"So run it by me, again," Xanthy wrung her hands as they walked underneath the forests of Diven. Wherever the clue was in this vast forest, it better show itself now. It's all good, as Xanthy's experience with the pirate ship went, perhaps, this one would too.

Cirasa scratched his head. "Uh, we need to find the things that have a solid connection to Rafaline," he held up the locket they got from the ship. "Like this one, we probably have to find objects that is involved with both Pelrise and Rafaline."

Xanthy snatched the locket and hefted it to the afternoon sun. She caught something written at the back. It's too faded to read. "Hey, look at this," Xanthy tapped Cirasa's arm who stopped walking. "What does it say?"

"Uh..." Cirasa squinted at the writing as he retook it from her. " 'Just as the sun, so will my love be'. In the ancient language, of course."

Xanthy touched her chest. "That's really sweet."

"Why? No one said it to you yet?" Cirasa raised his eyebrows

Blood rose to her face. "Shut up," she glared at him. "It's the last thing on my mind."

Cirasa shrugged.

"Does this line mean something?" Xanthy closed her hand around the locket when Cirasa gave it back to her. "You know what? Give me everything you know about this Rafaline person."

"Hmm," Cirasa tapped his chin. "She loves carquet flowers because of their capability to protect themselves. She possesses a horn made from anchor ivory and would use it to call her husband back to shore after his voyages. She loves knitting and succulents, for some reason. Oh, also, she loved jewelry."

Xanthy nodded. "That explains the locket."

"Oh, there's one anecdote that tells the story of her escaping a robbery with nothing but a teacup," Cirasa shook his head, his pale yellow hair bouncing against his head. "But that's another story."

"Hey, maybe the teacup's one of the things we need to find," Xanthy grinned.

Cirasa shrugged but chuckled. Xanthy joined him. Perhaps, they could be a little stupid sometimes. Xanthy looked down as her feet took her somewhere she wouldn't know. "Weaver's meadow," she cleared her throat. "You mentioned carquet flowers. What are they?"

"Oh, it's a deadly flower," the shard fairy shoved his hand in his hair and shook it. Should Xanthy do the same? Her scalp could be full of sand right now. "They are one of the species of flowers that can defend their systems. They flourish in hordes and will shoot an attacker with web-like mucus. Then, once the attacker is covered in enough mucus, they will feast."

Blood drained from Xanthy's cheeks. "Feast, you mean..."

"They will devour it," Cirasa finished for her as he leveled his gaze at her

Oh.

Cirasa waved his hand. "But nothing to worry about. They went extinct hundreds of years ago."

Xanthy raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"People hated them so they burned fields of carquet," Cirasa drew an arc with his splayed fingers. "Then, they are no more. Ta-da."

Xanthy blew a breath. "Nothing to worry about then," she echoed Cirasa's words. "So this particular clue...it should be easy."

"Uh...I would take that back, if I were you," Cirasa said as he stopped walking. What's going on? Xanthy caught up to him and followed his gaze down into a pit crawling with violet flowers and green, thorny stems.

"Let me guess," Xanthy said through the lump growing in her throat. "Carquet flowers."

Cirasa's nod was the only confirmation she needed. "Nope," Xanthy shook her head and stepped back. "There's no way I'm going there. No."

Cirasa reached back and hauled her back using her sleeve. "Eyes on the prize, miss," he jerked his chin at the pit of doom. "We die whether we get the thing or not."

"B-but the flowers!" Xanthy whined even though Cirasa made a valid point. "What are we even looking for down there?"

"Rafaline always wanted a live one growing on a windowsill somewhere," he tightened his grip on Xanthy's sleeve. "Or at least that's how the translations go."

Xanthy put her palms up. "There's no way in the Land of Wonders am I dragging one of those with me."

Cirasa scratched his head. "We could take it's heart out," he laid a finger in the air. "That way it can still live as soon as it's planted."

Xanthy peered into the pit, keeping her foot a good distance away from the ledge. Her stomach swirled. "And to do that..."

"We need to get close enough."

"Gods, no," Xanthy clawed at her hair.

"Gods, yes," Cirasa clicked his tongue with a wink and slid into the pit.

Of all the stupid, brainless things—

"You do know that we can get killed here, right?" Xanthy called behind him as she edged towards the shard fairy who had already reached the rim of the growth. "Plus, I don't know why we didn't get lost in the middle of the forest."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Cirasa's answer rang in the silence of the forest. Yeah, where were the animals singing and whatnot?

"Well, between this and getting lost, it's a no-brainer to choose the latter," Xanthy reached the lip of the colony. The wind rustled, sending shivers up Xanthy's arms. "You said they were extinct. How come they're still here?"

Cirasa rolled his shoulders. "Perhaps Pelrise saved them just for this purpose," he pointed towards the swarm's center. "Look for the biggest bud. Those usually carry a heart."

"A great way to be killed. Sure, why not?" Xanthy muttered as she let her eyes roam around the pit. The edge of the flowers licked her soles. She imagined those thorns tearing through the leather of her boots. Another shiver passed. Ew. Ew.

"Give me your sword," Cirasa called. Should he be shouting like that? "We need to cut it fast then make it out of the pit before they act up."

"Easier said than done," Xanthy drew the blade from her belt and passed it to him by the tip. Something rustled. She whipped around. "What was that?"

Cirasa gripped the sword's hilt. "Just a passing breeze. Nothing to worry about."

Why does he keep saying that? Xanthy blew a breath. Relax. Panicking would do no one any good. She sucked in a breath through her hitching breath as Cirasa inched his way towards a big violet bud nearest them. The point of the sword poked it by a hair-breadth when the wind blew again.

Cirasa lost his balance, poking the bud harder than he promised. He caught himself by bracing his hand against the ground. The flowers bristled. They both froze. Oh no.

"Run!" Xanthy yelled at the same time Cirasa screamed, "I can get it!"

The shard fairy dove into the fray and swung the sword. As if sensing it, the flowers carved a wide arc away from him. A whitish liquid shot off one flower behind Cirasa and landed on his cloak. Within seconds it hardened into a web-like substance while still attached to the flower.

Cirasa cursed, stumbling back as if the flower was fighting him. He gasped as another web flew to his other arm. They got him. Soon, more and more bathed Cirasa. Colorful curses flew out of Xanthy's lips as she leaped as far as she could into the melee. She grabbed the sword from the squirming shard fairy and began hacking her way into the web thingies. Her sword clanged against them like they're made of metal. Great. Even dwarven metal was no match for these purpleheads.

What a great day.

A web splatted into her leg. Queen's asscheeks. White hot pain spread to the skin on her thigh as the web started eating away at her clothes. Oh, they could digest material too. Grand.

More webs shot at them. At one point, Xanthy stumbled from the flowers' pull that she crashed on top of them. Her skin burned with a lot of webs attached to her. Something white and lumpy squirmed beside her. Cirasa. Her mind flashed back to the song. There must be something that could make these flowers stop. Something...

Cheer, shout, in the blood song's tragic death, lover's consent... Blood song?

"Hey Cirasa," Xanthy called. Thank the gods there wasn't any web sealing her lips or shoved down her throat. "What's a blood song?"

"Are you talking about literature?" Cirasa's garbled voice answered. "Because it talks about bonding, figuratively. Partners have to drink each other's blood—"

"Okay, that's enough," so not that... Up below, down above, in the wraith's call, drown in tears lent. Okay, nothing there. Mine darling, mine love, sing mine song to heart ardor...

"Another question," Xanthy yelled, pushing back the image of a web slithering down her throat. "What's their favorite song?"

"Excuse me?"

"Song. Favorite song to sing as a couple," Xanthy gritted her teeth against the burns in her arms. Gods, save them.

"That would be 'On the Way Home'," Cirasa screamed. How much had the webs covered him?

Xanthy tugged against the webs on her arm. If possible, they tightened. On the Way Home? That's a freaking lullaby. How did that song go again? Rudik's jaw. Would this work?

She took a deep breath and sang the first line she could remember.

Little one, my song rings clear.

The flowers rustled. No new web sprayed for three whole seconds. Some took back a spray of web that they're meaning to spit. A strangled laugh caught in Xanthy's throat. Gods of Calaris, it worked.

Sky sees you in its dome.

She punched her way out of the cocoon they weaved around her. Cirasa was doing the same. Some caught in her hair. She growled, retrieved her sword, and hacked away at it. Her mouth ran through the song. Her voice quivered. This was stupid.

Keep mind of my presence, dear.

Xanthy stalked to the nearest flower and chopped it off. Not one flower acted in offense. She rummaged around the bud until she saw a hard seed Cirasa was talking about tucked inside the petals. Her fingers pried it off before tossing it to Cirasa who caught it.

Sun, guide us on the way home.

They began edging out of the pit. Cirasa took over the song since Xanthy didn't know further.

Little one, moon shines in bright sky.

Farther now...

Seas rage, waters strike and foam.
You will be safe, for I am by.
Stars guide us on the way home.

They made it to the lip of the pit and scrambled back. Cirasa continued singing until they were well away from the pit. Xanthy kept her eyes on the hole, in fear that the flowers would learn to climb out of their chasm. They collapsed into the ground as soon as they both deemed that it's safe.

"Gods," Xanthy breathed, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Gods above."

Cirasa rubbed the reddening splotches on his arm. His skin still had bits of white web stuck into it. "This will take weeks to even wash off," he rolled on the floor and threw his cloak in front of him. "They ruined my cloak!"

"Hey, I'm as toasted as you," Xanthy stood up on quaking knees and looked down at the gaping hole by her trousers' thigh. The skin exposed was red and angry. "All that for a seed," she hissed. They would need to find water and fast. "Let's rest here. I'm tired. I don't think I can handle more like that."

"That's a good idea," Cirasa nodded and followed Xanthy as she began walking the pit's opposite direction. "For the record, I can't handle more than that, too."