The clear evening sky displayed an array of twinkling lights. Sol dropped the curtain and paced over to the antique clock nestled between a pair of Hugo's dusty books. It was well into the night, and it had been hours since he heard another soul in the hallway. The library was out of the way. Surely it was late enough now. He cursed himself as a fool for the hundredth time, but he couldn't stop the rise of excitement. His fingers tapped against the unmarked keycard. Its surface was too smooth and cold to have been made by human means.

The keycard had come with an invitation—short and to the point: Talward formally extends his hospitality to you; when the Institute is sound asleep, this key will unlock the library's trans to his abode.

He had spent most of the day in his room, tossing between thinking too much and napping too little, but once evening had descended, he crept out to ease the ache of his empty belly. A few somber Speakers had tried to display a sense of normalcy, but the death of Davyd appeared to shake them up. Not because they doubted the Institute's claim of suicide—as Link, and now Sol, did—but because they genuinely were mourning the loss of their peer.

Sol found it odd, wondering if the Academy had trained him to be desensitized. Accidents were a common occurrence at the school, and, though it didn't happen often, some never recovered. Even when Vincent died in front of him, destroying his future, he was more concerned about the impact it caused to his life than the fact a person was dead, never to return.

Perhaps Justin was right about the Academy brainwashing them to stop thinking, to stop feeling, for themselves. Maybe he deserved the label of a heartless Tower Automaton.

The clock ticked, chiming the top of the hour.

Enough. Time to find out if this was real or a hoax. Sol stepped around the two tall bookcases that formed the discreet nook sheltering the transportation platform. Most trans were voice activated, requiring one to state their destination, but if there was a single location programed onto the keycard, a quick swipe should activate it.

He flashed the card, but nothing happened. Maybe it wasn't late enough? He stepped off the platform and darkness descended. His heart skipped a beat, and he swayed on his feet. What had just occurred?

A lantern flickered to life, casting a bright glow that did not spread far into the surrounding gloom. This wasn't the library but the same place the portal of star resin guarded.

He searched the area, but he found no doorways nor anything on the floor to indicate a trans. Just a dead end and a corridor. Sol pocketed the card and strode down the only route available to him.

More lights flickered on as he approached, only to blink off after he passed by. Like before, the pathway curved before opening to a large shadow-filled area. A single lantern burst to life, with the odd orange dust swirling inside. It gave just enough light for Sol to realize he was not where he thought the keycard's portal had deposited him. This was Talward's bedroom.

The disheveled bed still had the imprint of a body upon its sheets. Sol placed a hand on the pillow—warmth lingered on its surface. Talward had recently left.

"He's washing up."

Sol spun and faced the young man with the icy blue eyes. It was the same hologram again.

The man gestured to the bed. "If you want to sample Talward's training as inamorato, feel free to get comfortable." A smug grin stretched on his face, waiting for Sol's response.

Sol wanted to punch that smirk off, but it would be foolish to fight with a hologram. He didn't know what inamorato was, but from what he'd seen so far of Talward, he could guess at the meaning. "I believe you offered hospitality. Not familiarity."

A soft laugh from behind Sol announced Talward's presence. "Don't mind the war room. It likes to rile a person up in order to obtain a better reading."

Sol considered turning to greet Talward, but he had a sense that this thing in front of him might attack if he took his attention off of it. It made no sense, considering its incorporal state, but Sol trusted his instincts anyway.

"Shame. I was hoping to get another taste of his talents." The hologram pixelated apart, vanishing.

Sol took in a breath. As casual as possible, he turned around.

A second throaty chuckle came out of Talward. He was braiding his still damp hair together, wearing the same plain, loose clothing as before. "You confuse it, not recognizing who is standing in front of you. That might be a first for it." Talward secured the braid, tossing the plait over his shoulder. "Come. I have a bargain to keep, but there's no need to stand on ceremony for it."

Talward walked past Sol. The barrier rippled with colors at Talward's passing. Another lantern illuminated the cozy sitting area with two old-fashioned chairs. Talward knelt to light the wood resting in the hearth. Sol sat and watched his host perform the archaic task of coaxing fire from tinder. The simple actions reminded Sol that this man had come from Azure before landing here.

When it looked like the fire wouldn't smother out, Talward sat back on his heels, smiling at his success. "I miss the desert life. At first, I thought Xi was mocking me by sending me to Azure. A people always on the move. Never staying in place for too long. So different from my pampered way of living." Talward shook his head. "Can I offer you something to eat? Or a drink?"

Sol almost refused the request, but caught himself. He reflected over what he knew of the Azurian culture. "I need nothing lavish. A bite of bread to restore my energy and a cup of water to wash the dust down is more than enough."

Talward raised a hand to his mouth. Sol thought maybe he had gotten the greeting wrong when his host bowed low over his knees, the crown of his head brushing the floor. He rose with a bright smile on his face. "I wasn't expecting—you are the first..." Talward shook his head. "Yolanda, some dried fruit and cider." Talward extended his hand off to the side of Sol. "Please."

Sol shifted in his chair. A narrow table, as spindly as the chairs, stood stationed between their seats. Two goblets and a small platter of withered fruit slices laid atop it. Some of the fruit he had never seen before, while others, like apples and berries, were common to Terra—just not in their dried form. "This wasn't there a moment ago."

Talward sat and selected a few pieces of fruit with one hand. He savored each bite.

Sol wasn't dense, and Talward wasn't talking.

Curiosity won out and Sol followed suit, selecting a variety of the more exotic produce. The strange flavors and chewy texture may have been foreign on his tongue, but it fit the rustic nature of obtaining warmth from a fire and the old-world flair of a woven rug under his feet and using furniture carved with artistic decorations. He imagined living in Azure, where strange scents and textures would greet him every new day. A land where men and women still worked with their hands, preferring the slower methods of labor while shunning technology.

Sol waited for Talward to take the first sip. A half smile curved on Talward's lips, as if he knew what Sol was doing. In Azure, if the guest was unsure about their host's intentions, they waited until others sampled the offerings before tasting it themselves. Though it was bad manners to poison one's visitor, it was not uncommon and only punishable if caught. Sol thought it odd when he had read that, but here, in a place far from his fellow Speakers, he understood how someone could carry out such a crime and get away with it—especially on Azure where most of its surface was covered in sand.

Talward tasted the drink, then paused. "Yolanda. This is not cider."

A woman with a bowed head stepped out from the shadows wearing the traditional garb of Azure. Lavish embroidered stitches of vines and flowers graced the simple dress. "I felt this was more fitting for the occasion, considering what occurred during your last encounter."

Sol swore he could hear a smile in those words though her lowered face concealed it if there was one.

Talward spoke a string of words unknown to Sol. Was he agreeing with the woman or reprimanding her? Sol could not tell from the tone or body language. Talward took another sip. "It is too fine for my guest, Yolanda."

Yolanda clucked her tongue. "It is not fine enough." Then stepped back, swallowed by the darkness.

"You have your demons, Solaris, and that one is mine."

Was this another hologram? Sol frowned at Talward's words, but not at the usage of his fullname. That was another oddity. He hated how others spoke his fullname, always correcting them, but not with Talward. Was it the strange accent he had in saying the name or the way he said it?

"I warned you about inviting familiarity," Talward said, "but it appears my demon is warning me over my lack of reciprocation. She honors you with metheglin. Will you accept her show of honor by drinking it?"

The goblet was heavier than expected. Like everything else, Sol bet it wasn't a replica or made from artificial materials. It had the weight and sturdiness of metal, polished and cared for as the family passed it down each generation. Sol smiled at his whimsy, yet wondered if the thought had truth to it. What would it be like to have a family legacy passed down from father to son and then from his son to his grandson?

The liquid inside swirled like molten gold. "I've done nothing to be shown honor."

"I can empathize with that sentiment, Solaris. When I was young, my matriarch chose me to be trained within her house because I resembled my father at that age. It was a great honor for a male to be hand-selected, and even more of an honor when it's because of his father's life. I was too young to understand these things, and so it is with you. You can either accept the honor, unknowing of the why, or you can refuse it."

"It is not the choice that is important, but the choosing."

Talward flashed a bright smile, leaning toward Sol. "Exactly." He took another drink, still smiling. "You almost spoke the proverb like a true Azurian. Did the Academy you hailed from teach you such things?"

"No." A soft snort escaped from Sol. "Hugo did."

"Ah, the Ambassador—one of the few who put an effort into treating me as an Azurian instead of the Exile I am."

Sol tasted the metheglin. The sweetness of honey, the spicy heat of cinnamon, and an exotic flavor he could not name caught his tastebuds off guard. Its warmth hit his belly before returning to rise toward his face.

"Metheglin is more commonly known as honey wine. Do you like it?"

Sol couldn't tell if the twinkle in Talward's eyes was teasing him or inviting him into a shared joke he did not understand. "It's good."

"But?"

"But probably not wise to indulge in."

"And are you a wise man?"

How did he do that? Every part of Talward's body spoke of ease and light-heartedness, but his words sliced through to pierce Sol's core. He wanted to drop his walls and just be himself around this strange man.

Talward eased back into his chair. "What I gave Nettelane was a piece of myself. Our mothers bestow the gem upon us at birth. When we die, our family returns it to the source from which it came. As an Exile, I can never return it, so it no longer has value to me except as a bargaining tool." He finished the metheglin in one gulp before setting the empty goblet on the table. "Nettelane was curious about my life but understood my limitations would not allow for a lengthy conversation between us. I made a bargain with her: bring the youngest Speaker to me, and the gem would be hers. There's no guarantee she can access what's stored within it, but Nettelane is a lover of risks."

Sol took another sip, not sure if he was wise or foolish. Yes, Nettelane embodied the word risk, yet he was drawn to her just as he was drawn to keep drinking the metheglin. "What do you mean, stored?"

"During childhood, the gem stores our potential and then is used to change our fate upon reaching metmo. When we are in adulthood, it collects our experiences and memories and impressions of the world so that when it's returned, the source learns a bit more about us before emptying the gem to be given to the next babe." Talward cast a sidelong glance at Sol. "That probably sounds like lore to your ears, but it is a reality for my people."

"Keep an open mind," Sol said under his breath. He cleared his throat. "You've kept your bargain."

"I'd like to make another."

Sol hid his surprise, but he wasn't sure if he was successful.

Talward continued on. "Allow my familiarity, and I'll tell you everything about the demon you've forgotten."

"What?"

A bit of the honey wine splashed onto his hand. So much for hiding his emotions. Sol placed the cup onto the table, but before he could clean himself, another person from behind him captured his hand. The icy blue eyes of his tormentor held his own as the man sucked the liquid off from Sol's flesh. "Shouldn't let fine wine go to waste."

Sol jerked his hand away.

The monster laughed, then grabbed the goblet, draining it dry.

"You aren't a hologram." Sol wanted to bolt, but where would he go? He had yet to learn how to exit this place.

"I told you, the war room can manifest thoughts," Talward said. "I never said those thoughts wouldn't have substance and form."

"You also said I didn't have to fear the Star Blood."

"And that is still true."

"Don't waste your time, Talward." The young man leaned back against Talward's chair, teetering the goblet between his fingers by its stem. "Until he learns your language and hears your story, he'll never be able to understand the context of your words or interpret your motivations correctly."

Talward sighed. "True. Then I will amend my bargain. Allow my familiarity so I can teach you my language and tell you my tale. In turn, I'll answer one question about your past for every night you visit and learn from me, giving you the option to collect the missing pieces about your demon. You came to the Institute to restore what you've forgotten. How is that going?"

Slow. How did he know so much? "And why would I trust your answers?"

"Come on, little joker." The man that Sol feared tossed a hand into the air. "He has no reason to lie. His time is near over, and your company is the one bright spot in his day. Take the offer."

"And why should I listen to my own personal monster?" Sol bit his tongue. Why did he let his temper go? He revealed too much.

Talward rose. "Because he's your brother." He faced the man. "You aren't helping, Ion."

Ion? The strange memory surged back up. Julia's laboratory. The test tubes of his and Renden's blood work, and the rows of older ones labeled Ion. Was this really his brother?

"Fine. I'll go." Between one blink and the next, Ion disappeared.

Sol rose to his feet. "Three questions a night."

Talward tilted his head toward Sol, that teasing smile dancing on his lips again. "Two."

"Two, but they can be any question about my past or this place."

"Deal." Talward stretched out his hand. Sol seized it, sealing their pact. "Then I'll see you the same time tomorrow."

A wave of dizziness washed over Sol. He swayed, blinking his eyes. The spinning world righted itself. He was standing in the trans, facing Hugo's library. Stepping out, the soft chime of the clock revealed he had been gone for only an hour.

Then reality hit him.

He leaned a hand against the bookcase, bowing his head. "What am I doing? Making bargains with aliens. Not defining all the terms of our agreement. Fool. You let your emotions take the bait."

Sol sighed, starting the journey back to his room.

"If only I was a Tower Automaton. At least they don't have weaknesses that are easy to exploit."