Draven thought as he sat up on the branch. He tried, at least.

He hadn't bothered to give an explanation when he stormed off camp at the sight of his raven Diaval settling on his shoulder with Rhun's letter in his beak. No, he didn't need anyone questioning. He'd grown up with Runaan, and he knew, he knew he of all people would not take his actions in his youth lightly. If anything, he may accuse him of treason. Between taking chances with an old friend with a sense of duty, and leaving his life to fate (regardless of the odds), it'd be better off without Runaan.

And the others, he didn't know half as well, just that Rayla was the youngest, Skor was only a few years older than his daughter, and perhaps a year or two older than his son, and the other three held enough experience that they hardly needed to wait for orders to know what to do. Ironic. On a team, you were trained to trust each other with your life. Yet he could not afford to trust any of them with that one particular secret equaling to his son's life. Combat, yes, he would trust Runaan in a heartbeat to watch his back, but the very thought of that was out of the question.

As much as they worked in teams, ultimately it was each assassin's responsibility to prepare themselves mind, body, and soul for the mission. In the midst of battle, no one could afford to make their own life someone else's responsibility. It was why if they were captured, Moonshadow elves were taught to think of themselves as already dead. No one would come to rescue them. If they could not find their own way out, they were already dead.

Still, Runaan had sensed something was wrong, as one would. Draven danced around any question, showing nothing, giving away nothing, placing on his heart the illusion of perfection he'd practiced long ago. To be a perfect Moonshadow elf, it was an art one must master at a young age.

And so there had been no hint for Runaan to follow. Draven himself had been careful that he had not followed him now where he waited. Only told him that there was something came up, and ordered that if he didn't return to camp before moonrise, they were not to go through with the plan at all. They were to go home, and he'd take care of things.

Somehow he had a feeling if Rhun was calling him now, that order was needed.

The minute Runaan had dared protest, Draven had pulled a card he wouldn't have thought to otherwise. That Runaan was the one who thought it wise to bring Rayla along and then fell so easily for her deception. And now, Draven said without any context given, he had to go and clean up her mess.

On that front, none would question the context. Anyone could tell that Rayla's blades were not red with human blood when she returned from being ordered to kill the guard that saw them. Both blades shouldn't be needed for a clean slit of the throat. And even from the position he'd been in, Draven could tell the drying red liquid on her swords was not dried, crusted blood. The smell was distinct. Someone with Runaan's experience should be able to tell in a heartbeat, and to accuse him of knowing and keeping her on the mission afterwards until she was caught in her lie, that was what had made him stop questioning him, aloud at least.

Runaan cared for that girl more than he would ever admit. Moonshadow elves went less by words and more by actions, and Draven could tell. Since her parents had been chosen to leave for the Dragon Guard, Runaan had looked after her from a young age. Those years could be seen as a weakness, which was why it'd been such an effort convincing those back home to let her on the mission. Since Runaan's sister and her husband had brought shame on themselves and family for fleeing their post on the Dragon Guard, Rayla had been set on correcting the dishonor her parents had inflicted.

Still, with her youth and inexperience, it had shocked him to read Rhun's hurried letter that told Rayla had found him with the princes, and there was something he needed to see. Immediately. He could never be upset with Rhun, even if his actions compromised the mission. It would have been either way since Rayla let the human guard live.

Once or twice, Desdemona had accused him of favoritism toward his half-human son. That was far from true. Both his two children were too different for him to compare against each other. Theodosia had responsibilities and needed to learn to carry them, and he couldn't coddle her but instead prepare her for the world.

Not to mention it was just so difficult to understand what was going on in that head of hers. She had the attention span of a toddler, got nauseous at the sight of blood (still better than when she used to faint), she was always off studying anything other than what she was supposed to, and, loathe as he was to admit it, she was a bit too...soft and fragile for someone in their culture and in her position. Rhun had a relatively normal life without such pressures; he was smart, resourceful, cautious, always had his guard up, had a tunnel vision on whatever goals he put his mind to, and had a unique way of sounding both like he was undergoing his current task under protest but would also smash your head against the wall if you tried to stop him. Both Draven and Amadahy still argued over who he got that from, though he suspected greatly it was from that human stepmother of his who had a mouth to make a sailor blush. But he knew it could be difficult for him to carry the burden of his parentage and he reminded him so much of Amadahy....

Okay, maybe he could tend to favor one child over the other. But only from time to time.

He wasn't worried about anything beyond his fate tonight, but the consequences of today didn't sit well with him. Rhun had compromised the mission, which meant the number of casualties may have risen, and more problems may sprout from it. Naturally, something that could be more than he could handle.

As he thought on that, he recalled a time when a mighty fever had claimed Rhun. Thankfully, his human stepmother was able to call him from the brink, but she credited his ability to keep from slipping beyond that point to how he clung to her voice. Still, it haunted him to think there was a time he wasn't there when his son could have died. And there were no guarantees death wouldn't come for Rhun again someday soon.

But Rhun had been a child then. He could pull through this, now. With help.

When he came by, he would have to ask him what had happened in the castle. It was still his duty to know what exactly Rhun had experienced to know what to do about them. Two words had stuck out to him that worried him.

Dark magic. Dark magic had been used, and he hoped that when Rhun mentioned it, it hadn't been inflicted upon him. He needed to know what kind and could it still hurt them now.

When he arrived. When he explained.

He would also need to question who. Rhun mentioned he had Prince Callum and Prince Ezran with him, that there was too much to explain over paper. It would not be a stretch it was as he said, urgent, if he had spoken of who Draven was to him. Some naive part of himself had always wanted to protect Rhun from the horrors of dark magic. Not all humans were evil beings, but in his lifetime Draven had seen terrible things. Nasty things.

Things that should not have been, but once humans had found dark magic, with it came the most unnatural things anybody would ever witness. Dark magic was... invasive. Pervasive. He had once felt its tendrils on him in a fight. Thankfully, that match ended with him the victor.

And throwing up in a river.

But that had been years ago. He was more ready now. However, no one who had felt its reach yet could be prepared enough.

The whole thing sent a shudder through him that he was glad no one saw.

☪️☪️☪️

To ease the pain, Theodosia didn't so much as sip as chug the sunberry juice mix in her bag, putting the cork back over it to keep from finishing it too soon. Somehow, maybe adrenaline since she hadn't taken the chance to stop even once after her first brush with death, she had managed to drag herself far enough to be able to rest. It wasn't so far away from the border and there still wasn't much foliage nearby, but she had found a rock outcropping near a small lake. At that point the pain in her side had become too great to ignore without the numbness sootheleaf brought. She knew she probably looked like a mess, her face smudged with ash, her eyes watery from the sulfur exposure and her throat burning, strands of her hair sticking out about her face. And for the first and possibly last time, she honestly didn't care. Her appearance could be taken care of later.

And her hands hurt, probably because of the cuts and burns all over the palms of them. Somehow she had forgotten about that one. Which was odd, because they actually stung quite badly, now that she thought about it. Infection could set in if she didn't handle it soon as possible. With time to spare, she dug into her bag to take out a handful of bright orange berries and begun rubbing them vigorously into her palms.

This did not help with the stinging. The stinging in fact increased dramatically, enough for the pain to break through the daze that had come over her and make her release a hiss through clenched teeth. Sootheleaf numbed the pain, but in cases like these where it could become intense, all it could do was dull it. But she had to clean them. Second degree burns, debris from volcano. She had a strong feeling some patches of the outer skin of her palms were back on that rock. Pureberries would help. Without, infection.

She could stop if she wanted if the pain grew too harsh, if she wanted sepsis.

With that in mind, she smeared more of it into her right side where the magma spray had caught her. After about a minute of agony that steadily escalated, she shoved both of her hands into the water, splashing them around until there was no trace left of the pureberry juice. Then she began to bandage her wounds, both her hands and her injured side.

Not being in pain, she found, was surprisingly tiring. Despite everything else wrong with the situation-still filthy, still feeling like the world was just slightly tilted off to the side, still-was she far enough to escape danger? The thought woke her up. She reached into her bag and replaced her previous necklace with another. In the water's reflection, she caught her appearance change once again into a stranger. A strange stranger. She had never seen a human up close except in pictures.

Humans looked weird.

Her skin was tan, no longer its shade of midnight with the shining stars freckling it like the night sky overhead, and rather than white, her hair appeared a pale blonde that could possibly be mistaken for white. What else was weird was that she could feel her horns but within the illusion, she couldn't see them. Same with her fingers. That fifth finger on each hand didn't feel at all real, yet it seemed like it was there. As for the tips of her ears, they were round and odd. In fact, the only evidence of her true form was the bright and glowing star-shaped markings lining her cheekbones, three under each eye, the shapes now appearing a slightly darker skin tone than the rest. They could have been birthmarks and none would be the wiser.

She was still pretty, of course. But if this was what humans looked like, then humans were weird.

At least now there was no worrying about anyone finding her and deciding to slaughter her in her sleep for being a thing they despised. And she really wanted nothing more than to lie down from the effort it took to keep her heavy eyelids from closing.

Although if she were to die soon, she really hoped it was after checking at least one of the two things off her bucket list. Either learning more Arcanums or getting to find Skor and give him a nice punch. In the face. Not hard, of course. Okay, maybe a little hard. Show him who's fragile. As long as it didn't bruise her knuckles. Blemishes were neither seemly nor sightly.

She curled around on her uninjured side, clutching her bag to her chest and let the exhaustion sweep over her.

☪️☪️☪️

When Rhun caught Draven hiding in the branches, he made sure Ezran was nearby, either standing beside him or behind him. Even Rayla herself seemed anxious. When he called him out, Callum also made sure to stay close, but Rhun kept one hand on Ezran's shoulder. Bait made a distressed croak from somewhere in Ezran's backpack, probably sensing the severity of their situation. "Cut the dramatics, Dad, before you scare the kids," he said good-naturedly though there was an edge of nervousness to his tone.

When his father stepped forward for them to see, Rayla bowed down onto one knee in respect. "Don't bother," Draven said, his voice cold. Instantly, Rayla stood, her eyes down as she held her other wrist with one hand. Wrists Rhun couldn't help but notice had silver ribbons tightened around each with a clasp.

He prayed they weren't what he thought they were.

"Runaan told you to stay behind." Draven didn't sound angry. He didn't sound upset. There was nothing. His voice showed nothing, his face showed nothing. It was like he felt nothing. And somehow that was more unnerving than if he had shown something, because then there was no telling what he could be thinking, like waiting for a volcano to erupt. An illusion placed to appear emotionless, to feel nothing. One Rhun had learned to see through.

"I-I know, but..." Rayla started before being cut off.

"That's twice now, isn't it? You disobeyed him once when you refused to take. And you disobeyed him again when you chose to leave."

Rayla seemed to shrink beneath his icy, unblinking gaze. "Yeah, and...I know I'll face punishment for it back home," she admitted, unable to meet his eyes. Whether it was out of respect or fear, he had no clue. "But I had to. You'll see. I...I had to fix things!"

"It was a good thing she did." To Rhun's surprise, it was Callum who stood up for her. "You're here for vengeance, but there's no point taking revenge for something that didn't happen!"

This time, something did flash across his face, but it was gone quick as it came. "What?"

"The egg wasn't destroyed, it was stolen. Their High Mage was going to use it for dark magic, but the human princes found it. We saved it," Rayla went on, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes.

"It's true, Dad," Rhun said, his father's expression softening the slightest as much as it could around others when his eyes set on him. "Come on, Ezran." He gently ushered the young prince out from behind him.

He walked forward, holding the egg out for him to see and looked up at Draven, meeting his violet eyes with his own, wide, hopeful blue. Draven stepped forward, and Callum went to stand between them if not for Rayla's arm on his shoulder. Yet all the Elven King did was kneel down to be level with the human prince, a gentle trace of a smile on his lips. "You're Prince Ezran, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," the boy said with a nod. He looked over his shoulder at his brother. "It's okay, Callum. I'm fine."

"This does change things," Draven muttered, staring at the egg with a muted wonder where one had to look close to see it. "Life is precious. If there is no need to take another in exchange, then we prefer not to." Then he looked up and his gaze turned cold and void once again. "Others won't share the same sentiment in this case. Not when we've already bond ourselves to the mission."

"Yes, but do you believe--" Rayla began.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, right now."

"Runaan knows how important it is to get the egg back to The Dragon Queen. You know he would do anything to keep it safe and out of the humans' hands."

Draven's eyes grew even more frigid if possible. "I know. That is exactly why he is the last person you are to go to about this."

Rayla's brows furrowed. Wouldn't Runaan understand? She thought he would anyway. Then again, he'd taught her all she knew.

"You know whether you've redeemed yourself or not, they'll still be considering your punishment when you return."

Rayla blanched. "I know," she answered quietly.

Stepping forward, Rhun took him aside, speaking quietly with him and leaving the trio to chat among themselves. "Come on. Xadia will regard her as a hero for what she's done. You know that. If you'd seen her back there, you'd know she is as brave as any of you. How can you think she still deserves punishment?"

"If I or Runaan don't punish her at some point then the council will at home. It's not entirely my decision." Draven kept his voice low, the illusion falling away as he glanced back at Rayla with something akin to sympathy. "She did good, I will not deny. But the truth stands that she disobeyed direct orders, and the council will acknowledge the good, but they will also acknowledge the consequences and all she did wrong that goes against what she was trained for."

Rhun took his hands as he begged, "Plea with them."

"Runaan plead with them once just to convince them into letting her come. She is young, the youngest who's managed to make it this far in training for them to even consider her coming along such an important mission for her first. And look what happened."

"Yes," he snapped, suddenly throwing his hands up. "And we have the egg. He plead with them once and, now, The Dragon Prince is with us after what we thought was its destruction."

"She defied her commander, Rhun. She defied her Turma and put them all at risk. They can't simply overlook that! They will understand that she had good intentions, but they won't understand everything else she did. In their minds, she went against her training and her Turma, something they won't take lightly. She nearly cost the entire mission and could have killed us all with her stunt! They will see each of us were responsible for ourown preparation and abilities, but the fact remains that a key component of our mission sufferedirreparable sabotage at Rayla's hands. They will see she betrayed not only our mission, but all of us as well. Do you believe that I want to consider this?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe," Rhun replied testily, repeating his previous words. "But...if you were to ask me, here's my opinion. She's a teenager. She doesn't deserve to be punished for this. Not with the severity you have in mind. And you know it." He tucked his hair behind one ear. Now that he didn't have to hide before these people, there was a boldness that wasn't there before. A weight on his shoulders lifted. "Yes, she defied her orders, yes, she defied her commander, but because of that, we now have something we thought was lost, a chance for peace. Shouldn't that be what matters?"

Behind his shoulder, Rhun took another glance at Rayla. Despite their differences, despite the way she looked at him now with the knowledge she had, punishment for doing what she thought was right...just seemed too harsh. In Moonshadow culture, emotion was seen for weakness and so was gentleness. To them, it made sense, Rayla's mishap would be seen as such.

But he had seen in the way his father's face changed when he looked at him. How he treated him compared to strangers and others.

Even his father was weak in a way.

He loved his son too much.

An assassin was not supposed to show emotion. An assassin would prioritize the mission above all else. And to know Draven wouldn't consider doing doing such when it came to him unsettled him.

Weaknesses could be used against people. Weaknesses could get them killed.