It had been so long since Cyran had ever changed her appearance in this manner, and even longer since she’d done it in the presence of others, that it had slipped her mind that Cirice might be startled by such a change. She continued on, completely oblivious to the internal panic she’d caused Cirice, until they’d nearly made it to the camp. Cirice wriggled impatiently in the snuggle, nearly throwing her shoulder into Cyran’s torso and nearly throwing the two of them off balance.

“Ack- Cirice- stop squirming or we’ll fall…” She tried to warn, but it was too late. The totem had already begun to topple, with only Cyran’s quick reflexes preventing them both from landing on their backs in the snow and making an impromptu snow angel.^[1] Still, Cyran tried to pick up her pace, with Cirice ‘helping’ speed up their trek, until the point that they stood at the very edge of the empty camp, watching wisps of smoke from a campfire that had been snuffed out long ago. Cyran only felt mild unease as Cirice called out- for a moment, she feared that no one would answer the call, that they’d taken too long to get here and failed their mission, until nearly a minute later, a haggard man poked his head out and muttered,

“Oh, what fresh hell is this?”

It was only in the presence of another person that Cyran realized how ridiculous she and Cirice probably looked.

Awkwardly, Cyran shuffled herself and Cirice closer to the man, extending her arm- along with hers and Cirice’s hand poking from the sleeve of the snuggle- out to shake. “You can call me Cyran, and this here is Cirice. We were sent here by your business partners to find you and escort you back to the Pale City, though some… complications arose.” She gestures towards the blizzard that was raging around them.

The merchant stared at Cyran and Cirice’s hands like he wasn’t sure which one to shake. In that moment, he looked far too tired to care. In the end he eventually grabbed Cirice’s, the hand that he could shake. “Name’s Porter. I’m one of the drivers. You’ll not find anyone else around to speak- most others are asleep in an attempt to preserve energy.”

Cyran frowned. That didn’t sound… right, but she didn’t know enough about frostbite or any other diseases born from the cold to dispute that. “Perhaps we should wake them up and take stock of the situation. The two of us brought rations to share…” Once they found a way to get untangled from their snuggle totem, “And we should discuss getting your wagons up and running before this blizzard gets worse.”

Porter barked out a raspy, hoarse laugh, one that betrayed his dehydration. The situation was worse than they thought. “Oh, these carts ain’t moving in the storm anymore. Thought the merchants might listen to me when I told them the horses couldn’t push through the snow, but they insisted we needed to push, make it to the city before the deadline, and now look at us.” He gestured towards one of the wagons, which looked like it was partially lodged in a snowbank. “Stuck here, can’t move anything until we get that cart free, and even then the snowfall’s too dangerous. And so we waited, hoping that someone might show up, but we’re not sure how much energy we’ve got left in us to make any return trip.”

He shook his head, running a hand down his face. “Sorry, ladies. You’ve only made this trip to save a bunch of dead men whose corpses just ain’t yet begun to decay.”

---

1. Cat’s Grace

“Now, now that’s quitter talk!” Cirice admonished the man, trying to inject some sort of spirit back into him. “We’ll get you all patched up and get your cart out of here in a jiffy. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll make us a fire and we can make sure everyone is all healed up.”

Cirice sets her hand, and Cyran’s by virtue of moving together, on Porter’s shoulder. A warm trickle of healing silver light floods down the runes on her arm and into the defeated man¹. He shudders as the healing takes effect and a little bit of color returns to his cheeks. “Hells Bells… Healer huh? Don’t make the carts any less stuck but that’s something I suppose.”

“We’re just getting started!” Cirice gives him a wide, bright smile and snaps her fingers. Suddenly a merry, roaring bonfire takes the place of the old dead fire in the center². Unhindered by the snow and it fills the ring of tents and wagons with magical soothing warmth. “Now we can really get to work. Let’s go check on the others and make sure everyone is healthy, then we can get the food and water out and work on getting you all home.”

Porter looks skeptical but he steps over to the fire and holds his frigid fingers towards it. The warmth chases some of the cold from his bones but the bright light only deepens the shadows on his face. “Them merchants didn’t want us dipping into their stock. All kinds of shit in their wagons and they’re more concerned about getting it to the City than all our safety. If we can make it in one piece -and don't kind yourselves I don’t think we can- then that’d be better than we could have hoped for.”

Cirice frowns, “Come on Porter, have some faith! We’ll get you all home safe and sound. On Mother Moon’s name I’ll do my all to make sure of it³!” She nudges the totem far forward enough to give Porter the most awkward hug ever, two sets of gangly arms wrapping around him without coordination. Porter starts to protest and push them away but the runes on Cirice’s arms flare to life again and his expression changes from one of grim annoyance to a placid smile⁴.

“You know… Maybe you’re right… Maybe I’m being too pessimistic. We’re better off now that you’re here.” He pats their arms. “Let’s get the boys together. I’ll go start rousing them…” He waits for them to let him go and then trots off to go get the rest of the camp together.

---

1 Massive Healing
2 Camp Fire
3 Smooth Talking
4 Be Jolly

It didn’t take long for Cirice to react to Porter’s grim demeanor. She slapped their hands down on his shoulder, and Cyran felt the last vestiges of warmth, like moonlight on her skin, emanate from Cirice’s arms as she rejuvenated the haggard driver. That was when things began to get even… stranger. Cirice set up a campfire, chatting with Porter about the state of the caravan, before Cirice suddenly pulled the three of them in for what could only be described as one of the most awkward hugs she’d ever been a part of in all her three hundred years of life. And then… did Cirice cast another spell? He couldn’t tell, not while her arms were covered in the snuggle. But he thought he felt something happen.

Then Porter lit up with a bright smile before setting off in search of the other merchants, and Cyran didn’t have time to dwell on that curiosity. Yes, perhaps Porter was just happy to be rescued. Cirice was proving herself to be a capable healer, and that gave him a glimmer of hope, something to hold onto, no matter how slim that was.

Hmm.

But Cyran had a job to focus on for now- they went about rousing the sleeping merchants and drivers, all of whom reacted much the same way as Porter had upon seeing the elf totem for the first time. Cyran wondered if they should both get out of the snuggle, but Cirice seemed content to galavant around healing the sick and injured while Cyran played shuttle, so she supposed she could indulge Cirice a little more. Cyran counted eight men- the number that the merchants had given them back in the Winter’s Howl. The realization that no one had died in the blizzard, at least, came as a relief. With rations passed out, the merchants looked a little less like corpses as color slowly came back to their cheeks, energized by the food.

“So, you ladies got any kind of plan?” Porter asked eventually, as the group huddled closely around the campfire, attempting to stay away from the elements. Cyran blinked, taken aback. Wasn’t Porter the one who’d said he thought it was hopeless to try anything before?

“Erm, well, the plan was to escort you all and the wagon back to the pale city. Cirice here is here to heal you and help you all recover your strength, and I’ll be navigating the way back home.” She explained. But the snowfall was still strong enough that attempting to leave during the storm would be slow progress, and it would no longer be just the two of them to worry about. “We can start getting ready once you have all recovered enough, or we can wait for the weather to clear up.” Looking at the sky only revealed bleak, gray clouds that poured down snow with no signs of stopping, though.

“Though if things keep up this way, I’m not sure we’ll have a choice. It might be smartest for us to take our chances and try to make it back to the city before we all freeze to death.”

Once the caravan was all nicely healed and everyone in higher spirits (thanks to be jolly where needed for morale) Cirice sits in Cyran’s lap at the bonfire, warming up their bodies and snuggling into Cyran’s embrace. This whole situation was weird but she was comfy in the elf totem cocoon. As Porter and Cyran discuss their plans she turns to look up at Cyran, freeing herself enough to move to look at her around the flesh mounds. “I suppose we should just get the cart out and start moving now… Or at least once everyone is feeling up to it. Let’s take a short break first. Porter if you’ll excuse us for just a moment.”

Porter nods and scoots away to give them a little space and Cirice clears her throat a little. “Uh Cyran… Why do you suddenly have breasts?”

They’d managed to pick a plan of action- once everyone was rested, they would attempt to dig the cart out of the snow and navigate through the storm. Cyran was momentarily confused, though, when Cirice asked Porter for a moment alone. The driver scooted away, giving them as much space as he could while they were still all huddled close for warmth, leaving Cirice free to ask her question, which…

Was not what Cyran had expected.

She blinked, tilting her head as she suddenly realized how confusing the sudden change must have been for Cirice. “Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m capable of changing how I look…” she gestured to herself before remembering that she was still in the elf totem, and just awkwardly ended up flailing hers and Cirice’s arms around. “I’ve been able to do it since I was young. Sometimes it’s just more comfortable being female. I thought it might provide more body heat and keep us warm now…” She trailed off as she realized exactly what she’d just unintentionally done to Cirice. Cirice couldn’t see Cyran’s face based on how they were positioned in the totem, but Cyran’s face had gone a deep shade of red in her mortification.

“Oh, gods, I am so sorry, Cirice. I didn’t even think about it…” Cyran tried to bury her head in her hands, but in her mortification she forgot about the aforementioned arm problem and just ended up awkwardly smacking Cirice in the face. What kind of mother was she that she would accidentally just give someone a face full of… of bosom? “If you don’t want to huddle together in the snuggle anymore, I completely understand.”

“Ack.” Cirice can’t help but flinch when getting smacked in the face. “No no it isn’t a problem I’ve just… I’ve never seen someone do that and I was really confused. I’m not uncomfortable! Rather I’m nice and cozy here with you.” Carefully she retracts her arms into the snuggle, undoing the tangle of blanket enough to turn around and give them room to move a little more freely and she turns around enough to give Cyran a big hug. “This trip has been really fun! Thank you for coming with me!” She draws back and finishes removing the snuggle from both of them, standing up and stretching and giving Cyran a big smile.

“I liked traveling as a unit all tied together and warm. It was fun and seeing everyone's faces was really funny. But I’ll give your feet a break. They’re probably sore from my trodding on them. Sorry.” She bends down and casts a minor heal on Cyran’s feet to rid them of any bruises she may have caused. “Don’t worry about me, I’m having the time of my life! I’m just going to make sure everyone is okay and in high spirits before we get them moving.” She giggles and folds the snuggle, sitting it next to Cyran before hopping away to check on the merchants.

A few of the merchants have started a game of cards once they’ve warmed up and as Cirice comes over she joins in. Unexpectedly she is quite good at the game of poker, her smiling face giving nothing away. Or perhaps it is just that the merchants are putty in her hands when it comes to her swindling them out of their valuables with tricks and magic. Either way Cirice wins and by the time they’ve finished the game she’s come out with a rather good haul. The merchants go to help dig out the wagons from the snow and since she isn’t that strong Cirice stays behind by the fire and starts working on something while everyone else is busy.

She was relieved to hear Cirice wasn’t uncomfortable, even going so far as to pull her arms out from the snuggle and wrap Cyran in a hug. It was even more awkward for Cyran to reciprocate, but eventually, she managed. “It has been much brighter with you in it.” She agreed, a warm smile on her face. “And don’t worry about my feet. They’ll be alright.”

Cirice healed them anyways before setting off to do what she seemed to do best- put a smile on everyone’s face. Cyran watcher her until she was certain Cirice was comfortable with the merchants, playing a card game and laughing along with them. Once she was certain that Cirice had settled down, Cyran set off with the other merchants who were healthy enough to dig out the cart. She was not especially strong, but she had been in the cold for less time than the others, and could work a little faster than them while the snow had not quite yet set into her bones.

The group worked until their fingers were red and raw, only taking breaks to make small talk every few minutes. Most were too tired to manage anything, but a few told Cyran about their families at home, who was waiting for them to return. One even pulled out some small, commissioned portraits he had tucked in his pockets to show Cyran. Seeing all these men fight so hard to live and return to their loved ones in the Pale City reinvigorated her, reminded her what they were working for. She pushed through the pain, fatigue, and cold until they managed to get the wagon entirely upright once more. Cyran’s back ached from the effort, and she could no longer feel her fingers, but she still felt herself smiling along with the others at the sign of a job well done.

From there, the campsite was a flurry of activity as the others prepared their things and began to pack up. Excitement buzzed in the air, but there was also apprehension. They had a chance of survival, but it would mean braving the cold rather thank hunkering down and trying in vain to outlast the storm. Cyran pulled her cloak tighter over her in anticipation, wishing very much that she had a warm drink in her hands right now. But that would wait until they returned to the Pale City with the merchants safe and sound. For now, she would focus on getting them there in the first place.

Cirice finishes her arts and crafts project right as everyone gets ready to start moving. She makes sure all the fingers are healed up after digging the carts out and that everyone feels nice and warm and ready to go before saving Cyran for last. She’s hiding something behind her back when she slinks over to her.

“Before we go… I got you some stuff. Well I won it from the merchants but I made it extra special for you.” She draws her hands out from behind her back and hands Cyran a necklace made of swirling whorls of metal and icy looking crystals. “This will go nicely with you like that and this is for you because Iryla calls you dad.” She takes out a small flask, about the size of her hand but has had cowries affixed to it with glue to spell out “Charon’s best Dad.” The cowries glow with soft moonlight¹. “I hope you like it…. It isn’t much but they said these items are both magic and I wanted to thank you for everything…”

---

1 light

Just before they were about to set out, Cirice came up to her, nudging her in the side to get her attention. Cyran paused where she’d been helping set the wagon up with the horse. “Can I help you with something, Cirice?” The young lady looked oddly nervous as she shifted from foot to foot, before she held out something to Cyran- a gift?

No, not just one gift, two of them. A silver necklace that contained gemstones resembling frozen ice crystals, and a flash decorated with softly glowing cowries, the shells she’d shown Cyran from her homeland- the very shells that she said she’d give to friends and loved ones, spelling out the words Charon’s Best Dad…

Cyran’s lower lip wobbled as she looked down at the two items, one in each hand. Was this what Cirice had been doing when she went off to gamble with those merchants? Rather than win things for herself like she should have been doing, she’d been finding things to gift to Cyran, like Cirice thought she was important enough to give a little piece of herself, or that she thought Cyran deserved to be called a good parent in the first place.

Someone sniffled, and Cyran realized with a start that it was her. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d been so overwhelmed by the gifts that the calm mask she usually wore had finally cracked. She brought a hand up to her cheek- the tears had already frozen in the cold.

“Oh.”

She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Cyran was aware she probably looked entirely undignified right now, but she didn’t really care. She looked back at Cirice, something heavy and unidentifiable in her gaze, almost as if she still didn’t quite understand why Cirice would want to give her things. “Are… are you sure? You won them, you should keep them for yourself, especially if they’re magical… this is far too much.” Far too much for someone Cirice barely knew, had no idea what kind of mistakes Cyran had made in the past. Perhaps if she did, she wouldn’t be so ready to call Cyran ‘Charon’s best dad’ or give her a piece of Cirice’s own homeland.

But given what she knew of Cirice’s attitude, the young lady wouldn’t be too keen on taking them back, and she’d worked so hard on them… perhaps just once it would be okay for Cyran to be selfish and pretend she deserved them.

“Thank you.” She whispered, clutching the gifts close to her chest for a moment, before moving to attach the necklace around her neck. The flask was tucked in her belt, where the cowries still pulsed softly with a faint, comforting light. “You didn’t have to do anything for me. Just your company has made this journey much more pleasant. You…” Cyran trailed off again as she wiped at her nose. “You are a lovely young lady, Cirice. I am very lucky to have met you.”

She wrapped Cirice in a warm hug, the last bit of gratitude and affection she could offer before the caravan was set to take off in the snow, and she had to focus on the job once more. And yet, as they walked, Cyran toyed with the necklace around her neck, occasionally glancing down at it with a smile that could only be described as hopelessly sappy.

Cirice’s shy smile was all Cyran needed to know that she was certain of her gifts, that they came from her heart. She accepted Cyran’s compliments with a blush and admired the necklace on her for a moment before Cyran is pulling her into a warm hug.

“I’m glad you like them. I’m lucky to have met you too. Mother Moon really blessed me in leading me to that tavern at that moment. Thanks for coming and sitting with such a silly little girl and thank you more for every step of the way after. I hope we can be friends forever. Iryla is my best friend in the whole world and I am glad beyond measure she has such a wonderful parent such as you.”

She squeezes Cyran tight, considering for just a moment tying them back together but deciding she doesn’t need to. As the caravan begins its halting, slow progress she walks next to Cyran happily, the warmth of her heart keeping the chill from her bones. Every glance down at the necklace, every sappy smile, energizes Cirice.

The carts have a hard time in the snow, so much that they have to fall in single file and the way ahead needs to be cleared somewhat for the wheels to even be able to move in the deep snow. Its agonizingly slow and it will make this trek take forever but it also means the likelihood of getting stuck is greatly lessened. Cirice summons Ur¹ and has him help the men dig the path out, his cute little paws made for burrowing helps quite a bit. Visibility isn’t great as the blizzard keeps raging around them, but so long as they keep moving south they should make it back to the city in a few more days. They’re all hunkered down and doing all they can to make it that far, all focused on survival and holding onto the hope they regained.

That is until a loud roar splits the air and the lead horse is suddenly seized by a massive humanoid form. The horse panics as both it and the cart its carrying are suddenly toppled. Materializing from the blinding snow a handful of these hairy, horned humanoids surrounds the caravan.

“SHIT!” Porter yells, “FUCKING HELL! YETI! MEN, THE CROSSBOWS!”

Cirice yelps and runs towards the front of the caravan, worried more about the poor horse than her own safety. Ur hops on the face of the nearest yeti and starts biting and clawing at its face furiously, making the creature step back and tear at the little wolpertinger and buying Cirice time to get to the horse and make sure it isn't injured².

---

1 Summon Minor Minion
2 Major heal

“I hope we can be friends forever too.” She said in an echo of Cirice’s wish. Cirice was a good kid, and a positive one at that- she seemed to bring smiles and break down barriers wherever she went. She would be a good friend for Iryla, Cyran hoped. He wanted her to make friends her own age, and though Cirice might have had moments of naivete, Cyran hoped that she would show Iryla a happier side of life, one that Cyran couldn’t necessarily give her.

Thoughts of Iryla and Cirice still lingered on her mind, not quite distracting her but keeping her occupied- at first, she didn’t notice anything was wrong. Not until she heard the roar splitting through the air, and a giant hand reaching through the snow to grab at the horse dragging the wagon. Men began to shout as wood creaked and groaned, the caravan wobbling dangerously before tipping on its side. Cyran swore under her breath in elvish as she immediately went on guard, pulling Spell Slicer and Cold Steel from her belt at the same time Porter retrieved his crossbow and three giant, hairy beasts emerged from the thick snow, immediately charging towards the merchants, who had begun to scramble in their panic.

Yeti? Were these the creatures that had produced those footprints he and Cirice saw earlier? Not that it mattered right now- her first priority was protecting Cirice, and then the caravan. Cirice had immediately run for the horse, sending Ur in after the yeti that had tried to make off with it, clearly more concerned about the animal than her own safety.

The first yeti tried to shake Ur off, who was still scrambling at it with its claws, but a second yeti had spotted her, immediately charging in her direction.

“Shit!”

Porter immediately fired a crossbow bolt at its shoulder, but the yeti didn’t even seem to notice or care about the bolt sticking out from its arm as it continued on its warpath. It was going to charge right at Cirice, and Cyran couldn’t do anything-

Desperation was what led Cyran to call forth the shadows to her aid, raising her arm outward and pulling it sharply into the air, as if commanding them to rise forth. Cirice’s shadow wriggled as a giant wall of darkness and incorporeal bone jutted from the ground, protecting her just in time for the yeti to slam into it with a loud THUD.^[1] The yeti let out a grunt of pain as spectral arms clawed at it, darkness seeping into its bones as it tried to pull itself away.

But Cyran was already behind it, the dark promise of murder in her eyes and a dagger in each hand.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Cyran uttered before plunging both Spell Slicer and Cold Steel into the yeti’s back and yanking them downwards.^[2,3,4] Two long, angry jagged festering marks marred the yeti’s back. Pained, it swung a giant fist behind itself, attempting to hit Cyran. Just before it could connect, the cold air stirred behind her back. A ghostly hand manifested to grab her by the scruff of her neck and yank her downwards, allowing Cyran to duck under the fist with seemingly inhuman speed.^[5]

A giggle sounded in the air- a spectral woman that Cyran could not see, one with long, dark, curly hair and a flowing gown, hovered behind her.

“What are you going to do, Cyran?” She whispered as Cyran straightened herself- the words, unheard by Cyran herself. “They tried to kill one of your own. You’d better make it count. Make it hurt.”

Cyran herself could not hear the amused laughter of the devil on her shoulder, but in this moment, she was too angry to care. She raised up her finger, dark energy manifesting from its point, and fired off a bolt of pure energy right through the yeti’s throat.^[6]

---

1. Death Wall.
2. Back Stab
3. Magic Blocker Enchantment
4. Ice Rune
5. Spirit Guardian (1/2 hit preventions)
6. Chaos Bolt- enhanced by spirit shroud

“Whoa… That was awesome Cyran!” Cirice exclaims with shining eyes watching Cyran take down the first of the yeti with grim efficiency. “But who’s that ghost lady…?”

Before she can question Cyran further she sees the other two yeti rushing towards them with deadly intent in their eyes. Ur greets one by hopping into its face and tearing at it as Cirice herself darts past Cyran and ducks under the claws of the nearest yeti. It scrapes a cut down her cheek with its jagged claws but she simply skirts past it and puts herself between the two of them. As the yeti that scratched her turns to attack she lays a hand on it and another on its companion, the runes on her arms flashing to bright light that travels up their bodies^1&2. Both yeti’s eyes cloud over with cloying darkness and they let loose primal cries of guttural rage. The one throws Ur off itself as Cirice quickly retreats away from them.

But instead of the monsters turning to eviscerate her, they turn on one another and lock arms and claws in battle. Fur flies and blood colors the snow as the two start going at it.

Cirice returns to Cyran’s side, her hand against her cheek as the cut seals under the glow of moonlight. “Give them a moment. They'll sort themselves out in a bit and we can finish them off.” She smiles.

---

1 Infuriate
2 Fade from Memory

Cyran raised her blades, ready to attack once more as the death wall melted away, when Cirice clapped her hands excitedly, as if Cyran had put on a show. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Cirice thought that was… cool? and what did she mean by ghost lady? Cyran glanced around, but all she saw were yeti and the merchants, still firing at them. In her confusion, she didn’t have time to stop the little healer from ducking under her and darting straight for the two beasts.

“Cirice, wait!” Cyran cried, sprinting after the girl as fast as she could through the snow. Cirice was a healer! If she got close to them, they’d tear her to shreds! But Cirice had gotten a head start on her, and she wasn’t fast enough to stop the yeti in time from bringing its claws down upon her-

But then Cirice dodged, and danced between them as if they were all just going through a playful romp through the forest, before placing a gloved hand on each one of them. Cyran watched with wide eyes as her arms began to glow once more, casting a spell Cyran couldn’t place, and the two yetis immediately turned their fists on one another, leaving Cyran, Cirice, and the rest of the merchants alone. Cyran stared in bewilderment as one of the yetis, the bigger one, knocked the second to the ground, driving its fists repeatedly into its face, leaving behind nothing but a bloody mess of red blood and ivory bone on the snow, a mess of what once might have been its skull.

Cyran didn’t waste the opportunity to pick off the winner- who’d sustained heavy injuries himself- with a quick slice from Mercy’s Lament.^[1] The dagger thrummed with dark energy, filling the Yeti with images of pain and torment, putting it through everything it had just done to its-once companion before the yeti’s eyes dimmed, and it collapsed into the snow.

Cyran sheathed her now-bloody dagger- she would clean them all later, once water was not a precious commodity, and turned back to Cirice.

“What was that?” She asked, voice full of concern and… an underlying current of worry. Had Cirice manipulated their emotions? Cyran wasn’t aware of any kind of healer’s magic that could do something like that. As she stood there, the ghost still hovered behind her shoulders, giving Cirice a good look at her.

She was an elven woman, with deathly pale skin and dark hair in contrast that seemed to float lazily around her, untouched by the howling wind and snow. And on her forehead, a single, blackened crescent moon mark that looked like it had been drawn in ash, stood on full display.

Rowan tilted her head. A curious thing Cyran had picked up, she decided. Much more interesting than any of the other pitiful orphans that had attached themselves to him. This one looked like she knew how to have fun.

Placing one incorporeal hand to Cyran’s shoulder, Rowan brought a finger to her lips. “Shh. No spoiling the surprise.”

---

1. Dagger of Torment

“What was what?” Cirice asks, confused, “My spell? It makes bad guys turn on their friends. I’m not the best at fighting so I make them fight for me. I CAN fight. Mother Moon provides me with ways to protect myself. Look!” She holds up her hands, fingers splayed and summons shadowy claws, swiping at the air playfully¹. “Pretty cool right? Not the best if you don’t want to get really close though. And if I’m getting that close I might as well just get them to do the hard things themselves.” She smiles at Cyran and then notices the ghost again, looking at her curiously.

Stepping closer, really getting into Cyran’s personal space but looking above her shoulder at Rowan, “Hi there. Who are you? What do you mean a surprise??? Were you a cleric of Mother Moon too?" She tilts her head curiously. "Why didn’t you pass on? You should go. Being a ghost is bad for you lady.” Cirice’s eyes light up, “I can exorcize you! Cyran be still I’ll make the ghost go away!! Go on, go rest! Pass on!²”

---

1 Death swipe
2 Smooth Talking the ghost

Cyran frowned as Cirice described what her spell did, as casually as if she had no idea why being able to manipulate someone’s emotions wasn’t a good thing. Even as she formed dark claws with her hands, pawing at the air like an excitable bunny, Cyran’s unease only grew. Cirice didn’t even seem to understand why that kind of ability could be dangerous- today, she’d used them against monsters, but what if she used them against people? Had she? She remembered her casting some sort of spell when Porter’s attitude suddenly changed… why in the world would the goddess feel the need to grant her such a gift?

“Cirice…” Cyran trailed off, hand hovering in the air a moment, as if she wanted to pull Cirice closer, but didn’t have the courage to do such a thing. It wasn’t her place to step in- Cirice had her own parents, and even though Cirice had given Cyran such lovely gifts, it wasn’t her place as a stranger to offer such advice. They’d only met a few days ago. She didn’t have any say in Cirice’s life…

She bridged the gap and placed her hands gently on Cirice’s shoulder’s nonetheless.

“There are other ways to win a battle…” Cyran whispered. “Please just remember to be careful, okay, my dear?” Whether she was talking about Cirice charging into battle with reckless abandon, or her use of dark magic, Cyran wasn’t sure. But if she knew one thing, it was that dark magic wasn’t something to be trifled with. It blackened everything it touched, made monsters of men, and…

What was Cirice doing?

Cyran shifted uncomfortably as Cirice awkwardly clambered into Cyran’s personal space, getting on Cyran’s feet so she could stand on her toes and peer over her shoulder at something that… Cyran couldn’t see. When she spoke, she didn’t even seem to be talking to Cyran at all, but rather, this ghost she kept insisting she’d seen. A ghost that looked like a follower of Mother Moon.

A shiver crept up Cyran’s back, unbidden. There was no way it was possible, was it? Cirice must have been pulling some prank on her. Cirice had no idea what she even looked like… did she? No, it must have been fake-

And yet, the scar on Cyran’s back began to ache.

“What are you talking about…?” Cyran asked, but Cirice was already attempting to exorcise it in her own way, that- despite the tumultuous emotions brewing in her chest- still made Cyran manage a stiff, watery smile. Cirice stared at the air protectively, trying to get rid of the unwelcome spirit- the one that was currently quite amused at the young girl’s antics.

Rowan Pvayre laughed, leaning away from the girl’s face. She pointedly did not answer any of the little thing’s questions. With that earnest demeanor, and her attachment to Cyran, she’d just parrot everything back to him. She certainly was no follower of this Mother Moon, or whatever false prophet had laid claim to this girl.

“On the contrary, becoming a ghost was the best thing to happen to me.” Rowan replied, languidly floating through the air until she was a safe distance away from the girl. It was true, she had never intended to die, nor had she expected to be bound to the man who’d been her unbearably soft husband in the mortal life. But he’d frozen those soft parts of him admirably, and turned into something she’d never expected. The best part was that she didn’t even have to lift a finger to nudge Cyran in the right direction- he’d embraced the shadows she’d left behind all by himself. Soon enough, she’d be able to take back the life she was owed. “Not that I’ll be one much longer. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, young one.”

Still, it wouldn’t do for her to be alerting Cyran to Rowan’s presence any more than she already had. Cyran had gone this long without noticing Rowan’s spot at his shoulder and her whispers in his ear, urging him on. Him knowing of her existence wasn’t detrimental, but it would put a damper on things.

She would retreat, for now.

“You picked up a fun one this time, Cyran.” He’d always had a soft spot for strays. “I wonder how this one will break your heart.” Those were her last parting words before she vanished with the roaring wind, leaving Cyran and Cirice again once more.

Cyran was growing nervous. Cirice had been silent for a long time.

“… Cirice? Is everything okay?” Cyran glanced over her shoulder, still seeing nothing but the wagon and the merchants- and yet, she thought she caught a glimpse of woefully familiar eyes and a pitch-black moon against the white snow-

No.

No.

… No. she was dead, and she should stay buried. She could not touch Cyran anymore, and she wouldn’t be getting anywhere near Cirice, and she would not get anywhere close to any of Cyran’s kids. Not if Cyran had anything to say about it.

“I’m… I’m sure you exorcised her. Thank you for your help.” Cyran said with as comforting a voice that she could muster, one that did not sound particularly brave in this moment. She put a hand on Cirice’s shoulder once more- only for a moment. Cirice would have been able to feel the tremor in her hand before she pulled away to go check on the caravan. She needed something- anything- to take her mind off of things before she unraveled entirely.

She gripped the necklace Cirice had given her a moment before taking a shaky breath, recomposing herself, and setting to work. They had a cart to dig out.