For Orion, walking from Lucrezia’s villa to the local village felt like stepping into a world both serene and alive with activity. He trailed behind Lucrezia and Zephyra, conscious of the precarious night, searching for signs of the monster they suspected – and found himself completely entranced by his environment instead.

For a world with no magic, Earth was certainly…well, all things considered, magical. As he followed the descending cobblestone path, the warm glow of oil lamps spilled through open windows, casting flickering patterns around him. The evening air was cool, a welcome relief from that day’s heat, and carried with it the scene of drying hay and ripening grapes from the vineyards surrounding the estate.

Then, the cobblestones vanished, replaced by the dirt road. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot mixed with the faint chirping of crickets, the night’s only constant sound. Above, the sky was a deep indigo, speckled with stars that seemed impossibly bright in the clear, rural air. A soft breeze stirred, bringing with it the earthy smell of tilled soil and olive groves, mingling with the faint scent of hearth smoke.

The full moon hung low overhead and bathed the landscape in silver light, transforming the olive trees into dark, whispering silhouettes. He could hear the rustle of leaves, the flutter of bats hunting insects, and the far-off bleating of sheep herded in for the night. Shadows stretched long, but nothing felt sinister – not like the clinging shadows of Ravenscroft, or the dark, dampness of the cave in Denmark.

Something gnawed at Orion, however; something ugly and dark. As he followed the two females, listening to their murmured discussion of the sickness in the village, he couldn’t help remembering what he’d heard earlier, when they arrived. Zephyra had been worried – he could see it on her face, and in the way she tore the skin off her bottom lip with her teeth. This place had been important to Jasper once. Maybe even to the other two, although the connection hadn’t shown itself yet. He and Zephyra hadn’t had the chance to talk privately about it, but Orion had the sneaking suspicion that if Barty knew they were here, they’d be in trouble.

Something about before.

Something he wasn’t supposed to know, but Zephyra definitely did.

Lucrezia, too, seemed to know something, although she hadn’t alluded to anything yet. Orion suspected that she was running from the Order in the same way Aurora and Rohan were, which was likely why Rohan hadn’t wanted to bring them here. Still, Lucrezia hadn’t given him any indication that she was a criminal like the others.

As they neared the village, the distant murmur of voices became more distinct. Orion caught the occasional laugh or fragment of conversation from patrons at the local tavern, the faint clink of wine goblets, and the smell of fresh bread, herbs, and roasting meat drifting from homes. Lanterns swayed gently at doorways, their amber light creating pools of warmth along the street.

The village road was rougher underfoot than the well-kept paths near the villa, worn by the carts and feet that pass through daily. Orion could feel the uneven cobbles through his soles as the trio approached the center, where the village fountain gurgled softly in the square, its cool, mineral scent mixing with the faint floral aroma of nearby gardens. Then, however, the serenity of the night began to mingle with something more sinister.

The air felt electric, like the static before a lightning strike. It was a similar sensation to the one Orion had right before Jasper lashed out and started turning people into dust; a feeling that told his nervous system that it was time to leave.

Lucrezia must have felt it, too, because she stopped.

She looked over her shoulder at Orion and said, “You feel it, don’t you.”

Zephyra met Orion’s stare, a cautioning look that warned against revealing what he could do.

“I feel something,” Orion said. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Magic,” Zephyra said. “It has to be.”

“Indeed.” Lucrezia turned again and started walking. As she went, crossing from the warm lights and into a darker, more deserted part of the village, the dreadful feeling began to grow. Then, Orion saw what might have been the cause: a bright green fog, drifting out of one of the homes.

It curled along the ground, the phosphorescent answer to Jasper’s sentient shadows. Little tendrils crawled towards them, probing this way and that, blind but searching for –

Zephyra snapped down a wall of air between them and the fog right as it reached for Orion’s foot. The fog grew, climbing up over the little air bubble, until it had filled the alley and begun to reach over their heads.

“Curious…” Lucrezia’s eyes narrowed as she reached up to touch the fog. Although the air shield provided a barrier, the fog seemed equally curious about her, focusing on the tip of her finger.

Orion’s attention shifted back to the darkness when something much more material moved in his periphery. A dark shape, large and dominating the space, materialized only a few yards away. Bright green eyes stared at them through the dark, widening when they landed on the trio in the air bubble.

Lucrezia paled when she saw him. “Varek,” she breathed.

The tips of Orion’s fingers went numb when he heard the name. Varek. Bringer of Chaos.

Lucrezia didn’t wait for Orion or Zephyra to act. She seized them both by the arms and turned on the spot, and the three vanished from the alley.

---

“As soon as they said, strange sickness with no cause, I should have known!” Lucrezia was saying, before they had even fully materialized back in her kitchen. The house awakened at her appearance, and following in her wake was the expected still startling chaos of her arrival. Everything in the house groaned and squeaked, like a dog seeing its master on the other side of a screen door.

Lucrezia barked out a few commands in Italian, and beneath her, Aurora felt the room begin to spin; although this time, it wasn’t in her head. Lucrezia was pale but controlled and it meant only one thing: she’d seen something in the village.

The others, not so fortunate as to be seated when the preparations began, clutched to walls and furniture in order to stay upright. Zephyra protested loudly (although what she said never fully materialized amid the building noise) but Aurora was so used to the strangeness of the house, even now, that she simply looked as it began to turn and groan and change its shape.

In the kitchen, pots and pans began flying through the air, the walls began to rearrange themselves, and the windows appeared in different places than they were before. Whereas the sofa, already out of place in the kitchen, had once been facing the inner parts of the house, it now faced the exterior. The stove itself crawled to the other side of the room while Lucrezia waved her hands like a conductor at the orchestra. Several minutes later, the movement ground to a halt, after which Rohan said, “Lucrezia, mind explaining?”

For the house had become, in essence, a fortress. It had risen out from its foundations, gathered up its doors and windows, and made itself impenetrable, ready for assault.

“I saw Varek in the village,” Lucrezia answered.

Jasper, still sitting on the sofa, frowned slightly. “As in…Varek Chaosbringer?”

A silly name, Aurora had always thought, but an effective one.

“That can’t be,” Jasper continued. “He’s frozen in the ice beneath Aetherill.”

The story was one that the citizens of the Fae world knew well: Varek Chaosbringer, far too powerful and unwieldy to wander the realms on his own, had been captured and put in prison. It had come, of course, after a long time of pillaging and destruction, but Varek hadn’t taken it well.

“It could have been him,” Orion offered timidly. “We saw something in the village – green eyes and green smoke. He didn’t seem happy to see us.”

“Why would he come here?” Jasper asked, looking at his team.

Lucrezia came to the answer first. “You,” she said. “Threeves must be using him for retrieval. Which means the five of you must be going as soon as possible. I’m not entertaining any more guests.”

The house shuttered, the lanterns flickering. The foundation began to groan like something was trying to stretch it – maybe even break it apart. Lucrezia went pale; she flicked her fingers and the windows snapped shut. Lucrezia then looked at Aurora, something in her expression warning her to stay quiet and still.

“He cannot find this place,” Rohan breathed, his voice strained. Aurora didn’t know if he meant Threeves or Varek, but neither would be good.

“Out, all of you,” Lucrezia said. It was unclear whether or not she’d heard Rohan. “I need to fix this one’s leg – and then you must be going.”

She gestured to Jasper, who, in all fairness, was starting to look rather green. Aurora imagined the pain was sickening, and though he hadn’t complained about it, he had a glassy-eyed look about him. She wanted to reach out, to stroke his hair back, to maybe absorb some of that agony into her own body – but she didn’t. Rohan stood as the house trembled again.

“We’ll go to the parlor,” he said, offering his hand to Aurora.

Reluctantly, she took it. She got to her feet and swayed, the drug still circulating in her system. As she did, she caught Jasper watching her. He looked almost…concerned.

“It will be unsightly,” Lucrezia said when Orion and Zephyra refused to move. “It’s better for everyone if you go.”

“If she tries anything, I’ll just kill her,” Jasper told his companions, who stood there with open mouths. The house rattled a third time. Glassware flew off one of the kitchen shelves and shattered on the stone floor. Lucrezia waved her hand again and reversed the damage, and after this display, Orion and Zephyra finally followed in suit.

---

When they were alone, Jasper said, “I’m not sure what you’re planning, but I’m in no mood for murder.”

“Jasper,” Lucrezia sighed, “I’m not either. I’m going to fix your leg, because if Varek Chaosbringer is here, we will need you at full strength. Heaven knows Rohan won’t be able to help – he won’t let me fix him.

“Fix him? So you know what happened to him, then?”

Assuming anything had happened – that was a question no one had answered yet. Rohan must have had magic. Jasper’s intuition told him that he must have been pinned, too; and if his magic had returned, then the pin was still in his body, somewhere.

Under Lucrezia’s instructions, Jasper navigated back to the table. Moving had become something clownish and horrifying at the same time – pain and dizziness and the rattling of the house made it a somewhat ridiculous affair. For this reason, he was glad she’d dismissed the others.

“I know Rohan spent a considerable amount of time in the prison,” Lucrezia supplied. “And I know you spent a considerable amount of time above it. Mind telling me what that was about?”

“I was working for the Order. Still am.”

“Are you? That’s not how it appears to me.”

“I don’t see how this applies to my leg.”

“Threeves broke it, didn’t he?”

Jasper struggled to swallow. Even stretching out the leg on the table made the room spin. “We had a misunderstanding.”

“Hm.” Near to the table was a cabinet – and from it, Lucrezia took out a pair of thick, leather gloves, then looked down at Jasper through her bug-like goggles. “The villagers say I’m an alchemist, mainly because they don’t quite understand what I can do yet. I’m a scientist, mainly. Sometimes a healer. And I study magic, in all its forms.”

Jasper only raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been told about your strange reaction to human touch. I intend to get to the bottom of it. I also intend to find out why you have no memory of me.”

“Why would I have a memory of you?”

“Because I’ve stitched you back together more times than I can count,” she said. “And Rohan. And I’ve stitched back the wounds you’ve given each other. And I’ve stitched back together the wounds you received the last time you both faced Varek. I know you don’t understand – I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

“I didn’t consent to that,” Jasper noted.

“This isn’t a governmental healthcare system. You don’t have a choice.”

“Why?”

"This is going to hurt," she said, ignoring his question. She didn't quite sound worried about it.

Jasper said, "I can deal with that."

She quirked an eyebrow at him but said no more. Then she turned, placed her hands on his shin, and pulled.

Jasper had been ready for pain - but he was not prepared for the white-hot agony shooting up his nerves and splintering his consciousness into little needles of light. Whatever she was doing, whatever healing magic coursed through her, his body rejected it. Lucrezia swore and pressed harder, fighting the repulsion of his frame, speaking rapid Italian as his understanding of reality faded. He lost any sense of time or being, and simply became the wounds in his leg, the fractured bits of bone floating in fluid; and though he scrambled to make sense of it, he couldn't find purchase.

Anchoring him in this strange state of drifting was a voice, soft and gentle, whispering, "It's working, Jasper. Don't worry. It will be over soon."

Jasper’s vision came in and out of focus, a loud buzzing filling his ears. Darkness came and went, floating over him in tendrils – like that of his shadows, when he called them.

Except…he hadn’t called them. And he was no longer in Lucrezia’s kitchen. He was lying on a cold stone floor, and his heart hammered against his ribcage as though trying to break free. He rolled, pain igniting in his side. Hot blood dribbled onto the floor.

Screaming. So much screaming, everywhere, all around him. It was Aurora screaming.

“Jasper!” Her voice was torn to shreds, hardly recognizable, but there was something that made him lurch. He sat up on his elbows and tried to make sense of the shaking world, the waxing and waning darkness.

Something pulled at him. Something tangled into his hair and clothes and skin and tried to wrench him apart. The pain was unbearable and a mangled yell of agony escaped his throat without any thought of his own. It was a sound he couldn’t recall ever making before. Aurora answered with her own strangled cry, but he couldn’t see her.

In front of him was a man, sitting on his knees. A man with dark hair, and a gaunt, pale face.

The man was being swarmed by the darkness, his hair whipping wildly around him. His hands were coated in blood, and at his feet was the body of a beautiful woman. Her dress was white, splattered with deep red.

Jasper knew. He didn’t know how, but he knew this was a memory – something buried deeply in his mind. The man met his gaze, and Jasper instantly recognized James Ravenscroft.

James’ face was overwhelmed with grief, an unsurmountable sadness. He sagged under the weight of it. Jasper felt himself crawl forward, reaching for him – to do what? Kill him? Help him?

Another yell – a warning note from Aurora, somewhere behind him.

Turn around. Turn around.

Then something struck the back of his head and the darkness became complete.

He was not aware of his own screaming until it stopped, and the rushing sound in his ears diminished to a tinny ringing sound that he only heard if he really listened for it. Lucrezia retreated, holding her hands in the air as though she'd touched something vile.

There was no one else in the room. No one whispering soft words or reassurances. Just the flickering of the candles casting strange shadows on the walls, and the alchemist, looking at him as though he was the strangest specimen she'd ever had on her operating table.

Well, maybe he was. Jasper had no way of knowing.

"Move your leg," Lucrezia said when Jasper did nothing.

At her command, he did.

Although it ached when he bent the knee, it was no worse than it had been before the break. He shifted to sit up and dangled over the edge of the table. His knee and ankle were still swollen and strange shades of purple and green, but as he flexed them, he found they felt…whole. Unbroken.

"Thank you," he said to Lucrezia.

"I need to know what that was," Lucrezia replied, her voice trembling.

"What?" 

"You resisted me. You resisted magic and healing. And you went…somewhere else. Where did you go?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ignore the nauseated feeling creeping over him.

“Jasper, this is important. Extremely important." She stripped off the gloves, tossing them onto the operating table. Then she sank onto a stool, removing the obnoxious goggles, and peered at him curiously from across the room. "It would be an interesting study. Figuring out what happened to you."

“I know it’s important. The Guardian of Death visiting me in my sleep was indication enough. I told you not to go rooting around in there – so I’m not sure what else I can say. I’m not an experiment, though. Don’t go poking around in my brain again.” 

Lucrezia nearly smiled, summoning a bucket. It drifted lazily toward him through the air.

"I don't need that," Jasper insisted.

Lucrezia ignored him. "Unfortunately, I think you are. An experiment, to be clear. The question is, whose?'

She discreetly looked away as Jasper retched, emptying the sparse contents of his stomach into the bucket. Not too long ago, he'd been able to go a few weeks between episodes - now, however, it appeared to be happening almost every day.

"Strange," Lucrezia was saying, musing more to herself than to him. "We could probably narrow it down to a few - although I'd need more data to analyze why - or, more importantly, how - it's being done. Very few spells can animate - "

She stopped. Jasper, only barely recovered, snapped his gaze to her. "Animate what?" he croaked. He had the creeping suspicion she was going to say, him.

Instead, Lucrezia opened a drawer in her worktable and pulled out a small box. On it, embossed in fine gold lettering, were the initials J. R.

Written in those strange runes.

She held it out to him. "You might find this helpful," she said, and with a wave of her hand, the vomit bucket drifted away again, helpfully taking itself outside to be emptied in the green.

Jasper took it. The box was heavier than it looked, and when he opened it, his stomach gave a different type of flip than before.

It was filled with toiletries, from the human realm - notably, from the 2000s. Oral-B toothbrushes, travel-size body washes, and a fine-tooth comb. Over the lid of the box, Lucrezia watched, smug as a cat.

"You haven't the faintest idea what that is," she noted. "Or - no. You do have an idea. You don't like it. Why, Jasper? What's so dangerous about the truth?"

Jasper held up the toothbrush. He had a dozen of these, still in their careful plastic packaging, tucked away in the trunk of the Mustang. The Fae didn't seem bothered by hygiene (they relied on magic for most of it) but he'd preferred the more mechanical, human route. Always. For as long as he could remember. This was even the brand he'd preferred, down to the brightly colored plastic.

"I have this theory," Lucrezia said, "that you can remember. You just don't want to. And until you want to, you won't."

Jasper slammed the lid down. Visions of James swarmed his mind, visions of the bloodied woman. Of Aurora screaming. "Why?" he said. "Why is it so important to you that I remember?"

"Oh, it isn't." Lucrezia rested her chin on her hand. "The question you should be asking yourself, Jasper, is why is it so important that you don't?"

She was right about one thing: Jasper should have been concerned by this. Fae had lifespans of nearly 4000 years (or longer, if they weren't murdered in their beds over territorial disputes) and yet he could only remember the last decade or so of his life. There were infants with greater recollection than his.

"I like my life," Jasper said. It was defensive; he knew that before he finished saying it.

"Certainly." Lucrezia gave him a lazy grin. "You're not a simple person (you never have been) but you have always had simple wants. Cars, for example. The open road. Toothbrushes."

She nodded to the box.

"If you know what a person wants, you can control them."

Jasper snapped the lid shut and held it out to her. “I have no use for this,” he said, although the lie was obvious, and Lucrezia didn’t believe him. The house shuddered again.

“Jasper,” she said slowly, “we are in the middle of a war – one that’s been going on for one hundred years. One that won’t stop until you remember. While I was working on your leg I saw something I don’t understand, and I need you to help me understand it.”

She didn’t move to take the box, and Jasper still held it, suspended awkwardly between them. He lowered it onto the table and said, “I don’t know how much help I can be.”

“I’d like to take your blood. Study it. It may hold the answer to those questions.”

“I already told you, I’m not an experiment.”

“You’re a Knight of the Order, yes?”

He nodded, not enjoying the direction this had gone.

“And as such, you’re sworn to protect the order of the realms?”

Jasper nodded again. He folded his arms and leaned against the table, watching as she withdrew a large needle and syringe from her workstation.

“What if I told you that figuring out what happened to you could help save thousands, if not millions, of innocent lives? Would you cooperate with me then?”

Jasper’s attention fixation on the gleaming tip of the needle, even as the house continued to shake, dust falling from the ceiling. Lucrezia’s expression was cool, but underneath it was something desperate. The other, seeing the needle, began to stir.

---

Aurora pressed her hands to her ears and tried to drown out the screaming. She knew Lucrezia was helping him, but listening to Jasper in so much pain was enough to make her ill. Rohan put an arm around her and led her to the front parlor, and Zephyra and Orion followed behind. They argued about what to do with Varek, as though the sound of their companion in agony didn’t bother them in the least.

“He’ll be alright,” Rohan murmured, depositing Aurora in an armchair. “Lucrezia knows what she’s doing. She wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.”

“So you believe me,” Aurora whispered. Rohan kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his own. “You believe about this whole thing?”

Rohan’s brows knit together. “I don’t understand it, Aurrie. Not even a little. I remember the funeral. I gave the eulogy. So this is all…a mess. But yes, I think you’re right. I think it’s him.”

Finally.

Jasper’s wailing rose to a hair-raising pitch and Zephyra clapped once. A wall of sound blanketed the room, creating something akin to silence.

“If Varek is here, it means that Threeves wants us back,” she said, addressing the other three. “There is only one way this can end – with surrender.”

“Jasper bested him once,” Rohan said, rising to his considerable height. “He can do it again.”

“Jasper is unwell,” Zephyra countered. “Physically and mentally. And, might I add, it’s not his place to fight Varek. We can leave this place unharmed if we go peacefully.”

“Do you know that?” Aurora offered, her voice hardly more than a croak. “What if Threeves has finally had it with your antics and he’s sent Varek to kill you?”

“We can negotiate,” Zephyra said. “But you must agree to not try to escape.”

In the corner, Aurora spotted Orion, glancing out a window. He was bruised and gray and she pitied him. What had Threeves done to them while they’d been apart?

“Or,” Rohan said, “you can come with us. We can fight Varek. If this is what Threeves does to those on his team, then you have no business being with him.”

“What are you saying?” Orion looked back at them. “Leave the Order? Abandon our posts?”

“This is madness,” Zephyra added. She looked like she’d been slapped.

Aurora set her gaze on Orion. “He’s evil,” she told him, schooling herself into the most reasonable form she could find. “You know it, Orion. How could he have done that to you if he wasn’t?” She gestured to the bruises, and Orion instinctively touched his yellowing cheek. “How could he have broken Jasper’s leg? He’s using you. You’re talented, both of you, and could do much better things by…by joining us.”

Zephyra’s gaze became electric, filled with anger so raw the air began to crackle. “How dare you,” she spat. “We defied the code and we were punished. Jasper got what he deserved. Our only option is to go with Varek – otherwise, we’ll be killed.”

Orion didn’t look so convinced. Aurora tried again. “Orion,” she said, “think about it. You care for what’s right, don’t you? You care for Jasper, and all the other innocent Fae – “

She stopped. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. It was as though the air in her lungs had been taken out, and though she gasped she took in nothing –

Zephyra was holding out her hand, her face contorted in a fit of anger that made her normally lovely features ugly and terrifying. She bared her pearly teeth and hissed, “No more from you, witch!”

Rohan lunged for her. He wrapped a hand around her neck and squeezed, lifting her from the ground. Zephyra released Aurora, but Rohan, now incensed only pressed harder. “If you hurt her,” he seethed, “Jasper will kill you. You know that, don’t you? Because you know he remembers. Maybe not completely – but he does. I’ve seen it. The question is, do you remember what happened the last time? Do you want that to happen again?”

Zephyra’s eyes went wide, bulging out of their sockets. Her face was quickly turning a violent shade of purple.

“Rohan,” Aurora said, realizing that he might just get ahead of Jasper and kill her himself. “Rohan, stop.”

It was not a forceful request, but Rohan listened. He released Zephyra. She collapsed onto the floor, wheezing and coughing, saliva pooling on the plush carpeting.

Orion had gone completely white. “We can’t do this to each other,” he said softly. “Not…not while Varek’s out there. We can fight about this later. Right now, we need to do whatever it takes to survive.”

Aurora stood again, the room swaying. Lucrezia’s drug certainly wasn’t making any of this easier, but the last thing she wanted to do was stay in the room with Zephyra. She didn’t know why the female hated her, but she’d made it clear whatever rift they had wasn’t going to be closed any time soon.

“I’m getting some air,” she rasped, trembling as she made her way back to the door. “When you decide how to do things without killing each other, come get me.”

No one stopped her as she left the parlor, shaking limbs carrying her away from the violent scene. She found a familiar set of stairs and began to climb – up into the quaking house, up into the fortified walls, up to the roof, where at least she could get a good idea of the threat.

The night was still clear and beautiful, and whatever part of Varek’s magic had been attacking the house was starting to retreat. With his abilities, he should have known that a direct assault was useless: Lucrezia’s villa had stood for thousands of years. Although it had changed its form many times since it was built, the inner halls had never been breached, and inside, they’d always been safe.

Even from the likes of him.

She sat on the balcony floor and looked out into the night, scanning the darkness for any sign of the threat. It was obvious now – Threeves was serious. He wanted them in custody, or dead. Whatever game they were playing…they’d run out of time.

Almost an hour later, footsteps sounded on the stairs. At first, she thought it was Rohan, but the gait was different, the steps lighter. The figure sat down beside her, and when she realized who had made the ascent up to the roof, her pulse doubled.

“How did you find me?” she asked, even though there were hundreds of other, much more important questions that needed asking. What do you remember? Why are you alive?

“Rohan told me where you were. I need to talk to you about something.”

Jasper’s voice was hoarse and irritated and very, very, tired. When Aurora looked at him, the moonlight illuminated the deep circles under his eyes, bruises of purple from nights of very little sleep. He was sitting cross-legged, though, which told her that Lucrezia had successfully mended the leg.

“I hope it didn’t hurt too much,” she said, nodding to the leg.

“It was fine,” he lied. “That’s not it. It’s about something that happened…during.”

Aurora’s heart skipped a beat. “During?”

“Yes. I think…don’t tell the others this, but I think I remembered something.”

Aurora’s mind began to race. He remembered something? And he’d come to speak to her? Did that mean –

No. She wouldn’t get ahead of herself. Couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough to hold all of these things in her mind at once. Hope was too big, and her thoughts were already too full –

“Did James Ravenscroft…did we know each other?”

Aurora swallowed. “Yes,” she whispered.

“And did he…kill someone?”

“Yes.”

Jasper nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that meant his mind was turning rapidly over itself.

“Why were we there? You and me.”

For a moment, the world went still and silent. Of all the memories in the world, that was the last one she wanted to keep. There were so many others, so many happy ones, lovely ones, ones that made her weep with joy – how cruel were the Guardians to withhold those from Jasper, but not this one?

“Aurora,” Jasper said gently, “I know this is hard for you. I…I can see it. But you have to tell me everything. It’s the only way to fix this. Whatever this is.”

“I can’t,” she insisted. “Not until you promise not to go back. If Threeves learns what we know, it will destroy everything. Not just us, Jasper, but entire worlds. Entire…realities. He can’t get a hold of this.”

“I can’t leave the Order,” he returned, not unkindly, but equally persistent. “It’s all I have. It’s all I’ve known. And if I go with you, as you’ve asked, the chances of us getting away from the Order are slim to none. I know how they function. Varek’s presence here should be evidence enough.”

Aurora looked down at her hands. In another life, he would have taken them in his own, pressed them to his lips, and told them it was going to be alright. He’d already have a plan. It would be hare-brained and Rohan would hate it and they’d fight about it. Then it would go nearly perfectly – they’d pull it off by an inch, maybe less – and they’d go get drinks and laugh about it for weeks afterward.

This, however, was not what happened.

Jasper kept to himself and looked out over the darkened terrain. She wondered if even the smallest part of him remembered this place, this balcony, even. Did he remember the countless nights spent here, staring up at the stars? Did he remember the endless days riding horses through the valleys and taste-testing the village wine and –

“You have me,” Aurora whispered.

“What?” Jasper looked at her, an eyebrow poised in question.

“You said the Order is all you have, but that isn’t true. You…you have me.”

His mouth opened and closed several times before he said, “Aurora…I – I understand that we must have known each other before this. I’m not stupid. I figured that out. But whoever you think I am, I’m not anymore. It’s probably in your best interest to forget about what used to be and to only focus on what is now.”

She was saved an answer by a flicker of movement on the ground below. A small ball of light illuminated the ground, and by it, she saw Orion, crossing the darkened terrain.

Jasper saw it, too. “What in the…what is he doing?”

Aurora didn’t have to think long before figuring it out – she’d seen the look on Orion’s face before leaving him in the parlor.

“He’s going to face Varek,” she breathed.

Jasper jumped to his feet. He grumbled something unsavory before scrambling towards the stairs, leaving her on the rooftop alone.

Click here to continue to part Three