The doors burst open, jarring Jorin from his reverie as they slammed into the stone walls. Flakes of ash scattered across the floor as the man rushed in, feet nearly slipping on the stone like a newborn fawn already on the run from certain death. Jorin rushed to him, holding out a hand to lift the man to his feet, offering him the most important service his house could offer: the ability to find one’s footing.

She woke up safe and warm in her bed, comfortable, relaxed, cuddled up against soft, smooth skin, long curly hair, the smell of citrus wafting from the long strands, an air of perf— Londyn’s eyes shot open to look at the back of Alexandria’s head, then trailed down to her naked shoulders. She gently shifted and felt that, indeed, the rest of her body was unclothed. Just like Dyn’s was. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck."

The lizardfolk shouted in that same language Caliz couldn’t parse, but as he did, he noticed Faelana perk up. She turned to him. "That’s Old Kilio."

You’re running through the forest. Something’s chasing you, but you don’t know what. You’re panicking, dodging from tree to tree, running through underbrush and ducking under logs, but you still hear padding feet behind you. It’s gaining all the while, and you’re not sure what to do.

Caliz breathed deeply and quietly as they descended the ladder. It was a long way down, and he was feeling the strain on his arms. I’m in no shape to fight, let alone venture down into these fucking lizard’s native place. Shit. What if they are Vok Archons. "No. Angels can’t be that easy to kill, or we’d do it all the time." He felt the heat of the lantern bounce against his thigh as he climbed down, lighting up the thin tunnel up. The warmth gently radiated across his leg w

Early the next day, Kahara woke quickly and walked to the Heron Archives to talk with Teacher Ot. She told him of her concerns regarding the gremlins she faced the previous day, and the potential of this "Kurshkin" becoming a threat to the school. He assuaged her fears, teaching her of gremlins and their propensity for storytelling, but promised to take her concerns seriously, promising to look into it personally.

Caliz woke to a foot nudging him. He stared up at a woman decked out in studded black leather, intricately crafted to hug her every curve. Two hatchets hung at her hips, with knives in her belted boots. The only skin he could see was her face, her hood hanging back. She was a Nojern woman with what looked to be a ponytail, completely undyed and without makeup. She was a shadow in black armor. “You the newbie?”

He stood atop the cliff-face staring down into oblivion. Nothing mattered, not since Kama died. A freak accident, everyone told him. It couldn’t be helped. But he knew better. He knew the gods were against him, punishing him for a childhood of ill deeds.

Iron hung in the air like fog, clouding their vision, lungs, and hearts. Caliz was slumped against a wall, bleeding from his ribs and arm, his hand twitching in pain. He winced, grabbing at a bundle of herbs from a pouch in his pack, trying to remember the words of Itzel.

She boiled the water, and broke the brick of tea into her pot. Her knife dug into the tightly-packed leaves, breaking off flakes into her basket, and poured the violently bubbling water over them. Not even a minute passed before she took them out of the water, leaving a pot of rich, potent tea.