the Guardian of the Night. To be a Guardian meant to live in nearly constant solitude. The ancient argument was that one could not maintain the balance of all things while also being partial to one world over another. Ellie had been chosen by the Guardians because of her remarkable gifts in magic, and yet she adamantly refused. King Elion made her decision for her and she became a Guardian, but distraught in her isolation, she attempted every idea she could find to break the bond.

Ellie wandered the realms in despair, weeping in her endless grief, until she stumbled upon James Ravenscroft.

Isolated in his own home, left to die in a tower, Ellie healed James's malady and brought him to the Fae realm, where she hid him amongst the athrubhan. The athrubhan laws were different than the other Fae, and though they did not approve of the human male, they treated him with dignity and respect and allowed him to stay. They kept Ellie's secret and, for the first time in a thousand years, she was happy.

Until James began to change.

The Fae world is no place for humans. Every fairy story on earth knew this; it was why faeries were so feared. Even if the Fae were kind, humans were not immune to the strange and volatile magic that wandered the Fae realms unchecked. James was no exception to this rule. He lived in the Fae realm for thirty years, and age began to show in his face. A darkness crept into his eyes and his soul. A true death would have been merciful, but magic had worked its way into his blood, and he was quickly becoming something else.

Distraught again, Ellie tried every cure she could find to heal her husband. She brought every healer who would listen to see him. No one could help. No one would help. Slowly, James began his descent into a darkness that would soon claim both of their lives.

This is the story Elysande recorded in her diary, in the language of the athrubhan. As James' madness grew, she grew to fear him and recorded every moment in the enchanted book they'd found in Ravenscroft Manor. Before her death, she hid it from him - because somehow (the Guardians never knew how) James had discovered the diary, and it drove him into a rage.

"To kill a Guardian," Yori explained, "is the greatest crime of them all. We are impartial. We are necessary. We keep existence in balance. Without a balance, there is no reality. Because of Umbraxis, that reality is in danger."

Jasper had thought there were no more revelations in the world that could surprise him, but after hearing Yori's story, this was something he was beginning to doubt.

"When James became Umbraxis, he took Elysande's life. He murdered her in cold blood. This created a great imbalance because there was no one to take her place. Now," he said, with a pointed look in Jasper's direction, "those crimes must be met with justice. Umbraxis must be stopped. There are promises that must be kept - "

(Jasper restrained a groan, because, yet again, the Guardians refused to tell him what those promises were)

"- and it is time they are kept."

"By getting the seven keys," Jasper said.

"No. But getting the seven keys and using them to set this right. In the end, this task will balance all things - not just defeating Umbraxis."

Yori folded his hands patiently across his middle. "Our friend, Solimar, is known as the Guardian of the Day. He's been unresponsive for quite some time. Your next task will be to find him, and convince him to give you his key."

"Do you have an idea where he might be?" Rohan asked. "We stumbled upon you completely by accident."

"The human city, Anáhuac," Yori replied. "Ellie was dear friends with Solimar - I expect you'll find more details about their friendship there, as well as what he might be doing, since he hasn't answered any of our messages."

Jasper didn't miss the animosity in Yori's voice. For one who claimed to be impartial, there was no absence of disdain for the missing Guardian.

"I suppose we might sleep a while before going to this city," Rohan said. He and Jasper shared an exhausted sigh.

Jasper briefly considered sleeping on the floor where he sat. He couldn't remember the last thing he'd eaten, or the last time he'd been truly rested. All he knew at that moment was the itching of the dirt on his skin and the way the world had taken on a grainy look since he'd emerged from the library.

Yori, apparently just noticing this, blinked in surprise. "Of course," he said quickly. "We'll see to your nourishment first. This can wait. We have time."

Time - now that was an interesting concept. For the Guardians, Jasper mused, time must have meant something entirely different than it did for him.

He didn't argue, though. Didn't ask questions. Frankly, he didn't even want to know. He wanted to curl up under a heavy blanket and sleep for a long time.

---

The monks provided hot water for a bath, and some type of watery broth for sustenance, and after, Jasper slept for a long time in one of the infirmary beds.

When he woke, the strange light filtering in through the infirmary windows made it difficult to tell the time. He heard, however, the faint whistle of birdsong and guessed it might be morning. The strange feelings had not left his body, although they had settled in an odd tingling sensation in his fingers and toes.

Jasper sat up. Across from him, Aurora was also sitting up in bed, carefully sipping a mug of tea. Her hands trembled as she brought the earthen vessel to her lips. Jasper marveled at her concentration, but quickly flushed with shame. She'd lost so much strength in only a few short weeks, and it was mostly because of him.

"What is your sickness?" he asked, breaking a silence that made his ears ring.

Aurora didn't startle. She gingerly set the cup back in her lap and said, "I form bad attachments."

"Bad attachments? How could that make you ill?"

"I become overly dependent on other people," she elaborated, "and when I lose them, I lose myself."

"Is it chronic?"

"Oh, quite."

The entire thing sounded fantastical, but when she spoke, her face radiated in the same way Yori's had. Whatever it meant, she was telling the truth.

"What's it like?" Jasper asked. He drew his knees up to his chest in attempts to still the ceaseless fluttering there.

"Imagine falling," Aurora replied, "so deep inside yourself that you can't get out. You don't know what is and isn't real. You don't know if what you see is happening to you, or if you're standing inside a memory. It can happen anywhere, anytime, without warning."

"And why aren't you terrified?"

"Oh, I am. Constantly."

"You don't look terrified."

"Thank you." She took another drink. Jasper's thoughts had wandered off into some corner of his curiosity when she said, "Might I ask you a question?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't going to ask," Aurora said, slowly. "But I can't help myself. Last time we talked…what I said…do you…"

Aurora stopped, sucking in a breath.

"Do I believe you?" Jasper supplied. As she nodded, he considered not just her shining face, but the twinge in his own soul, ringing of truth. "I do believe you," he said, finally.

Aurora sagged against the bedframe. Her tea spilled into her lap, but she didn't seem to notice as a tear trickled down her cheek.

It was a frightening thing to admit; the possibilities of such a revelation were vast and incalculable. Still, there were worse prospects than a marital union with an athrubhan witch. And this one - he'd come to consider a friend, at the very least.

"I do feel compelled to say," Jasper added, "that I haven't the faintest clue what to do with that."

And Aurora, despite herself, began to laugh.

It was a musical sound. Something heavy inside of Jasper began to lift, and to his immense surprise, the Other answered with a laugh of its own. He felt it stumble out of his throat, trying to seize control - to do - what? Jasper wrestled it back down.

Never in his memories had it been anything other than feral. This time, however, he felt it trying to seize control, to laugh, to release some of the tension building in the back of his mind.

There was something else, though. It had been bothering him since the mention of Anáhuac and the Guardian of Day, and now that he'd rested, he knew how to put it to words.

"Aurora," he said.

She stopped laughing, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yes?"

"I can't help but think - please don't be angry - but I can't help thinking that you shouldn't accompany us to Anáhuac. Especially if these episodes come on so…unexpectedly."

Aurora's smile died. "You're not leaving me behind. For any reason."

"It's not that I want to," Jasper said. "But if we're in the middle of a fight, having you might be - "

A liability. He could hear Zephyra's voice, her angry expression, demanding that he stay put. How differently would things have gone if he'd been able to go with them in Denmark?

"I can help," Aurora insisted. "I'm athrubhan, remember? I can do things you and Rohan can't do. I can also fly."

"Badly," Jasper countered. "You crashed the last time. And you certainly can't be strong enough to - "

"Jasper Ravenscroft, you're not leaving me behind again. After what you did in the Hall of the Order, I deserve at least that much."

Jasper shut his mouth, surprised by the sharpness in her voice.

Aurora continued, "You don't even have your memories back and you're already back to making decisions for me. You will not, ever, tell me what to do. Do you understand?"

"He doesn't," groaned a sleepy voice, farther down the row of beds. Jasper hadn't noticed Rohan's sleeping form, until the giant rolled onto his side.

"I'm not making your decisions for you," Jasper returned. "I'm merely saying that you shouldn't put yourself in danger in your condition. It doesn't make any logical sense - "

"Screw logic. And screw you, if you're going to be like that. I'm coming with you."

"She's coming with us," Rohan mumbled. He put a pillow over his head. "You try to stop her, Jazz. If I can't do it, good luck."

Jasper looked between the two of them. Aurora folded her arms defiantly over her chest and stared at him. Rohan began to snore, falling back asleep.

"Perhaps a compromise," Jasper suggested. He tried to summon his usual, cold and uncaring demeanor - but the words that came out of his mouth sounded…scared. "If things get hairy, you'll listen to everything I say. No arguments. We won't have time for that - and if things get complicated, I won't have time to explain."

"You're assuming that you're in charge," Aurora said.

"He is in charge." (Rohan woke for this momentary interjection).

"I am in charge," Jasper affirmed. "I have more experience than either of you leading a squad, and even though mine was incompetent, we still got the job done. I can think faster than either of you and solve problems more efficiently. This is why I was made the leader of my squad, and if we - "

"We understand, Jasper," Rohan said. "I'm trying to sleep. Shut up."

Jasper did shut up, and Aurora conceded with a sigh and a shrug. She looked irritated but, if he was reading her expression correctly, oddly pleased with herself.

He didn't yet understand her thinking processes. Over time, he'd come to understand exactly how Orion and Zephyra operated - he could anticipate their moods and decisions as if they were his own. She and Rohan would take some studying, but he had little doubt he could learn both of them in time.

---

The diary proved useful yet again, when, at Yori's suggestion, they searched for (and found) a description of Solimar, the Guardian of the Day.

With the description, and Yori's vast knowledge of human history, they were able to pinpoint Solimar's location within a few years - and so, rested and fed and slightly less angry at the world for all the inconveniences it frequently put them through, the trio piled into the Mustang and left the sanctuary.

The portal took them to a densely populated city, somewhere in the 1500s. They left the Mustang in the forest outside the city, and then began their approach to the city itself. The causeways leading into the city bustled with activity, the air cooling as the sun dipped behind the mountains. There was a shimmering lake, its waters reflecting the colors of the fading day: pinks and reds fading into deep purples and blues.

The city came alive with light as twilight deepened, torches casting long shadows that stretched across the cobbled streets. The temples, with their imposing pyramids, were bathed in the amber light of ceremonial fires, and he could hear the distant sounds of chanting, the rhythmic beat of drums, and the piercing wail of flutes.

No one noticed their approach amidst the noise and motion. It was a tapestry of order and chaos, not at odds but in conjunction - each working to appease the other.

There was something else, though: something that Jasper hadn't even considered before that moment.

The dead.

There they were, flooding in from gates and shadows and portals drawn on the ground. Here, they were invited. Welcome. Anticipated. Jasper felt the icy rush as they flooded in and around him and froze, suddenly unable to move.

He felt dizzy. Incorporeal. There had never been so many at once - not even in the cave in Denmark. They moved as a fluid mass, going stall to stall, as though they did not notice they were even dead.

"What is it?" Aurora asked him when she realized he'd stopped walking. Rohan went on ahead, unaware his two companions had lagged behind.

Jasper didn't know how to explain it - this terrible vision. The sensation that kept him immovable was only growing worse.

"I don't have my…" he padded around his coat for his flask, even though he knew it wouldn't be there. The whiskey had run out long ago. He'd have to face this completely sober, and that was something he'd never mastered.

Aurora's brows knit together. "Ghosts," she said softly. "Right? It makes sense. They're honoring the dead - I guess - I dunno. I never thought any of that was real."

He forced himself to swallow. "They're real," he said through his teeth. None of the ghosts had noticed he could see them yet. Maybe, if he kept a cool head, they wouldn't.

Jasper, however, wasn't sure if he could. He felt the edges of his rational mind slipping away. Rohan had disappeared in the crowd. He wanted to turn on his heel and run, back for the car. This had been a complete mistake -

"Jasper, it's okay." Aurora took his hand, holding it tightly in hers. "It's going to be okay. They can't do anything to you, right?"

Jasper fought for something to say, completely bewildered by what happened next. He waited for the usual sensation of agony to follow her touch, especially because she wouldn't let go, but it never came. In fact, something quite the opposite happened: warmth trickled back into his fingers. The thing that reeled against the undead began to still.

He blurted out, "What are you doing?"

Aurora let out a huff, but held on all the same. "I'm helping," she said.

"You're…you've done that before. In Italy. I kept trying to figure out what it was - "

"Now's not the time to explain," Aurora hissed at him. "Just don't let go."

She tugged him along, leading him the way that Rohan had gone. They had no guidance on where to find Solimar (that is, assuming they'd even found the right year) but a search of the entire city suddenly seemed impossible. It was massive, spreading out as far as the eye could see, and absolutely swarming with life.

Music and drumming and sound filled Jasper's ears as they went. He could feel the vibrations of the noise in the streets and it made him dizzy. The dead, too, were packed so densely that he couldn't help walking through them as Aurora tugged him along. Her hand was like an anchor to reality, and even though she moved much faster than he might have wanted, tripping every now and again, it chased away the worst of his fears.

The ghosts didn't notice him. That, at least, was a relief. They were too focused on the festivities, on their loved ones gathering around altars. They didn't seem distressed either, but glad to see their family members, even if they couldn't see them.

The noise only grew as they neared the city center, and it was a disorientating moment before Jasper realized it was no longer music. The singing had become screams, followed by an all-too-familiar roar. The crowd's direction began to reverse, and Aurora's grip tightened as they fought through a wave of people moving the other way.

"What is it? Can you see?" Jasper asked, over the crush of people, but Aurora didn't answer. He doubted she could hear him over it all.

Something large and heavy crashed into a building to his right. The building groaned, stone cracking with a sound like gunfire, and the wall began to crumble. On the opposite side of the city square, a tall figure stood, dressed in dark robes. Tendrils of green smoke pooled around him, and his shoulders heaved from exertion. Not too far away, Rohan lay sprawled on the ground.

Varek Chaosbringer.

Jasper dug his feet into the ground and pulled Aurora back. She hadn't seen the other Fae, and she shot him a confused look.

"What is it?" she asked, right as Jasper said, "What on earth is Varek doing here?"

Neither of them found an answer, however, because the crumbling building to Jasper's right groaned again, and long, hairy arms sprouted from the rubble.

Grendel. Grendel. The name drummed in Jasper's head. It was the thing from Denmark - the monster from the land in-between. There had been seven, hadn't there? And not all had been found.

Its ugly, brutish head surfaced, its jaws snapping in the air with obvious fury. Varek's smoke shot forward and Jasper, almost without thinking, summoned a wave of darkness over its head. In his periphery, Rohan struggled to rise, and Varek tossed him aside with another wave of green smoke. The crowd continued to run, screaming and throwing their hands over their heads while the building crumbled around them. Monstrous feet hit the ground, and the creature rose to its full height.

Something happened then that surprised Jasper. Looking at the creature now, faint halos of light surrounded its joints - haloes he hadn't seen before. There was one, almost blindingly bright halo at the base of its neck, and while it was focused on Varek, Jasper followed a very curious hunch.

He made a dagger from his shadows and struck, right at the base of its skull, with all his strength.

The creature clattered to the ground and died.

And the city square fell silent.

The darkness dissipated, and when it did, Jasper found that all three of the accompanying Fae were staring at him in disbelief.

"This is certainly unexpected," Varek murmured. Jasper planted his feet, ready for a second round with the Fae, but Varek didn't strike.

"What are you doing here?" Jasper demanded. He wanted to grin like a child - that creature had been impossibly strong for the other Knights of the Order, and he'd felled it in a single blow - but he restrained himself.

"Hunting that," Varek spat. He gestured at the creature with a blood-stained boot. "How did you…"

And then he stopped, his eyes widening. "You've seen Yori," he breathed. "He gave you his gift."

Jasper nearly denied it. Then, he shrugged and said, "So what if he did?"

Varek bristled. He took a small step back, as though he'd been slapped, and then his vibrant green eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Finally the right question." Jasper prepared himself for a speech intended to annoy every person who could hear him, but was interrupted by another sound.

The monster now dead, the fleeing crowds had turned back to the city square, eager to greet their saviors. Jasper didn't speak a word of their language, and before he could even try to communicate with them, a wave of human bodies flooded towards him and his feet left the cobbled street.

He was hurled into the air with shrieks and cries of glee. Now, even the dead noticed him, and he felt their stares as cold pinpricks on his skin as he was swept along. The sound was deafening: hundreds of percussive instruments shattering any hope of stillness. Jasper tried to orientate himself, but he was being carried, along with the other three Fae, down the winding street.

Everything began to hurt. Jasper's ears rang and a headache began to pulse behind his left eye. The jostling only worsened if he moved - he vaguely registered hands grabbing at his clothes to keep him steadily in the air. Through hundreds of outstretched hands, both living and dead, he spotted Aurora's wide grin only a few yards away. She read his panicked expression and gave him a look that clearly said, loosen up.

At least, that's what he thought she said. It could also have meant, you're an idiot, and he would be none the wiser.

Finally, after several minutes of this nonsense, they deposited him at the base of an enormous set of stairs. Jasper, surprised at the sudden stop, wobbled on his feet for a moment before catching his balance. He felt the familiar surge of agony that followed human touch, instinctively reached for his flask, and found -

A hand. Again, there was Aurora, ready for him. And the moment she touched him, every twitching nerve stilled. No nausea, no pain. Just…quiet in his mind, unlike anything he'd ever known.

Varek and Rohan were deposited on his other side. Rohan landed on his knees, and Varek pulled him to his feet, dusting him off in a sportsmanlike gesture. The four of them turned their eyes onto the enormous stairs and found that there was someone looking down at them.

Someone dressed head to toe in gold, with the most ridiculous headdress Jasper had ever seen. His skin was sun-bronzed, his eyes a bright merry yellow. He smiled a toothy smile and spread his arms wide, announcing something to the crowd behind them. The crowd cheered and then began to kneel.

"That thing is so large, I'm surprised his head doesn't fall off," Aurora murmured.

Jasper suppressed a smile. He had only one guess on who this creature before them might be.

"This is a bit theatrical, Solimar," Varek shouted up to the figure, once a quiet had spread over the crowd.

"Varek, my friend," Solimar replied, "it's a bit difficult to hide amongst the humans - they start to notice, after a while, that you're immortal. Might as well be a god."

Varek murmured something under his breath - Jasper couldn't hear what it was, but he assumed it was scathing - and then flattened his stare into a scowl.

"My loyal subjects say you slew a great monster in the square," Solimar continued. His smile was dazzling - and it made Jasper's eyes hurt. "For that, you have my thanks."

"You wouldn't need it, if you'd have done the job of a Guardian." Rohan's tone was dark, angrier than Jasper would have expected. "What are you doing up there, dressed like a god? Don't you have things to protect?"

"Do you still have daytime?" Solimar returned. "It's the night that's missing their guardian, if I recall."

The Guardian's eyes rested briefly on Jasper. They were cold, almost…hateful. Jasper restrained a shiver.

"Is there someplace we can talk?" Jasper asked. "Not with all…this."

With his free hand, he gestured to the crowd. Their eyes were on the ground, but he could tell they were listening, even if they didn't know what was being said.

Solimar's smile returned and he said, "Of course, my friends, my noble Fae. Come with me to my palace. I'd love to show you my home."

At the flick of his hand, the celebrations continued, the crowd jumping back to their feet. This time, however, Jasper was ready and warded off any attempts to lift him off the ground with a glare that could have frozen fire. Still, even as he and the others ascended the hundreds of stairs before them, the citizens of Solimar's city draped heavy robes over them, crowned them with flower crowns, and called them names -

"It means Champion," Aurora explained, when Jasper heard one word, cuauhtli yaotl. "Eagle Warrior, actually. They're thanking us for killing the monster."

"They can thank us a little more quietly," Jasper groaned, but Aurora simply smiled and looked ahead.

The cool night air whispered against Jasper's skin as he climbed the stairs, but it didn’t soothe the knot in his chest. The golden light of the torches flickered and swayed, casting long, shifting shadows on the stone. The palace loomed above, an ominous silhouette against the star-flecked sky.

The crowd pressed close along the stairs, their faces expectant, eager. They were cheering, chanting, "Yaotl! Yaotl!"

The sound rolled over him in waves, but he felt untethered, out of place. There was something wrong here.

Aurora didn't let him go. She tugged his arm, the scent of marigolds and burning copal thickening the air, mingling with something sharper, colder, that Jasper knew no one else could smell. They couldn't see them, either—the dead.

They lined the steps, translucent figures half-hidden in the shadows. Some were warriors, faces painted with ash and blood, staring at him with hollow eyes. Others were ordinary citizens, their expressions a mix of sorrow and longing. One young boy clutched a jagged wound at his chest, his gaze fixed on him as though you owed him something.

Jasper quickened his pace, heart pounding. The drums echoed in his chest, their rhythm relentless, inescapable. The flutes trilled high above, but to him, they sounded like keening, a mourning song disguised as celebration.

The petals underfoot seemed alive, clinging to his boots like they wanted to hold him back. He could feel the stares of the living and the dead alike, their eyes a burning weight on your back. They were starting to reach for him now. Jasper didn't know what it was - what part of him rejected this attention - but it wanted him to run.

They reached the summit before he realized it. The gates of the palace loomed, carved with gods and creatures that stared back at them with eyes that seemed almost real. The priests awaited them, their feathered headdresses making them look like strange, otherworldly beings. They raised their bowls of incense high, chanting blessings.

It occurred to Jasper, then, that these people truly believed Solimar was their god.

And he let them.

Behind the priests, the palace burned with light and shadow, the sound of celebration spilling from within. Laughter. Singing. A feast for their deity: Solimar, Guardian of the Day.

The dead were here, too. They drifted around the priests, unseen by the living, their mouths moving in silent whispers. One reached out as Jasper passed, her hand brushing his arm. He wrenched away with an involuntary hiss.

Aurora looked back, owlish eyes filled with worry. Jasper shook his head and urged her on. They made it to the palace, where Solimar waited, and where the celebrations only continued. It was going to be a long night, Jasper realized, as the faces of the living began to mix with the faces of the dead, and even Aurora's steadying presence wasn't enough to push away his dread. Yori had been willing to give him the Key - but he hadn't considered that the Guardians may not be so eager. Was he ready to wrestle with a Guardian? Did he even have the strength?

I am the Master of Shadows. You cannot scare me.

He repeated this mantra to himself, over and over again, as they made their way to the end of the banquet hall. There, Solimar draped himself over an enormous throne.

"Finally, my friends," he said to the four Fae, "you've traveled so far to see me. It must be important. What might I do for you?"

Everyone looked at Jasper.

Aurora released his hand, taking a step behind. Jasper immediately felt her absence, and though he would never admit it, wanted her to come back.

He turned to Solimar. "You probably have heard about the creature called Umbraxis," he said.

Solimar blinked. "I have."

"So you've probably heard that I need the seven keys to stop him."

Solimar's pleasant demeanor changed again, only this time, it didn't return. "The seven keys?" he said. As he spoke, dark ribbons of magic, Jasper assumed, began to swirl around his face. "You want my key?"

"I'll give it back," Jasper said with a shrug. "I've already got Yorihito's. He seemed to think it was an easy decision."

"You're the one they call Jasper, am I right?" Solimar asked.

"What gave it away? Dashing good looks, perhaps?"

"Primal arrogance," Solimar returned. "The idea that you could simply approach me, a god, and ask for my source of power - "

"A Fae," Jasper corrected, with a sharp hiss, "like all the rest of us here. Except - correct me if I'm wrong - you're supposed to be a little bit better. A little more selfless, and certainly not one to allow monsters from the in-between free reign in your city."

"My, you certainly are a cocky little bastard," Solimar said. "You disapprove of the way I rule? And we've known each other for all of five minutes - you must be really good at your job. Oh, wait - you don't have one, because you broke every law in Aetherill. Am I correct?"

Jasper's blood turned to ice. Threeves' snickering tones echoed in his memory - how had Solimar known about Aetherill?

"His logic is sound," Varek rumbled. "You made an oath, Solimar. Protect the realms, at all costs. No one has an issue with how you live, until it hinders your responsibilities."

Solimar laughed. "Such as being frozen in ice for one hundred years?"

"Just give us the key, and we'll go."

"How do I know the keys will even stop Umbraxis?" Solimar asked. "How do I know this isn't one of Sydara's ploys to get all the power in the realms for herself?"

A good question, and one Jasper hadn't considered until that moment. He answered, "How do you know that they won't?"

"I think," Solimar sighed, "that you're irritating. All four of you."

Aurora, who hadn't said anything yet, scowled.

"And when something irritates me, I cast it away."

Solimar brought his fist down on the arm of his throne, and a heartbeat later the floor beneath the four visitors gave way. Jasper felt himself lunge to the side, even as they plummeted into blackness, and reach for Aurora. Somehow he grabbed her, pulled her close, and held on as they fell.

---

The room Orion had been given was small but comfortable. A fire blazed in the hearth and the bed was soft, the blankets thick and warm. Despite his anxiety at the prospects of living with the Wretched King, he found it difficult to dislike his accomodations. Everything was peaceful. Quiet. The cruelty he'd seen with Barty was nowhere to be found here, and there were no whispers of pain on the wind, not even a hint of the agony the Knights of the Order had been taught to hide.

He was trapped, certainly; but as time passed, Orion realized that things could have been much worse.

There was something…wrong with the city of Nivarin, and it trickled up into the castle as well. Each member of the house, save Morwin, Valeria, and Dorian, had a strange quality to their eyes. It was as though they were looking through blue-ish gauze. Servants brought him his meals and new clothing and anything he could think to ask about; and yet, when he asked for their names, they gave him only a mute shrug.

One day, Orion ventured out of his room and wandered the castle. He had once been afraid of it, but quickly realized that there were no guards on his door. He was not a prisoner, then - not in the sense he'd imagined. The castle was a spidery place, but not a dangerous one, and he crossed the halls in search of something more stimulating than the small room he'd grown to know quite well.

This led him out of the castle gates and into the city of Nivarin below. For the first time since arriving, Orion didn't have the urge to run away. It was a curiosity that drove him to the streets, and here he found the same thing: all the city-dwellers, living in complete harmony, eyes glazed over.

Aetherill had been an exciting but deeply stratified city. He'd liked it, as opposed to his home in Lumenvale. There was always noise and excitement, always drama in the streets, and gossip in the stores. There was so much food to eat, and so many new things to try. Here, however, there was nothing of the like.

The city was lively, but every person walked in neat little lines. They didn't dawdle. They didn't greet each other beyond a hallow smile. Every eye that met his had that same, glassy look that sent a shiver down his spine. He even went as far as to ask one male - "What is your name?" - and, after a moment of brief confusion, the male handed him what he'd been carrying and walked on.

It had been a loaf of bread.

"No, no - " Orion tried to follow him. "I don't want your bread. I want to know - "

There was no use. The male disappeared, joining the never-ending line of people moving down the street.

Orion, thoroughly confused, took a bite of the loaf in his hand.

It was utterly tasteless.

For several days, this carried on. Orion wandered the castle, and the city streets, then returned to his room bewildered. He realized, too, that if he went to the same places at the same times every day, he'd find the same people, engaging in the same behavior. It was like watching one of Jasper's films, over and over again. Even the weather didn't change - it was the same cycle, again and again.

He didn't see Morwin, or Valeria. Thank the Guardians that he didn't see Dorian. He didn't know how he'd react to seeing that ghostly child in the flesh again.

Finally, after what may have been weeks, Morwin summoned him to the gardens in the castle. It was the only place he hadn't explored, because it was the only door that remained locked to him. This time, however, the doors stood open at his approach. Morwin sat on one of many stone benches arranged in the center of the room, arranging a vase full of certainly poisonous plants.

"I'm curious to know," Morwin said, before Orion had even sat down, "how do you like my city?"

Orion had figured by this point that he'd been surveilled, so Morwin's question didn't surprise him.

"It creeps me out," Orion answered dully. "Why don't they have names?"

"They do have names," Morwin answered. He chuckled, trimming a leaf off of what might have been a rose and what might have been a courtier of death. "I know every single one of them."

"Their eyes have gone all funny."

"There is nothing wrong with their eyes, Orion. It's only what they see."

Puzzled, Orion made a face.

Morwin met his expression with another laugh. "My people were suffering," he explained gently. "Starving. Corrupted by their own ignorance and greed. What you see now…they gave up a little autonomy for safety, Orion. And now they are happy."

"How can you know? It seems they can't answer any questions, and it doesn't look like they're filling out surveys."

Morwin's smile grew. "I know how it looks on the outside. Believe me, I don't expect you or anyone to understand. But my gifts are…different. Unlike any of the other Fae. I'd like to show you, if you'd let me."

Orion shifted. Run, a small voice whispered in his mind. He didn't move.

"I can see your heart," Morwin added. "I can see into its very depths. What is it like, being the cast-off son of the king of Lumenvale? What is it like being no one's favorite? Not your father's, not your employer's, not even your team's? I know you know that Jasper despises you - what is it like to be promised a brother and to find he loathes you instead?"

Orion's blood turned to ice, and he felt strangely sick.

"And Jasper - that conniving little - " Morwin stopped himself. His demeanor slipped, only for a moment, and beneath it, Orion glimpsed something feral. "Would you like to know why he hates you? Why he hates all of us?"

Orion knew better than to indulge Morwin. Although his conversations with the Fae had been brief in the past, he still remembered the stories. Morwin, Wretched King of the North, tempter of souls -

"I assumed it was because I was a bumbling idiot," Orion said drily. After all, that was what everyone said about him.

"Perhaps." Morwin finished his arrangement, then set it on the bench to admire his handiwork. "There is more, though. More to Jasper than even Barty knows. Perhaps it's time to tell his story."

Despite himself, Orion listened.

The little Fae-abomination named Jasper was born without magic. Everyone knew this. His mother tried to hide it, but in school, things were made obvious when he failed all of his exams. He was physically smaller than all the Fae children, and when everyone else was discovering their magical talents, Jasper was learning that he had a certain proclivity for explosions.

No one quite knew where he got the fuel for his interests - science did not mean the same thing in the Fae world as it did in the human realm - but given that his mother had the ability to walk between worlds, many began to suspect that she was to blame for the raucous disruptions he caused. He was, according to his teachers, obnoxious, argumentative, and, given that he was a certifiable genius, immensely disliked.

And, because he also had a penchant for vandalism, he was expelled from every school he ever attended.

Except one.

The Academy of the Order was built thousands of years ago, high in the peaks of Aetherwyn, the mountains bordering Aramore. This academy trained young Fae in all types of combat and prepared them to travel between realms in those strange human contraptions called cars. It was an extremely selective school, and no one quite knew how Jasper managed to enroll. Nevertheless, he became a student at the cusp of adulthood, causing one of the greatest controversies the school had experienced in years.

Morwin himself had never attended the school, but he had been deeply attached to one of its students. Her name was Aurora Cainfare, and for a time they had been lovers.

The topic of Aurora Cainfare was not painful inasmuch as it was humiliating. She was not a match for the soon-to-be-king of Aramore, but she had been beautiful. Desirable. And she had made a spectacle of herself when he suggested that they carry on secretly as lovers, while he publicly announced his engagement to a female of higher status than hers. Such a thing was not uncommon, at least in royal courts; but Aurora made it known to everyone the specifics of the letter, and went as far as announcing to the greater world how he was a "spurious cad".

Naturally, he vowed to never speak to her again.

Aurora made herself untouchable. Unstable, unlikeable, unpredictable - she was desired, of course, but no one dared near her after her association with the prince of Aramore. Enter Jasper: oblivious to the situation, uncivilized, and exactly the same type of social outcast that would fit into her campaign to smear Morwin's name.

Morwin suspected that Aurora was the reason Jasper was not expelled from the Academy in the way he was from all the other schools. Somehow, without magic and being hardly half the size of his competition, he passed the magical and physical exams required to graduate as a Knight of the Order. So began their ridiculous love affair (Morwin couldn't help the scorn in his voice - it had been obnoxious and disgusting, the way they carried on), and with each passing year Aurora made it clear to Morwin how much he'd missed after casting her off. She sent him letters, mocking his decision, asking about Valeria, wondering if they would be expecting soon - she even invited him to their wedding (Him! The King of Aramore).

Morwin was not one to be mocked. He was patient, as far as any rational person could be, but this juvenile behavior had to stop. He wrote a letter to Aurora saying,

Dearest Mrs. Ravenscroft,

If you have to convince me of the happiness of your marriage, perhaps you are merely trying to convince yourself.

I am, of course, forgiving - despite your slander, I am not at all the picture you paint. You'll find my bed enough to accommodate three.

He sent it with a pressed flower.

Shortly later, delivered with a postal pixie, he got a letter back:

Morwin -

I'm deeply grieved to hear about your masculine incompetencies. If you need any tips, you need only ask.

-J. R.

Thus began a great and terrible feud between Jasper Ravenscroft - the most irritating miscreant in all the realms - and Morwin, the Wretched King of Aramore.

"It wasn't the insult, mind," Morwin explained, addressing Orion's continuously rising eyebrows. "It's more that the harassment didn't stop. I assume he found it amusing - but Valeria didn't. Then came Bartholomew Threees, distraught at the idea that this idiot had been granted something he'd been vying for his entire career: access to the throne."

This Orion knew. Jasper had been appointed as a potential heir, given that his mother was the daughter of then-king (now very dead) Elion.

"Threeves and I made a deal. We both benefitted from it. You, Orion, benefitted from it. I believe the entire kingdom did. Could you imagine the country of Elathor in the hands of that fool?"

The problem was that Orion could. Jasper was irritating, yes; but he would see to every detail of the kingdom. Perhaps Elion had known that. Orion didn't know what the relationship was between the king and his grandson - he hadn't met Jasper until after his family had been killed - but it made sense that if Elion knew Jasper the way that Orion did, then Jasper would have been the perfect choice.

"The point to this story," Morwin continued, "is that Jasper is impulsive and reactive. He hates anyone and anything that might stand in the way of his desires, and will not hesitat to go through them if they linger too long. You've seen this with your own eyes."

Yes, Orion had. Too many times.

"But," Morwin said, "I have learned how to use this to my advantage. So will you. What do you say, Orion? Do you want to see the extent of my abilities?"

Orion swallowed. Despite the ringing in his head telling him to run, run, run, he nodded. The King of Aramore smiled, and held out his hand.

---

The monster called Umbraxis had leveled the city of Aetherill, and Bartholomew Threeves stood in its ashes, watching smoke curl up into the overcast sky. His own home had been destroyed, and he had survived by hiding in the fireplace until Umbraxis moved on to a different part of the city. Now, he stood where the Hall of the Order had been. The remaining Knights of the Order, few in number, were still gathering, and he waited for them to arrive from their distant assignments.

Threeves' rage could not be distilled to a few words. He saw flashes of red around him, ice creeping from his feet over the rubble. The air around him was frozen in his hate. All he could picture was Jasper's impish face, and the sneer he most certainly would wear when he found out what had happened to the city.

Zephyra, last remaining member of Jasper's team, had not yet fled. She looked up at Threeves with a question in her ashen face.

He answered it with a scowl. "Zephyra, dear," he said, "it seems my second has been…consumed."

Umbraxis had eaten Hera, along with hundreds of others in the city, and was growing stronger every moment.

Zephyra nodded. She looked exhausted and wary, and he didn't blame her. This was a crucial moment - and his next words were extremely calculated.

"Sit," he said, taking a seat himself on the rubble.

She frowned, but did as he said, assuming the mock-companionship that accomanied such a gesture.

"Do you want to know why I hate Jasper so much?" he asked her.

Zephyra's eyes widened the slightest degree, and she nodded.

"It's because of this," he said, gesturing to the wreckage. "He created this, when he turned his father - his own flesh and blood - into the creature we now know as Umbraxis."

Zephyra didn't answer, but the quirk of her eyebrows told him she was listening.

"Jasper betrayed his own kind, when his mother begged him for help, and he refused," Threeves continued. "Ellie and James were…my friends. I was there the night he tried to murder them."

Somewhere in the distance, there was a crash as a building collapsed. Threeves took in a deep breath of the smoky air.

"He abandoned his wife, he faciliated the murder of his parents, and I…tried to stop it. Without help, things could have been much worse. You see, Jasper had just been made the sole inheritor of everything in his family, and such greed turned him mad. I did everything I could to control him. Obviously, it wasn't enough."

"Why didn't you just kill him?" Zephyra croaked. "If he was that much of a threat…"

"He was my friend," Threeves said. His voice cracked at the perfect moment, and Zephyra looked at him, completely startled. "I tried to give him a second chance. Now, I realize that was wrong. I should have ended this the day it started. Now, I fear it's too late."

"We need to find him, and put him in the ground," Zephyra hissed.

"I agree, but I can't do it alone."

"I'll help you. What is your plan, sir?"

Although he hated her, Threeves deeply admired Zephyra's sense of duty. "We go to Aramore, and meet with a good friend of mine. Have you ever heard of Morwin, the Wretched King?"

Zephyra froze. Fear flashed in her eyes, and then steel. "Will he help?"

"Oh, yes," Threeves said.

Morwin, Wretched King of Aramore, would always help when it came to Jasper Ravenscroft. The experiment was over. It was time for the real procedure to begin.

---

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