The Severaine

By KJ Simmill

Winner, New Apple 2017 Official Selection for Fantasy

Finalist, Independent Author Network Book Of The Year

Kingdoms were lost, and races forgotten. Across the countless span of time, a threat rises, heralding the end of man's rule and laying to waste those who defiled its mistress. It is known as the Severaine: a power that could bring even the Gods themselves to their knees.

Our heroes had been tasked to save the world, yet by their hand it was plunged into peril. But fate will not relinquish its hold on the ones who are chosen. Creatures once forced into slumber rise, their cries heralding a new dawn as the Severaine awakens. Its sole purpose is to purge and remake the world.

To stop such a power seems impossible. As paths once closed reopen, whispered tales speak of hope... but only to those willing to listen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Jan 1, 2022
• ISBN: 4867457191

Book preview

Titles by K.J. Simmill

Fiction:

The Forgotten Legacies Series:

Darrienia

The Severaine

Remedy

The Dreamwalker

Non-Fiction:

Herbal Lore

To my muses, my family, and those who want their story told.

Chapter One

The Burden

He had failed her, but what had she expected? What she had asked of them was impossible. They had already wasted months scouring Albeth's college library in search of anything that may even hint towards their mission. Time passed, filled with nothing more than stacks of dust-ridden books while the world was thrust into chaos by the threat of the Severaine. Already cities had been laid to waste. Its insatiable lust to purge offending life feeding its hunger and replenishing the depleted energies its break into freedom had consumed. It was ravenous and, like any living being, all it devoured gave it strength. A strength which was turned to one purpose, to erase all life. Normally this allowed a new god to sculpt the world as they desired. Zeus, however, still sat upon the Throne of Eternity, keeping vigil but not interfering in the fate of man. After all, it was by their hand this force had been unleashed. It was their responsibility to find a way to tame it.

How could she release this terror and then abandon them? How could she have asked this of him? To seal the Severaine, to undo what she did, there was no way he could do what she had requested.

Daniel stared unseeing through the tavern window, out into the softly lit streets of Collateral that descended in their gentle gradients. The light from the torches, which lit the winding streets, began to fade with the promise of a new day. Soon it would be morning, and once again he would fail to fulfil her final request. Once more their search would result in failure and another fragment of his hope would fade. He had long since exhausted the depths of his reserves. On days like these he just wanted to leave the world and its problems behind, just like she had.

When they had first returned, this bustling metropolis had heaved with life. The trade districts had been busier than they had ever seen, and the taverns were filled to capacity as people sought a means to forget their troubles. Collateral was one of the only safe places that remained, and access was a luxury scarce few discovered, and those who had already scrambled to fill its borders.

Today he had been hopeful. Their research seemed to have yielded so many possibilities. But as they worked their way through the countless tales of lore, his hope once more drained as all amounted to nothing. How did she expect them to find answers when the question asked predated their cycle, and was, perhaps, even primordial in nature?

Now, Daniel and the barkeep seemed to be the only people awake at this hour. The metal shutters secured the bar and the rhythmic sweeping of the brush across the wooden floor whispered a gentle lullaby. But even this soothing noise could not force the sleep he so desperately rejected. So long had it been, even memories of a peaceful night now eluded him. He passed his hands through his ear-length brown hair before cradling his head. It had been so long, so many months and still they were no closer than when they had first set out on this fool's errand. What had possessed him to think that he could make a difference?

He sat alone with his questions, alone with his worries, as the world inside Collateral enjoyed their restful slumber unaware of the burdens he shouldered.

He feared the night more than his death. Death was an end, a release, and through it he would find peace. But to sleep was to invite dreams. Nightmares he scarcely survived as memories of the past and visions of the future plagued his every sense, repeating on a continuous loop from which there was no escape; at least, not until someone showed the mercy of releasing him.

But the true terror was worse than the moments that danced before him. The real terror, the real reason he feared sleep so much, was because she was there; hunting him through the darkness, relentless in her murderous pursuit. They had escaped her, but in his dreams, she came for him and every time, true to life, she won.

The passing months had become nothing more than a blur. A constant battle to wade through the seemingly endless library in search of something. Perhaps even something as seemingly insignificant as a footnote, or yet another outlandish theory. All the time he fought the approaching sleep and, although it always won eventually, he never slept for long. How could he with the images he saw?

His most successful method of forcing back the fatigue was to busy his mind. Tonight he focused on trying to discover the secret of Collateral.

When they had first arrived here, and walked this bustling metropolis, Zo had revealed just part of its secret lore. She had told him this place was not one of their world. The outside imagery, which led them to assume otherwise, was nothing more than an illusion. One so perfectly crafted and sustained that even the shadows of the town obeyed the passing hours of the virtual light. But even the air was created only by the needs of those who lived within.

It was a remarkable place. So now when he grew tired, he tried to think on this; to imagine where this place could be, how such a perfect illusion was possible, and the power which had been needed to create something of this magnitude.

Tonight, however, his thoughts would not stay focused on the mysteries of Collateral. Even had sleep been easy, he would not have found himself within its comforting embrace. The thought of events brought by the rising sun filled him with such morbid dread, such shame, had he seen his reflection he would avoid its accusing stare. There was no choice, he had put off this inevitable journey for too long. His shoulders grew taut with the burden he was forced to carry. Tomorrow would see an end, tomorrow he would venture to Drevera, Zo's hometown, and finally say goodbye.

This evening he had spoken to Acha of his intentions, yet by giving voice to them they became forefront in his mind. His every thought consumed by those of his best friend, Acha's half-sister.

It was strange to think that they had been born nearly 1300 years apart, and yet, both shared the same father. It had been something neither of them had realised until it had been too late.

By visiting Drevera he hoped to finally move forward. Only then could he once more continue with his life. For so long he had fought to keep this day at bay, but he could deny it no longer. What she had asked was selfish. How could he be expected to do what no one else could? It was time to set aside these foolish aspirations and focus on what he could do. He could not seal the Severaine, but maybe he could help those plagued by the disaster her actions had wrought. Perhaps another would succeed where he failed, someone worthy of wearing the shroud of hero.

Zo was not buried in Drevera. Her body wasn't buried at all, despite his wishes to the contrary given the circumstances. It had been a surreal situation, one which would have perhaps been more common had Hectarian magic still existed. No mortal token of her passing remained; her form still walked the planet with Marise Shi as its owner. Marise Shi, the darkness to Zoella's light. There was not a moment, waking or otherwise, in which he didn't wish Hades had taken her instead.

Zo had been unique. Not only was she Hectarian—despite the fact none should have been born after the Hoi Hepta Sophoi extinguished the source of this power at its core—but she had been a walker on the path of light. Most Hectarians, by need alone, ensured their lives and magic remained neutral, thus retaining balance of the light and darkness which formed the magic within them. But should someone choose to follow a path and fail to keep the intrinsic balance there were dire consequences. Those who walked the path of darkness destroyed the purity within them, and those who traversed the path of light would battle constantly to restrain its counterpart.

It was ironic, the Hectarians who walked the path of light were more dangerous than those who embraced the darkness. The reason was simple, given enough time the darkness being suppressed could create its own identity. It would become a being in its own right that drew strength from inner turmoil; an identity born of pure darkness who possessing more power than any who had simply embraced the darker aspects of their nature. When it eventually overpowered the light, which they were told would always occur, it became a force to fear. Marise Shi was such a force.

A figure to Daniel's right cleared their throat. For a moment he thought the barkeep had finally worked up the courage to request him to retire. Not that it really mattered. At night he securely locked the bar area behind beaten metal shutters. It wasn't as if he could cause any mischief if left unsupervised. He turned to acknowledge him, surprised he hadn't heard his approach. As his eyes rested on the figure he realised why. It wasn't the barkeep, it was Seiken.

Daniel looked to him hatefully. His vision taking in every minute detail of the figure who now perched on the edge of the table. The figure wore his clothes like a second skin. The dark leather trousers accentuated his slender form, whilst the tight shirt showed the definition of every well-sculpted muscle. His red auburn hair was, as always, fastened back into a ponytail, although altered slightly since they last met. The front, shorter layers, now formed a thin, middle-parted fringe which fell each side of his rich brown eyes. He possessed a beauty which could make any woman blush by simply casting a glance in their direction. But he had only ever really looked at one woman, and it was because of him she was gone.

Seiken pulled a chair from the table, moving it to sit beside him as Daniel looked at him in disdain. This was all his fault. He would not be here, in this situation, or mourning the loss of his friend, if it hadn't been for him. He was the cause of everything.

When Zo was still alive, Night had imprisoned a race known as the Oneirois, a race to which Seiken belonged. They hadn't realised it at the time, but even this was simply bait to control her actions. Night had required her in order to achieve his desires. She was the only person who could do what was needed, and he had ensured that she was given no choice but to fulfil his every desire. He cared only about retrieving the powers stolen by the Hoi Hepta Sophoi, and since he was already in possession of six of the seven Grimoire—the magical tomes used to seal them—all he had needed was to create the means to obtain the last.

It was rumoured this final text could only be removed from its resting place by someone with a pure heart who also shared his blood. At first, they believed Acha was the key to obtaining this power, but they had been gravely mistaken.

As they travelled Darrienia, they unknowingly released the seals to the Severaine. Seals which not only held back this terrifying power but helped to shield the location of the final Grimoire. Everything had been carefully planned to the last detail and, in the end, Night had obtained everything he desired, the Grimoire, and the release of the Severaine. They had thought they were saving the world, but instead they had been exploited.

Had they known Night's true intention of releasing the Severaine their actions would, perhaps, have been more guarded. The Severaine was once feared as an enforcer of the Gods, a threat on the lips of all. But in this time, it had been all but forgotten as the cycle of this world evolved. There was little mention of it in texts, and great debates held between elder scholars as to its true nature. But even then, not one truly believed it anything more than a frightening fable. That was, until it broke free of its restraints, plunging the world into a bout of natural disasters as its release changed the very nature of the world.

It hunted at random or so it seemed. One day it could target a town on Albeth, and the next day its sights could be on Therascia, with seemingly little method to its madness. The force was weak, yet with each passing day it grew in strength. Resting and sleeping after its latest meal before striking once more. It would only be a matter of time until it could truly complete the task intended, until it possessed enough strength to purge all life from the planet.

Even knowing Night's ambitions would have provided little aid. So perfect was his scheme that the only impossible course was inaction. By imprisoning the Oneirois—who protected the barrier between dream and reality—he had ensured regardless of their path the world would suffer the consequences of their actions. Had they not freed the Oneirois, then nightmares and horrors would have crossed the boundaries, taking corporeal form, and those suffering in their dreams, would find the same ailments inflicted on waking. Darrienia, the world of dreams, would have become as deadly as the waking world, if not more so, and from fear, more nightmares would be born and more terror would plague the lands.

That was the beauty of Night's plan, there was no choice but to aid the Oneirois. Whatever their path it would be a Pyrrhic victory.

He hadn't seen Seiken since their imprisonment in Night's tower. He had hoped never to lay eyes upon him again. The very sight of him filled Daniel with a primal rage for vengeance. His hatred towards Seiken had evolved into something far deeper, more potent than anything he had ever experienced, save for once. If he hadn't asked for her aid, asked her to be their salvation, none of this would have happened.

The Oneirois were meant to be the guardians. They should have protected themselves. It was everything he could do not to embrace these primitive feelings, to strike out in an attempt to deal a physical pain equal to his own.

One thing was for certain, whatever he came here seeking, be it aid or forgiveness, he would find nought but hatred remained. Daniel took a few deep breaths as he finally decided to speak.

To what do I owe this pleasure? He forced the words. It seemed the only way to rid himself of this figure was to listen to whatever it was he had come to say. The anger in his voice was unmistakable, and only deepened by Seiken's apparent apathy regarding the result of his actions. He showed no signs of remorse or grief. Seeing this, Daniel felt the burn of pain as his nails sunk further into his palms. The delicate restraint, allowing him to remain near to this traitor, faltered.

I'm just waiting, Seiken answered softly, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. He wore the mask of indifference well. It was a necessity. Seiken hadn't known what to expect when their paths crossed once more, but one thing was for certain, he hadn't expected him to look so tired and broken. It was a feeling easy to empathise with. He knew all too well the pain of the loss suffered. Despite what Daniel might think, he was not alone in his grief, but unlike him, Seiken could not wear his for any to see. None of his people knew the true cost of their freedom, at least not the one paid by him.

For what? Daniel frowned, his voice coating the words with venom as they left his lips.

Turning to speak Seiken opened his mouth, closing it again as his words failed him. The turmoil of emotions from Daniel was unmistakable. Anything he could say would offer little comfort. It was clear where Daniel placed his blame. Seiken betrayed them, he had gently guided Zo to her death. But even without his intervention the end result would still have been the fulfilment of an ancient prophecy. Sensing the wordless questions Daniel spoke again, filling the bitter silence in hope to hasten Seiken's departure.

I watched Hades rip my best friend from this world to leave Marise in her stead. I watched her die, sacrifice herself for us, for you, he spat angrily, closing his eyes to prevent the raw tears from emerging. The all too familiar scene of her final moments repeated through the darkness of his vision. Seiken knew well the visions that clouded his mind despite not bearing witness to her final moments. He himself had wanted to prevent her from taking that final journey to Night. He had tried to warn her the cost of the confrontation, but it was a price she had known, and one she was willing to pay.

I am truly sorry. Seiken placed his hand gently on Daniel's shoulder, who knocked it to one side angrily. His thoughts clearly reflected in his eyes as he questioned how this Oneiroi dared to touch him, how he dared approach him. He did not know what place this figure had played in his friend's past, and neither did he care. All that mattered was she had been important to him. Zo had been his salvation, saving him from an isolated existence with her friendship. After losing both his brother Adam and then his best friend, Stephen, Daniel had retreated into his own world. A world filled with emptiness and study. Yet when their paths had crossed his solitude was forgotten. She had made him care, love even, and Seiken had taken her away.

You're sorry! he snarled. That's it? She loved you and you're sorry? If you hadn't come along, she'd still be alive, and you're sorry? Did you even care, or did you too want to ensure she played the role expected of her? His tone was filled with such outrage and hostility, an anger which lined his voice so thickly it was on the verge of breaking. How could he be so dismissive? She had given everything she had for them, everything. Did he really think those few words would make everything all right? Did they possess the power to bring the dead back to life? No, they did not. They were empty, meaningless words which could in no way improve things.

You have to understand, we were from two different worlds, such an involvement is forbidden. Seiken gave a sigh, he glanced around quickly as if to ensure they remained alone. Leaning forwards, he lowered his tones. Despite this— But before he could finish the walls trembled, the wood from the door splintering as fire erupted inward. The sound was almost deafening as the heat roared through the bar shattering glass and bottles. Daniel heard the screams and panic which came from the sleeping quarters as the inn was bathed in flames. A shadow stepped through into the tavern, her feminine curves accentuated by the clothes she wore. Her hair, as red as the fire's blaze, sprayed wildly in the rising heat. It was a figure who needed no introduction.

Found you. She smiled menacingly running her tongue over her lips in anticipation of what was to follow. For a moment her appearance, the weight of her stare, immobilised him. But his anger broke through the paralysis giving him the strength to move. He reached down to secure his staff, but instead of finding it within his possession his hand seized the hilt of Eiji's dagger. There was no time to question how, and when, this had come into his possession. His only instinct was to seize it, to protect himself against her. One hand fastened over the other in an attempt to steady the weapon as he pointed it in her direction. All the time he dared not stray his vision from the fearful presence of Marise Shi.

Despite the distance between them when her sea-green eyes locked with his he could see the reflection of his own fear within them. Was this what was meant when they said people could see the image of their own death when they looked upon her? Her movements were almost predatory as she slowly advanced towards him. The small heels of her knee-high boots echoed with every step.

Just one thought circled his mind in that instance, why couldn't Hades have taken her instead? She paused her advance, watching him intently as if trying to determine his next action. Would he really face her in a battle he knew he could not win?

Daniel could see the escape route clearly in his mind. The distance between them should give him enough time to retreat. He dared not break her gaze but was certain he could make it. If he could he would live. But did he want to? More powerful than the will to live was the desire for revenge. He wanted to kill her. It was this thought which delayed his movement. A thought that meant he found himself once more ready to face her in battle. He would kill her here and now or die trying. His life had no meaning anyway. He had lost everything he held dear, why would he even want to continue living? By the time he had the answer it was too late to run, too late to save that which he now deemed important.

Everything that followed seemed almost surreal. Time distorted. He blinked, breaking eye contact for that brief part of a second as he realised it was too late. As his eyes opened, she was before him. At first, he could not understand her actions, her hands had gripped his own. It was only when the dull throbbing pain began to radiate through him, as she twisted his weapon deeper, he realised what had happened. In that fleeting moment, during that single blink, everything had ended.

He sank to his knees as an overwhelming heat began to wash over him, his body shaking uncontrollably. Marise's presence was now long forgotten. His only focus was on the rapidly spreading darkness staining his linen shirt. Shock immobilised him as the weakness took hold, and every beat of his heart turned him colder. The once bright lights of the tavern began to dim. A sudden movement before him brought his attention to the unfocused image of her soft leather boots as she stopped to stand over him. Her hands seized his, tearing the weapon from the wound, releasing a powerful gush of blood as he fell to lie upon the floor. His gaze fixed on the knife she had discarded. The sound of her departure unheard as she left him to his fate.

He tried to hold on, to call for help. He could not die, not here, not like this. As he heard the steps of Hermes approaching his thoughts once more returned to Zo. It would not be long now. He grew tired, sleepy. The wound didn't hurt any more. Perhaps in death he could find peace. He could let go of all the responsibilities; he could release the pressure of trying to find a way to seal the Severaine. He could just sleep.

He saw the figure of Hermes crouch before him. It took a moment for his tired mind to realise it wasn't his guide to the underworld who had approached, it was Seiken. He looked upon him with such sympathy, then, still wearing the expression of regret, he clicked his fingers.

Daniel awoke with a start. His hand, by reflex, finding his stomach, feeling the area nervously before releasing a sigh of relief. He had been dreaming. Lately his dreams were so vivid, so real, that he had lost the ability to distinguish between the two. He was unsure when he had fallen asleep, when he had lay his head upon the table. The barkeep was no longer keeping vigil on him, perhaps he had thought it an act of kindness to leave him there to his dreams.

The torches burnt low, from the subtle change in the skyline he knew the sun would soon be rising. He could almost feel the waking of the city. The militia would soon be changing over as those who had patrolled the tiered residential areas retired to their main quarters in the middle eastern section of the city. This tavern was located in the middle trade zone, a place filled with layered shops and cafes. Already the smell of fresh bread filtered through the air. He knew the merchants on the furthest reaches of the town—those too poor to trade within this area—would be spreading their blankets ready for their day of trade.

He rose groggily to his feet, nausea passing over him in waves as he cast his vision downward. He lifted his shirt to ensure the wound had not returned with him. But even seeing the untouched skin, which bore just the three familiar scars, did little to calm his mind. As he turned his chair over to place it on the table, he noticed another one sat with it. He was certain Acha had tidied hers away after their conversation. Did this mean Seiken, for some reason, had sat with him in both worlds?

Could it be that they had been too late, that dreams and reality were still beginning to merge? He reached out to take it. His hand hesitating just moments before he made contact with its coarse surface, his mind questioning if it really did stand before him, or if the act of touching it would send him spiralling into another nightmare. He studied it a moment longer before walking away. It would not be the first time he had seen things that were not there, nor would it be the first time he thought he had woken only to find himself plunged into a deeper horror.

He slowly made his way to the sleeping area. For a moment, as he passed the shuttered bar, he saw the shattered bottles and fire damage.

It had all too quickly arrived at this point again. It didn't seem too long ago when he had last resorted to medicine to force his body to rest. It was a drastic measure he used only when the line between his realities thinned, and he could not afford to be anything but vigilant. Last time he had taken something he had found himself trapped within his nightmares. The appearance of an Oneiroi to wake him had simply resulted in him being passed from one horror to another until finally the medicine's effect subsided. Perhaps tonight things would be different. Just yesterday he had discovered a potion said to stop dreaming. Or at least he thought he had.

Entering the sleeping area, he made his way to the only empty bed. It had been a busy night in Collateral. People seemed to flock here to avoid the disaster which lay in the wake of the Severaine. He was glad they had thought to pay for their bed and breakfast weeks in advance, otherwise they could very easily have found themselves with nowhere to stay.

Dragging his weary body to bed, he lay quietly fingering through the contents of his satchel, relieved when his still-trembling hands did indeed find the medicine he thought should be there. Goose pimples chased across his flesh as he removed the small cork stopper, his mouth growing dry as he stared at it. Many deep breaths passed before its cool glass touched his lips. He hesitated only briefly before pouring its bitter contents into his mouth.

He pushed himself deeper under the covers, his eyes wide with fear, gazing at the blanket which protected him so completely as he clutched the satchel close. After the last time, he had sworn never to resort to these measures, but with the challenges looming on the horizon there had been little choice. Just tonight, just once more, he would let a tincture aid him. After all, seeing both Marise and Seiken in one night was too much for him to bear.

Chapter Two

Vices

It was just before noon when Daniel finally awoke. After only one dose he could already feel the subtle tingling on his lips as the leftover residue from the poison left his body. His eyes barely opened, held together with rubbish and grit. His throat was dry, and tongue numb. It was several seconds before saliva once more began to moisten his mouth, and the taste it brought was unpleasant. Every movement sent shooting pains through his temples, threatening to topple him. Yet despite this he felt better than he had the night before.

The thumping of his heart brought with it a beat matched in pain at his temples as his eyes squinted against the light in an attempt to dull the sensitivity. Moments passed until he sat fully on the edge of the bed. His hands fumbled his leather skin only to find its contents already depleted. For the first time he cast his gaze across the room, shielding his eyes with his hand as he searched for Acha or Eiji. The beds had all been stripped and the room, save for one bed and his own, vacated.

He rummaged through the satchel, still gripped tightly despite his movement, looking for something to ease the pain. Zo had been nothing if not skilled in medicine; even his mother had been in awe of her talents. But his family had seen scarcely the tip of her skill. They had never learnt of her Hectarian heritage.

Within the satchel she had provided him everything he could need, from medicine to poison, and on more than on occasion he had indulged in both. The array of items never failed to surprise him, no matter how many times he turned his gaze inside. By using a combination of chemicals, plants, and stones she had succeeded in bottling the very essence of magic. Using unusual combinations to create things such as smoke screens, sleeping powders, and even something labelled fire in a bottle.

Finding what he sought, he drank the sweet nectar, his fingers still searching, probing, as the memory of today's challenge was remembered. Before consideration changed his mind, another phial was emptied, and soon the pain receded and a calmness took root. He moved to stand, his movement leaving trails as the objects in the room readjusted to his new position. His balanced faltered, he sat again. He needed to at least make himself presentable before meeting his friends, but it would be several minutes before he could find them without receiving that knowing look.

Over the last few months they had seen him through some wretched states. Sleep deprivation, stimulants, intoxication, and that was just what they had witnessed. His mother was a recognised physician, so he had known how to hide the tell-tale signs of his more dangerous dabblings. He had been on a downward spiral, whilst still pouring himself over the books. He always administered controlled amounts, enough to appear calm, remain awake, and have clarity of focus. Then had come the night of inescapable dreams. He had taken too much, and it had cost him greatly.

Eiji was the one who had found him, and the shame of waking up to his knowing gaze haunted him still. He had not spoken of it, merely taken what remained of Daniel's supplies, but he and Acha had watched him closely since. The terror of that night had seen him pursue such means no longer, and once again Zo's gift had relieved the unpleasant side-effects from abstaining from his latest vice.

Pulling himself upright he tightened his belt another notch, not realising how many times he had done this of late and made his way to the bathroom. The cold water from the sink refreshed his senses a fraction, giving him the coordination to run a damp comb through his hair.

Pulling his staff from the satchel he fumbled to place the six collapsed segments into the specially designed section in his belt. His eyes focused better on the loops for the phials. Placing them in with little difficulty he knew he could now face them.

Look who's up. Eiji welcomed him with a warm smile, ignoring the passing glance Acha had cast in his direction. Even from this distance he could see what she so quietly suggested. Sitting now where Daniel had last night, Eiji raised his hand in greeting, a motion that caught the attention of a few people at the nearby tables, almost as if they feared his intentions. It was somewhat of a common reaction, although no disrespect was ever meant. The people here were apprehensive, each shouldering the burdens of their own concerns.

Elementalists held an unmistakable presence, an aura of power. The act of being near to them was akin with the energies and intensity of being amidst a relentless and unstoppable force of nature; one with the fickle temperaments associated with man. The raw and primal forces gathering around them instantly identified them. In addition, they normally possessed a feature which told tales of their primal magic, and Eiji was no exception. The shades of his blond hair set him aside from those normally found with his olive complexion. Despite his continual lack of effort, it always appeared deliberately tousled, and fell into defined natural layers, finishing just below his ears. The roots, however, remained darker, a hint of its intended shades had the power not claimed him.

Morning, he yawned moving to join them at the table. The tavern looked far different in the daylight. It was filled with life; the drunken cheers and songs of both travellers and residents lifted the oppression the darkened room once held.

A young lady, dressed in a leather front-fastening waistcoat over a flowing white shirt, walked towards them. Her soft ankle-length skirt swayed with the movement of her hips. She placed a plate in front of him, and he thanked her as she hurried away to continue her circuit to relieve herself of the other meals she carried. Picking up his fork he began to pick at the food, but his raging hunger soon quickened his pace until the plate was empty.

Acha and Eiji remained silent. Both too afraid to speak in case their words distracted him from his newfound appetite. It was a relief to see him eat. They couldn't remember the last time he had done so. It gave them hope, perhaps the return of his hunger was a sign that things were slowly starting to get better. Once he had finished, it was Eiji who spoke first.

Acha was tellin' me about y' idea, sounds good. He phrased his comment carefully. He had always been too blunt with his words. He was used to speaking his mind like his master had. Unfortunately, he also had a habit of saying the first thing that entered it, usually something that in no way helped the situation. When they first met with Zo, he had not only almost told her of her other identity, but had told horror stories of this persona as they sat around the campfire, without a thought as to what affect this would have when she did finally discover the truth. He had always spoken without care. It was something which, since her death, he had tried to address.

He was trying so hard not to say anything to upset Daniel. He had witnessed first-hand the depths of his despair and the lengths he would go to relieve it, so he bypassed the subject of Zo completely. He thought he was doing well too, but they knew, after all, he was trying just a little too hard, being a little too careful, and it was exactly this that made Daniel cringe. He was constantly trying to avoid all subjects that would make him think of her, even if it meant changing the topic of conversations entirely. As thoughtful as his intentions were, it made him angry.

Do you know how to get there? Acha questioned. Her gaze once more flitted across to Eiji who, with a subtle nod, confirmed he also saw the effects of whatever Daniel had once more resorted to.

Collateral had so many different portals the concern of finding just one had played on her mind since the night before, but broaching the subject then would have been of no benefit to anyone. Without knowing the street name finding the portal, and thus their journey, would be impossible; especially since sailing the ocean was now out of the question. Very few ships dared to brave the waters.

Boa street, second exit, he replied autonomously. Until now he had been uncertain if he had truly spoken with her of his intentions. His hand unconsciously touched his stomach as he tried to pinpoint exactly when he had fallen asleep last night. Venrent told us. Acha and Eiji exchanged glances. Something about that name seemed familiar. They both knew they had heard it before but neither of them could place when, or in what context.

Venrent? Eiji questioned, his query following through on the belief the name had some importance.

The traitor who knew Zo's mother, he answered, trying to conceal the raw nerve that accompanied the mention of her name. He failed. Without realising, as he spoke her name his voice lost all power as the force of the loss struck him anew.

Ah, Eiji stated instantly regretting having asked. He remembered now, Zo's encounter with this man had been the cause of much unrest. Venrent, that's kinda a strange name. I bet it's got a really old history like Acha, her name's from early Z.E. Speakin' of which, he looked towards Acha, weren't y' tellin' me earlier about—

Will you stop it! Daniel slammed his hands angrily against the table as he rose to his feet. His eyes seemed to grow a shade darker through his rage.

Stop what? Eiji glanced to Acha questioningly as Daniel rose in challenge.

Changing the subject so I don't have to think about her, Daniel snapped. Eiji nodded in surprise, thinking his attempts to spare him pain had been so seamless the gesture had gone unnoticed. He was wrong. Until now he had believed himself flawless in diverting their conversations from more troublesome topics. "I want to think about her, I want to talk about her. If we don't, she may as well not have existed at all. I do not want to forget her." Daniel lowered his tone as he realised people within the tavern had grown silent, all turning their attention towards them.

It was clear from the atmosphere there were more than a few people nervous about a brawl involving an Elementalist. Even so, they seemed disappointed as Daniel sat back down slowly. When he spoke again it was in lowered tones, and the sounds of life and music returned to the tavern.

I don't want to forget her, he repeated softly. But already I am. I can't forget. I can't lose the fragments of her I still have left. I know you're trying to help, to protect me, but this is far worse. Please just be yourself, stop walking on eggshells around me. I'm not as fragile as you may think. Eiji gave a defeated sigh, nodding. He had thought he was doing the right thing keeping the topic at bay. It gave his friends time to come to terms with the loss without having all those little reminders. It seemed he was wrong; he didn't understand their grief as well as he had thought.

Eiji had a completely different view of death to most people. After all, the changes he would undergo when he passed would not be the same as those who saw the Elysian Fields and were reunited with their loved ones. As an Elementalist, his body and life energy would return to the elements which created him, and from this energy another would be born and build on the experience and knowledge his death had brought. It was all part of a natural cycle, one that was celebrated, not mourned.

Unfortunately for Eiji, someone he considered a wise and knowledgeable man had once told him that grief was just another form of selfishness. The dead didn't want those they loved to mourn them. They wanted them to enjoy their life, enjoy the memories of their time together. Grief was completely selfish; it was simply a reflection of how the loss had affected them. How they felt about never seeing them again, how they felt without them. But in reality, for the deceased death was simply returning to the most natural state, returning home after a long journey to the place they belonged. This was a cause to be celebrated, rejoicing in their life, their accomplishments, and the fact their paths had crossed. On hearing this explanation Eiji had felt happy for those who had moved on. They had already found comfort and would await those they loved in Elysium.

He had learnt very quickly not to voice these thoughts. Whenever he had tried in the past to use this wisdom as a means of comfort, to tell people they were being selfish and should be happy their friend or loved one was dead, for some reason people appeared to take offence. It seemed he failed to impress the inspiration and understanding he had felt from this wise man's words on anyone else. He could not understand why his words would bring no comfort, especially when the one who had first spoken them had provided such ease to so many others. He learnt a long time ago that avoidance seemed to be the best path. The less he said on the matter, the easier people seemed to grieve. To this end he had determined that the best source of comfort was complete avoidance of the topic.

Sorry, I was just tryin' t'make things easier. He placed his hand on Daniel's arm comfortingly. Perhaps we should leave now? His voice still held his soft apologetic tones.

Yes, let's. Acha rose to her feet at Eiji's words and led them through the tavern. Although everyone had gone about their business again, they seemed to have done so in quieter tones than before.

* * *

The main problem for any seeking to use Collateral as a means to travel was its sheer size. The City was divided into multiple districts, and there was no shortage of portals throughout. The militia had regular patrols, and it was only thanks to their aid that the three of them were finally able to navigate their way to the farming district and towards the portal.

From this distance, as they stood upon the seemingly endless plains of farmland, the tiered formation of the great city became more apparent. The rise that separated class in not only the residential district, but the trade districts too, was clearly evident. The entire city was built on a gradual incline.

Small wooden farmsteads periodically rose amidst the terrain. The only passage between them a network of rutted, muddy roads worn by labour and trade. There was no one person responsible for the harvest or livestock, nor was any individual charged with the sole responsibility of preparing the herbs to be delivered for the apothecary shops. The land, like the city, was extensive, as were the hands required to tend it.

Dry-stone walls segregated areas, separating the land where different crops took root, protecting them from the grazing animals. As Daniel's hesitant steps led them down the path, a farmer called out to them in a warm greeting as he deposited a small stack of carefully packed boxes onto the back of his horse-drawn wagon. Near the field he had been tending many such containers awaited transport. Daniel paused, wondering if they should help him. He was just about to offer their services when Acha, having responded to the greeting, placed her hand on the small of his back as she stepped past him, the gentle pressure spurring him onward.

For Daniel the journey to the portal had been all too short. He stood beholding the silver shimmer with foreboding, his hands fastening around the strap of the satchel as he calmed his breathing. Perhaps this was not the best day to do this. It was already the afternoon. Besides, he did not know where he intended to go. He knew nothing of Drevera, save for the location of the town. Perhaps it would be better if he did more research first.

Sensing his hesitation Eiji approached. He would have asked if Daniel was certain he was ready or if he wanted to postpone their journey longer; but this morning had shown how desperate he was becoming, reinforcing the importance of this task. Eiji feared for his friend. They had not spoken of his indiscretion, but they had taken precautions. The fact he had still found, or perhaps even made, something was surely a sign he was returning to his former ways. It was a regression they could not afford. If going to Drevera, and facing the truth, meant he could finally release her ghost then he could not offer him distraction.

Instead of speaking, Eiji cast one final look to his friend and led the way through the portal. Leaving Acha to once more encourage his steps.

Daniel? Acha prompted as he stood staring at the place Eiji had vanished. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he took a slight step away from the exit.

I… it's just… it's so late already. He felt the tightness in his chest increase as he struggled to draw breath.

You can do this. She stepped closer, preventing further retreat, continuing talking as she used her gloved hands to first smarten his hair, then his bed-wrinkled clothes. Daniel, you have faced greater obstacles than whatever awaits you there. Can the other side of this portal be any worse than what you've already overcome?

I'm not ready. His voice caught in his throat, his gaze firmly fixed on the earth at his feet.

You don't have to be. Acha placed her hand gently on his shoulder, the pressure encouraging him forwards. All you need to focus on for now is putting one foot before the other. What comes next is up to you. You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. When Daniel raised his gaze from the beaten track, he saw he already stood before the portal. With controlled breaths, he took the final step.

Drevera was an isolated island. Far enough from both Albeth and Therascia that the only vessels which made the journey were those requested from the Trader's Plexus. Drevera's main source of export was medicinal herbs, a product highly prized by physicians, mainly because things which grew on Drevera were more potent than those farmed anywhere else in the world.

There were many theories between scholars and physicians as to why this was the case. Although Drevera was a small island, they still held true to the rituals of the Gods. Each festival celebrated and each offering presented. This small island gave thanks to all, and thus it was believed they received a greater blessing than those paying homage to their town's home deity. Any on their approach could feel the overwhelming aura from the small town. It was somehow both oppressive and rejuvenating, alluring and repellent.

The people of Drevera were unaccommodating to others. They valued their solitude. It had taken many years for the island's Elder to agree to a Plexus master on their soils. In the end he only agreed to this outsider because doing so limited his own exposure to those who sought their wares. Now the Traders' Plexus handled everything on their behalf, from the initial request of the orders, to having the wares stamped and loaded onto the trade ship. The only thing required of him now was to ensure the orders requested were fulfilled, accepting or rejecting the ones that arrived based on their supply and anticipated harvest.

Throughout the island were littered no less than fifteen tributes to the Gods, consisting of shrines, altars, or sacred saplings. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Aphrodite, Apollo, Ares, Artemis, Athena, Demeter, Dionysus, Hephaestus, Hera, Hermes, Hestia, and Persephone, all were welcomed. They were worshipped and their festivals celebrated, thus all were thought to give their boons to this land. However, the goddesses responsible for bestowing magic, Gaea and Hecate, were paid no homage. For magic in their eyes, belonged solely to the Gods and should not be wielded by humans. Those born with such boons or gifts were shunned in the same manner as these deities.

The homes of Drevera reflected the nature of its people. They were no more or less than they had need for. There was no schoolhouse, no temple. Those born here were taught all they had need for by their community. Their main skills lay in harvest and worship. Despite their dislike of magic their village Hectarian—who no longer possessed any gifts since such power had been sealed—worked alongside the chosen physicians to heal any who fell sick. Visiting her was always a last resort. She may live amongst them but she would never truly be one of them. Their life was simple, and they excelled at all they did. They had no need for books and tales, and those gifted in music sang only of the Gods.

Eiji stood at the crest of the hill looking down over the modest town. The plains surrounding them had been fashioned into farmland, growing crops and herbs. Livestock appeared to graze the island unsupervised as those of the town went about their work.

Daniel held his arms crossed before him, hugging his body tightly as he looked down, swallowing with difficulty, his throat swollen, his breathing restricted. Now he was here there was no turning back.

Daniel, we're gonna have a look around while y' do what y' need t'. Placing his hand on the small of Acha's back, Eiji led her away. Both casting a backwards glance as they left their friend to look out over the town. They knew this was something he needed to do alone, acting only when he was ready, without the added pressure of their presence. Of course that did not make leaving him any easier.

Thanks. Daniel's voice came out as nothing more than a broken whisper. His hand once more finding something within the satchel to ease his burden. His eyes passed over the blurred writing on the label, his brain piecing together the letters as best it could. He was here now, surely some support to see him through the next steps would be justified. He was alone, but he could not do this on his own. He needed support and sought it from the only place he dared ask.

It was some time before his feet began to move. His surroundings nothing more than a blur of passing movement. Trees, animals, people, houses, had any of them spoken to him their voices were unheard. One foot in front of the other, again and again until his legs burnt. The sun dipped low in the sky, the coming cold unrecognised as his body began to tremble, and still, he put one foot in front of the other. The trees snagged at him, the bramble clung to him, yet still he walked, perhaps even in circles, his destination unclear as he staggered, his limbs growing heavy.

To him there was nothing, no island, no wind, just the prison of his mind where he was once more trapped. Time had passed in the blink of an eye, lost in unknown ramblings. Each unfelt step bringing further exhaustion, his breath barely a gasp until he could take no more. Even then, he was not aware of falling, the ground rising to meet him, or the warmth of the tears that streaked his cheeks.

* * *

I just dunno what t'say t'him, Eiji admitted shamefully. He shifted his position slightly to make himself more comfortable as he sat at the water's edge beside Acha. The place they had chosen to wait was magnificent. The torches used during the fire ritual of Hephaestus were certainly a sight to behold. Their markers now barely visible as they traced the gentle gradient. Once lit, to anyone from their perspective, it would appear as if a serpent of fire coiled its way to the mountain's peak until it reached the enormous forge. This final fire, once lit, would burn for three days and nights, and each day the people of the town would make offerings at the serpent's jaws. Those wishing to have blessed weapons or armour, used the time before this festival to petition the blacksmiths, via the Plexus, for it was believed anything forged in the flame carried from the fire ritual was blessed by Hephaestus himself.

I don't think either of us do. Acha sighed.

I've been tryin' so hard not t'upset him but it's havin' the opposite effect. Y've seen y'self the vices he tries t'keep hidden. I think we've stilled the worst of it but… I just dunno what else we can do. We can't force him t'see what he wants t'remain blind t'. He moved slightly to place his hand upon Acha's, he squeezed it gently through the leather glove. Daniel had no monopoly on the grief caused by the death of their friend, both of them still felt raw from the loss. Both wished there had been more that they could have done instead of standing helplessly by, watching as she gave her life for theirs.

When his path had first crossed with Elly's, Eiji had chosen to journey with them solely in the interest of self-preservation, but in the end, he would have gladly traded places with her. He had hated walking beside the legendary murderer Marise Shi, but it didn't take too long to realise the true similarities were only that of the flesh. He owed her an apology. One he would never be given the chance to express. He saw himself in Zo as they travelled, like her, he too never expected to form the bonds of friendship. He had expected to live in solitude until taking on an apprentice and finally returning to the elements, but this was not the path fate had traced before him.

Elementalists, like sorcerers, remained in solitude due to the untamed forces surrounding them. They possessed an aura that over time would act as poison to any in their presence. But Eiji had been fortunate, during his journey he had found comrades without even trying, and more surprisingly still, Acha's own inherent abilities absorbed the energy, nullifying its harmful effects to others.

I never did have the chance t'apologise t'her, Eiji lamented, breaking the silence.

What for? Acha thought back over their time together. It was true he had seemed cautious around her, but there had been no actions on his part that warranted an apology. In fact, she was the only one who truly needed to make amends. On more than one occasion she had deliberately tried to lead Zo into harm's way, into situations she felt certain would ensure her demise. Her attempts had failed, and all too late had she come to realise the truth behind her actions. Eiji, however, had remained true. He knew long before any of them of the assassin waiting within Zo's soul, and despite everything that happened, despite all the pressure she and Daniel had placed on him, he had never once betrayed her secret, or anyone's for that matter.

I misjudged her, he answered as Acha forced the bitter memories of her betrayal from her mind, closing her eyes briefly to force back the tears she refused to shed.

The only person who never doubted her was Daniel. Once Zo's past had been discovered it was soon confided, to Acha alone, that he was the only one amongst them who had a true reason to hate the murderer Marise Shi. She had taken the life of his brother, and it was only by some miracle that Daniel himself had survived. Despite this, he had never once held her responsible for the actions of her dark persona. He effortlessly did something both Acha and Eiji eventually managed to do, to see Zoella and Marise as two completely separate people. Acha shuddered feeling the chill of the night air closing around them, only then did they realise how late the hour had grown. We really should try to find him. Suddenly realising how long they had been separated gave her a very uneasy feeling.

* * *

A bloody idiot, that's what he is, the voice chuntered to herself as light once more slowly began to seep into view. Daniel's body was heavy, unresponsive. The harsh sound of pots echoed causing him to cringe internally. Honestly, I expected better, she huffed. Boy, are you awake? When he failed to manage a response, he felt a sharp stab in his arm. I tell you something, I've seen some sorry waifs and strays in my time, but you take the cake, boy. What in all the stars she was thinking leaving you with such things is beyond me. Daniel's eyes were half open, he could neither close nor open them fully. The image of a table before him faded in and out of his patchy vision.

He tried to speak, but the only sound to leave him was a hoarse gargle. His tongue refusing to move as he willed it.

Honestly, boy, you're lucky they didn't leave you there to rot. They probably would have if you'd not been by Persephone's tribute. Maybe they even considered it. I hear people make great fertiliser for trees. The woman shook her head, moving to sit at the table she poured herself a cup of tea. The luck of Tyche and the brains of a turkey, you'd bloody drown yourself in the rain given half the chance. At least the bird's stupidity's just a myth.

Gwha— Daniel once more tried to speak.

What happened? Her voice was sharp as she understood his intended question. You tried to kill yourself, that's what happened. She told me you were clever, but only a bloody fool drinks hemlock. It's a good job you were still holding the phial, or you'd be joining your friend. Daniel managed a blink. Ah good the paralysis is wearing off. Shame I can't do nowt for the idiocy. Daniel felt himself grow hot, her voice echoing. The world burned in and out of focus as his body began to spasm. The elderly woman was at his side in an instant, her hand resting upon his forehead, concern replacing the harshness in her faded grey eyes. Breathe, Daniel Eliot. Her voice was firm, yet its rhythm almost hypnotic, his body obeyed without delay. She'd never forgive me if I let you die here. Daniel heard himself gasping and choking, unaware his breath had even stopped. His body convulsed violently until all once more became enshrouded in darkness.

* *