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Cathka studied her once idol, now like a child sitting cross-legged and staring at the sand. She hated walking across sand—her hooves did not favor it. She managed to only wobble once before sitting across from Karniel. She knew he knew she was here. Still, she did not say anything at first.

Mathus told her of their fight. She had half a mind to throttle the human, and argued into the evening with him. Karniel deserved an apology. In Cathka’s mind, one Karniel was worth more to the world than a secret underground civilization. And that assumed the Cycle actually was some real calamitous threat. She could get Mathus to agree to help Karniel if they could disprove the Cycle, but still he had said, “It doesn’t matter. Karniel and I have differences that make it impossible to be together.”

Rubbish far as Cathka was concerned. She studied the bat. His whole body was a dangling rope: slack. She knew what a fog grief could be. The hippogryph had grieved for her twin when she thought Calth totally lost.

Cathka tried to joke, “Frankly, Mathus is out of his mind.”

“What do you want, Cathka?” Said with the scraping dryness of one who wept a long time.

“For my friend not to die pointlessly. Is that too much to ask?”

“Friend, hmm?” A dry chuckle. “You chose a poor time to ingratiate yourself to me. I thought you were my servant.”

“A mere formality, I needed to make sure you didn’t kill me to keep Mortel’s Heart a secret.”

Karniel leaned back on his palms, staring at the silk balled on the ceiling. “You know, after I was cursed and abandoned in Gavalon, I was terrified for months. I had never once even considered death. It was this abstract concept to me—and suddenly, the only way for me to avoid it would be to beg for others to feed me.” His ribs raised and fell in a crashing sigh. “Begging was unacceptable, of course. So I accepted death.”

“Death is not very becoming for you.”

“Heh, Mathus would not let me accept it, either, you know?”

“I know.”

“Cathka… I thought… I thought if I loved him unconditionally I could do anything in this world. Rule it, save it, destroy it. Whatever he wanted.”

Cathka frowned. Frankly, she did not feel the best equipped for this, given her own simmering jealousy of the human. Just because she accepted Mathus would always come first did not mean she had to like it.

“But he wants none of that,” Karniel whispered. He let himself fall back onto the sand.

Cathka rolled her eyes, but offered, “The two of you have different definitions of love.”

“I just assumed he loved clinging to his morals more than me.”

“He loves life, wants to save and protect it. Including yours, if you’d give him a reason to.”

“Hah! So he can pretend hold me accountable again when I make a necessary sacrifice he doesn’t have the nerve to make?”

Cathka clucked her tongue on the roof of her beak. “Both of you are being so fucking unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?” Karniel snapped. He sat up, scowling at her, “He’s the one who won’t accept the ways of the world.”

Cathka touched her conduit and signed a glyph. A wave of force uppercut Karniel onto his back with a spray of sand. The guards shouted alarm and crossed the room, but the bat sprung up and said in Pterodean, “We’re fine! Nothing’s wrong!”

He spared her a glare while facing down the guards. She remained impassive. When the guards went back to the door he hissed, “What was that for?”

She stood up and swiped sand off her dress. “You deserved it. Mathus does, too, but I’d break his ribs if I did that to him. If neither of you are willing to meet halfway then you should never have been together in the first place. I am going to find a way to get you out here, and in the meantime will try to get Mathus to see you, but I’m not your goddamn counselor, Karniel. You two had one fight.” She turned her back. “Men and their fragile egos—I swear.”

“I’ll show you fragile—”

Cathka held up a hand over her shoulder and waved goodbye.

Karniel screamed profanities at her until she was out the door.

You weren’t kidding about his ego.

“Remind me not to fall for any more men,” Cathka joked to her brother.

Her hand rested on a leather belt made from the hide of one of those worms. In a sheath of similar leather rested Calth. The Pterodeans had been more than happy to make it for her—their prison a very accommodating one, at least. She walked down a long hallway, heading back to their rooms. Back to another brooding boy and the kobold spying on them. She technically could go exploring if she wished, but she was hardly in the mood to entertain nosy kobolds. One living in her apartment was enough.

Are you sure pissing him off is the right thing to do?

“I’ve never known someone to die for the sake of spite, so yes. It is better than him being a sad lump of shit.” There was also Cathka’s own anger at the situation: taking care of these boys was getting in the way of finding out a solution to her brother’s imprisonment.

Fair enough. I suppose I wasn’t ready for it. You’ve been so gentle with Mathus.

“Again, Karniel is much more resilient.” On the other hand, Cathka lost count of the number of times she comforted Mathus in the last week. Last night he fell asleep in Cathka’s arms after his fight with Karniel. She spent the better part of the morning trying to talk him into seeing the bat again, but eventually she told him she would talk to Karniel on his behalf.

What are you going to tell him?

“I don’t know yet. But Mathus needs the carrot, Karniel needs the stick.”

***

Derada bowed to them both when he entered their apartment. Cathka had been puzzling over one of Basphemen’s books, trying to find what code would break the spell scrambling everything recorded inside it. Mathus stood in the kitchen helping Srek prepare them dinner. The human had softened some with the kobold, but Cathka trusted him much as she did a starving lich.

At best he was their prison guard.

Derada said, “Good, you’re both here.”

“What do you want?” Cathka snapped shut her book. “Here to give us something nice to go with our cells?”

Derada did not react to her barbs. “You both have leave to go where you wish in Pterodea. My understanding is that you both have accepted Karniel’s fate, so there is no reason to keep you here.”

Cathka spared Mathus a glare. He should not have told Srek of how things were between Karniel and him. And of course Srek talked. The hippogryph did not give Derada a response beyond, “I see. Is that why you’ve come?”

“There is more, we have a means for you to leave Pterodea,” the bat said to her before offering Mathus a soft smile. “You are welcome to stay long as you please.”

“What are our conditions for leaving?” Mathus asked, stepping away from a stone counter warmed by magic. Srek went on grilling some worm meat like nothing went on behind him.

“There are a pair of kobolds well practiced in magic that changes your memory. We will take you to the surface, then make you remember your fight with Basphemen taking you there, and that Karniel and Basphemen killed each other in the conflict.”

Cathka kept silent, watching Mathus and Derada both carefully. A mix of things passed across the human’s face. His fists clenched for a moment while he chewed his lip. Derada might as well been a part of the stone fixtures in the room. Cathka had noticed most bats were that way. Clearly, Karniel’s sharp wit, eloquence, and expressive charm was not something he inherited from his kind.

“What do you think?” Mathus asked her.

Cathka gave a very careful answer. “There are things about magic I wish to learn here first. Things that might help my brother regain a body.” She did not mention Karniel on purpose.

Derada shook his head. “Our mages will be careful and selective in what memories they remove, but I cannot guarantee they will be able preserve that knowledge.”

“Just the same, I wish to try it.”

And none of them knows anything you learn I will know, too, Calth said to her. Cathka felt him stirring with an eagerness. He wanted free of the cold steel just as badly as her. But it was not her only reason for staying. She refused to give up on Karniel until she saw the bat die herself. Someone needed to fight for him.

“I am not ready to leave, and I am not sure when I will be ready to,” Mathus said, interrupting Cathka’s thoughts.

Derada bowed a little. “Of course, you will be received as one of Pterodea’s own for as long as you wish, so long as you do not break any of our laws in the meantime.”

When Derada left, Cathka asked Mathus, “Do you plan to stay here?”

“It is tempting,” Mathus said. “I do have someone on the surface I promised to see again, and I want to see him.”

“You mean Korlyon.”

“Yes. I can’t in good conscience leave him behind,” Mathus said.

“But you want to,” Cathka pointed out.

Mathus cringed. “Ouch.” He shook his head and took a seat in the other chair next to her. “No,” he said leaning on the chair’s arm towards her. “I don’t want to leave him behind, but, given all the nonsense with this heart, it may be best for everyone if I remain here.”

Cathka said what he did not, “You mean hide it here from the rest of the world.”

“I don’t want anyone to use this power. And the Pterodeans have no interest in it.”

“Politically, Mathus,” Cathka corrected. “Srek here might not have an interest, but another kobold could. Any number of them. We know they can draw on other conduits without attunement, what’s to stop one from taking your power for himself?”

Mathus pursed his lips.

“You don’t just get to escape this.”

“I know,” Mathus said. “I get it—gods. You’re just like Karniel.”

“Intelligent?”

Mathus gave her a dour look. “I appreciate your faith in my own ability to keep the Heart safe.”

“With what knowledge and skill?” Cathka touched her necklace and channeled the spirits inside until it emitted a green glow. She released it and told him, “Even if you refuse to use it, you should learn how so you can protect it.”

“Are you offering to teach me?”

Cathka reopened the book in her lap and said, “I am busy enough as it is.”

“Decoding Basphemen’s books?”

“A start, yes. There are a great many spells in this, but they are scrambled. Here—” Cathka handed him the open book, “See this front page. It’s all gibberish, but there is a sequence inside it that when uttered correctly will make the rest of the book legible.”

Mathus scanned the page for a moment. Basphemen, in a delicate hand, had written roughly one hundred lines of text inside the page. They were small, and simply a series of words slapped one after another with no rhyme or reason far as she was concerned.

“It’s poetry,” Mathus said.

“Mathus, the first line reads ‘across of spike lemon a universe.’”

“No no,” Mathus beamed and tapped the page. He scanned it a moment later and told her, “It’s all in blank verse.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No! If you scan each line its ten syllables, each one iambs except for a single trochee in the line.” Mathus grabbed a line near the end of the page and read aloud, singsong to enunciate each metrical foot, “The vip- er caws how cheese fox draws­ to fox.” He read a moment longer while she gawked at him. “They’re all really obvious actually. If you could get me something to write with I could transcribe them all.”

“And you’re certain that is the key?”

Mathus shrugged. “I can’t know until we try it.”

“Fine.” Cathka signed the glyph for her purse. She withdrew from the magical portal an inkwell, quill, and a vellum pad she used for notetaking and crossed the room to place them on the dining table before pulling out a seat for him. He had a curious look on his face. “Well?”

Mathus gently closed the book. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

He stood and put a hand over his heart. “I won’t help you decode Basphemen’s books unless you teach me magic.”

Cathka scoffed. “Excuse you? Do you know how much time that will take? It’s hardly a fair exchange—besides you’ve already given me a clue about—”

“What about the other books? Have you looked at them?”

Cathka folded her arms across her chest. “Yes. Your point?”

“I bet they’re all different. What if they’re all related to poetry? I didn’t know Basphemen well but the impression he gave me makes me willing to bet he would.”

“And what does—”

“Do you know what a Sestina is, Cathka? What about the different types of sonnets? Do you know all the different kinds of metrical feet are?”

She glowered at him.

He has you there you know—

Cathka reached down and squeezed Calth’s pommel, priming the energy in the sword in such a way to disrupt his thoughts. The hippogryph flapped her wings in an impatient stamp and said, “Fine, you have a point.”

“Teach me and I’ll help you decode Basphemen’s books. We can do lessons in the morning and work on the books the rest of the day, is that fair?”

Cathka studied Mathus. That same defiant look. She knew he would not be swayed otherwise, but still she could not resist informing him that, “You are a very poor negotiator, given you will be working for me more than I will be working for you.”

“Those books might have some way to help Karniel,” Mathus said.

She arched a brow. “I thought you two were done?”

“That doesn’t mean I want him to die pointlessly if we can stop it.”

“Finally, something we agree on.”

***

That night Mathus was able to unscramble Basphemen’s first book. Cathka had over a dozen of them, and this first one was more than finding all the trochees inside a hundred lines of blank verse. Mathus then needed to recompose the two hundred syllables into a poem of their own. The logic of which became apparent as certain words slid into place and followed logical syntax, even if the meter felt odd. The reverse blank verse was only twenty lines instead of one hundred, but from it Mathus read to the book a poem that was an aubade. The lich dedicated it to a lover, which seemed impossible for Basphemen to ever have had given their ghoulish encounter with him.

That night, Mathus felt better when sleep took him. Srek shared his bed, and the human truly did not mind the friendly kobold’s company. It was a strange balance of liking but not trusting someone when it came to Srek. Mathus understood the kobold did more than see to it their needs were met.

He woke in Morgen’s Rest. He was in his bed, warm and heavy with sleep. It was winter, which he knew because his body urged him to shelter itself in the warm spot on his mattress. Sitting at the foot of his bed was a fox with dark fur coving his muzzle in a mask and nine black tipped tails. Mortel, back bare to Mathus, was reading a book from the human’s library.

Mathus recognized this to be some dream or vision and sat up in bed. “You again.”

Mortel’s ear twitched. He set the book on the bed before facing him. “It is good to finally meet face to face.”

“What do you want?”

“Why, I sensed the longing in your spirit and so came to offer comfort.”

The god spoke with the soft, gentle smile one might expect of someone with the title “Defender of the Meek.” His scent was acrid in Mathus nostrils, like the fumes of some poisonous herb burnt in a fire.

“You know I do not trust you,” Mathus said.

Mortel’s head and tails cocked to the side. “How come?”

“I know what you’ve done for power. Did you think those visions you gave me would have made me sympathetic?”

“Ah, that,” the fox tsked and said, “Dear child I never meant to earn your trust. I merely wished you to see what Karniel hid from you. He suspected, you know, that you might have my heart inside you.”

“How would you know?”

“Oh a god knows, child,” Mortel said with a flash of a smirk.

Mathus wasn’t sure if Mortel lied to him or not. It was possible Karniel could have made the guess after Basphemen attacked them. He said, “I don’t think you’re here to offer me comfort.”

“Heh, believe what you like. What is known will be known. And I know how you can save Karniel’s life.”

This Mathus did not believe. Or rather, he did not believe one particular aspect of it. “Why would you want Karniel to live?”

“Oh, frankly I don’t want him to, but I am more pragmatic than letting personal grudges get in the way of the greater good.”

“Greater good?”

“Yes,” Mortel scooted closer to Mathus. He rested a slender paw on the human’s knee and gently rubbed up and down. “You see, Mathus, we share a connection. You have my heart, and a way for me to resume my work, but you must let me resume my work.”

Mathus pulled his leg up his chest to get away from the fox. He said, “How would I do that, and what work?”

“The work, child. The world is in need of a savior, not a scourge. I can offer it one, but only if you allow me control of your body.”

“And in exchange you’ll save Karniel.”

“Oh no, child, not save, I will merely present an opportunity.”

“Do you ever actually say what you mean?” Mathus snapped.

A tail, they were longer than Mathus thought, reached over and swatted his face in a playful bap. “Cheeky, aren’t you? What I mean is that the Cycle these Pterodeans fear is very much real, but my powers could remove Karniel from it without breaking said Cycle.”

“How?”

“If I were the god of something, I suppose it would be the God of Time. The Cycle, as I sense it, is a patch on the larger fabric. It’s why it exists outside the rules of everything else while still being a part of it. I can take the thread that is Karniel out of that patch and sew it elsewhere, all without disrupting their precious Cycle.”

“But you would need me to surrender my body,” Mathus finished. “I give up my life to save Karniel’s.”

“Not your life, child. I simply… step in and take the helm, so to speak. It will still be your ship.”

“That you’ll take wherever you like,” Mathus said.

“More or less, but we would do such good for the world. Great things for all the lost souls on the material plane.”

“Why am I skeptical?”

“Because you are not yet a believer,” Mortel said. And this time, when the fox leaned forward his body stretched like a snake, moving close enough Mathus smelled his breath. Mortel caressed the human on the temple and whispered, “But you will be, in time, my child.”

Mathus started awake so violently it woke up Srek.

“Mathus?” the little kobold squeaked. Srek rolled over and grabbed the human’s shoulder. “You’re trembling, are you alright?”

“I had a nightmare,” Mathus mumbled.

“Oh no, do you wish to talk about it?”

“No.” Mathus’ heart thundered away in his chest. He hugged the kobold tight against the racing organ and shuddered, biting back a sudden sob. Srek worked some kind of spell on him that gently lulled the man back into a dreamless sleep.

***

“Don’t give Mortel anything,” Cathka warned. The two of them sat cross-legged across from each other on her bed. It was the morning after Mathus’ dream, and he had, accidentally, walked in on the half-dressed hippogryph to tell her about his dream.

“But what if—”

“No, even Karniel isn’t worth letting that god back onto our plane.”

Mathus released the tension in his shoulders. “Honestly? I’m relieved to hear you say that. Do you have something against Mortel?”

“Every mage does.” At a look from him, Cathka explained, “Mortel is the reason mages today must live in hiding or be under the thumb of some royal court in order to practice our art in the open. No one knew how Mortel’s Heart was made, but we all knew the costs of such power, and no one after that was willing to let mages do as they pleased without strict regulation.”

“I see,” Mathus glanced down at his chest. He wished it felt different. Like his chest would become sore or ache or something to show it existed beyond being a muscle pumping inside him. Had he never left Morgen’s Rest, he would have never even known.

“But beyond our general disdain, we both know all Mortel cares about is his own power.”

A flicker a frown before Mathus looked at her again. “I don’t think so—”

“You can’t seriously believe—”

“I think he believes his rule will make the world a better place.”

“And all the while he’ll convert everyone to his flock so he can harvest enough power to threaten the old gods,” Cathka said.

“It’s not something I want, either.”

“I should hope not.” The hippogryph’s big, foxlike tail swished back and forth across the mattress. The only real tell Mathus had of her emotional state. He had noticed it became more active the deeper in thought Cathka became.

“What are you thinking?”

“Huh?” Cathka shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing seems to be distracting you a lot.”

Cathka took off her jade necklace, undoing a tiny gold clasp on its back. She said, “I am wondering if there is a way to test the veracity of Mortel’s claim—if Karniel can be pulled out of the Cycle.”

“He made it sound as if that might convince the Pterodeans to let him go.”

Cathka balled up her necklace and held it out to Mathus. He took it, and Cathka asked, “What do you feel?”

Mathus frowned and studied the necklace. He rubbed his thumb along the jade beads. “Polished stone?”

“You don’t feel the power running through it,” Cathka said, an observation not a question.

“Should I?”

“If you wish to draw on your conduit, you need to be able to sense it. Sense any of the energy flowing through the world.”

“But before I just—”

“You pulled on it when your life was threatened.” Cathka rested a hand on the sheathed blade at her hip. “Should I keep a blade to your throat during our lessons?”

“Fair,” Mathus winced. “So that’s what I have to learn first?”

“Yes, once you can sense your own conduit, we can work on drawing its energy. But until then you’ll be groping blindly around the energy available to you and might take something from your own soul.”

“And that would be bad.”

“Very, Mathus,” Cathka said flatly.

“Then how do I learn to sense it?”

She held out her hand and Mathus returned her necklace. As Cathka fastened it back around her neck, “These are hardly the ideal conditions, but we will work with what we have.”

***

They did not get very far those first few days, but Cathka admired Mathus’ patience. He did not get frustrated like most students might, merely asked the occasional question. In the evenings, the two sat at the lounge where Cathka typically read one Basphemen’s spell books, noting pages what looked fruitful to her own development as a mage and skimming them quickly as Mathus decoded the next. All the cyphers for the books involved poetry, except for one that instead used musical notes, but, fortunately, before she had been chosen with her brother to be a mage, Cathka had been a choir singer. She and her brother both had very narrowly avoided being eunuchs when younger.

By their fourth day of working together, Mathus finally managed to begin sensing the flow of energy around him. There was some difficulty in doing so for him, given the power of his conduit. It was like trying to look over a fire to study something in the dark, the fire keeping your eyes from adjusting to the dim light beyond where its light cast. But eventually he saw beyond his own conduit. After that breakthrough, they focused on just tapping the power of a conduit. No spells yet, just the channeling. That day Cathka let time get ahead of herself, and the two worked together on Mathus’ knowledge of magic until Srek served them dinner.

Mathus, of course, made sure to ask if it was alright to spend so much time on him. Cathka had to tell him to just shut up and let her manage their time how she wanted. Calth teased her for becoming fond of the human, but she shrugged that off. They might need Mathus’ power for their own ends, and he might be the only one who could save Karniel as well.

Karniel… Cathka still had not convinced Mathus to go back to his lover, and the bat could not exactly come to him. She had made up her mind to not be their go between, but why did these boys not understand they would lose everything they worked for if they didn’t try to resolve their differences?

“Cathka?”

“Huh?” The hippogryph blinked and looked up from the open book lying flat on the table in front of her. Mathus sat across from her with his own book open beside a piece of vellum and quill poised above it. “Yes?” she asked.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for five minutes now.”

She glanced at the book and lied, “It’s complicated material.”

Mathus shrugged. “Must be, usually I see you turning the page nearly fast as I can write.”

“Shouldn’t you be focused on what you’re doing?” Cathka almost snapped.

“I was just worried something was on your mind.”

Oh my poor sister, can’t get these boys off her mind.

Cathka glared at the sword resting on the table beside her. “You watch it or I’ll leave you somewhere to rust.”

You wouldn’t dare, Calth said. She wouldn’t, and the trouble was her brother knew that.

Mathus had a slight smile that left dimples in his cheek. “Brother bothering you again?”

“Needling,” Cathka said as she made a show of trying to read.

“A sword needs a very fine point to be a needle.”

“His wit was always the sharpest thing about him.”

“Cathka…”

“What?”

Mathus grimaced a little. “Do you not want to talk about whatever’s on your mind?”

“I’m just worried about Karniel,” Cathka said before flipping the page. She had read enough to know she could afford to move on. The true trick of a scholar was knowing nothing was worth reading to completion—you plucked knowledge from books like a shrike might a mouse out of a field.

Mathus set down his quill and said, “I am, too, you know.”

“Then why don’t you see him?”

He pursed his lips, glancing at the door. Srek had, mercifully, gone out to meet some friends in the city and check on his worm. He admitted, “I don’t think I’m ready yet, if that makes sense.”

Cathka met his gaze and her expression softened, ears and wings relaxing a little. “It is hard to talk after you hurt each other.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Mathus said.

She nodded to the sword on the table. “Calth and I have hardly got along our entire lives.”

“But you love him.”

“More than anyone.” She held up the short sword and joked, “Why do you think I’d lug this ugly thing around? I could just toss him in my purse and never have to see or hear from him until I was ready to give his body back.”

Please do not do that to me. I do not want to float around in a magical void.

She also could not put another conduit inside a purse, but that was beside the point.

“And you always just made up?”

Cathka set down the sword. “Fights hurt, Mathus, but they’re how you learn to live with another person. How many times have you and Karniel argued before?”

“We’ve argued plenty of times—”

“How often did you leave without solving the argument, though?”

Mathus saw what she meant. “So this is our first fight?”

“Is it your first in your life?”

Mathus blushed. “Yes, I think it is actually.”

“I figured. And Karniel doesn’t know what to do, either. He’s not used to compromise, but you need to make him. Convince him.”

“How?”

Cathka threw up her hands. “Fuck if I know. He is your partner, figure that out together or not at all.” She did have thoughts, but even this amount of advice reminded her just how unreachable the bat was by her. Cathka did not like that feeling. No mage liked thinking of the things that were totally out of their grasp.

“Fair… I still don’t think I’m ready to see him yet.”

“That’s fine. You don’t even need to resolve your fight. We just need to save him first.”

“Do you ever think he deserves to be punished for his crimes?” This Mathus asked with a quiet seriousness. Like the human spoke a question he was afraid to ask even himself.

“What crimes?”

“He’s killed—”

“Of course he’s killed,” Cathka said. “That’s what happens when you rule a nation. He’s ruled several, been a tyrant to several, and if it’s as you say he’s thrown away lives for power. But Karniel is hardly the first king to do so; he’s just the only one who can’t be vanquished by time.”

Mathus met her gaze with just as much intensity she carried. “No different from other villains is still a villain, Cathka.”

“Fine,” Cathka stood up, placed her palms on the table and leaned over into Mathus’ face. “Do you believe he can change?”

“I…”

“A yes or no.”

“Yes,” Mathus whispered, as if he had to drag it out of himself. He added, “I don’t think it will be easy, but I want to believe I can change him, Cathka. I just don’t want to spend my life doing that.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Cathka told him. “I believe Karniel still has great things to do in this world and I want to see him do it.”

His eyes went wide. “Gods, you have feelings for him, don’t you?”

Mathus might as well have slapped her. Getting asked that gutted her, by this human of all people. Cathka slumped back into her chair. “Does it matter, Mathus?”

“I… I did not know—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Let me ask you, do you think the right thing to do with Karniel is just punish him with death or try to help him make up for what he’s done? Even if it takes another two thousand years?”

“I want him to make up for what he’s done,” Mathus said quietly.

“Then let’s keep working. One of these texts might give you insight on how to free him.”

Mathus picked up his pen and quietly said, “Thank you Cathka, for everything.”

“Save your thanks for when the three of us have escaped this pit.”

They worked until Srek returned. Whatever the days were, both Mathus and Cathka knew it was getting late. Though they still clung to some semblance of a sleep schedule, Pterodea had nothing to help keep their circadian rhythm in check. The two worked until they were tired and went to sleep at the same time. They did make sure to keep a matching schedule—Cathka did not want to be half-awake for her lessons with Mathus, and the human needed rest for when he did the work of decoding Basphemen’s books.

That night, though, Cathka had barely relaxed in her bed when she heard a knock on the door. Calth rested against the wall, too far away to invade his sister’s thoughts. She sat up with her sheet pulled up to her breasts and asked, “Mathus?”

She could see the human’s silhouette in the door.

It slid open and Mathus blushed when he saw her naked. He turned his back, but Cathka said, “Oh come now, stop acting like a child and come inside.” Feeling just a slightest bit of mischief, she let the sheet drop. From what Karniel said of him, he preferred the company of males, so she did not see what problem he should have seeing her naked.

Well, perhaps a certain part of her would entice him, but Cathka hardly felt inclined to seduce him. He stood at the corner of her bed, trembling and looking at the floor until Cathka finally asked, “What is it?”

“Mortel—I…” Mathus took a deep breath, “I was drifting off and I felt him.”

Cathka cursed and grabbed her necklace before asking, “Did he send you another message? Do you still feel him?”

Mathus shook his head. “Srek heard me straining for breath and shook me awake. I was paralyzed there for a moment—awake but my body just deathly still. I couldn’t move a muscle.”

“At least Srek can be useful for something.”

“He’s still in my room, but…” Mathus trailed off.

“You’re worried Srek won’t be able to fend off Mortel.”

“He doesn’t understand any of this—you might be the only one who does who can do something.”

Cathka sighed and rubbed her temples. “Let me think.” The safest thing would be staying awake. Mages had long since come up with spells that nullified that bodily need, but it took a constant siphoning of energy, and there were other psychological tolls to consider as well. Mathus might not like puttering around while his companions slept for the thirtieth night in a row. Night, day, time had gotten a bit blurry. Cathka merely counted a day when both of them slept.

She shook her head and reached towards Calth. “Hand me my brother. He might have a better solution than the one I have right now.”

Mathus asked as he crossed the room, “What’s yours?”

“You stop sleeping.”

“I’d like to try something else.”

“I thought as much, thank you,” Cathka said as Mathus put the sword hilt in her palm.

Mortel again?

Calth read Cathka’s thoughts remarkably quick.

“You have any idea how we can deal with this?”

Mortel is just a spirit, right? Granted, a powerful one, but what if we were to try and trap him?

“With what?”

The sword, of course. Trap him in here with me.

“I’m not inclined to just leave you and him duke it out.”

Then what do you suggest?

Cathka did not have an immediate answer. There was no real telling what might happen if Mortel became trapped in the sword—Cathka could of course expend the energy and destroy the dead god for good, but that would eradicate Calth, too. She was not inclined towards fratricide. They just needed to repel Mortel and work on Mathus’ defenses more. Once the human had better control of his conduit he might find this connection between him and Mortel and sever it for good.

We could share our dream.

“Dream magic is not exactly a specialty of mine.”

But it is one of mine.

It was true. Calth’s pocket dimension he made with insights from studying dream magic. “Show me the spell you have in mind.”

And so Calth did, all while Mathus watched quietly until Cathka took a deep breath and told him, “You’re going to be sleeping with me tonight, Mathus.”

“Uh, I am?” Even in the dim light Cathka saw the blush blossom on his cheeks.

“Yes, make yourself comfortable.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you typically sleep with clothes on or not?”

“Um, I’d rather if we are sharing a bed—if you don’t mind.”

Cathka rolled her eyes. “Humans and their modesty.”

Mathus, sitting on the foot of the bed, asked, “So what do we do?”

“You, Calth, and I are going to join our dreams, so if Mortel tries to visit you he will have to deal with all three of us.”

“That’s it? Can’t we stop him from coming?”

“You can stop him, but I’m not exactly going to be able to teach you in the next few hours, and we both need sleep.”

“Alright,” Mathus said. “What do you need?”

With a flick of her wrist, Cathka tossed aside the sheets and patted the bed beside her. “Come lie beside me, I’ll take care of the rest.”

His throat bobbed before he swallowed and said, “Right.”

Cathka almost demanded why he was so nervous at the thought of their physical proximity, but she knew the answer. She knew why. Truthfully? She was nervous, too. But she had honed her self-control for decades, whereas Mathus visibly trembled when he lay beside her. Cathka touched her necklace and signed a set of glyphs in the air. As she did, they began to light up with soft yellow filaments of light. Then, filament still trailing the finger she wrote with, Cathka touched Calth, tucking the sword under her pillow, before tracing that finger over her brow, and, finally, sealing the spell with a glyph written write over Mathus’ eyes. He gasped, no doubt feeling the spell work through his skull. Cathka knew the sensation well from all her brother’s experiments: the feeling of near frozen oil squeezing its way through your skull.

Cathka, not one to delay the inevitable, lay back in bed and wrapped her arms around Mathus, hooking a leg over his. His bare feet rubbed her hoof, toes curling in the fetlocks. He carried a scent with the waxy, floral scent of the soaps used in Pterodea mixed with the salt of him sweating from everything that happened. She felt far more intimate with the human than she ever intended.

While he tried to catch his breath, Cathka whispered, “Relax.”

Mathus remained on his back, eyes at the ceiling. He said, “Cathka, I… um, I-I…”

“Shhhh,” Cathka cooed. “We can talk about it when we wake.”

She knew what he wished to talk about. It could wait for the morning. The spell had already been woven; the only thing to do now was sleep.

Eventually, Mathus calmed down. His breathing slowed and, listening to him drift off, inexorably pulled Cathka into her own sleep.

***

Karniel stood in the middle of a stage, overseeing the work of dozens of kobold stagehands. At the back of the stage were painted wooden cutouts of Basphemen’s towers and backdrops of Pterodea. Cathka watched the bat shouting orders at kobolds while she stood in the middle of a theater, the lighting was off in the whole place, and the room smelled sweet and a touch sour. When she looked up, the ceiling was a flat sky of red.

“Cathka!” she gasped and wheeled around in time to spot Calth leaping off the ledge of the box seating. He was here in the flesh, fine coral fur, ember wings, all of him. He was identical to Cathka except where her body softened and curved his remained harder lines. He wore only a black skirt, which Cathka remembered seeing him in countless times when he worked in his workshop during the summers.

Calth flew into her, and she staggered backwards with a tight embrace on her brother. She nuzzled into his neck but was robbed of the satisfaction of his scent. A frustrating setback. Cathka said, “We should do this again sometime—I’ve almost forgotten what you look like.”

“I did forget. I used your memories to put this body together,” Calth said. “Also you should know better than to want to share dreams.”

Cathka said, “Fair enough.” Dream magic could get messy if overused—it was all too easy to lose track of what was reality or to lose parts of yourself in another’s consciousness. “Let’s find Mathus, he shouldn’t be far.”

“Okay! Bring on the actors for rehearsal!” Karniel shouted. “Get out of here you little rats,” he shooed off the kobolds and stood at the edge of the stage. From the left end of the stage, Mathus emerged in a large, billowing tunic, a grey stage beard and knotted staff.

He projected to the empty audience, “It is I! The Emerald Sage of—”

“Mathus!” Cathka shouted at him. “This is a dream.”

The human studied both hippogryphs for a moment. When realization dawned, he stood up straight with a sudden jolt and pointed, “It’s your brother!”

“No no no!” Karniel shouted. “Your line is ‘Emerald Sage of Emerald Mushrooms and Fried Sausages!”

“Calth,” Cathka muttered.

Her brother waved in a dismissing gesture and Karniel evaporated in a cloud of smoke.

Mathus dropped his staff and went to the edge of the stage. “This is a dream,” he said. “I’ve never—it’s never felt like this before.”

“Dangerous thing dream magic,” another voice said. From the shadows emerged the many-tailed fox. Mortel. He wore the lavender and gold robes of a bishop of his wretched church, only with the tall, pleated hat missing. His pointed, vulpine face was almost entirely black save for the stunning red of his eyes and the burnished orange coating his ears.

“Dangerous for you as well,” Cathka said.

“I am just a spirit,” Mortel said. He was taller than Cathka expected, lean and stepping towards Mathus with a predatory strut. “But your bodies are so tender and frail.”

I can still communicate with you this way, Calth told her. “Much as I’d rather us both hear my voice again,” he added.

“We can use that—he can’t handle the both of us. Not here.”

I hope so, Calth said.

“Don’t you need my body intact if—”

“But hers is disposable,” Mortel said before lifting a finger at Cathka. Calth relayed the dead god’s intent the moment he sensed it. She bounded into the air with her brother as the floor exploded in a spray of spikes. While she knocked the projectiles away with a conjured wave of water, Calth ignited the stage in an explosion of blue flames. Cathka barely had time to swoop in and catch Mathus when the blast threw him from the stage.

She landed them both while Mathus, cursing, asked, “Warn me next time.”

Cathka tore off his fake, now-smoldering beard. “I need you to change our setting.”

“How?”

A crack of lightning split from the stage right for them then ripped right into the theater wall. Mortel glared at them both, his clothes scorched but otherwise unharmed.

“Envision it,” Cathka said. “Every part of it, and then channel that vision like you would your conduit.”

“Uh, any requests?” Mathus asked.

Somewhere that will strike fear in Mortel, Calth told her.

“Take us to where Karniel killed him,” Cathka said, grabbing the human by his shoulders. She leaned in and touched her beak to his nose, while Calth landed in front of her. A geyser of boiling water slammed into her brother, who repelled it in a V to protect them both. Cathka felt the heat of it while she instructed, “Like we practiced: inhale, exhale. Feel the flow of energy around you, the warmth of this water, the smell of my body in the material plane, the core of energy in you—now picture it. What you saw in the vision Mortel gave you. Draw your energy towards that vision and—”

Cathka felt a lurch, the spray of steaming water disappearing, replaced with eye-stinging smoke and flames. She turned around and at the back of a burning temple was Mortel. As Mathus had experienced it: Karniel had the fox pinned to the wall, hand digging into his chest. Mortel was so stunned he did not notice Calth until the hippogryph walked up beside him. Wracked in spasm, dying again, Mortel opened his mouth to scream and from his maw erupted a red spike, and as if there were a chain reaction, six more exploded out of his body.

“Be gone, ghost,” Calth commanded before closing his hand into a fist. Both Karniel and Mortel exploded in a cloud of mist.

Cathka and Mathus watched, wide-eyed. “We did it,” Cathka mumbled.

“We did—I… he won’t be back?”

Calth, waving his hand like a conductor, put out the fires in the temple and whisked away the smoke. Cathka said as he did, “He may return. Not for some time—and I doubt he will try this sort of possession again.”

Mathus asked, “Then what happens now?”

“We should not linger here any longer,” Calth said, appearing beside them. “I will wake you both—one should never overstay their welcome in another’s dreams.”

“How will you—” Mathus was cut off when both he and Cathka woke with a mutual gasp.

Cathka returned to her body sore—as if she spent much too long lying like this. She hardly felt rested, though. Mathus groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes as he said, “I feel like we slept too much and didn’t sleep at all.”

“Dream magic does that to the dreamers,” Cathka said, propped on an elbow beside him. He glanced her, saw an exposed breast and immediately faced the door again. She snickered. “Really, for one who enjoys the attention of males, you seem quite flustered tonight.”

“I, um, maybe I should go.”

Will you let him?

Cathka answered her brother by saying, “Maybe you should stay, Mathus.”

Mathus, midway through scooting off the bed, stopped and said, “I… uh, I, I—”

“If you don’t want to, I won’t be mad if you leave,” Cathka said.

Mathus’ cheeks were burning up in the dim blue light. “I d-do. I just didn’t think you would want me.”

“I’ve gone far longer than I like without the touch of another.”

“There’s always the kobolds, or another bat if you—”

“I’ve not been interested in bats or kobolds lately,” she said, reaching out and touching his hand.

A nervous laugh from him, his head tilting down and a mumbled, “Sorry, I should have more nerve than this by now. It’s just I’ve always done stuff with Karniel there, and it’s—I’ve not—”

“Gods Mathus!” He cringed at her exclamation. Her hand wrapped around his wrist, and soon he found her sitting behind him, back pulled into her soft front. Her beak nestled beside his ear as she whispered, “We both want this, hmm? Just relax into it; I can take the lead if you need.”

“You’re sure about this? I know I’m not Karniel.”

“You’re not, but I’ve come to respect you on your own merits. You’re prettier than most humans, which helps, too.”

Mathus shivered a little at the compliment. “I… thank you. You’re really beautiful, too.”

“I’m a mage, dear. I should hope I have the spells needed to make myself the belle of the ball.”

He chuckled. “Will I be expected to change myself once I can tap my conduit?”

“Mmm, what are you thinking?”

Mathus pinched his stomach. “Maybe make this flat and strong, I dunno?”

“Not a bigger cock? That’s the first thing most mages do.”

Mathus giggled a little. “Really? Is that what mages do?”

“You have to be very vain and self-important to do magic, Mathus.”

“I guess you’ll have to teach me to do more of that,” he said.

“Mmm, I think not. Between Karniel and myself, the last thing you need is more arrogance in your life.”

He leaned away, twisting around so he could look at her. “You’re not that bad.”

“You sure? Could be your spending so much time around Karniel you’ve forgot what normal people are like.”

“I suppose that may be the case,” Mathus said before his smile faltered. “Though, not lately.”

She said, “We’ll figure out how to free him, don’t you worry about that. Till then…” gently, she lifted his hand and placed it on the soft, thick fur of her chest, between both breasts. “We can take care of each other.”

“You really do want me here,” he breathed.

“Yes!” she laughed. “Do I need to put myself under a truth spell or would the slight swelling in my sheath be a sufficient clue?”

“Um,” Mathus eyes flicked down to where sheets still covered her bottom half.

Cathka put a finger under his chin and said, “Before you see that, how about you get out of those clothes already?”

Knot bobbing in his throat like a wave-rocked boat, Mathus slid off the bed and started stripping. Off came the tunic he wore before his trousers followed suit. He straightened, completely naked, and nearly covered himself, hands winging to his cock. Then he thought better of trying to be modest and crawled back into the bed. His face came close hers, still blushing as he said, “So, um, what now.”

“Are you really not sure?”

“Well, I thought about kissing you, but, well,” and he nosed the tip of her beak.

Before you two get started, if you don’t mind?

Calth’s request made Cathka wince. She reached back under the pillow and said, “Just a second,” before tossing the sword off the bed. It clanged across the smooth stone floor, which made her say, “Oh, he is going to be mad at me in the morning for that.”

“Mmm, he can get over it,” Mathus whispered, leaning against her. She sank back into the bed as the human nuzzled into the thick ruff of fur around her neck. His hands ran up her sides, and his cute little, moaning exhale made Cathka shiver. “You smell good,” his voice muffled against her neck, “different from my other partners.”

“More feminine?”

“I like it.” He kissed up to her jawline, nipping where beak blended to bone and flesh and fur. “A lot,” he added before teasing up to her ears. Warm air puffed across one, which made it twitch before her breath melted into a moan when teeth teased across the sensitive, cat-like ears. When Mathus finished he leaned back and added, “Uh, I think I’m doing good so far, but if I—”

“I’ll give you instructions if you need them,” Cathka said before embracing him. She pulled his head into her chest and he got the idea from there; his palm cupped one full breast while he squeezed the other. He pressed kisses through her soft fur into her softer flesh, and those worked up to her areola. Heat began to build and build in Cathka’s sheath. When Mathus’ lips kissed her nipple, her cock began to drop, and her nipple stiffened in his mouth. She held his head against her bust to keep him there and he continued to suckle, tongue now flicking across the hardening bud. His other hand worked down her sides, reaching under her tail to squeeze her butt. The soft fur there squished into his palm. Everything about her was soft and sweet, her scent, her moans, her body.

Except one part of Cathka, which quickly gained wait and heft. Her cock throbbed to life so immediately that Mathus felt it rub against the knee he had resting between her thighs. He broke away from her breast and glanced down, stunned by the silhouetted horse cock. The meaty flesh twitched and throbbed, and that particular organ had a familiar scent. Strong smelling cock, sweat, salt, and musk that made Mathus’ mouth hang open. Drool built up under his tongue before Cathka broke his reverie with a giggle.

“Like what you see?”

“I… I knew you had but it’s not what—”

“Play with it, Mathus. I know you want to,” Cathka urged, and seeing the plain desire in Mathus made her even more excited. He slid further down the bed, between her now open legs. He kicked the sheets to the floor, and in the dim blue light Mathus could tell this equine cock was at least as large as Karniel’s. Impressive, considering how much larger Karniel was. It was hot in his hand when he squeezed the firming flesh. He felt Cathka’s pulse, and, at its tip, her winking urethra released a bead of precum. Mathus leaned in and started there, kissing her cockhead with reverence. He held it straight up, making out with the broad, flat tip. His tongue teased at her urethra and tasted more precum bubbling from her; the thick, salty taste made Mathus dick ache with a need he had not felt since their first encounter with Basphemen.

And when he looked up and saw her watching him with half-lidded eyes his breath caught. They held each other’s gaze, perhaps surprised by what they saw in the other’s eyes.

Mathus wanted to say something to her, but the moment slipped out from under him. This felt far more romantic than he intended. He did not want to stop this, though, so, keeping his eyes locked with hers, he opened his mouth and began take her cock. Karniel, fortunately, more than prepared him for a girth like hers, and as that meaty taste rubbed into his palette, Cathka’s back arched.

“Fuck… Mathus…” she whispered, and that made his pulse pick up. Like that—he wanted to hear her say his name like that again. He started to work down her length, her head beating the back of his throat. A little out of practice, Mathus did gag when he took Cathka deeper. But, eyes watering, he managed to contain himself and keep going. Tension lined her body: tail whipping, balls drawing up tight, wings twitching. She was a sight to watch. Mathus no longer held the base of her shaft but now squeezed those soft, furry thighs. Even there Cathka seemed sensitive. Her hips bucked and cock jabbed deeper into Mathus’ throat. He nearly choked; lips once kissing the medial ring found themselves planted nearly to her sheath.

Before he managed to hilt her she breathed, “Wait, wait. Get off.”

Reluctantly, Mathus popped free and her dick flopped onto her stomach, going past her navel and leaking just below her heaving breasts. Breathless, both of them, she beckoned Mathus to her.

Cathka hands slid up and down his sides, touching him as he touched her earlier while his cock rubbed up against hers as he lay over her. “You were, hah, very good at that,” she said.

“Hehe, Karniel has been good practice.” Mathus kissed the side of her beak, an affectionate peck that turned into something deeper. She tilted her head, maw opened, and soon her tongue was in his mouth. “Mmph.” He cupped the back of her head and kept her in the kiss. Her thin tongue against his was sharp and smooth, with more of it than he expected filling his mouth. Mathus hardly complained, quivering as they held the kiss a moment longer before Cathka let him come up for air.

“That’s how birds kiss,” she said.

Mathus wiped his lips clean of drool. “I could, uh, get used to that.”

“Mmm, good,” Cathka said before touching her necklace. She signed a glyph then touched Mathus’ cock, and a slick, cold sensation passed through his shaft.

“What was?”

“To make penetration easier.”

“You want me to—”

“Unless you don’t want me that way.”

“I do,” he breathed.

“Good boy,” Cathka purred, which made him bite his lip. Her legs hooked around his waist, and she shifted so his dick brushed against her soft backside. Giggling, she asked, “Well?”

He reached down and, fingers probing; he found Cathka’s entrance then lined up with it. She watched him, eyes half-lidded and smiling. Still, he hesitated: “You sure that you don’t need some pre—”

“Let the magic do the work, Mathus,” she urged. “Frankly there’s no point in it,” and her hand drifted down, “if we can’t circumvent,” she squeezed his tip, “all the little inconveniences, hmm?”

“Ah, f-fuck, you have a point,” he said. She tipped his cock right to the soft heat of her entrance.

“Take me, Mathus.”

The way she said it perhaps pleased more than the penetration. He buried his head in her shoulder, mumbling, “F-fuck.” The sweet smelling fur, undercut with her muskier sex filled his senses. The spell Cathka cast made entry slick and inviting. Soft walls hugged his shaft, which encouraged Mathus to go a little too quickly. A pained grunt from his partner made him slow down.

Concern creased his brow when he asked, “Too fast?”

“Mhmm,” Cathka said. His face had gotten so flush, and his body was hot against hers and his shaft… it did feel good, exciting. That fullness digging deeper inside her. Her whole body—walls, legs hooked at hips, arms wrapped around his neck—clenched against him. She breathed, “Keep going.”

“Alright,” Mathus whispered. “You’re doing great.”

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

Mathus laughed, a bit surprised and not that she would not have him be too tender with her. He pulled out, with Cathka’s tail quivering a little before pushing deeper. Slowly, gyration by gyration, he managed to sheath himself inside her.

Cathka’s claws pinched into his back. “Come on, Mathus,” she urged, “Give me a reason to get loud.”

Grunting, Mathus tried to oblige. It had been a while since he penetrated someone, and Cathka was slick and tight. When he started rutting her, his cock mashing into her body, he found tension quickly grew in his loins. And Cathka held him tighter, moaning loudly for him. Her voice became sharp and weak at the same time, wilting and filling his ears with the tangle of pleasure he gave her.

Mathus did a good job of stirring her up whether he was intentional about it or not. His shaft pressed right up against her prostate and left her wanting for more. Made he cock throb across her front, Mathus’ rocking thrusts occasionally rubbing his front against her shaft. That teasing brush of sweating skin felt good, stoked her hotter till felt her tip begin to flare. Precum leaked so thoroughly into her fur it was matting it down, slipping against her skin, across her ribs. All while Mathus continued to rut her and spike her body with sharper and sharper pleasure. Her nuts drew tense, but suddenly Mathus crashed against her. He shuddered and moaned; his hips ground weakly into her butt. He was cumming inside her and she clenched down, urging, “That’s a good boy. Cum for me, Mathus.”

The human let out an adorable whimper, and Cathka could not even be mad at him for finishing early.

Then, as if remembering her, his hands wrapped around her shaft and started pumping. It took so little for her to finish. Cathka nearly squealed as she came. Thick, hippogryph seed sprayed between their bodies, her heavy balls drawn tight and clenching as Mathus kept pumping length. Cathka held on tight, biting her beak into his shoulder and humping into his hands. She drenched them both in her virile cum. Nine thick gouts before her orgasm began to taper off.

When it was finally finished, her legs fell from his sides and he slumped against her. For a moment, they were content to lie against one another. Then, as if rousing energetically from slumber, Mathus began kissing her neck again.

“What, ah—” he nipped her neck, “more?”

“I’m not done if you aren’t.”

She giggled and told him, “This time I’m taking you.”

“Heh, I was hoping you would.”

***

That night uncorked whatever barriers they held up between them. It was only natural, really, that two people joined in a common goal in close proximity might grow close. Might grow feelings for each other. That’s what Cathka told herself. Mathus was so insistently touchy. His feet often teased and rubbed her hooves when they worked at the table. They held hands during their magic lessons, and often took their baths together. She taught him how to wash her wings and preen her feathers, and he seemed to take great enjoyment in massaging the stiffness from her limbs. And of course they slept together, and, much to Srek’s disappointment, Cathka did not allow the kobold to join them.

Calth teased her often about her softening feelings for Mathus. She understood now what Karniel saw in him. Saw it, too, appreciated it. She had no real idea how deep her affections for Mathus might run, but his company became a balm when surrounded by all that might go wrong.

It was after two weeks together like this, that Mathus suggested, “I think I want to see Karniel today.”

Cathka, who had been busy reading while Mathus ate breakfast, looked up and asked, “You’re finally ready?”

“We should tell him our plan, and Cathka,” Mathus hesitated, “I want you to be there as well.”

She only now noticed the barely touched breakfast of the mushrooms and pomegranate-like seeds—wet, lustrous purple seeds shaped like spongy thorns. He must have spent the better half of the last ten minutes working up his nerve. She shut her book and asked, “When would you like to go?”

“Umm, as soon as possible, I think. I—I don’t want to overthink this.”

“And you want me there with you?”

“I think it’s only fair,” Mathus said. “You swore yourself to service for Karniel and you and I are…” he trailed off. “I guess I’m not sure what we are,” he mumbled before pressing on, “But you’re a part of this. Part of us. You deserve to be there.”

It embarrassed her how much her chest swelled at that assertion. She cleared her throat and tried to stay rational about all this: “Be that as it may, do you think Karniel would want me there while you both have it out.”

“I want you there.”

“Well, I know better than to try and fight you when your mind is made up.”

“Do you not want—”

“I think what you and Karniel have ahead of you is hard, with or without me there. And it’s going to be very personal, but if you trust me to be there for you… then I’m grateful, Mathus. Grateful you trust me so much.”

Saying those things… such a strange turn of events.

Doesn’t really surprise me at all that things ended up this way.

Cathka grabbed the pommel of the sword at her belt, her usual response when Calth said something she would fight him on later. In her line of work, it had become so rare to make a connection with someone, but somehow she had made a connection with Mathus. She hoped her time trapped with Karniel had amounted to something, too.

Cathka stood and said, “Best not delay the inevitable, hmm?”

“What about—”

“I will conjure up some real food when we get back.”

“From Basphemen’s cookbook?” Mathus asked.

They had decoded it a couple a days ago. An entire tome filled with spells meant to conjure up specific foods. Though Cathka only practiced it once, the magic really did work. It took a great deal of energy for such a simple seeming task, so they had not used it since.

“We’ll pick through and find something that will make for a delightful dinner,” Cathka said.

“Alright, I suppose.”

“Really, Mathus, don’t worry so much about how magic is expended here.”

“But the souls—”

“The kobolds know what happens to their spirits when they die and they have no qualms drawing on the energy of their ancestors. Now come.” Cathka held out her hand, and Mathus gave her a look that said he was not entirely satisfied but he took it. At least he was learning to compromise in some respects.

***

Karniel’s time in prison left him with much to think about. Much to stew about. Nothing good came from being left alone with only his self-loathing and rancor. Anger and relief in equal measure flooded him when he heard Cathka then Mathus’ familiar gate. He tried to control it—he told himself he wanted nothing less than a full apology from Mathus.

Then they both stood in the council room that had been his prison. Karniel tried to pretend he did not hear them coming. He had been lying on his back in the sand, and now sat up. “You both returned.” Huffing, “I see neither of you are very good at following orders.”

Mathus stepped to the edge of the circle with Cathka in tow. She stayed just a step behind him, neutral in the face while Mathus clearly had the same inner battle Karniel had. “It’s good to see you too, darling,” he said.

“Oh come on, don’t act like we can just pick up like—”

“I know we can’t,” Mathus said. “Can I sit with you?”

Karniel gestured to the sand in front of him. “By all means.”

Mathus crossed the distance between them while Cathka remained in place. Karniel asked, “And her?”

“I asked Cathka to be here. She’s our companion… she should be a part of our decisions.” Mathus sat cross-legged before Karniel, close enough that he caught just the hint of Cathka’s scent on the human. In their week together in that hell Basphemen imprisoned them in, Karniel had gotten used to the sweet, somewhat sour (as the days wore on) smell.

Karniel’s nose twitched a little. “You two are close now, I suppose?”

“We are, but—”

“Nonsense,” Karniel added bitterly, “I’m sure once you get out of here you can have her, Korlyon, and whoever else is drawn to the power of that accursed heart.” It all just spilled out of him—he didn’t even mean to hurt Mathus; it just…

Mathus had shrank back some, and Cathka now frowned. “Karniel we both care very deeply about you,” Mathus whispered, and held out a hand. “I still love you, and want to be with you. If you’ll have me?”

Karniel’s eyes darted from the outstretched hand to Mathus’ face. It was a pure, honest gesture. So why did this ugly, tangled part him want to smack the hand away? Their last exchange had left him so… “You hurt me, Mathus,” Karniel muttered.

“And you hurt me,” Mathus shot back, but his hand remained outstretched.

Karniel took it, and the words came completely unexpected. “I’m sorry for that.”

Despite his hand dwarfing the human one, he let himself be pulled down into a hug. “I’m sorry, too,” Mathus said, nuzzling into Karniel’s chest. He laughed a little, and added, “Thank the gods they bathed you finally.”

Had the Pterodeans not, Karniel would still have Kwen guts and ichor caking his fur in places. “Hmm, yes, it only took some amount of yelling on my part. That and beheading of one of my guards.”

“Karniel!”

“What? His head grew back—honestly Mathus what part of immortal do you not understand?”

Laughing again, Mathus hugged him tighter and groaned. “Oh I’ve missed your scent.”

“And I’ve missed yours,” Karniel said, nosing into the human’s back. “And your laugh and touch and—”

“Taste?”

“Mmm, in more ways than one.”

Mathus finally released him. Cathka still quietly observed, Karniel noted, but now her tail had raised and wings puffed out as if she had become too buoyant to hide it in her body completely.

“You didn’t put him up to this, did you?” Karniel asked her.

“I—no. We talked about it, but he surprised me with it this morning. Or night. I truly don’t know what time is anymore.”

“This place will have that effect on you,” Karniel said. He waved her over. “Come on, sit with us.”

“You know we still need to talk about what happened,” Mathus said.

“Our fight? Why dwell on that?”

“Karniel.”

“Fine, though I warn you I still believe my position is fair.”

Mathus sighed. “Listen, regardless if it ends with us fighting, we both know I can’t stop you—”

Cathka cleared her throat. “Should I still come over?”

“Yes, come,” Karniel patted the sand next to him. “Fine, let’s have it out between us, Mathus.”

He took a deep breath while Cathka sat down. “Okay, don’t lie to me anymore Karniel.”

“Oh come now, Mathus, a little more leeway than that—”

“No,” Mathus said flatly. They still held hands, and the human’s smaller fingers wrapped around two of Karniel’s larger, squeezing them. “We don’t compromise on this. I’ve always given you the truth, and I need you to do the same. I told you I’d love you know matter how ugly it turned out you were.”

“I would argue ugly is the wrong—” Cathka’s tail whipped him in the back.

“What?”

“Take this seriously,” Cathka told him.

“Are you supposed to be our judge?”

“Only if it seems like you both need one, which…”

Both Mathus and Cathka filled that silence in with similar looks directed at Karniel.

“Fine, fine. Gods, I leave the two of you alone and you go from enemies to co-conspirators.” Karniel sighed and said, “Look, Mathus. I… I frankly will never admit it outside these chambers, but, out of respect for your decree, I will be honest with you: I am very scared of losing you. Terrified. And knowing you might get mad at me stokes all that fear up inside and I become a pathetic, spiteful creature. You saw that. I drove you away last time we spoke because I didn’t want you to be the one leaving me, and you still, against all sense I might add, came back to me. I…” Karniel felt a stinging dryness in the bottom of his throat. Oh it would be quite unbecoming if he began crying. He swallowed that feeling down and finished, “I am sorry I lashed out.”

“We are not always going to agree on everything,” Mathus said. “But I won’t let those disagreements be the reason I leave you. Not when I think we can come to an understanding.”

“Do you think we can?”

Mathus reached up and caressed his cheek. “I do. It won’t be easy, but you’re worth the work, Karniel.”

“I…” he hugged Mathus tight again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you thank you thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mathus.”

Karniel could have kept Mathus held tight against him till they both withered to dust, but Cathka cleared her throat. Both, a little sheepishly, let each other go. Cathka said, “I know there is more for you two to work through, and I’m happy to give you all the time in the world, but your Death Rites are only getting closer, Karniel.”

“Right, plenty of time to argue once we leave this wretched place,” Karniel said. “I do hope you two have spent the last month coming up with some means of escape because I’ve frankly spent my time moping.”

Mathus touched his chest. “We might have a way, but we could use your help piecing it all together.”