A Hero's Ballad: The Knightmare (For Surreal)

     ~X~

     It had been a hot and humid summer’s day. Sir Reynold had brought the whole family to one of his favourite watering holes, a quaint place called “The Junction,” where Neopians of multiple lands gathered to find peace together. It was there that Sir Reynold sang his final concert before he faced Ramtor.

     Melissa, his mother, relaxed at a table with heaping platefuls of food and grog. Across from her sat one of Sir Reynold’s friends, a Darigan Zafara Lieutenant named Deborah who had spared his life during the first Meridell War. She had been the one who open their father’s eyes to his own cognitive bias; the one who showed him that just because they were on opposite sides of the War didn’t mean that they couldn’t understand one another. Her children and husband had been frequent visitors during Rohane’s childhood. Perhaps that was why he didn’t share in the same aversion to those who hailed from the flying land.

     Meanwhile, In the kitchen (as this was as classy a warm-up room as the inn could afford) the stern yellow Blumaroo practiced his scales to the applause of the chef and assistants.

     “I haven’t even sung yet!” Sir Reynold said with a laugh.

     “Then we’re in for a real treat, eh?” the chef, a lanky Darigan Ogrin with her mane tied-up in ornate braids, clapped twice. A crew of three kitchen workers lined up in an instant, one of whom was a red Mynci with a ponytail and the Krawk Island logo bandana, a curly-haired blue Draik with a Meridell insignia necklace, and a green Ixi with short green hair and Brightvale earrings. It had been the first time Rohane had seen individuals from four different nations working together in harmony. He was in awe of them working like clockwork to prep the food, cook it, and have it served tastefully on a platter.

     Feeling butterflies in his stomach, but wanting to impress his father, Rohane tugged gently on the older Blumaroo’s tunic.

     Sir Reynold put his arm at his side. “Aren’t you getting a bit too old to be doing that, scamp? You’re a teenager now; pretty soon you might even be off adventuring. You can’t be hanging on your old man’s coattails forever.”

     The Blumaroo kicked at the ground sheepishly. “I know, father. Which is why I wanted to show you something.”

     The older Blumaroo knelt down to be on his son’s eye level. “Is that so?”

     Reuben jumped in front of Rohane. “He learned to sing!” the slightly older white Blumaroo butted in, pantomiming what he thought a concert singer might sound like.

     Rohane shrunk down with embarrassment.

     Meanwhile, their father placed a hand on Reuben’s shoulder, who had delighted in bringing every bit of attention to his mortified little brother.

     “Reuben.” And the moment he spoke, the older brother snapped to attention.

     “Y-yes, Father?”

     “You need to look out for Rohane; encourage him, support him, and be by his side. I won’t always be there, so when the time comes, you’ll need to protect him for me.”

     Reuben shook his head as if to deny that very idea out of existence. “D-don’t talk that way, Father! That won’t be for a really long time!”

     “Yeah, Father! You’ll always be there for us.”

     He brought both boys in for a hug and squeezed as hard as he could. “How I hope that to be true.”

     After being held in a long embrace, Rohane worked up the courage to speak again. “I practiced a song and I wanted to sing it for you. Reuben’s a jerk for spoiling the surprise.”

     “Am not.”

     “Are too.”

     “Am—”

     “Boys! Boys. Please. Not in front of our friends here.”

     Meanwhile, the multi-national cooking staff chuckled under their breath while they busily prepared a room full of meals.

     Sir Reynold made a motion with his hand. “The stage is set, Rohane. We’ll all waiting to hear you sing.”

     “Yeah?” His ears perked up like spring daisies. “Okay. Okay, I’m ready.” And with a confidence he had rarely shown before, Rohane opened his heart up to sing:

     Meridell, we sing to thee

     Grant us safe journey we plea

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     Meridell, guide with your light

     Through the dark, embrace the bright

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     Meridell, best land of all

     With your flag waving so tall

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     When there was nary a sound, not a pin drop in the room, Rohane was filled with a sense of dread. Was it so bad they were stunned to silence? he found himself thinking. Feeling his heart race, he readied himself to dash to his mother’s side. He was too scared to see the reactions of those around him, not if they were going to tell him it was bad.

     “Wow.” That was the first word he heard.

     Rohane shot a glance up to his father, only a quick one. Sir Reynold’s mouth hung open.

     “That… was incredible,” his father began, shock evident on his face. “Where in Neopia did you learn how to… wow.”

     As if breaking out a trace, the kitchen staff, one by one, clapped in thunderous applause. This, evidently, was loud enough to catch the attention of the main hall where Neopians whooped and hollered their approval.

     “Looks like we’re getting a great show tonight!”

     “I’ll say!”

     But they had not heard Rohane’s voice, only the reactions to it. A spring of joy burst from Rohane’s heart. His ears moved as if conducting a symphony.

     It was then that Rohane’s older brother, in a feat of jealousy, blurted, “well, I thought he sounded like a wet Meowclops.” As he said this, he crossed his arms and looked away with a huff.

     After that, no other words mattered. Rohane’s heart sank like a stone. He could hardly hear his father’s angry shouts and the placating niceties of the kitchen crew. Before long, he had sprinted back into the other room where his mother and Auntie Deborah were deep in conversation and hopped up wordlessly to his mother’s side. When he laid his head against her, she knew something had gone wrong, but dared not ask what it was. She only stroked the side of his head and said, “it’s okay, dear. It’s okay…”

     Before his father left to return to Meridell, he had asked Rohane to sing that song again—multiple times, in fact. It was the anthem they sung for special festivals, one that Rohane had heard his father practice on many occasions. But no matter how much he asked or how badly Reuben felt afterwards, Rohane refused to open his mouth again.

     Before he left the house for the final time, Sir Reynold gave both sons a hug, but to Rohane he whispered in a voice only he could hear: “I hope one day you’ll share your gift again; your voice is very special.” Adding a little squeeze, he said, “I love you very much, son.”

     “I love you too, Father,” he whispered back, already missing the strong-armed, scruffy-faced Blumaroo as he let go. “I don’t like to sing, but I like your voice.”

     “Maybe one day that will change.”

     “I’ll listen to you when you come back,” insisted Rohane, to which the older knight smiled and ruffled his short hair.

     “It’ll be something to look forward to.”

     After leaning his forehead comfortingly against his wife’s face and speaking low words to her that Rohane could not hear, he turned around. With his smooth baritone, he sang in the sweetest voice, “until we meet again, my sons, my dear. I love you.” Upon the last note, he faced them with tears in his eyes.

     With a final wave, he walked into the great unknown.

     “I’ll see you all soon.”

     That was the last thing Rohane ever heard him say.

     ~X~

     “Okay, this is the last ingredient we need.” After peppering in some crushed jumbleberries, she grabbed a magical burner and placed it under the Erlenmeyer flask. “Now, we let it warm up.”

     Lisha was sitting cross-legged in front of her brother and had since shut her eyes to focus on the spell. When Danner commented something about both knights looking flabbergasted by something, she cracked open one eyelid.

     “As long as they’re both okay,” she mumbled under her breath.

     “I think so, yeah,” added Kayla. “Most of the stuff he’s said makes sense: his name, Jeran’s name… being scared, poor guy. I feel so bad for him…” There was a look of confusion on her face as she continued. “But some of the stuff Rohane said sounded really… random. Like, ‘Spyders,’ ‘Meowclops,’ and…” the words caught in her throat. “Um. Has Rohane ever called anyone a ‘liar squire’ before? He said it in this really high voice, too.”

     “Can’t say I’ve heard that.”

     “But Sir Rohane doesn’t even have a squire. He’s turned down everyone’s offer.” Danner moved the empty ingredient vials into a basket and began scrubbing the used pestles. When Kayla rose a finger to ask, he said, “I don’t do standing around well. But anyway, based on what I heard… well, they’re in a dream, right? It’s not supposed to make sense.”

     “Yeah, I guess…”

     “And if they’ve found each other, they should be out soon, right?”

     “I hope so,” said Lisha, her breath becoming shaky.

     “Lisha…” Kayla scrambled over to the shelf and grabbed a fresh bottle of her pick-me-up potion. When she pressed it against Lisha’s hand, she pushed it back.

     “The other potion you gave me is still coursing in my veins. It’s the only reason I’m still conscious right now,” Lisha laughed lightly about it, but she could hardly even move. “But I’m fighting against it, too, as it keeps tempting me to use more and more of my magical reserves.” The potionmaster whined in response. “Don’t worry, Kayla, I won’t overdo it…”

     “I think you already are…” Kayla said sadly. “I just… it won’t be long now. I’m sorry.”

     “Don’t be sorry… I’ll be okay.”

     The potionsmaster gave a low whine as her friend struggled to stay strong.

     When Kayla heard the flask bubbling on her desk, she scrambled over to it. She held it above her head as if it was a hidden tome’s sacred treasure. “This is it. This is the potion we need.” She placed her hand at the bottom of the flask to feel that it was the right temperature. “We need to act fast. Danner, please grab me two vials from the cabinet.”

     “You got it, Lady Kayla.” He lifted a few with shield-shaped vials up. “These good?”

     “Sure. Might as well make it fun,” she shrugged. When he placed them on the desk, she added, “please hold these for me. I’m going to pour the potion into safe portions for us to use.”

     “Alright.” He held them steady while she lifted the flask. “And then do we just… drink it? Or are there extra steps.”

     “We just drink it, but do it slowly. And…” she hesitated as the rich, bright pink potion spiralled into the glassware. It glittered like a starry night sky and made a light fizzing sound.

     “And?” He waved his hand impatiently.

     “Prepare yourself. This potion is a bit of a doozy. As I’ve said before, there’s a reason we don’t sell this one in stores.”

     He grimaced. “Nothing like a little danger to make my Saturday more interesting.”

     “At least it’ll be split between the two of us?”

     “And you’re sure… this is safe, Kayla?” asked Lisha.

     “To be honest…” her voice cracked as she gently agitated the potion in her hands, “no.”

     Danner shot her a concerned glance. “That does not raise my confidence.”

     “But I’m willing to take the risk. You don’t have to try this if you don’t want to—I won’t blame you at all.”

     The Blue Wocky seemed to waver a bit. “Like I said, I don’t like sitting around and watching.” Sir Danner took a long, deep breath, “but this goes way beyond the line of duty. Jeran, Rohane… you both owe me big time. The next time we go out for dinner, they’re treating me to a big meal.”

     The two clinked their vials gently and held the potion aloft.

     “Bottoms up?”

     “Bottoms—”

     “Wait.”

     The voice, weary and quiet as it was, came from the corner of the room. Lisha’s ears shot up.

     “Serian,” she gasped. “Are you… are you okay? She fiddled with the wand in her hand. “I’m so, so sorry for before. I really… I really…”

      “I have a migraine, but that’s not important…” he deadpanned, all while trying to free himself from the blankets. “Although, you should know, your magic packs a wallop.” He grunted before placing his taloned paw against his forehead. “Really glad you didn’t hit me when I was cursed. I don’t think I’d be here right now.”

     “I… you were right,” she continued, tears lining her tired eyes. “You were right, Serian.”

     “And I taunted you despite knowing you were being influenced by a strong potion. We both made mistakes.” He winced. “Chains and daggers, ow. You got any of those grape-flavored potions, Kayla?”

     “Um,” she hesitated as her gaze caught the one on the table. “Yes, I do. But I—”

     “I’ll take two. And then I’ll be helping.”

     “But Serian, you’re—”

      “Glad you’re sounding normal again, Lisha,” he asserted. “And Kayla, this is non-negotiable. You’re following-through on my dangerous idea, after all.”

     Danner pointed accusatorily. “His dangerous idea? I thought you said—”

     Kayla gave a broad shrug. “It was a team effort.”

     “Great.” His tail bristled. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but bit back the words.

     Serian pushed away the remaining blankets and pillows on the ground. Cracking his neck and massaging his wings, he waddled over with one eye opened. When Kayla handed him the pick-me-up potion, he chugged them down one after the other and burped so loudly the room shook.

     “I’m… actually kind of impressed,” said Kayla with a wry smile. She then offered her hand for a fist bump, a notion that after all these years, baffled the Eyrie to no end. He returned it, but not without giving her a confused look.

     “You mean the Meridell knights don’t have burping contests in the main hall?” The Eyrie stretched out his lower back as he spoke. “When I was growing up, that was one of the ways we entertained ourselves.”

     “Ugh. Boys are so gross.” Lisha stuck out her tongue. “So. Very. Gross.”

     “Tell me about it,” agreed Danner, wiggling his nose in disgust. “Sir Rohane and Jeran have tried to one-up each other multiple times, which has led to half of our table joining in.”

     The Darigan’s face lit up. “My rival competes in burping contests?” He steepled his talons and clicked them together. “Excellent. Something to look forward to when this mess is over.”

     “What have I wrought?” lamented the blue Wocky while Kayla patted her shoulder supportively, “I’ve doomed us all.”

     “Not all of us—I find it funny,” said Kayla, who dug through the cabinet to find another glass—it was a novelty glass in the shape of a Mortog—and poured the potion up to the frog-like petpet’s eyes. “If you’re sure you’re up for it—”

     “I am.”

     “Awesome. Then let’s go.”

     “On three?” asked Danner.

     “Yeah. We’ll count down together.”

     “Three, two, one!”

     The three of them drank the potion in unison while Lisha looked on with concern. It went down their throats like a warm lozenge.

     “This isn’t so bad.” Danner rubbed at his neck. “It kind of feels like a cup of spiced chocolate on a warm winter’s day. Tastes pretty decent, too.”

     “That’s how it starts, yeah.”

     “How it star—woah!” A glow of light pulsed from their chests, spilling a warm green light into the room. He patted himself as if trying to put out a fire. “W-what is this? Is it going to hurt me?!”

     Lisha shook her head, but watched with interest as the room turned an eerie shade of green.

     “Not at all! It’s your latent magical energy,” Kayla said it matter-of-factly, the glass vial in her hand shimmering with an ethereal glow. “One’s heart, one’s blood is deeply connected to the magical energy that’s born within your core. Everyone has some magic within them, at least to some extent,” she held a hand under her own stream of light and marvelled at its brightness. “Most Neopians have a small core of magic, one that would need to be actively nurtured to grow into anything great. Some, like Lisha and I,” she motioned towards the bent-over mage, “have a higher affinity for magic. Our energy is more vivid when potions such as these bring it to light. But then there are other Neopians who aren’t…” her eyes widened. “Woah.”

     “Uh. Kayla?” Setarian’s magic core glowed like a fog light. In addition, his “mood ring” eyes were shining a bright, icy blue. “Is this… supposed to happen?”

     She shook her head wordlessly, mouth agape.

     “Does that mean… I have a high affinity for magic or something?”

     “It’s either that or…” Lisha was sitting with her elbows pressed against her knees, “the curse that afflicted you left some magic behind.”

     “Some?” He couldn’t help but look down in fear. “This looks like a little more than some.”

     “I’ve never seen anyone so bright… it’s amazing…” she muttered aloud before slapping her face. “Focus, Kayla.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’re going to place our hands on Lisha’s back. That will move a fraction of our magical energy to Lisha here, allowing her to continue with the spell without it becoming too much of a burden.”

     “And when you said this could be dangerous…” Danner was starting to pace, “how do you mean?”

     “If you give up too much of your own energy, it can leave you utterly drained. Like, barely able to walk drained. Or worse. Wasn’t there red text that said something like that, Serian? You were the one who read it in further depth.”

     “Yeah.” He played with his talons in front of the light and watched them get engulfed by the blinding light. Noticing that everyone was staring, he coughed awkwardly, a crimson flush coming to his face. “If you’re not careful, you could leave yourself a living husk. So, you know, be aware of that.”

     Danner looked at them incredulously. “And you didn’t think to tell me this earlier!?”

     “Didn’t seem like the right time.”

     “Seriously?!” The knight threw his hands into the air.

      “The usual life-or-death stakes, then?” Lisha sighed lightly shaking her head in a ‘I can’t believe we’re actually doing this’ sort of way. “We really need to stop making a habit of this.”

     Serian decided to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “It wouldn’t be us without them.”

     ~x~

     Meridell, we sing to thee

     Grant us safe journey we plea

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

      Rohane sang with his pure, pitch-perfect baritone. So incredible was the music that Jeran’s had goosebumps up and down his arms; he tripped over his crisscrossed legs and landed on all fours.

     “Woah…” was all Jeran could manage as the younger knight’s voice resonated around the room, filling it easily with a rich vibrato. A twinge of jealousy filled his heart. “How are you this good?” He muttered aloud. A chill ran up his spine when Rohane nailed a high note with ease. “This is so not fair…”

     Sound wrapped about them both as Rohane stared straight into the audience of monstrous horrors. Though his sword hand gripped his blade like a lifeline and his legs shook, Rohane’s face was resolute. Focused.

     Meridell, guide with your light

     Through the dark, embrace the bright

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     It had been the song that he escaped from during that duel. The one he seemed so relieved to avoid.

     But why? Jeran couldn’t understand it. Why hide something like this from the world? The knights would never judge him for it—in fact, they’d be seriously impressed. He’d probably be the talk of the town, with King Skarl frequently calling upon him to—

     Jeran slapped his forehead in realization.

     Duh. Rohane doesn’t like the limelight.

     As it was, King Skarl paraded him around like a living symbol of justice. If he knew he could sing this well, Rohane would be tossed around between fancy gatherings and put on display like a caged Weewoo. Nothing would make him more miserable.

     Meridell, best land of all

     With your flag waving so tall

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     Upon finishing the song, the audience had vanished. Left in its place was an auditorium full of empty, velvet-lined seats. All, that is, except for one. A lone yellow Blumaroo clapped with energetic applause. Despite being only one Neopian, the sound from their claps carried easily across the room.

     Rohane gasped as he made out the Neopian’s features. “Father…”

     He took a step back and landed directly on Jeran’s foot.

     “Ow.” When the Blumaroo failed to move, Jeran pried his foot from underneath, shaking it out afterwards. “Seriously, ow. Do you know how heavy gold-plated armour is?!”

     But the Blumaroo didn’t reply, instead choosing to point straight ahead with wide eyes.

     “What? Was it something I said?” He waved a hand in front of Rohane’s face before turning in the same direction. “Hello? Neopia to Rohane, why are you pointing—oh.”

     Next to the specter of Sir Reynold was a spiralling staircase that wrapped from the center of a seat and climbed up into the bottom of Fyora’s Tower. Based on Rohane’s reaction, and from the details he understood from the Heroic Four, Terask had been up there guarding what he believed was his kingdom.

     “The only way forward… is up there,” he said, reaching for his blade. “I know what awaits us. It only makes sense that it’d be in my nightmares.”

     “Terask.”

     “Yeah.”

     “Then it’s a good thing there are two of Meridell’s finest knights there to give him a good beat down, eh?”

     Rohane’s gaze had travelled up the spiral staircase as he visibly gulped. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”

     ~X~

      “Please, everyone. Don’t push yourselves too hard for my sake.”

     Serian rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say Ms. ‘push myself to the brink of collapse.’ That’s exactly why we’re doing this. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself anymore.”

     The Aisha made a frustrated face before sliding her arms behind her back to sit up straight.

     “Sir Danner,” Kayla fiddled with her star-covered sleeves, “if you don’t want to—"

     “I’m joining. He”—the Wocky tilted his neck towards the Darigan—"can go first, though, since it was his idea—”

     “Our idea—”

     “Fine. He still played a part in the idea.”

     “Oh, how brave and gallant, sir knight.” Serian’s voice jumped an octave as he batted his eyelids and held his taloned hands up sweetly. “The court ladies must lov—Ow!”

     “Whoops, hand slipped.”

     “Oh yeah? I’ll show you what happens when my talons sl—”

     Kayla jumped in between them. “Guys!” She made a downwards waving motion with her hands. “Calm down.”

     Lisha’s mouth was a line. “Meatheads. All”—she flicked a finger at the snoozing knights, counting them, before moving onto the two of them—"four of you.” When the Zafara quivered her lip, she hastily added, “not Kayla.”

     “I’m not a meathead,” the two guys said in unison.

     “Yay! I’m not a meathead!” declared Kayla shortly after.

     She gave them both guys a pointed stare.

     “I was planning on going first anyway,” Serian fluffed up his shoulder-length purple hair and pointed his bill towards the ceiling, “so thank you, Sir Danner, for realizing my innate talent.”

     The knight had a saccharine smile, but a voice that was laced with irritation. “You’re so welcome, Serian.

     The Darigan clapped his bill angrily and made a motion towards the knight, but instead balled his hand into a fist and exhaled. After taking a long, deep breath, he started to lower his right hand towards Lisha’s back with great care so as not to scratch her with his talons. The moment he made contact, there was a small spark, causing him to nearly pull away with a gasp. A stream of magic pooled from his core to his fingertips, and entered into Lisha’s body like a healing spell. It pulsed once at the point of contact before spreading out like a sound wave.

     She immediately jolted up and reached for her heart.

     Kayla put a hand to her mouth. “You okay?!”

     “Yeah.” Lisha took a few quick breaths as her heart raced; colour returned to her face, making her look less ghoulish. She pushed up her glasses and took a look over her shoulders.

     “Woah,” said Serian, widening his stance. For a split second, the world seemed to grow hazy. Kayla was already one step behind and leaned against his other arm.

     “I got you, big guy.”

     As the energy moved more regularly, the Eyrie found stable footing. “Thanks for that, Kayla.”

     “Of course, friend.”

     The Wocky dropped his scowl and took a hesitant step forward. “Good woah? Bad woah?”

     “Neither.” It was like a bridge of green energy sparking from the end of one neuron to the next. “But for a moment there, it felt like I was being drawn in.” His icy blue eyes shot a fearful glance at Kayla; his ears flattened. “I had no idea I had something like this in my wheelhouse. It…” he looked almost nervous, unable to say the words in his mind, “it should be safe enough. That book’s warning must’ve been a fluke.”

     Lisha stretched her arms and legs, finally feeling closer to normal. “I’m glad. Finally, something can be smooth-sailing. We deserve that much.”

     “But if we’re sailing, I can’t let him have all the fun,” said Kayla with a wink. “I gotta get in on this knight-saving action.” She moved her hands as if steering a ship, much to the amusement of everyone around. “Just call me Captain Kayla, swabbies!”

     But before she could step forward, Sir Danner extended his arm in front of her chest. “You can be the Captain, but I insist, Lady Kayla. It’s my duty as a knight.”

     “Now he does,” said Serian with a smirk. “Had to send the Darigan as a test subject first, did you?”

     “I mean”—he pointed with both hands at the two meatheads on the couch—“can you blame me for being leery? Two of my comrades are in that state because of her… potions…” his voice trailed off. Realizing he went too far, he fidgeted his hands awkwardly. Words spewed faster and faster from his lips. “But I know it was an accident! Sir Borodere offered to go in—it wasn’t your fault or anything—not to say that it’s anyone’s fault per se. Accidents happen! They happen every day—it’s why they’re called—”

     “Danner.” Lisha threw her head against the couch and blew a puff of air against her face. “You should probably stop talking now.”

     Sir Danner smacked his forehead with a loud clap. “Yep. I’ll go cease to be now.”

     Kayla scrunched her features as her ears tied about beneath her chin like a bow. “Sorry about all this.” Her voice dropped; she sounded like someone who had lost a beloved Petpet. “Go ahead, Danner.”

     “No, no,” Sir Danner pulled at his sweaty collar while sporting a nervous grin, “I insist, my lady.”

     She shook her head slowly, locking her gaze with the ground. “And I insist that you go.”

     “It’s only proper if you go first.”

     “No, Sir Danner, you should—”

     “My lady, it would be my honour to—”

     Serian let out a yell. “Oh, for the love of—do it at the same time! Dungeon depths, you two are grating my last nerve.”

     “It’s called chivalry, Serian.”

     “Oh yeah? Then what was that before—that part when you made Lady Kayla feel bad for her mistakes. Was that chivalry, too?”

     Kayla visibly deflated as Danner raised his hackles.

     “Cut it out, you guys.” Lisha struggled to her feet while maintaining contact with the Eyrie’s talons. “I know everyone’s on-edge and worried, but this isn’t helping.”

     After a tense couple of seconds, the two looked away from each other with a huff.

     “You’re right, you’re right,” Danner said as he started to pace the room, “sorry. I swear, Lisha you’re the most adult Neopian in this room despite being the youngest one here.”

     It was true. Lisha was almost a year younger than Kayla, Serian a year older than Jeran, and Danner landed in the middle. Nonetheless, whether it was her maturity at a young age, her studiousness, or her responsibilities as the Meridell lore keeper and librarian, she often ended up being the voice of reason over her hot-headed or overzealous companions.

     “It helps when you’re always looking after a meathead bro, another meathead bro, and your brother’s rival.”

      “See?” Serian puffed his chest out, making his fur look even fluffier. “Someone else finally acknowledges my eternal rivalry with Roha—”

     “That’s what you took out of that?” Danner chuckled. “Pretty sure she was talking about Jeran and Rohane.”

     “No one asked you.”

     “I was though, Serian.” When he gave her a face that read ‘whose side are you on?’ she shrugged. “Sorry.”

     The Eyrie grunted. “He’s still my rival, though.”

     Kayla coughed loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Wanna do this together then, Sir Danner?”

     The knight rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course, sorry. Together, my lady.”

     “One… two… three!”

     The moment they made contact Sir Danner made a pained grunt. When he tried to yank his hand back, he realized he could not.

     “I’m stuck!”

     And it was at this point both Kayla and Serian realized the same. Even when Lisha tried to pull herself away, they only dragged along with her.

     “What other risks did this potion mention?” asked Lisha, her face wrought with concern, “because I’m starting to think it had more warnings than you thought.”

     When Serian dragged himself towards the table, he brought the other three along for the ride, including Lisha, who had been resting her head on the couch. None of them were terribly amused by this. The Eyrie strained a talon towards the potion book and flicked to the next page. He then squinted as he made out the words from a distance.

     “It said something about a strong magical connection being made. That it couldn’t be broken until the spell was completed? It’s all kinds of magic mumbo jumbo to me.”

     “It says that?” asked Kayla, who then whispered “Mortogs” under her breath. “The part you showed me didn’t say anything like that. It all seemed pretty safe to me.”

     “Oh. I mean…” he scratched the base of his chin with a talon, “it didn’t seem that important at the time. Just a continuation of the previous paragraph.”

     Compared to Danner and even Kayla, Serian’s core seemed hardly to waver. On the other hand, Danner’s was growing dimmer.

     “So,” Danner visibly blanched against the potion’s effects, “were you lying about how bad this was or…?”

     “No, not at all.” There wasn’t a trace of the Darigan’s usual snark. “It really didn’t feel all that uncomfortable beyond the initial surprise.” The words hung in his throat as he clapped his bill in thought. ”You mean, it’s the not the same for you or Kayla?”

     “No. I feel like I’m being sucked dry.”

     “I mean, it’s not comfortable, but I can definitely feel it,” added Kayla. “Maybe you’re just really attuned to magic?”

     “I wonder why?” asked the Eyrie to no one in particular, before shaking his head. “I’ve only learned the basics that Lisha taught me years back. Magic isn’t really my thing—give me a sword any day. You can’t really whack someone in the head with magic.”

     Lisha pointed to her Wand of Supernova. “It doubles as a bludgeoning weapon in a pinch?”

     “Still less whackable.”

     Serian used his free hand to offer Danner a lean-to, which the knight begrudgingly accepted. Although Lisha was looking healthier, Sir Danner looked paler by the minute. By comparison, Kayla had closed one eye and was focused on maintaining her magical energy, but even she seemed a little less bubbly than usual.

     “This potion really takes a lot out of ya, huh?” the potionsmaster said, actively monitoring her breath. “Geez, it’s like there’s a sponge soaking up my magical essence.”

     “Even more reason to hope that Rohane and Jeran can escape there soon…” Lisha flicked her gaze over towards the panting Wocky, “because unlike the two of you, Sir Danner doesn’t have nearly the energy reserves… and I can’t exactly break the spell while Jeran’s in there…”

     Serian put a talon to his chin and let out an audible thinking sound. “I mean, if I have this large reserve of magic or whatever, I can take the strain off of him? Could I turn up the magic… juice?”

     “Magic juice?” Lisha and Kayla gave Serian a quizzical look.

     “Wasn’t sure what to call it. The glowing stuff? Magical something or other?”

     The Aisha scrunched her face. “That’s not what it’s called but… it could work?”

     “Great, then I’ll do it. Do I just focus harder or something?”

     “Probably?” Kayla said, “sounds like it’d work.”

     Danner’s shoulders slumped. “So, this is all guesswork.”

     Lisha couldn’t help but laugh. “Usually is.”

     “Educated guesswork,” Lisha pointed out before extending an ear towards the pile of books. “There’s a difference.”

     “Right…”

     The Eyrie closed his eyes and imagined a peaceful stream. A few flowed through the Citadel with rocky crags, boulders, and sparsely vegetated banks. The occasional petpet or mote would float or hop along the cobble, a picturesque place. When Serian had been a Kass General, he would often find such a nook to unwind after a particularly grating Counsel meeting or training session. His mind focused on the image of the stream, how it flowed effortlessly from one place to the other. Taking a deep breath, he felt energy flowing from his fingertips. The more he pushed, the faster the stream became. The way the water shimmered was almost mesmerizing, the clarity of the water almost life-like. He felt a certain rush, not unlike the watery scene before him. It felt natural, almost… familiar.

     “…S…ian! Serian!”

     The Eyrie snapped to attention. Instead of the nice stream of energy he had before, it gushed like a coursing river. Thankfully, it seemed as if both Danner and Kayla were less physically stressed, but both were staring at him, thoroughly dumbfounded. He hardly noticed how much his hand was shaking until he stopped to pay attention to his surroundings. The entire room was glowing green, including Lisha.

     “Did it work?” Serian started before tottering forward. Reaching for a nearby wall, he steadied himself, but not before nearly toppling the others. “Oof. I see what you mean now. This is how you’ve been feeling?”

     Danner studied him, bringing his gaze up and down the Darigan’s practically glowing body. “Yes and no. You still look better off than I do.”

     “I… wow.” Lisha took a steady breath. “Serian, did you see how much…?”

     “Nope.” Shrugging, he continued, “what, did I make something magical happen?” He wiggled his free hand and put on his best ghostly voice.

     “You kind of did,” Kayla pointed to the walls, then to the surrounding room. A few of the closer potion bottles had cracked.

     “That was me?” There was concern in his voice as his gaze travelled throughout the room. “I did that?”

     “Sure did.”

     The Eyrie’s tail wrapped tightly around his leg as a flash of fear cut across his face. “I… I see.”

     “Thanks for the assist, bro.“ Lisha stretched herself out and her back gave a satisfying pop sound. “I think I’m going to be okay, but now I’m worried about you guys.”

     “Well, with any luck…” Kayla’s voice trailed off a little at the end, “they should be out soon.”

     “I certainly hope so,” added Lisha, before studying the tired trio before her. They looked like they had been hit with a lifesteal spell with varying degrees of severity. “I certainly hope so…”

      To be continued…