YUVEN

"Bell chime, bell chime. If you open the door, you'll be dead by morn."

I think that's how the rhyme went.

He wrote down every name lost in the Derelict horde well into the dusk and into the dawn. Empty bottles of sprinkled ink sat at the corners of the desk, with some unable to hang onto the precarious edge of the table within the office. His fingertips ached more than the rest of him, but he refused to let any name fall into obscurity. Bell chimes rang out for the new morning as he finished the last edges of his parchment for archiving. He put the pen away to gaze down at the names. Every single one — not all of them Storm Wardens, but no less gave their lives to halt the advance of the endless horde.

No, that's now how the rhyme went... Bell chime, bell chime. If you open the door, you'll be dead come morn. Hands flat against the desk within one of the extra offices on the main landing, he listened while quiet footsteps wandered upstairs. Wind hushed through the window and into his feathers, and he twisted at the breeze. Fallholt retained its silence, where no Storm Wardens bustled about their day at the postings board outside, or to help around town. Across from the hall, the smithy, where the forge flickered its last embers. Yuven folded his hands, rolled the scroll and tied it with a ribbon. Bloody swill rolled along the back of his throat, but he ignored it to study the blackened edges of parchment.

You're going to leave all those people to die.

Someone knocked on the door in time with the bells of morn.

Scroll in his hands, he headed up to answer. On the other side of the door, one of the Trainees he chased down with his icy mirage of a Derelict. "Erm... Captain Traye?" they asked, nervous and small. "You said to tell you when Captain Ineha returns from Azahama lodge, and she's been back for a few bells." Their fingers tangled across their leather straps and they never looked him in the eye.

Their voice came out a dull thrum as they blathered on. Yuven pushed past them, and the thrum fell silent as he headed through the corridor and down to the head Captain's office, where Ineha waited for him and his report on the massacre within the Fields of Light, never forgotten. He hesitated, then twisted to the Trainee, and they snapped straighter and lifted their hand up to their chest with a small flash of fear. "I, um... I apologize for my tardiness in letting you know, Captain Traye!"

Any other time the fearful respect gave him the satisfaction he craved to cover the taste of endless blood in the back of his throat. Until it no longer did. Yuven glared at the young Trainee, full of an ideal and tales of golden bravery — who had yet to see the truth. Yuven scowled at them. "You are dismissed. Review the fundamentals for training before your Trainer has your hide." He held the scroll close to his chest and left the Trainee. I... forgot I instructed them to let me know when she returned... He brushed the edges of his feathers as he reached the painted door of golden swirls.

He huffed, and almost released himself into his spatial magick, its warm embrace of the sun and winter days. He stopped before he fell into its endless promise, and knocked on the door to break him out of its hold.

"You can come in, Captain Traye." Heaviness filled her voice on the other side, and he opened the door to enter the office.

Boxes which held Oath necklaces piled high on the bookshelf, where Ineha moved the books to the side, towered on the ground. Yuven stopped in front of the desk, where Captain Ineha held her brow on both hands. Dark shadows took its place underneath her brown eyes, and she considered him. "Will the carriages be ready to send back to Euros?" he asked.

"We'll have to take the Umbral Gate in Azahama," Captain Ineha said and flattened out a scroll in front of him, and he took it to peek at the well-penned list. "There were a lot of casualties. King Reyn graciously offered to take who he could on the train into Haneka's outskirts, but we're still short-handed." Ineha sighed and shook her head against her fingertips. "We have a lot to move, and we still haven't figured out the situation at the Burning Abyss. I'm waiting for a report from the outpost." In the silence, she eyed him. "What is your itinerary, Captain Traye?"

"We're going to have to wait until Fenrer is well enough. If he knows what's good for him, he'll be in bed right now," Yuven grunted and placed his own list against the wood. Every name lost and found. Every name never forgotten. "I wrote down what I could of our casualties plus those who volunteered to hold the line. As for us, I'll be taking Fenrer and the Anima through the fastest route — past Azahama, into the aspen forests and straight through to the Hanekan steppes. I don't plan on stopping until I see the outer marshes. We can't wait for the Umbral teleporter or for the train to come back. We don't have the luxury of time."

I don't have the luxury of that.

"Traye." Captain Ineha released her brow. "What happened at the Fields of Light—"

"I accept full responsibility," Yuven interrupted her. "It was my plan — and I still believe that it was the only plan." You're going to leave all those people to die. He uncorked his morning medication and guzzled it down as Ineha huffed.

"It was a risky plan," Captain Ineha pointed out and took his book to rifle through it. "I don't doubt that you did what you could. We'll be quite busy sorting out arrangements for the dead. Auro Nien has graciously offered to take up Pyren's place for the rituals. The Elder Conclave will also send Cardinal Auro's to assist with the movement between Azahama and Sivaport. Other than that, you three are on your own. I advise you to make what preparations you can for that journey." With a single, dismissive wave, Yuven brought his hand over his heart and left Ineha to do the added paperwork.

Silence and unseen judgment followed him all the way through the Hall, straight through the tables with quiet Wardens, all who lost someone or knew someone who experienced loss. No sort of revelry for victory. No sort of despair for defeat. It was simply acceptance and further determination. Trainees hung at the edges, near the fireplace with books in their hands while the older Warden's shared stories with each other, to assure the oncoming wails of grief.

No, we don't have the luxury.

He slipped into the quiet kitchens. Plates filled the sink, but he walked past it to rifle through the cupboards for a cup and cover. He sent a ripple of embers into the runes of the stove. Flames bit at the corners, and he poured water into the cup to settle it in the burner. He stretched to open the upper cabinets, twisting the types of tea leaves within their containers around to examine each one. He chose the closest one to drain into the boiling water without a second look. Nothing more than habit when he prepared his own, setting the lid on it to steep before putting the container amongst its brethren.

Magick cracked in his ears as he returned to the burner. Patience thinned, he breathed in a plume of unseen webs as he grasped for one of the nearby supports when a wave of heat washed down his neck. Spatial distortion whipped around his arms. Light and shadow... He rested his brow against the pillar as shapes rumbled around in the corner. The entire world trembled as he tried to even out his breathing while the water whistled through death and despair. He drew his fingers down the support as it all wasted back into the same hot wave. Palm up, he pulled in the moisture in the air to form ice crystals, but it melted into his hands and whispered into mist. Come on. Waves upon waves crashed down his spine as he left his attempt at a cup of tea, abandoned to the flames.

Blood swelled into his throat, but it never burst into a choke. He swallowed the grime and shuffled back to the boiler, waiting for all of it to grow dark. One second went into two. Into a minute. It whistled in his ears as he dragged it out of the boiler, where the white embers within the runes died out. Free of the crackling magick, he steadied his breaths as he poured it back into a smaller cup, and sealed it with magick between the crack of the cover to keep it warm.

No time.

It crushed his spine as he clasped the cup and held it close with shaking fingers. Should kick in soon... Tongue out, he hobbled out the back way of the Hall to avoid the expressions of sympathy and pity. Crimson dotted the corners of the world, but he stomped through it to head into the small forest which shielded the shrine to the Ancients, but he came to a stop at the creek. Heat choked him, where he longed to feel a chill. Anything to wipe away the stickiness of blood. He set the sealed cup to the side to slip beside the creek, sticking his hands into it. Water wrapped around his elbows as he focused on the movement, the tug of magick within all the world. He pulled his hands out and brought with it a sphere of the cold. Ice whisked in its focal center, carried by his white glyph. He raised it over his head, staring up through the watery surface of bubbles, frozen in time.

He let it go.

Chills crawled down his back and through his fabrics as it battled with the boiling heat on his skin. Feathers soaked, he brought his hands up to try and tug out the pain. Clarity returned to his view as he focused on each drip of water off the white strands plastered to his brow. He sat there in the cold embrace as water slipped down his neck and back, and he shook out his head to get the rest of the droplets out of his feathers. He waited while the heat slowly dissipated, but continued to lick at the base of his neck with the same hunger of the Derelict. Hands against his brow, he slicked the rest of his hair out of his face as the shred through the leaves to glisten the creek. Back against the ground for support, he groaned. No? Not going to do it this time?

Make up your mind, I don't have time for this. He hauled himself to his feet and grabbed the cup, where the hot water within matched the heaviness around his throat. Still warm, he cannot complain. With newfound strength, he crawled the rest of the way through the sanctuary of the forest and to the shrine which hid itself among the roots and canopy.

Lamps hung between the twilight ribbons, where bells clinked at the ends. He heaved himself up the steps to the painted door, but took the outer catwalk to the residence of the Aurus priests and any Aurus Storm Wardens who chose to find solace in the silence. Up the dark oak steps, he wandered around to a door and window, then knocked on it before peeking in.

Fenrer slept on his stomach, face shoved into the pillow, and didn't respond to his knocking. Yuven scowled, then grumbled, "Don't worry, Yuven, I know what I'm doing'. Bah." He stepped into the cracking spatial distortion to slip through the wood of the door. He set the sealed cup on Fenrer's bedstand before sending his foot into the floor mattress.

One more kick, and Fenrer groaned something out in Hanekan before lifting himself up with his arms and a bleary blink in his eye. "What?" he asked in a rough voice, and his accent bubbled the question.

Yuven grabbed the cup again and knelt down by his bed. "Was it still worth it?"

Fenrer blinked again then gazed at him with a weary grimace. "You woke me up to ask me that? Weren't you the one who told me to sleep as much as I can?" He brought both hands up to his eyes with another mumbled complaint in Hanekan before dropping them to his knees. Dullness filled the greens as he glanced at Yuven again. "Why are you wet?"

"I wanted a swim." Fenrer rubbed his fingers through his dark hair. Yuven scowled, then pushed the tea into his hands. "Here." Free from the cup, he waited as Fenrer unsealed it and put the lid to the side to examine the tea. Yuven scowled when Fenrer didn't budge and instead studied him. "It is not food. I know how to make tea."

"Thank you, Yuven." Fenrer's expression softened as he took a sip, a sense of alertness returning to his Oathbound.

"Don't thank me." Yuven straightened himself out. "If you hadn't been so careless, we would've been on the road by now with the Anima."

"Adara, Yuven. We talked about this."

"The Anima, Adara." Yuven folded his arms and toyed with the statuette of Ojain on Fenrer's personal shrine before letting it go. "Once you're well enough, we'll move. I'm going to be taking... Adara to Azahama to get our preparations sorted, maybe get a foundation to stick in her head and do my check from my previous job at that small town. You are to stay here, rest, and do nothing else but close your eyes and stay in bed," he instructed and gave a firm nod in Fenrer's direction. "Sooner you are up and moving around, the sooner we can get moving. I will not stop for anything else. The Storm Wardens need to use the Umbral teleporter to get the injured and our dead back home as fast as possible. We will not be waiting for the train, so I need to get our route down."

"I can come with..."

"No. You sleep."

Fenrer blinked and gave Yuven a weird expression. "Yet you wake me up to give me..." He studied the cup with an appraising eye and a slight twist to his lips. "...tea, and then scold me for not sleeping."

"Because you acted foolish for no good reason." Yuven prodded him in the chest. "And someone needs to let you know that."

"It was for a good reason." Fenrer drank from the steaming cup, then grinned over the rim. "But I'll keep that in mind for next time."

Victorious, he stretched then dried the rest of the droplets out of his feathers, no longer needing its chilly touch. "Good. Rest. It will be a while before I return, but once I come back from Azahama I'll check on you — and you better be sleeping. Or else."

"Yuven."

He stopped at the door and examined Fenrer when he stretched his legs out of the bed. "What? Do not tell me the tea is burnt."

"Far from it." Fenrer raised the cup as if to toast him. "This is coffee."

He sent the droplets into Fenrer's face before storming out of the room dripping with fervent faith in a higher power.