#sabiluca

"Someone follows."

Vigilance brushed against her, their warning delivered with none of the urgency that it instilled.

Sabriel swallowed, heart thudding in her chest as she realized her suspicions were correct. She'd felt eyes on her since she walked out of the Cantori Diamond that morning, intent on burying herself in work at the makeshift hospital in the market. She had hoped it was just unfamiliar spirits lurking in the streets of Treviso.

"Number? Appearance?" She asked under her breath. She kept her eyes forward and her steps intentional. She didn't want them to know she was onto them.

If it was the Antaam, she might be able to just run. Otherwise…

"Two. Shorter, hooded, no horns. Red veins pulsing."

Venatori.

She took a sudden turn down an alley, heading away from the Cantori Diamond. She wasn't going to lead them straight back to the eluvian, no matter how helpful backup from the Crows would be. Besides, she could handle two attackers. She had faced far worse odds in the Necropolis.

Trying to take advantage of the brief moment she broke line of sight, she ducked behind a stray crate as her pursuers stopped at the entrance to the alleyway.

"Where'd she go?"

As they made to enter the alley, she spun into a brief fadestep, vanishing from behind the crate and reappearing directly behind the Venatori. Before they had a chance to process her presence, she laid her hands on the closest attacker's back and pulled with her mana, sapping life force from him at what should have been an alarming rate.

Instead, she encountered something almost like a block— a barrier that burned at the tips of her fingers and she pulled back with a start, staring at the reddish sparks playing around her hands.

"The gods grant us strength." It was a common refrain the cultists would use in conflicts—usually made in their last moments of desperation. This time, it made her blood run cold.

They had known they were going up against a necromancer. This wasn't a random attack— they were coming after her.

Instinct kicked in before panic could as she dodged the swing of a blade. The tight space made it difficult to maneuver, but it was doubly difficult for the Venatori, who had to also avoid injuring each other. Using that to her advantage, she wove in close, aiming to get both to swing at a position where they would get in each other's way.

As the blades got close, she took another fadestep backwards and took off running again as she heard their strangely-shaped blades clash and lock. The goal was to lose them in the maze of the Treviso streets— even if she got hopelessly lost herself.

This was complicated by the Blight that crawled along the canals and up the walls. Passages were blocked, bridges were impassable, and the seemingly obvious escape into the waterways was suicidal at best. She had the fortune of Vigilance watching her back, so she at least did not have to slow down and check if she was still being followed.

"One assailant has diverted paths."

They were going to try to cut her off at the upcoming intersection. Biting back a curse, she rapidly scanned the walls, searching for footholds. This was a Crow city, which meant there had to be access to the rooftops somewhere, if one was creative enough.

Problem was, she didn't have the acrobatic talents of the average Crow. With no obvious trellises in sight, she was forced to attempt the more difficult act of finding footholds on brick walls between windowsills. She heard the Venatori behind her shout something in Tevene, but she couldn't understand it. She didn't have time to stop and think beyond the next handhold, the next jump, one step at a time.

The Venatori met in the middle of the alleyway, shouting and arguing as she was forced to take a moment and calculate her reach to the edge of the roof.

"Start climbing, you idiot! Dead or alive, remember?"

"You start climbing! Unless you want to be the one to explain to the future First Talon—"

There was a grunt and commotion as she pushed off and hauled herself up to the lower part of the building's roof. With enough space to move around, she finally looked down and saw both trying to clamber up the wall behind her.

Ignoring her pounding heart, she forced herself to focus. If necromancy wasn't going to work, it was time to draw on her new magic knowledge— courtesy of one too many academic debates about casting with Neve and Bellara. Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself to sense the air around her, feel the ripple of the Veil and the currents in the wind. With sweep of her hands, she gathered mana like a bundle in her hands before letting it pour from her fingers like water, painting the roof and the sides of the building with a coating of ice and frost.

It might not have been the thick wall that she was hoping for, but it was enough to make the climb slippery— and from the shout from below, it seemed she may have frozen the Venatori's hands to the wall as well.

She didn't pause to consider if that was sufficient to stop her pursuers. Getting away immediately took priority. If she started across the rooftops, she could hopefully get some distance from them before returning to the ground, thereby losing her tail for good.

Now she just had to figure out which direction would get her back to the Diamond.

This building wasn't nearly tall enough to see around the spiralling architecture of Treviso, and she hadn't spent enough time in the city to be able to navigate confidently. At best, she could hope that staying along the roofs would help her run into a Crow at some point— and that she didn't fall and break her neck in the meantime.

Figuring her best chance was to go back the way she came, she gingerly started making her way along the sloped surface, grateful that the Blight hadn't crawled up this far along the buildings just yet. She needed all her concentration to avoid rolling her ankle.

How in the world did the Crows manage to make this look so easy? She found herself desperately wishing she had access to Spite's wings, as her first leap to the next rooftop made her feel lightheaded. She managed a solid landing at least.

It was going to be a slow trip home.

-----------------

By the time she found the field hospital again, night had fallen. The streets of Treviso that were eerie during the day were downright terrifying at night. The moving Blight caused her to jump at every turn, and the Antaam increased patrols in the dark. It was a wonder she had made it back without being further harassed.

She didn't enter the marketplace, instead choosing to skirt around it to make her way back to the Cantori Diamond. As much as she wished to avoid it, she knew it was likely that she would run into one of the two Talons, if not both. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach and she could only pray they wouldn't report this to Rook.

"Dr. Ingellvar!"

Lost in the thought process of figuring out a plausible story for Teia and Viago, Sabriel practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name. The address indicated either a Crow or someone from the hospital. But who would be out on the streets at this hour?

She looked around frantically, flinching backwards as someone dropped from the rooftops directly in front of her.

They were a Crow of middling height, human, with bright blue eyes and raven black hair. They had lovely bone structure, though their delicate features were marred by a deep scar across their right cheek. She had met this one before, though their name was escaping her. One of Viago's subordinates, maybe?

"I finally found you!" Their light alto voice was suffused with relief, which Sabriel found at once puzzling and a bit alarming. The Crows were looking for her?

"Did something happen?" Were the Crows in trouble? Had Rook asked them to search for her? If she had been derelict in her responsibilites to the team, she wasn't sure how she was going to make it up to—

The Crow blinked at her. "Uh, yeah? You left the field hospital and then never came back?"

Uhoh.

"That idiot from House de Acutis left to have a coffee and by the time he returned to his post, you were gone." The Crow gestured for her to follow them, and began walking towards the Cantori Diamond. "We thought maybe you just went back to your Lighthouse, but that old man professor said you weren't there. We've been on high alert ever since." They glanced over their shoulder at her. "What happened?"

She averted her eyes from their sharp blue gaze. For all their casual demeanor, she knew an interrogation question when she heard it. "I umm. I left the hospital a different way. Made a wrong turn and got lost." She kept her eyes on her feet as the sound of anxious hubbub became more audible as they approached the Diamond. "With the Blight around everywhere it's…hard to navigate the streets. And I don't have the ability to hop from rooftop to rooftop like you all."

Hopefully it was enough truth to get the Crow to accept her story. She wasn't about to confess everything to someone whose name she couldn't even remember.

They sighed. "Viago is not gonna like that." Together, the two began mounting the stairs up to the Diamond's upper balcony. The Crow signalled with their head to another on the way up, sending their comrade running in the direction of Teia and Viago.

Sabriel tried to keep her eyes forward, but she couldn't help but notice a few of the relieved faces of the Crows around her. Their conversations shifted a tone of anxiety to one of relief.

She had caused them a lot of trouble.

She kept her eyes on the Crow's slim shoulders as they elbowed their way over to the small group at Teia's work desk — which included Teia, Viago, and…

"Emmrich?"

All three snapped their heads in her direction.

"Sabriel! Good heavens, you look dreadful. What happened?"

His concern settled as shame in the pit of her stomach. "It was an accident. I just…got really turned around when I tried to get back."

She caught a look exchanged between Viago and her Crow rescuer. She wasn't sure the Fifth Talon was buying it.

"Luz, find Noa. We need to have a conversation." Viago's tone was clipped and disapproving.

"You got it, Vi!" The Crow, Luz, saluted and turned on their heel, heading back towards the courtyard with a spring in their step.

Apparently they enjoyed being the bearer of bad news.

"I'm so sorry for all the commotion. I tried my best to find my way back but with the canals and the…" She couldn't bring herself to say Blight. She knew Teia and Viago were more than aware how bad it was.

Teia stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to apologize. You came back in one piece, and that's what matters."

It was forgiveness too easily given, but she couldn't tell them that. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to ball her hands into fists, fighting back another wave of shame and guilt.

Emmrich cleared his throat. "We'd best be getting back to the Lighthouse. Rook will want to know that everything has turned out for the best." He was smiling, but she could see the tinge of curious concern in his eyes. "You have our utmost gratitude, Andarateia, Viago."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, but Sabriel's attention wandered. Now that she was back in safe territory, the adrenaline was starting to seep away, leaving nothing but trembling exhaustion in its wake. If only she could curl up on one of the couches here and sleep it off, instead of facing yet another scolding at Rook's hands when they returned to the Lighthouse.

She used to be so well-behaved. How had she become such a problem child within a year or two?

Emmrich gently laid a hand on her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. "Shall we return then? With any luck, there will still be something left from dinner."

She blinked, then nodded mutely before following him out the back towards the eluvian.

-----------------

The trip through the Crossroads was quiet, though Emmrich gracefully accepted her numerous apologies as he quietly examined her during their trip back on the Caretaker's ferry.

"I'm certain you can handle most of these bumps and bruises on your own, but I'm afraid I must ask one last time: you're certain there are no other significant injuries that need treatment?" His voice echoed through the chamber as they mounted the stairs towards the Vi'Revas.

"They're just scrapes, Emmrich. You have my word." The relief she felt at being able to tell him the truth was a temporary reprieve from the curdling guilt in her gut. "With a bath and some rest, I'll be more than fine."

He let her lead the way back into the Lighthouse, which put her front and center for the welcoming party that had gathered in the library.

"Venhedis! Where have you two been?" Rook got up from his seat on the couch immediately upon seeing them come up the stairs. Bellara leaned around him to get a look, her conversation with Neve coming to an abrupt end.

"I—" Sabriel started, but Emmrich cut in before she could say anything.

"My apologies, it took longer to return than anticipated." He gently laid a hand on Sabriel's shoulder, giving her a slight smile. "The Crows were quite worried about her, and we needed time to reassure them."

Rook's shoulders slumped in relief. "For the record Emmrich, "Issue with Sabriel in Treviso. Will return with news." is not a very helpful message."

Emmrich's smile took on an apologetic tilt. "Ah yes, I had hoped to be more detailed but the young de Riva was quite insistent I come with him immediately. Though the emergency was not nearly so dire as they made it seem."

"What—"

"I just got lost!" Sabriel burst out. Everyone was staring at her and her skin was prickling and the room was too bright and she just wanted the interrogation to end already. "I took a wrong turn out of the hospital and got very lost. I'm deeply sorry for concerning everyone and you have my word it will not happen again. It has been a very long day and I would very much like to take a bath, please."

There was silence for a moment as Rook exchanged a look with the other mages. "Yeah, of course, sorry Sabriel." He nodded, dropping his voice to a more soothing register. "Maybe check with Lucanis in the kitchen once you're done. I think he saved you some food from dinner."

Of course he did. Why did he pay so much attention to her eating habits? It was a shame that food was going to go to waste, because she had no plans to even look at Lucanis tonight. She'd had enough of the Crows for today.

The others murmured amongst themselves as she hurried to her room to grab what she needed for a bath, and she studiously ignored them as they watched her depart the library for the bath house.

-----------------

By the time she left the bath, the rest of the group had retreated to their rooms. She didn't see anyone but the Caretaker as she crossed the courtyard, wringing out her wet hair and blessedly free of stinging cuts and obvious bruises. She normally wouldn't waste the energy on magical healing for herself, but she wanted the entire ordeal to be behind her as quickly as possible.

She hadn't lied to the others about the attack solely to avoid their worry. The fact that the Venatori had known where she was, and had countermeasures against her main methods of attack chilled her to her bones. If the others found out, and started guessing at where the information was coming from, or why they would go after her, or what else the gods might be up to…

Her thoughts were spinning enough on their own. The extra anxiety from others would just make everything worse. She just needed to avoid going to Treviso on her own for some time. That was easy enough.

Except the Venatori weren't only in Treviso. So maybe she would need to avoid going to Minrathous as well. And now Arlathan too, probably. Should she warn Emmrich about this? His necromancy was different than hers, so maybe it was less likely they'd be resistant to it? She hadn't had enough time in the encounter to test the boundaries of their protection. That was a significant oversight on her part.

Another wave of guilt passed through her as she walked into her room. She would have to find a roundabout way to warn Emmrich. The last thing she wanted was for him to get hurt because of her.

She gently closed her bedroom door behind her, standing in the warm darkness of the entryway for a moment before shuffling towards her bed, lighting her desk lamp on the way. The dim bluish light gave the room an otherworldly air that reminded her almost painfully of home sometimes. She wondered not for the first time if the Lighthouse knew how to make its occupants most comfortable.

She had yet to open the debate over the Lighthouse's sentience to Emmrich and Bellara. It was a conversation she wanted to reserve for a better day.

Tossing her towel to the side, she sank onto her bed with a deep sigh. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she couldn't stop the endless spinning in her mind.

Why had the Venatori attacked her? Why now?

There was a swift, businesslike knock on the door, making her heart jolt in her chest. Hadn't everyone gone to bed?

"Are you still awake?" Lucanis's voice was muffled by the door, but it was recognizably him and not Spite.

She decided it would be too rude to ignore him, so she went to let him in. "I thought we were working on the insomnia," She chided gently as she opened the door.

He was standing a bit awkwardly, tray in his hands, an inscrutable expression on his face. "You didn't eat dinner." He met her gaze and then quickly glanced away.

"Gnawing, burning inside. Trembling outside. Heat making the room spin." Spite piped up from where he was lurking behind Lucanis. "You always say. Food is most important medicine."

"You're almost as nosy as Compassion," She grumbled as she moved out of the doorway to allow them inside. She felt a small tinge of smug satisfaction as Spite scoffed, offended at the comparison.

Silently they settled in, Sabriel at her desk and Lucanis standing, leaning against the foot of her bed. Spite, as usual, skittered about the room, examining objects he'd doubtlessly seen dozens of times by now.

Looking down at the tray, Sabriel almost laughed. A sandwich, a mug of what was most likely cioccolata calda, and a freshly sliced pear. It was so similar to a lunch she had laid out for him on this desk before, when he used to occasionally wake up on the floor of her room.

"It's…there were portabella mushrooms in Minrathous today," He attempted to explain as she picked up one half of the sandwich to examine it closer.

He was still so careful to remember. She couldn't quite look at him as she managed to push a "Thank you" past the lump in her throat.

"Mm." He nodded and she began to eat, slowly and methodically. He would leave when she was finished and she was realizing that maybe she didn't want to be alone in this moment after all.

An awkward silence blanketed the room. She could practically feel that Lucanis wanted to say something, but there was no chance she was about to talk with her mouth full so she couldn't ask.

"I…" He finally began, "I wasn't aware you were still visiting Treviso."

She swallowed. "Strictly speaking, Rook asked me to stop but…" Waiting for word back from the Necropolis, waiting for Rook and the others to return from whatever dangerous mission they'd been dragged out to, waiting for news of Caterina, waiting for information about the gods, waiting waiting waiting. "Idle hands invite trouble. And people still need help there."

"Emmrich said you got lost." He was trying to sound neutral but she could tell he didn't believe it.

The others probably didn't either.

"Mm. It was a long day, and I took an exit that was different than usual."

To his credit, he didn't argue with her. But when she glanced at him sidelong, his brow was furrowed and his expression was more intense than she would have liked.

"Smells like…iron and hatred." Spite spoke up from the corner of her room, staring at where she had left her gear from the day. "Stagnant salty air. Copper and rust. Venatori."

She froze as Lucanis's gaze sharpened.

"You encountered Venatori in Treviso."

He was angry. Her heart leapt into her throat. Of course he was angry. He was worried about the Cantori Diamond, the hospital, Teia and Viago and the Crows—

"Nothing happened!" She turned to face him, hands waving frantically. "They didn't go after the hospital or the Crows or anything. They were only prepared to deal with me, so it obviously wasn't a larger operation, and there were only two anyway so—"

"What do you mean they were prepared to deal with you?" He interrupted, and if anything his expression became even more intense.

She shouldn't have said that. She sat in silence guilt crawled its way back up her throat. He deserved to know the truth. It was his home they were talking about. She had to find the courage to be honest, even if it meant he would tell Rook and she would get in trouble again.

She took a deep breath. "They followed me after I left the market. I-I was worried they could find out about the eluvian, so I went a different way. And I tried to pin them down in an alleyway, but they had some kind of…ward? Or a magical shield? My usual necromancy barely made an impact at all." A shiver went down her spine as she remembered the sudden powerlessness. "So I ran. Blindly, through whatever alleyways I could. I would have jumped into the canals if it weren't…"

"The Blight." Lucanis's voice was tight. His expression didn't shift at all as she spoke, but his grip tightened on his sleeve where his arms were crossed.

Nodding, she shakily reached for a piece of the pear and ate it, taking a moment to collect herself. "I finally shook them off by taking to the rooftops but by that point, I was thoroughly lost. And with the Antaam everywhere, and the potential of running into more Venatori and the Blight taking up so much space, it was just…hard to find my way back."

By the time she finished, the wobble in her voice was unmistakable. It was starting to hit her now — how terrifying that experience had been, how alone she felt, even with Vigilance watching her back.

Lucanis wasn't moving, hands still clenched in his sleeves. She could practically feel him thinking.

"I-I don't…know how they knew I would be there. Usually they don't spend much time in Treviso, and I didn't think they could find out that much about our movements, but…" In the face of his silence, she felt compelled to keep talking. "It was clear they knew where I would be from the moment I got there. A-And they weren't warded against all magic, just necromancy."

"Did they speak to you?"

She shook her head. "Only to gloat about the gods granting them strength, as usual. They shouted a few things in Tevene that I didn't understand, but…" She paused, trying to recall. "They argued over who was going to try to climb to the roof and follow me…something about not wanting to be the one to explain to the future First Ta—" She clapped her hand over her mouth.

How had she been so stupid? She almost overlooked the most important detail. All that spiraling and the answer had been right in front of her face the whole time.

"First Talon." Lucanis finished for her, barely concealing his rage.

"Illario!" Spite snarled through Lucanis's mouth, not bothering to hide his own rage.

"We don't know that for sure! Maybe they were following orders from…someone else…?" Even as she said it, she knew it was pointless.

Spite's eyes flashed. "He will die!"

"Spite, we already talked about this—"

"No. He's right." With a grimace, Lucanis pushed himself back into control. "Illario is family, but forgiveness is becoming beyond his reach."

Her heart sank. He had considered reconciliation with his cousin possible, until now, when she had gotten involved. This was just another thing she was going to ruin.

As she stared at her hands, Lucanis spoke up again, his voice harsh. "I am sorry that you've gotten dragged into this mess. Regardless of what happens, he will pay for what he's done to you."

"Lucanis, you don't have to—"

"We need to tell Rook about this."

She looked up, alarmed. "Do…do we have to? I can just avoid going to Treviso for a little while, it should be—"

"Illario knows your faces. He has shown he is willing to go after my allies. Should the Crows need our support again, Rook must know." His eyes were hard as flint.

He was right. She was being selfish to put her desire for something to do over the safety and wellbeing of the rest of the group. Wilting, she nodded. "I will…inform him of the truth. But can it at least wait until morning?" She needed time to work up the courage to face Rook's disapproving stare once again.

"Right. You need to rest." He swept past her to scoop up the tray from her desk.

She was going to object — she hadn't finished the cioccolata calda — but thought better of it. He was upset, and she wasn't good company right now. It would be better for him to leave.

"Thank you for the food." She said mutely, not looking at him as he made his way to the door.

He stopped before opening it, looking over his shoulder. He hesitated a moment before saying simply, "Get some sleep."

And then he was gone.

Left alone in the dim light of her lamp, Sabriel rested her forehead on her desk and let herself cry for the first time that day.

-----------------

I feel like this needs a part two so maybe it'll get one. Eventually.

Lucanis knew he fell asleep on his cot in the pantry.

He had done the entire "nighttime" routine that Sabriel had talked him into, actually read to Spite like Emmrich had suggested, forewent his final cup of coffee, and settled in for a decent amount of sleep.

So why was he standing in the Lighthouse courtyard? And why did it look so wrong?

The Lighthouse's Fade sky rarely changed based on time, yet somehow he was standing in dim twilight, the sparkle of stars beginning to show above him. There was more lush greenery around than he was used to, and new pathways stretched into the Fade beyond, lined with bushes, flowers, and the occasional headstone.

…Wait, headstone?

"Not Rook's Lighthouse."

Spite's voice came from beside him, his purple doppelganger manifesting to his left.

He glanced down as the demon crouched to poke at the flowers sprouting between the cobblestones. Was he more…solid than usual?

"Her Lighthouse. A copy. Like your prison. Was different than our prison." Spite plucked one of the flowers from the ground and held it up to his nose. "Doesn't smell right." He glared at the bloom in accusation.

"Why can you never just say something clearly?" Lucanis growled, "Whose Lighthouse? How was it copied? Did you drag us somewhere else in the Fade?"

How could Spite transport them that far in the brief amount of time he had been asleep? What was he even trying to accomplish?

"Dreaming." The demon responded, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Compassion let us in."

"A dream? What are you—" He stopped short, the answer clicking together in his head.

The flowers. The headstones. A copied Lighthouse. Hers.

"You dragged me into Sabriel's dreams?" He wasn't sure if he should be angry or horrified, looking around as he allowed the new context to color his understanding of the space. It looked like a cross between the Lighthouse and the Memorial Gardens— a fitting space for her.

"Should smell like home."

Something twisted in Lucanis's gut, but he ignored it. "Spite, why are we here?"

"They're loud. She won't listen." Spite stared ahead at the door that usually lead to the Lighthouse's library. Where it went in Sabriel's dreams, Lucanis didn't know. "You don't belong here. New voice. She might listen."

He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. It did him no good to argue with Spite— the Fade was the demon's territory, not his. They had agreed to work together, and new partnerships meant some stumbling blocks.

It was up to him to be the mature one here.

"When you say I don't belong here, you mean Sabriel's never dreamed about me before?" The question made him feel a sense of…rejection, which he hastily buried to focus on the task at hand.

Spite shook his head. "Thoughts. Feelings. Fears. Memories. Compassion. Hope. Vigilance." He wrinkled his nose. "Determination. These belong here. She doesn't listen. She expects to hear me."

Scratching his beard, Lucanis nodded along. "So she thinks you're just another phase of the dream, instead of something trying to change it." At Spite's affirmation, he continued, brows furrowed, "But why are we trying to change it?"

"It hurts her. Giving up. Dragging her back." Spite sounded angry. "Loneliness swallows her."

So it was a bad dream. Lucanis couldn't help but wonder if that was why she seemed so distant recently. He had assumed it was just because their work against the elven gods was wearing everyone a little thin, but it seemed her personal burdens might be heavier than she was letting on.

After all that effort she put into convincing him to allow others to help carry his troubles.

"And she says I'm stubborn." With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to Spite. "So then. Where do we start?"

Spite turned back to the large Lighthouse doors. "Inside. A long way down."

"Start at the entrance. What else would it be?" Scoffing, he squared his shoulders, and strode confidently to the doors, gesturing for Spite to come along.

--

The Lighthouse library remained largely unchanged, much to Lucanis's surprise. Similar to the courtyard, the space was very clearly the Lighthouse, but slightly shifted to reflect Sabriel's Nevarran roots. The wall decorations and bookshelves were in the style of the Grand Necropolis, with sharp edges and skull decorations. There were small sand dunes scattered near the edges of the walls, though even those were broken up with flowering vines that crept along the stones and up the stairs— all leading to the door to Sabriel's den and beyond.

"…Are you sure it's all right for us to be here?" Lucanis asked softly, staring at the unassuming door. A few flower petals littered the threshold. He knew what Spite's answer would be. He knew what he wanted it to be.

But having had his own mental space intruded upon without warning, he was uniquely equipped to know that this experience was likely to profoundly change her— and he wasn't sure it would be for the better.

He wasn't as kind as she was.

"She can't give up." Spite glared at him.

"Right," Lucanis breathed, reaching for the door's handle. "We owe her this much."

He pushed on the door, breaking a few of the vines in the effort. The surviving plants stretched into the darkness ahead.

Spite charged forward and he followed a step behind, allowing himself to be swallowed by the darkness.

Beyond the doorway, all resemblance to the Lighthouse ended.

A wide hallway stretched before them, ending in that same impenetrable blackness. Green flames flickered along the path, a faint breeze causing shadows to dance on the walls and grains of sand to shift — catching on the vines that continued crawling their way along the stone floor. There were fewer blooms here, but the leaves were still vibrantly green.

Lucanis's footsteps echoed loudly in the cavernous space— likely because he expected them to, if Bellara's rambling about the Fade was to be believed. Spite made no noise at all as he glided alongside. The demon looked around avidly, as if searching for something.

"She's here. But she's not here."

Lucanis rolled his eyes. "So how are we supposed to find her? Keep walking until we run into a wall?"

Spite didn't respond. He just pressed onward, skulking down the hall and sniffling the air like some sort of absurd dog.

Concluding the demon would be no help, Lucanis took stock of the area around him. It seemed like part of the Necropolis from what he had seen so far— one of the many nondescript passages that lead to different tombs. That place was a maze, and it seemed Sabriel's mind was determined to keep it that way. He shuffled along, trying to find an indication of where to go next, when he nearly tripped, his foot caught on a vine.

"These blasted—" Catching himself, he looked down at where his foot had gotten caught, eyes tracing the verdant lines breaking up the monotony of the gray stone and sand.

They weren't growing randomly. He'd assumed they were just up and down the corridor as aesthetic set dressing, much like the flowers had been in the Lighthouse courtyard. But they took a sudden turn, instead of following the line through to the end of the hallway.

Lucanis followed the trail of green and discovered that part of the wall was more defined, more solid, with a stone archway that continued through to a new hallway.

He frowned. Were the vines were some kind of guiding line? Why would Sabriel's dream contain assistance for an outside party? Surely she wasn't expecting them.

He jumped as he heard Spite's growl far closer than he was expecting. "Compassion."

Spite had mentioned compassion earlier. It was only now that Lucanis realized he meant the spirit. "The one you said let us in?"

"Helping. Not needed," Spite grumbled, before stalking along into the next hallway.

Already feeling hopelessly lost, Lucanis wasn't sure he agreed.

They followed the vines for what felt like an eternity; through cavernous halls, unmarked tombsites, and all manner of dusty passageways that seemed to exist just to confuse them. It was exhausting and frustrating— much like talking to Sabriel could be, when one tried to get a straight answer from her.

What in the Creator's name was their mild-mannered healer hiding in this labyrinth?

Lucanis found himself pondering the question as he came upon the first thing that stood out in the unending halls— a door that looked suspiciously like one that would be found in Treviso.

"Smells like blight and guilt." Spite crossed his arms, regarding the door neutrally.

"Blight?" Lucanis blinked. "The Blight can't invade dreams, can it?"

"Memory of blight. Not real."

"Right."

With only a moment of hesitation, Lucanis opened the door. Beyond was a sight that was painfully familiar— the old Treviso marketplace, transformed into a makeshift clinic to handle the many, many infected after the blighted dragon spread disease through the canals.

Lucanis strode through the narrow gaps between cots, a tightness in his chest, coughing on the scent of herbs and smoke. The people here were indistinct, their features blurry. They were backdrop to a nightmare, not the focus.

"Why would she be dreaming of—" He began to ask, then stopped as one figure, clearer than the others, hurried past without a second glance at him.

She was smaller than she should have been. Softer.

Was Sabriel always that fragile-looking?

She was carrying a crate full of vials, the glass clinking together as she rushed to duck into a tent. He followed along after, confused and trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Was this a dream? Or a memory?

"All right, lethallin, it's time for the medicine again." She set the crate down on a small table within the tent, her gentle voice rousing the occupants of the cots within.

It seemed this tent was primarily occupied by young elves— mostly teenagers, though one appeared to have a little sibling.

Lucanis stood for a moment, watching the scene in front of him unfold in quiet contemplation. He knew the others went in and out of the Lighthouse at times, usually to confer with their factions and assist in their hometowns, but he had no idea she had been spending her spare time here.

"Home isn't home. People need me here." Blinking out of his reverie, Lucanis turned to the source of the new voice to his right.

"Ugh." Spite sounded disgusted, turning away from the new spirit.

He presumed this was Compassion.

The blue spirit simply smiled languidly in return. "Determination. The Crow that no longer clips his wings." They nodded at Lucanis. "You have come to help."

"She hasn't even acknowledged me. How am I supposed to help?" He stared at the shade of Sabriel, her back to him as she sorted through her medicines. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea that any of these spirits thought he would be a good source of advice or comfort, especially for someone like her.

She cajoled the smallest elf to sip at one of the vials, laughing in sympathy when the child made a face of disgust.

"She is not here. A part of her dwells here, in the guilt that she cannot stop this, in the desire to do more." Compassion's light-as-air voice glided to his ears, a calming lilt. "We must find her, farther along. I can show you the way."

"We can do it. Alone," Spite insisted grumpily.

Compassion had already started to move, Lucanis realized with a start. He jogged to catch up, leaving the shade of Sabriel behind as she quietly passed around slices of clementine to the children as a reward for tolerating their medicine.

"You must not get lost here. It may become difficult to leave," Compassion continued as Lucanis came alongside them. Spite followed behind, a few steps back. "Deeper down, darker, colder, where despair and loneliness lies. My influence can only go so far."

"So that's why you need us?" Lucanis glanced over his shoulder at Spite, who scowled.

"You, Demon of Vyrantium." He felt a chill at hearing the moniker in Compassion's placid tone. "You know her."

They opened the door to Cafe Pietra, leading the group back into the dusty hallways of Sabriel's dreaming mind.

Lucanis shouldn't have been able to feel his heart pounding, yet the illusion was there all the same. Did he know her? Before their visit to the Necropolis, he would have insisted that Rook knew her the best and yet. He was the one that sought her out in the Memorial Gardens, where she hid from her…father? He was the one she had cried to, confessed her deep fear of never being good enough— a feeling he understood so deeply it almost made him nauseous at the thought.

Was that what this was about?

Lost in thought, he didn't realize they had reached a new door— this one was dark wood, with a large central window of delicate stained glasswork. It was unfamiliar.

"A place of pain. You must find the stairs in the doors beyond." Compassion ushered Lucanis towards the door. "Heed not the voices within and find the door of stone."

Apparently all spirits had a habit of saying vague, ominous warnings and then not elaborating.

"How do you know that's the way?" He asked, trying to channel his frustration into a more productive line of thought.

Compassion's smile faded slightly. "We stay near; watching, waiting, willing her to find home again. Before the choice is taken from her." They regarded him in silence for a brief moment. "She will accept from us what she will not from you. But we cannot fix it. This place is not real for those like you."

Why did he even bother.

"Let's. Go." Spite's impatience mirrored his own, though Spite's fierce glare did not seem to bother Compassion one bit.

With one final smile, the spirit slowly faded from view. "Determination. Spite. Give her the will to fight."

One hand on the doorknob, Lucanis turned to Spite. "Every single one of you is infuriating to deal with."

"I am not. Like. Them."

Lucanis pushed open the door.

Marble floors, a central staircase and many, many bones and flowers were mixed in the decor of the foyer they found themselves standing in. It was not grand or stately, but held a dignified air to it nevertheless: a space that belonged to someone of means, but not necessarily of status. It was clearly Nevarran— the structure reminded him somewhat of that haunted manor Emmrich had dragged them to before, in pursuit of Johanna Hezenkoss, though it was clearly smaller.

The still silence of the room was broken when he heard a muted but clearly raised voice from the right side hallway.

"Not a shred of remorse…!"

Compassion had told them not to listen to the voices, but he found himself drifting towards the door at the end of the hall— it was glass and iron, prismatic and lovely.

As it opened, he heard a different voice respond. "You do not need to defend me if you find my actions so deplorable, sir." It was Sabriel's voice, but…

There was no one here. Glimmering sunlight filtered through the glass walls, filling the lush green space with warmth, but there was no one present to enjoy it.

"Deplorable does not even begin to cover it, Sabriel Ingellvar. You were not raised a boor, turning to violence to solve your problems at any opportunity!" The first voice sounded again— angry, aggressive, disapproving.

"How can it be the actions of a boor when violence is a tool readily employed by the nobility against—"

"Do not begin to consider yourself on the same level as those of noble blood." The voice turned cold. "You once knew your place. I cannot fathom what possessed you to think you were allowed to step out of it."

"Fear. Anger. Indignation. Heavy with shame." Spite sounded almost…sad. "I don't like it here."

Lucanis was rooted to the spot, eyes fixed on a table in the center of the room. Two chairs, one toppled onto the ground. A full service tea set sat on the table, with two full cups, but all of the food was untouched.

"If I had known this is how things would turn out, I never would have brought you here in the first place."

One of the teacups shattered.

Compassion told them not to listen to the voices. They needed to keep going.

"There's no stone door here, Spite. Let's go."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the solarium, his teeth clenched.

Spite popped into existence in front of him. "That voice. We should—"

"We're going to leave it alone," Lucanis cut him off. He knew how Spite felt. He could feel how Spite felt. It was almost tangible in this dream space.

But getting angry at her guardian wasn't going to help them right now. And he couldn't even be sure that conversation was real. But if this is what her nightmares were like…

He ignored Spite's protests and turned his full focus to searching the rest of the house. The sooner they got out of here with Sabriel in tow, the better.

Unlike the Necropolis halls, the house was compact and felt almost real. There were no absurdly long hallways or doors that went nowhere. Lucanis got the impression that this was a space she knew intimately well.

It made finding the stone door they sought much easier— it was the only door that didn't fit with the rest of the house. He had assumed it would be something on the ground floor, like a cellar, or somewhere in the garden, like the family mausoleum of Blackthorne Manor.

But instead he found it on the second floor, in the back corner. There was a window to the garden in front of it, more warm sunlight streaming through, illuminating the single word carved into it:

Ingellvar.

"Cinnamon. Old ink. Coldness. Despair." Spite said, growl low in his throat. "It's. Here."

"Only one thing to do then."

Lucanis reached out his hand, pressed his palm onto the stone and pushed. The door barely moved.

She was determined to be stubborn to the end, it seemed.

Digging in his heels, Lucanis braced his shoulder against the door, leveraging his full weight to slowly push it open, stone grinding against stone.

"Mierda…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he pulled back out of the doorway. "Is this how much she had to go through to help me?"

"Yes," Spite replied simply, and Lucanis winced inwardly.

"Then I deserve this."

They stood for a moment, warily regarding the staircase beyond the door. The imitation of the Necropolis had been dark and dusty, but this was something entirely different. The darkness seemed to emanate an aura of malice, a creeping cold crawling towards the open doorway.

He couldn't help but hope she wasn't actually down there.

The darkness felt complete as he began descending the stairs— Spite's strange purple aura was the only light for nearly the entire way down. Whispers brushed against his ears, their words unclear but the sound unsettling.

"Loud. Too loud. They never stop. Talking," Spite complained loudly, swatting at the air as if he could shoo the whispers away. The darkness swallowed his voice, the muted tone barely carrying instead of echoing like Lucanis expected.

They went down, and down, and down some more. Without being able to see ahead, the stairs felt neverending. Lucanis found himself grateful that this was a dream, that he wouldn't have to climb these steps back up to exit.

A candlestick, set at the bottom of the steps, illuminated the large chamber that lie at the bottom.

Stone floors, stone columns, and a low stone ceiling— the room was open, with only a few large mound shapes scattered about in the dim light of the candlesticks that seemed to be spread throughout.

As he stepped down from the final stair, Lucanis realized what the large shadows were—tombs. There were a number of them throughout the crypt, some flat-topped, others bearing an effigy upon the lid.

The one closest to him looked distinctly like Bellara. He felt his blood run cold.

"Not real. Not memory. Fear. Nightmare," Spite said insistently, glaring around the space. "Smells like terror. Loneliness."

Lucanis knew, logically, that this was a dream. But as he continued through the crypt, he couldn't help the dread he felt as he came upon one effigy after another: Harding, Neve, Emmrich, Rook—

Was the room getting colder? Were the whispers getting louder?

"You know you want to stay."

One voice began to stand out among the rest.

"Here, it is safe. Here, it is calm. Here, you have nothing to fear."

Where was it coming from?

"Child of nothing. Child of no one. Embrace the comforting dark. The shadows that cling, the spirits that love you. You will never have to say goodbye."

"No, I—"

That was Sabriel's voice. Her real voice, not the echo of a shade.

"I promised—"

"Sabriel?" He spotted her in the gloom, standing next to one of the tombs with a flat lid, her hand resting on it gently. Lurking all around her was a dark mist-like figure, one long-fingered hand lying on top of hers.

Her head snapped up, meeting his gaze. Her eyes widened, her face distressed.

"No… No no no you're not here this time! I checked, I made sure, you shouldn't be— you can't be—" She yanked her hand off the tomb, backing away from him. Her eyes flicked to the side, presumably looking at Spite. "You can't be here! You don't even have a body to bury!" She was shouting, trembling. She turned, frantically looking around. "Yours wasn't here, it wasn't, not this time, not—"

She cut off as he took a few cautious steps forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Sabriel, this isn't part of your dream. Spite brought me here." He glanced over his shoulder at the demon, expecting some kind of backup.

But apparently Spite was occupied. He was glaring at the spot where the dark mist had been— it seemed to have vanished the moment Sabriel recognized their presence.

She was struggling to breathe— a testament to how panicked she was, needing to believe that she could breathe in this space-that-wasn't. "No, no, no that's…how would that be…"

He took another few slow steps towards her, trying to keep his voice gentle. "You already know Spite can pull people into the Fade."

"Not hard. In Lighthouse." Spite shrugged. He began slinking about the space on his own, hunting in the dark corners for signs of the other presence.

Sabriel blinked hard against the tears that were welling in her eyes. "Lucanis doesn't usually talk to me like that."

He stopped in his tracks, with still a bit of distance between them, but close enough to converse normally. "Like what?"

"…Gently. Reasoning with me." She looked…perplexed. "He's usually…telling me I'm naive, scolding me for being too understanding, yelling at me for getting involved in his affairs…"

His heart sank and he couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped him. "Such a flattering portrayal of me in your mind."

He deserved it, of course. He had been cruel to her. Many times.

Her face shifted, the terror bleeding away. Apparently that had been the correct response.

"…It really is you? Lucanis?" She peeled herself away from the pillar she had been clinging to, shuffling a few steps forward to meet him. "Spite really did bring you here…but why?"

He pursed his lips. He wasn't sure how honest to be with her— how alarming would it be to be told that a demon was eavesdropping on your dreams and decided you needed help?

"…You have been struggling, since we went to the Watcher archive. Your eyes go distant at times, your reaction times are slower. And now it seems like you are struggling with sleep." He fought to keep his voice neutral, inwardly cringing at the irony. He had yelled at her for doing the exact same thing to him.

When did their situations become so opposite?

She sighed. "Spite's been snooping in my dreams again, I see." She crossed her arms in front of herself protectively. "And decided to bring you along this time."

Leave it to her to guess the truth anyway.

"…Again? What do you mean again?" He suddenly felt like he and his demon needed to have a serious conversation about the idea of "privacy."

She wouldn't look at him. "He's drifted in a few times. We usually have good conversations, but I've never quite managed to keep him from getting into places he shouldn't." She hugged herself tighter. "Though Compassion and Hope are the same way, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised…"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm…sorry. If it helps, I don't think he would have done this if he wasn't…worried." It felt odd to say about the demon he once of thought of as a torment and a nuisance, but he could feel how much Spite cared. It was sometimes hard to separate from his own feelings.

"So he brought you in here to…what? Wake me up? That can be done normally. He knows that." She was guarded. Defensive.

"To get you away. From them." Spite reappeared between them, frustrated and annoyed. "Got away. Not here anymore."

"Away from who?" She phrased it as a question, but Sabriel sounded almost afraid of the answer— and like she might know what it was.

"Loud. Always in your mind. Pulling you down. Down here."

She flinched. "I'm…working on it."

Lucanis glanced between them, piecing together what he could from their vague allusions. "Does this have something to do with that…thing from earlier? What was it that was talking to you?"

"You saw it?" Suddenly she was deeply distressed again, horror evident in her voice. "You— no it's not really—" She covered her mouth with her hands. "It…is real, isn't it…"

"Loneliness digs in deeper. I won't let it."

"Will one of you explain to me what is going on?" Lucanis demanded, reaching the end of his patience. He was trying to be supportive, really, but how was he supposed to help when all he was given was vague allusions to the real problem?

Lowering her hands from her face, Sabriel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she lowered her shoulders and opened her eyes, her gaze was sharp.

"If this is a dream, you probably won't remember most of it anyway." So she wanted to be combative about it?

"Then explain it to me when we're awake. And out of…whatever creepy tomb for our friends you've constructed in your mind." He snapped, but regretted it instantly. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go.

They stood in tense silence for a moment before Sabriel seemed to come to some kind of decision.

"Come with me."

She grabbed his wrist and started pulling him forward, back towards the stairs. Before he could even breathe a word of complaint about having to climb back up, the scenery around him shifted in a burst of light that was almost blinding after the darkness of the crypt.

Suddenly, they were back in the Lighthouse courtyard. Night had fully fallen now, the stars bright in the Fade sky. The grass drifted in a faint breeze. She pulled him towards one of the paths that stretched into the nothing beyond the Lighthouse, letting go of his hand and drifting to a stop near one of the headstones.

"These ones are friendlier. At least these graves are people I've actually buried."

He didn't know what to say to that. He glanced at her questioningly.

"…This is a higher level of dream. You're more likely to remember the details this way." She took a steadying breath. "I don't think I'm…brave enough to talk about this in the waking world."

It was an olive branch, and he was going to take it— even if it meant standing in uncomfortable silence for a long time, waiting for her to speak.

She stared at the grave in front of them, looking at it but not seeing it. Slowly, quietly, she began to speak.

"I…have been hearing the voices of spirits my entire life. My Watch teachers insisted it was a natural consequence of early, prolonged exposure to the Necropolis. It made sense enough, so I've never questioned it.

Most of the voices are…normal. Pleasant even. It's how I made friends for a very long time. Some of them have been with me since I was little— Patience, especially." She smiled faintly at the thought.

"But when I was…when I left, I expected that to change. The Fade is somewhat connected to the waking world, after all, and what occurs in the waking world influences it. I thought I would hear new voices, experience new things. And instead…"

"Something kept calling to you," Lucanis cut in, as he started putting pieces together. "Spite said it was…loud."

She nodded, shamefaced. "I thought it was just…another part of my own mind, dragging up negative thoughts and turning them into nightmares. But now…" She began picking at one of her nails, still staring at the ground. "It's louder. There are more voices, and they're more insistent than before." She finally, finally glanced at him. "And I think it's trying to pull me back to the Necropolis. For good."

He felt a chill run down his spine. "You think it's trying to kill you?"

"In a sense?" She sighed. "The part of me that is me, perhaps."

That didn't make much sense to him, but he was well aware that spirits and magic were beyond his usual understanding anyway.

She closed her eyes, taking another steadying breath. "I wanted to look in the Watcher archives, to find out if there was record of any kind of…particularly powerful spirit somewhere in the Necropolis." She raised a hand as he opened his mouth. "Other than the Formless One. That one was far too arrogant for something this…subtle."

He snorted in agreement. Something so arrogant as to only accept a dragon corpse as a vessel surely wouldn't be spending so much energy on a single mage.

"I think…going back there was a mistake." She rubbed her arm absently. "I think it found me again. It's…hard to ignore what they're saying."

"What did it mean "you will never have to say goodbye?" What is it trying to promise you?"

She screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "Nothing I should believe. Nothing it can actually give me." Her voice slowly trailed off. "But I'm so tired. And I'm scared…"

He reached out to try to comfort her, but stopped when she suddenly covered her face with her hands. "And I cannot believe I am telling you this! What am I even saying! I'm supposed to…I should be…" He heard a wet-sounding laugh. "Mythal'enaste. What a hypocrite I am."

He breathed a quiet laugh. "Would you believe me if I said I understand how you feel?"

She laughed harder this time, pulling her hands away from her face. "I don't know, I'd have to see for myself I think."

Committing this time, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "You have always told us that we're a team, that we don't have to do things alone."

"And then I always turn away. Before I get my hopes up," She hiccuped, wiping at her eyes. "…Before I can be left behind again."

He thought back to the tombs, in the depths of her dreams, realization dawning on him. "You don't want to be the only one left…"

"People cannot get hurt because of me. I can protect them, if they don't need to protect me."

"And holding all of that up on your own is exhausting," He confirmed, his voice tight. How had he been unable to see it before? She was trying to carry her burdens the same way he did— no wonder he hated it when she noticed things about him. No wonder she was able to.

"I…" She started, then stopped. She was focused, thinking hard. "I was going to ask for help. Once I knew more. Once I knew I could handle it. Once…once I could prove that I was worth the effort." She blew a gusty sigh. "It sounds so stupid. I would be so upset if someone said that to me."

He hummed in agreement, causing her to snap her head to look at him, eyes wide. "You're not supposed to agree with me!"

He barked a startled laugh. "You want me to argue with you about your own feelings?"

She blinked, then pouted, staring at her feet. "No…"

He smiled at her, a sense of fondness overtaking him.

…When did that happen?

Awkwardly clearing his throat, he pressed forward. "You should tell Rook about this." Seeing her shoulders flinch, he hurriedly continued, "I can…I will help. If you…wanted."

"I will talk. To Rook." Spite shoved his way into their space, leaning on Lucanis's shoulder. It felt like an actual weight for once. Apparently he was more solid in the Fade?

"You can help talk to Rook," He said firmly, giving Spite a meaningful look, willing him to behave.

Sabriel looked at both of them for a long moment, before nodding, hesitant smile on her face. "I would appreciate that. I…" She pursed her lips, glancing away before looking back, determined. "I want to be able to live without fear. The way you all seem to."

"To fight!" Spite agreed, jostling her shoulder with his exuberance.

Lucanis rolled his eyes as Sabriel giggled. "Yes Spite, you're right. I think it's time to fight." She turned her eyes out into the void of the Fade sky. "I…don't think I'll be able to rid myself of these dreams until it's all over but. Would you mind if I…talked about them? Sometimes…?"

Her voice was small. Fragile. He thought back to that smaller Sabriel, from her dream of Treviso.

"You can talk to me any time." He hoped she realized just how much he meant it.

Her answering smile was all the confirmation he needed.

Then suddenly, his eyes were open in the dim light of the Lighthouse pantry.

He stared at the ceiling, wondering how he would be able to tell if he was truly awake or just in another layer of dreaming. As he sat up, the heaviness of his body gave him the distinct impression that he was, in fact, awake.

Dreaming was apparently hard work.

He pulled himself to his feet slowly, rolling his shoulders and mulling over whether he was going to add anything to his coffee today. He needed to get it started before Neve came in and burned the grounds.

Lucanis knew he fell asleep on his cot in the pantry.

He had done the entire "nighttime" routine that Sabriel had talked him into, actually read to Spite like Emmrich had suggested, forewent his final cup of coffee, and settled in for a decent amount of sleep.

So why was he standing in the Lighthouse courtyard? And why did it look so wrong?

The Lighthouse's Fade sky rarely changed based on time, yet somehow he was standing dim twilight, the sparkle of stars beginning to show above him. There was more lush greenery around than he was used to, and new pathways stretched into the Fade beyond, lined with bushes, flowers, and the occasional headstone.

…Wait, headstone?

"Not Rook's Lighthouse."

Spite's voice came from beside him, his purple doppelganger manifesting to his left.

He glanced down as the demon crouched to poke at the flowers sprouting between the cobblestones. Was he more…solid than usual?

"Her Lighthouse. A copy. Like your prison. Was different than our prison." Spite plucked one of the flowers from the ground and held it up to his nose. "Doesn't smell right." He glared at the bloom in accusation.

"Why can you never just say something clearly?" Lucanis growled, "Whose Lighthouse? How was it copied? Did you drag us somewhere else in the Fade?"

How could Spite transport them that far in the brief amount of time he had been asleep? What was he even trying to accomplish?

"Dreaming." The demon responded, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Compassion let us in."

"A dream? What are you—" He stopped short, the answer clicking together in his head.

The flowers. The headstones. A copied Lighthouse. Hers.

"You dragged me into Sabriel's dreams?" He wasn't sure if he should be angry or horrified, looking around as he allowed the new context to color his understanding of the space. It looked like a cross between the Lighthouse and the Memorial Gardens— a fitting space for her.

"Should smell like home."

Something twisted in Lucanis's gut, but he ignored it. "Spite, why are we here?"

"They're loud. She won't listen." Spite stared ahead at the door that usually lead to the Lighthouse's library. Where it went in Sabriel's dreams, Lucanis didn't know. "You don't belong here. New voice. She might listen."

He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. It did him no good to argue with Spite— the Fade was the demon's territory, not his. They had agreed to work together, and new partnerships meant some stumbling blocks.

It was up to him to be the mature one here.

---

I think Lucanis's edgelord attitude would've killed on 2010s tumblr what can I say. I also think his aesthetic sense is much more refined than Sabi's. She has to be a bit hand-held to put on outfits that are more complicated than pants and a top that's a matching color LOL

Also Lucanis IS the more sentimental of the two and I will not listen to anything to the contrary!!

Favorite Features: For Sabi it's Lucanis's nose and his hands. For Lucanis it's Sabi's voice and her eyes (bonus mention for her ears).

Keepsakes: Sabi's is a sketchbook that Lucanis gave her. She uses it to do plant studies in the field and also press flowers. Lucanis's is a really nice coffee cup she gave him (the gift I imagine she gives him instead of the tea set thing in the game).

Report card: They both know they're terrible at communicating LOL Sabi doesn't believe Lucanis trusts her as much as she'd like. Lucanis knows she trusts him absolutely and it's FINE.

Songs:

All This and Heaven Too

I, Carrion (Icarian)

Lay It All On Me

Alla Luce Del Sol

Kokoro no Soba Ni (Lend Me Your Voice)

Love Like You

Template and original post on twitter: