Jaraku lay there a moment, trying tofigure out what that sensation was. He felt tired, heavy, and like hewas floating, but there was some kind of dull pressure on his back.Something rhythmic, but not quite like a throbbing pain. No, itbarely hurt at all, but it didhurt, so what-

“WAKEUP!” He opened his eyes, choking, very confused as to why he waschoking. He was lying flat on a sandy beach, bright skies overhead,and he recognized the both the pair of kneeling knees next to him andthe voice as belonging to Issabel. She gasped at seeing him wake up,and reached beneath his ribs, yanking against him in just the rightspot-

Andhe was vomiting up what was, all things considered, an impressiveamount of briny, nasty, vile seawater. His chest hurt, his limbshurt, his brain hurt.His head was pounding and as the last of the heaving stopped, afterhe'd finally cleared himself of seawater, he became very aware thathe was freezing cold. She was wrapped in a huge blanket and once thecoughing stopped she pulled him into it with her. She startedexamining him for wounds, broken bones, signs of internal bleeding,even mere bruising. She sighed once she was done.

“Good,it worked.”

“Whatworked, again?”

“Mehealing you.” She playfully slapped his back. “Jackass.”

“Well,you're not wrong, but what did I do this time?” He tried to sit upand his limbs said no.She grabbed him by the shoulders and hefted him over and to a sittingposition to spare him the indignity of a faceful of briny vomit. Helooked around and saw several tents and a roaring fire.

“Firein the daylight?”

“We'recooking.”

“We?”

“Allof us. We were fighting Leviathan.” His brain was starting to catchup.

“Right,right. I remember now.” She nodded, and he noted she was absolutelysoaking wet.

“Howlong was I out for?”

“Fiveminutes?”

“Andthis was already set up?”

“Sixpeople can harvest enough driftwood for a bonfire pretty fast, and itdoesn't exactly take Zu long to ignite it.”

“Right.”He took a deep breath, his lungs punishing him for going so longwithout it with sharp pain. “Oh, I remember, I jumped in front of-”

“Yes.”

“Becausehe almost hit-”

“Yes.”

“AndI hit the ocean.”

“Yes.”

“ButI'm not dead.”

“You'renot, no.” She watched the gears turn in his head, a small smile onher face.

“...Didyou jump in after me?”

“Yup.”He blinked.

“Gods,are you kidding me?”

“No,no I am not, and if you ever make me do something like that againI'll kill you myself.” They both laughed, Jaraku coughing shortlyafter.

“Ican barely believe you managed it.” She leaned towards him,beaming.

“Well.I almost lost you. Diving in the ocean's worth it to save you.” Henodded.

“Well,I can't say you're wrong. So where is everyone?”

“Gettingfood. Blae said there was a ton of food in one of the buildingsaround here. Dried stuff, canned stuff, the sort that lasts awhile.”

“Why'dshe know that?”

“Well,the ship wrecked and apparently we're on the island she grew up on.”His blank stare was the only response she got, and she sighed. “Wekilled it, don't worry, but we were taking on water to the point wehad no choice but to run aground. Or so Zwynmaga said, and I'minclined to believe him.”

“Theman certainly knows what he's talking about when he talks at all. So.What now?” She thought a moment.

“Nowyou're going to get some sleep before you catch pneumonia orsomething worse.”

“Right.”He tried to stand and she half helped, half-dragged him to one of thetents. Once he was lying down another question arose. “Did everyonemake it through alive?”

“Yup.Even the crew that were belowdecks. Miracle, really.”

“Good.So that could hardly have gone better, really.” She smirked at him,then kissed his forehead.

“Prettymuch. Now sleep.”

“How long has it been?”

After the standing ovation, Issabeland Jaraku walked backstage of the Drake Theatre.

“How long has it been?” She askedhim.

“You'll need to be more specific,love, there's a lot of different possible answers there.” Sheplayfully shoved at his shoulder and he grinned.

“You know what I mean.” He startedmelodramatically pantomiming deep thought.

“As far as I know, it's beencountless years since the Allagan Empire-”

“-No, not that.”

“I know.” The two shook hands withthe various workers in the back who'd made the effects, the setchanges, and really the entire show possible. They were possibly theonly couple in the city who respected their stage crew so much, andpaid them so well. It wasn't surprising that their crew respectedthem back. A proud crew makes a show to be proud of, after all.“Since we met, then?”

“Yes. How long has it been?” Hegrinned at her.

“You mean you forgot?”

“No, I just want to hear it.” Shegrinned at him. “Tonight's the night to remember where we camefrom, isn't it?” He nodded. They stepped onto the elevator and theyboth had the idea to hug the other at the exact same moment. After abrief laugh, he answered her.

“It absolutely is. We're the biggestshow in the world, now, and nobody can deny it anymore. Now...” hethought about it. “When we met, I was twenty-two.”

“No you weren't, you liar.”

“And you were twenty-one.”

“...Okay, I like this version.”

“And we were young and vibrant andthe world was magical, wondrous, and all we wanted it to be.”

“Except for what wasn't.”

“Of course! But who cared aboutthat?” She nodded.

“I'm glad that we never grew fat.”

“How could we, love? We're all therage!”

“We've spent whole years upon thestage.”

“Exactly! Who could ever deny-”

“-That we're the greatest bardsalive?” The two beamed at each other, soft moonlight filteringthrough the windows ahead as the elevator doors opened again. A spokefrom below and behind them:

“You're revolting, you two, get aroom.” They laughed, and at the same time said:

“Stew! I'll make a stew,” he saidaloud. “Won't have to even pay attention to the damned thing forhours.” He gathered up all the proper ingredients: four types ofmeat, twelve different spices, and eight types of vegetables. Plentyto feed everyone. Everyone who'd trust it, anyway. He wasn't deaf tothe implications that had been thrown around that he was a lazy,untalented cook, and he'd decided, then and there, that no one whohad said a single unkind word towards him would have any of the stew.So yes, this would be plenty of seven people. He gathered everythingtogether on the bar, a long row of foodstuffs arranged neatly andcarefully in the order he intended to add them to the concoction.Then he started gathering all the utensils and supplies he'd need: Agreat big spoon, several bowls, a couple boards to cut on and a knifeor three, a meat fork, and...

Wait.

Where was the massive pot he needed?It was practically a cauldron, and that was exactly how big it neededto be if he was going to make enough stew. He scoured the kitchenonce, twice, three times, going through every cabinet and everycrevice, even those that it couldn't possibly fit in. He lookedthrough all the dirty dishes and everywhere else in the area he couldthink to look.

Nope.

How was he supposed to make a stewwithout the biggest pot possible? Was he supposed to cut back on theingredients? Ridiculous. No, he'd already made up his mind. It wastime to find that pot. He gently laid a clean cloth over all theingredients he'd so lovingly gathered, determined to return to themshortly.

But where could it be?

He tried Ashe's office, but the doorwas locked. It wasn't like her to just misplace cookware anyway, sothat was probably a dead end regardless. He then tried Blaetlona'sroom, being happily greeted by her as he opened the door. She waswriting in a small book, which he assumed was a diary.

“Blaetlona, have to seen that bigpot we have?”

“How big?”

“The biggest one.”

“I used it a week ago, but I put itback after I'd washed it. I thought I saw it last night when I wascooking. Have you asked Ashe?”

“She's out, and it's not like her tomisplace something like that anyway. Too responsible.” Blaetlonanodded in agreement.

“Well, have you asked Issabel? Ithink she cooks, too?” He grinned.

“Of course! Thanks, Blae, you're agenius.” He turned to leave, shutting the door behind him. After afew seconds, she burst out giggling.

He walked up to Issabel's room to findthe door ajar and Issabel sitting in a chair facing towards it.

“Oh hello, Jaraku.” She looked upat him, smiling. “Took you awhile to wake up.”

“Yeah, you know how it is. Writing,and all. Have you seen that big pot?”

“Which one?”

“The biggest one. I'm going to makestew for everyone I don't intentionally annoy.”

“So about four or five people,then?”

“Something like that, yeah. Have youseen it?” She gazed up at him a moment, thinking, then nodded.

“I think I might have it in heresomewhere, can you help me look?”

“Absolutely, not a problem.” Hepushed the door open and was completely doused with cold water fromabove him. His lungs seized up for a second, his body reeling at theshock, and Issabel burst out giggling. He'd found the pot, at least.

“That was for the time you decidedto completely blast me with water because a corner of my dress was onfire.” He opened his mouth to protest, then thought it over andnodded.

Ashelia Riot had a mystery to solve, one she was very agitated about having to solve in the first place. Some of her personal possessions had gone missing, and she was quite upset by this fact, considering her previous night’s enjoyment of Edge had been handicapped by the lack of the missing items.

Naturally, she started with the first suspect that came to mind. She opened the door to Jaraku’s room, and when he wasn’t there she went to Issabel’s.

“Jaraku.” she said. “Where are my chains?” A voice called out from the back of the room.

“We’re busy, Ashe.”

“With my chains?”

“I bought my own, why would I need yours?” After a brief moment of silence, she heard Issabel giggle. She turned and left the room in a huff, shutting the door after a moment in case someone walked past. Next she turned to someone who knew everyone fairly well.

“Resh?” she asked, seeing the happy miqo'te sitting at the bar. “Have you seen my chains?”

“I haven’t, no. Are they missing?”

“Yes.”

“Are the things I bought for you at starlight missing too?”

“No, and let’s not discuss those.”

“Fair enough. Have you asked Jarak-”

“Yes. He doesn’t have them.”

“That’s odd. Who else might have taken them?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Well…uh. You two aren’t the only couple here.” Ashelia was silent a moment. “I wouldn’t want to accuse anyone but I imagine that madel-” Ashelia had already turned to leave. Resh nervously sipped her tea.

Ashe burst into Erimmont’s room.

“Madelaine, Erimmont, did you take my-” Erimmont was sitting behind his desk, a bruise the shape of an open palm across his face. “What happened to-”

“I haven’t seen anything of yours. I spent the past night with Madelaine.” There was a long pause.

“And where is she-”

“Sleeping.” He jerked his thumb at the wall behind him, and the bed beyond it. “Don’t bother her.” Ashe looked from the doorway, to Erimmont’s face, and back to the doorway. She quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her. She walked back to the bar.

“Resh, they didn’t have them. Who else might?”

“You might ask Blaetlona! If nothing else she keeps her ears open. Can’t hurt!” Ashelia walked to Blaetlona’s room, opened the door to find the Second Storm Lieutenant asleep in her bed, the room completely devoid of chains. Ashe decided waking her up on a hunch wasn’t worth it, and shut this door, too. She walked back to see Resh grabbing more tea.

“Who else might-” Ashelia cut herself off, then quietly walked back to the personal rooms. She stepped into Mara’s and was greeted with the sight of a bored Highlander woman sitting behind a desk, reading a book. “Mara, did you take my-”

“Chains? No.”

“How did you know they’re missing?”

“You haven’t been subtle this morning. Nor last night. Your rage wasn’t hard to detect. More of it than usua-”

“The chains. Where are they? Surely you know?” Mara looked up from the book for a second, a strange expression spreading across her usually-stoic face. Ashelia had never seen this look before.

“You might try opening doors you haven’t checked yet. Or ask Resh.”

“I’ve been asking Resh.”

“Ask again. Please leave me to my book now.” Ashelia nodded, shut the door and walked back out to the bar, almost colliding into Resh as she opened the door.

“Resh?”

“Oh, uh, hi Ashe!”

“Where are you going?”

“Um…Grey’s room!”

“…Why?”

“Well, Grey sneaks around a lot, maybe he heard something!” Ashelia nodded, and turned on her heel. Resh chased after her, horrified, trying to pull her back by her arm as she threw the door open to Grey’s room.

“Grey, have you seen my-”

Grey Riot was in the midst of unfastening a veritable nest of chains, a variety of other equipment gathered in a pile towards the center of the room. Some of it she didn’t even recognize what it was used for. Resh sighed, and Grey shot her an accusing look. Ashelia cleared her throat. “Uh-”

“I found a book in Jara’s room an’ it ‘ad some great ideas innit, I though’.”

Shortly after, Erimmont wasn’t the only Riskbreaker with a facial bruise. But at least he’d gotten his book back, Jaraku mused, holding ice to his swollen eye.

“You Lied to Me”

Madelaine Lachance was not stupid. So when Jaraku met her at the door, to the Sandsea her mission for the Riskbreakers completed, she was immediately suspicious. He was fancied up even more foppish than normal. She caught a glimpse of uneasiness before he changed his tune to a big, hearty

“Welcome back!” She wasn’t convinced.

“Why are you here to greet me?” He looked away from her a moment before putting on a big grin and looking slightly to the left of her eyes.

“I’m here to congratulate you! Ashelia wants to speak with you, debrief you or whatever the term is. I’m not exactly an agent or anything.” He laughed what she recognized as a forced one.

“Jaraku. What happened while I was away?”

“I’m glad you asked! See, Ashe and I had a lovely talk about Grey’s future. Oh, Grey’s dating now! Dating Enea. Brother of that shithead ka-oh, you never met him. Well, suffice to say he was useless but she is great, so apparently failure doesn’t run in the family.” He shrugged. He wasn’t convincing her, and she knew he was growing desperate. What would lead him to lie like this?

“Jaraku. Did you burn Erimmont’s room down?”

“Why would I do that? I don’t play with fire. In the house. Or near it. You should go talk to Ashe.” He nodded emphatically, as if that would fix what had happened, as if that would convince her. She leaned back, crossed her arms, gave him a death glare.

“Stop trying to change the subject, Jaraku. I demand to know-”

“Look, I was told to tell you to see Ashe, okay? Please. Come on. Just go, don’t make me tell you about-” He stopped, a look of horror spreading across his face.

“Tell me about what?” He shrank back.

“Come on, Madelaine, just…please.”

“Tell me, Jaraku, or Ashelia’s wrath won’t be what you need fear.”

“Ashelia’s wrath is always a fear of mine, and as terrifying as you are you are nothing compared to that mad Mhigan axewoman.” Madelaine’s jaw slackened, and she contemplated reaching for her spear before the door to the personal halls opened and Ashelia Riot stepped out.

“Jaraku, what’s taking-” Her eyes fell upon the Elezen she’d been waiting for. “Madelaine. I need to request you come to my office for your debriefing.”

“I refuse. I’ll not be played a fool, not by you and certainly not by Jarak-”

“He’s dead, Madelaine.” Ashelia Riot clenched her teeth at Jaraku’s words. Madelaine stood, dumbfounded for a moment, not connecting the dots. Jaraku looked down, rubbed a spot on his right bicep subconsciously.

“Who’s dead?”

“Erimmont.” Ashelia quietly started advancing on the two. Jaraku didn’t seem to notice her and kept speaking. “He was supposed to be on a simple scouting mission and ran headlong into…the Ixali had moved their camp. He might have done okay if the Garleans hadn’t come up behind him. He sent out a request for help over the linkshell, and I was nearby, and…”

“You failed him.” Grief overcame the bard’s face and he sank backwards, almost falling to the ground.

“There were too many, and I’m a terrible conjurer…I can barely heal a scrape, let alone four gunshot wounds.” He looked back up at her, tears in his eyes, a new firmness in his voice. “I did everything, everything I could. And…the last thing he said was…he wanted me to tell you…” Madelaine Lachance watched the world slow down, saw everything turn monochrome. Jaraku’s lips were moving, but the sound coming out was garbled. Ashelia’s fist was clenched, starting to raise. She saw tears start to pour down his face, and she stepped forward, drawing her lance, and shoved Jaraku down before striking Ashelia in the face with the blunt end, sending her reeling back. She bashed the surprised Grand Steward in the side of the head, swinging quickly, precisely, not the tiniest bit of rage or inefficiency to her movements, until the woman was unconscious on the floor. As Jaraku started to stand she held the blade of the lance to his throat.

“You lied to me.” He made eye contact, finally.

“I did. I didn’t want you to come home to the worst news.” He closed his eyes. “I deserve it, if you think it’ll make things better. I’m sorry. I really am, Madelaine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you tell me when I was-”

“Ashelia didn’t tell me how to contact you. Said upsetting you could jeopardize your mission and your life.” Madelaine tilted her head a little, disbelieving.

“She clarified my mission first?” Jaraku started to nod, thought better of it.

“Yes. She did. I’m sorry.” Madelaine looked down at him a moment, a mix of emotions showing on her face. She looked to the bard below her, looked around the place that had been home for such a short time, looked to the Grand Steward, her new captain, the woman she’d risked her life for. Ashelia was starting to struggle to her feet.

“My mission was a success. I accomplished my objectives to the letter. Even though you failed me.” Jaraku for a moment thought she was talking to him before she continued. “Thank you, Jaraku. At least you tried.” He heard the lance hit the ground, the door opened, and Madelaine Lachance was gone.

Not long after, he had left, too. He hadn’t wanted the pity, hadn’t mentioned what had happened to Issabel when she tried to save both he and Errimont. Didn’t mention what had happened to the crippled arm that hung loose at his side.

“She's not listening, Blaetlona!” he called out, and a cool channel of aether gave him a surge of energy. He felt his arm right itself, the musculature and bones returning to their proper place, reality being rewritten across his arm to undo what had been done. He used the arm to reach behind himself and high-five Issabel, a small grin on both their faces afterwards. But the moment of respite ended.

“I don't care, Jaraku! We have to save her!” She was shouting over the roar of the wind and he could barely hear her at this point. He knew she was attending to Grey, who'd been thrown around the room like a ragdoll and into the stone walls. Jaraku didn't have time to worry about that. It's not like Ashe would be able to yell at them, anyway. Gods...

“She's killed enough, Blaetlona! We have to stop her!” The air in front of him shimmered as another massive gout of flame dissipated across an invisible, magickal armor wrapped around him. He knew it couldn't last forever. “You have to stop her!”

“Why me?!”

“I can't even get close, you're the only one who can do it!” She hesitated.

“I can't!” Jaraku grimaced. We're going to die. We're going to die because she can't do the right thing.

“Issabel,” he said as quietly as he could while still being audible. “We have to run.”

“What about them?” She asked. Several more Riskbreakers were dead or dying.

“We can't save them. Run on three.” She patted his back in affirmation. “One...” Azionne was binding aether for some kind of massive blast.

He realized, in that moment, that this one would kill all of them.

“Blaetlona! SHE IS GOING TO MURDER US! DO SOMETHING!”

“Azionne, please! Please, you have to stop! You have to stop, I need you!” He knew she was crying. She'd volunteered to lead this expedition and he'd tried to vote her down. He knew she'd let them down like this. He knew Azionne had to be destroyed. The aether grew darker.

“Two...” Whatever that big ball of energy was was going to be bad. “THREE!” He charged forward, sword raised, praying that Issabel was fleeing. A bolt of darkness shot through the cavern, a thin needle of death, and it ripped through the barrier around him. He swore, an oath given in rage and desperation holding his body together, holding him together long enough. Just long enough.

“NO!” Blaetlona was in front of him, her arms spread, as he raised his sword. “YOU CAN'T!” He leapt upwards, going for a stab at the monster that had killed everyone else, that had ruined everything-

And he was yanked down.

Blaetlona was standing atop him, her fists crashing into his face, over and over and over.

“I WON'T LET YOU KILL HER!” she shouted, tears bursting from her eyes. He saw blood was smeared across her face, and it wasn't his. Nor hers.

Most of it wasn't his, anyway. More and more of it was, her fists bloody, his face getting smashed apart by blow after blow, but there was a bright flash and nothing as he slipped into unconsciousness. But an instant later, he blinked, and was staring at the roof of the cavern. The light was gone. The darkness was gone. The tainted presence was gone. He started to stand up when a comforting hand stopped him, gripping his shoulder. He saw Issabel look down at him. She was oddly lit. Must be some sort of magic protection.

“You took quite a beating, love.” There was a smile across her face, bittersweet though it was.

“What happened?”

“Did you really think I'd run away? But then, you had the same idea I did.” He nodded. His face was sore.

“How do I look?”

“Don't worry, you haven't even a single new scar. You'll still look the dashing rogue you've always been.”

“Thank the gods. Where's everyone else? Where's Azionne?”

“Azionne's destroyed. Most of us are here.”

“Destroyed? How?”

“You're a fistfighter. You know how to use an opponent's weight against them?”

“Yeah.”

“That. But with magic.”

“Gods, you're incredible.” Another bittersweet smile.

“I know.” He felt strange, he was starting to realize. He tried to stand up again and she held him down.

“Issabel?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you keeping me from standing?” She looked away.

“...Blaetlona got caught in the crossfire. But after what she did to you, I don't really care.” He tried to echo the sentiment, but guilt was creeping through his mind.

“He's awake, Izzy?” Grey was calling out from somewhere behind him.

“Yes, he is.” Jaraku saw her shoot a warning glare across the room. “Don't worry, love. Everything's alright. Everything's going to be alright.”

“Issabel?” She was crying, he realized. “Darling, what-” A tear fell off her cheek and onto his face, but he didn't feel it impact. He reached up to touch it and realized his arm and his hand felt terribly strange. “I'm...numb?” She shook her head. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up to his feet, and he finally understood.

He could see right through her. Behind her, Zwynmaga was there, flesh and blood, axe in his hand, a ferocious glare on his face.

“Where is she? Where are you?” he was bellowing into the room. Issabel gave Jaraku a hug as he watched his friend search the room and sink to his knees in front of a shattered, shredded set of armor that was, mere hours ago, a pristine white. Jaraku could see from here there were still bits of flesh inside and around it. He saw a shredded robe near it.

“Then, we're-”

“Yes.” He pointed at the robe.

“Is that where you-”

“Yes. It took everything I had to stop her, but...after what she did to you, after what happened, it was worth it to save the world.” Behind her, Zwynmaga was sifting through the rubble, looking for something, anything he could save of his deceased friend. He found, in the rubble, after plenty of searching and tears, an unstained, unharmed sword.

“That blasted thing survived all this?!” Jaraku was completely taken aback.

“I told you. I make quality gear.” She smiled again. “Well, maybe 'made' is the right word.”

“You're awfully cavalier about all this, Issabel.” She shrugged.

“We died as heroes to save the world. Doubtless some bard or another will come along and sing our tale, and as far as I can tell the only thing keeping us here is that we haven't decided to move on yet.”

“Why isn't Blaetlona here? Where's Ashe?”

“They didn't...die the same way that we did.”

“What does that mean?”

“It's not called 'sacred soil' as a joke.” He stared at her, stunned, as Zwynmaga cried behind her.

“So...they can't see us?”

“Nope.”

“But we can go wherever we want?”

“Yup.”

“Will you two stop with this godsdamned romance shite? I didna take this long t'get used t'it, ye know.”

“Hush, Grey.” Jaraku hadn't seen Issabel be so dismissive of someone in a long time. The trio fell silent for a moment.

“So where's everyone else died here?”

“Already left.” He nodded. Another long pause.

“Why did it all come to this?” he asked.