The changeling follows Shael’s gesture to the ground below them. She blinks, letting the shadows of the night glaze her vision as she gazes across the landscape below. ₍₁₎ As Shael points out, they’re at the border; that much is clear as the jagged mountains slowly transition to rolling dunes. Mei glances further out, and she can see the desert’s endless presence glimmering silver beyond the cool glow of moonlight.

Shael is still talking all the while— and Mei listens, despite her attention being elsewhere. She glances at the teen briefly enough to catch her accusatory look and can’t help the twitch of a smirk that quirks the corner of her lips, “You say that as if your favorite answer isn’t usually a very polite, ‘Fuck off’.” she jests while she turns back to the dark landscapes below in search of the ruins or some other landmark that could hold the camp they’re looking for.

It’s true that Mei has not gone out of her way to get to know Shael; nor has she gone out of her way to get to know Snow; nor has she done so for Eirynor. She should; it’s not like she doesn’t know that. She holds some sense of loyalty and camaraderie with each of them— perhaps with Shael more than the others if only because her short temper makes for amusing banter.

She’s just afraid to get attached. She has been for a long time. At first, it was the fear of overstepping boundaries or finding herself too deep in a world she didn’t belong; and now, it’s the fear of loss. 

Ironic, perhaps, given what she harbours— where she comes from— and who she is as a person.

”Everything dies,” He watches her arrange ash roses in a small vase at the edge of an aged, ebony table. “but no one is dead.” Delicate yarrow shifts in her hands, sloughing bits of ash on the table. He looks at her a moment longer before gazing at the altar; a tall candle flickers in the midst of its offerings, trinkets, and carefully maintained portraits. Its flame glints against the blade of a dagger hung on the wall over the altar, casting long, spindling shadows onto the items below.

“They live in our memories; and we honour their lives the best we know how.” Her eyes linger on a portrait of a woman that he doesn’t recognize before she lowers them. She unravels a silk handkerchief, smudged in stains of crimson and pulls the pocket watch inside from its cocoon. Her shoulders rise and fall with a sigh, and she uses the handkerchief to smudge away one last stain. “And others… we learn from their mistakes.”

She sets it on the table, and Caedes watches a flickering shadow on the wall reach towards it.

At some point, silence falls across the trio as they navigate the border of the Ashlands and the Desert; and Mei finds herself caught off guard by Shael’s sudden outburst. Her shoulders tense, and her chest expands with a sharp breath in, but she doesn’t respond— only turns her head slightly to look at Shael from the corner of her eyes. Gradually, Mei turns her head to face Shael, her expression hardening while the young woman continues to vent— gesturing first at Eameia, and then to her. The words sting; they’re sharp. It’s a rationale that Mei simply does not want to hear; but when she opens her mouth to bite back, nothing comes out.

… She’s right.

Running will get her nowhere, but she doesn’t know what else to do. She can’t accept what happened to Zarius— not yet.

Mei lowers her lashes and turns away from Shael and Eameia; one hand rests idly in the inner pockets of her cloak, thumbing the corner of a loose-leaf letter that’s been kept in her journal. She doesn't respond, choosing instead to avert her gaze; and whatever the conversation could have been, it fades away when Shael points out a light. 

Mei lifts her eyes, focusing sharply on a soft glimmer in the distance.

Thank the gods. Anything to get her away from Shael's impromptu therapy session.

“It’s about time; is this the area with the ruins that you mentioned?”

---

(1) Ebon Eyes

"Should be."

Shael spins back around to face forward as the firelight gets closer. Glancing over her shoulder at the sky, she determines the best way to get close unseen is to keep closer to the ground so that anyone stargazing doesn't notice their silhouette flying overhead. 

"Gonna stay out of the range of any archers just to be safe."

As they make their first wide circle around the camp, it becomes clear that the ruins have had a significant amount of reinforcement done to them more recently. It hardly looks like ruins anymore, more resembling a small fortress with a few watch towers and tall walls with sharpened sticks lining the top. Around a dozen torches light the interior and there are a few humanoid silhouettes that move about the structure. 

"The fuck?" Shael exhales. "That's all new." 

Eameia narrows her eyes, peering through the darkness as they swoop more towards the front.^[1] The flickering torchlight from a pair of guards stationed at the main gate reveals a large symbol painted on the heavy wooden doors.

"That's the Legion's insignia." 

"Shit, does that mean they're here?" 

"Hard to tell from this distance. But the place has clearly been restored." 

"Seems like overkill for just holding a few thieves." 

"They have probably moved other high-profile people through here with all the arrests in Darkveil as of late." 

"Great. Just fan-fucking-tastic." 

Eameia mutters something under her breath. Mei would notice a shimmer of magic fall over the fellblood. Her horns seemingly turn into hair, falling in dark curls around her face which sharpens and narrows to appear more elven. Her skin lightens to a tawny brown and her solid gold eyes morph become defined with dark brown irises.^[2] She touches her chest and for a brief moment, a spectral set of armor appears around her body before it fades away.^[3]

She glances back at Mei. 

"Any ideas on how we should approach this?" 

"Indra and I could make for one hell of a distraction and give you two a chance to sneak in, but we might not be able to swoop in for a rescue in that case," Shael interjects. "Can't really get any closer without risking them noticing us, and we still don't know where exactly the captives are holed up."

---

[1] Dark Vision
[2] Alter Self
[3] Mage Armor

Even though Shael affirms the location, it sure as hell doesn’t look like any ruins she’s ever seen.

Mei’s jaw sets tight while she gazes at the reinforced camp down below past the shadow of Indra’s wing while the drake turns in a circle around the camp. She keeps count of the humanoid shapes that she can see; she counts about six individuals inside on their first pass around the camp without counting the two guards outside.

Her eyes narrow sharply when she sees the insignia of the Black Legion flickering in the torchlight.

“Gods damn it.” She breathes, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation; the way Lyari spoke about this place may not have been a lie per say, but this isn’t some temporary caravan. It’s possible that the scout had left out the details, but she finds it more likely that Lyari had downplayed the severity of the location in hopes that they would agree if it sounded meager.

That’s the best case scenario without the creeping paranoia that Lyari might be trying to set them up in some kind of agreement with the Black Legion for her safety. For a fleeting moment, she wonders if it’s worth finding out if this is real. They can still turn back and leave this behind, report to Lyari that her information was bullshit and tell her to help herself; not exactly an eloquent ending to a business relationship, but it would save them the trouble.

She turns her eyes towards the other two when she hears them bantering, before settling back on the camp below. If there’s other high-profile arrests in the jail outside of Lyari’s goons, this could be an opportunity to secure other contacts; does that make it worth the risk, though?

Mei closes her eyes and sighs, glancing towards Eameia as glimmering arcana falls over her, draping her in a cloak of deception not unsimilar from Mei’s own; she watches the dark curls fall around the sharpening features of her face, and the blink of her eyes when they shift into something different from her usual. Mei takes a page from Eameia’s book, closing her eyes briefly to embrace a familiar wash of change ⁽¹⁾ — after all, this persona of hers is connected to both Lyari and the Rha’Oriyn.

They need to ensure that this is an untraceable job, and she will not put them at risk.

“Shael, can you make another circle around the camp?” She asks, her voice altered slightly into a lower feminine pitch ⁽²⁾. Brunette hair falls around a human’s pale freckled face; and although not much of her height, build, or clothing have changed; this is only temporary in the long-run. “I’d prefer for you and Indra to stay back; gods knows how many we’re going to pull out of there that we’ll need to get onto Indra’s back. That’s going to be a lot harder if you’re fighting off mercenaries at the same time.”

Not to mention, to her knowledge, Shael’s abilities to cloak herself the way that Eameia, or that she can, are limited. Indra would certainly be recognizable. Both would be easy to track back to the Ash Lands if someone really wanted to look for them. “As for how we get in…” she takes a breath and sighs, turning to glance back at the camp. “I can easily get rid of their lights, but we risk getting caught quickly coming in from the front. I counted six inside wandering around.”

She falls quiet for a moment before glancing Shael’s direction. “Can you tell us everything you remember about this place? Did the ruins have an underground? None of the tents necessarily looked sturdy enough to hold prisoners, but if there’s more below, we might find them there. If they’ve fortified this place, there’s something they clearly like about it to put their effort into it. Is there any chance of an underground entrance, cavern, sewer— anything we might be able to put to use?”

---

1. Alter Self

2. Sound Throwing

Shael glances back at Eameia and Mei as both assume different outward appearances. She makes a bit of a stinkface but refrains from making any snide comments. "Yeah, can circle 'round as much as you like."

Tapping her heels against Indra's scaled hide, the drake pitches gently to the side and coasts in a lazy circle around the ruins. They get a good view of each side of the heavily fortified structure and Mei can verify her earlier count of the guards hasn't changed.

"There's nothing crazy elaborate from what I remember. The most intact tower does have a cellar," she says as she points it out as they loop back around. "Then the main building has some decent-sized open spaces. If they've built the place up they've probably enclosed all that. There's a well too, but I don't know if there's any entrance to that anywhere nearby. It's fucking deep and the water we got out of it was pretty sludgy." 

Eameia listens to the dark elf talk and points out the notable features of the ruins. It's not a lot, and nothing very promising. No secret back doors, no weakened walls, no tunnels. The Legion wasn't messing around, seems like they have all their bases covered. That is until Shael mentions something that puts an idea in her head. 

"If they have enclosed those spaces and those spaces now have doors...we may have an easy time getting them out after all." She reaches into one of her pockets and pulls out a dark metal key on a ring.^[1] "I have a magic key that will let us travel back to the manor so long as we find a door with a keyhole." 

"Oh, yeah, easy peasy. Just do that then leave me and Indra behind in the middle of the desert." 

"Our priority is getting the captives out safely." Eameia doesn't care for Shael's tone, but she doesn't want to argue with the teenager and risk detection by the lookouts as they swoop by. "That is the best option we have. They won't be able to track them back to Darkveil either."

"Assuming none of us get caught." 

"I have a few other items that can aid us in a quick escape," she says as she puts the key back away in her pocket for safe keeping. "The issue is getting in."

Shael throws a hand up, waving dismissively. "Well unless you don't have a way to just magic up a letter of entry I don't see that going smoothly." 

"..." Eameia rummages through her satchel and pulls out a piece of parchment. She focuses on it, drawing up an exact replica of a Stablemen missive from messages they have previously intercepted.^[2] "Good idea." 

Shael glances back over her shoulder at the forged letter. "You have to be fucking kidding me." 

The fellblood ignores Shael and holds out the paper to Mei. "We can pretend to be Stablemen agents, deliver some news from their base in Darkveil that requires us to question their captives. Once we secure them and a door, we can get them out, sneak out ourselves..." she glances back at the drake riding teen who is starting to look a bit uneasy, "and regroup with Shael."

As much as Eameia does not particularly get along with Shael, she can understand what it's like to be left behind. Even if the girl is more than capable of making it back to Darkveil on her own, there's always a chance she could run into trouble on the way back. If that trouble ended up being the Legion or the Stablemen, she's not entirely convinced the girl would hold her tongue about what they were doing out here. From what Eameia can tell, Shael's loyalty is still a wildcard. 

Shael glances past Eameia at Mei, studying her face for her reaction to this plan. The teen definitely looks a bit more nervous than she was before, the belligerence faltering to worry that if the key does work they won't bother to come back for her. 

---

[1] House Key
[2] Wanted Poster

Mei ignores Shael’s initial attitude and listens instead to her recollection about how the ruins had once been laid out. From her description, it was already a contained area with little verticality outside of the once crumbling, but now fortified towers, that it currently holds within the borders of its walls. “No wonder they chose to build it up,” she admits with a begrudging grunt, “One way in and out, few weak points; with the Black Legion’s insignia displayed as proudly as it is, no one in their right mind is going to try and test them.”

She takes a particular note to the cellar in the tallest tower, and the mention of open spaces in the main building. If they’ve closed it in, there’s a good chance the captives could be in there— but there’s an equally good chance they’ve all been crammed into the cellar with an armed guard placed outside.

Mei glances sidelong at Eameia; she listens quietly while she points out that with the building, the spaces could have doors, and if they do… She blinks, focusing sharply on the key that the fellblood pulls out. “Oh.” she remarks in a knowing, inquisitive realization. “Mine went to the Rookery.”

It was something Zarius had given her for easy access back to the bar. 

She tries not to dwell on anything past that.

“I don’t know if it still works after the building was destroyed, but it’s a good idea.” It’s not exactly ideal given the downside to this is that Lyari’s thieves will tumble right into the Rha’Oriyn’s home. “Where in the manor would this be sending them, assuming we use it? How much of a problem will that be for everyone at home?” Her eyes turn towards Shael when she comments, “It’s all the reason to be more careful. The more details we have going in about how this looks, the better we can cover our ass.”

It’s not going to be a perfect plan, but not needing to escort out a gaggle of goons will be a lot easier in this case, especially given the lack of ins and outs of this guarded camp. When Eameia writes on a piece of parchment, seemingly struck by an idea, Mei cocks a brow; she takes the paper as it’s offered and reads through the missive that she struck up.

She breathes a puff of a laugh, “Infiltrating right under their noses? I like it.” Mei’s not a stranger to this kind of operation given her history; and with a missive, it makes it much more doable. “If we play our cards right, we could have them lead us straight to the captives. No risking getting caught sneaking between buildings if we pick the wrong one.”

There’s a lot that could still go wrong, though.

“We’ll need to get our story straight between the both of us. Names, news, and mission. We need to keep it consistent.” She glances up, briefly catching Shael’s worried gaze from behind Eameia; and she takes a slow breath before she continues. “It’s a good idea,” she admits, “And with how tightly this place is wrapped up, it might be our only real chance at getting in to get them out without trying to wipe out an entire base of government officials, or putting any one of us in unnecessary danger.”

She takes a breath and focuses on Shael; to some degree, she understands why she might look nervous. The Black Legion and the Stablemen are involved with the government in varying degrees, and depending on how the plan goes, this could go very poorly in multiple aspects.

Shael is also… well, she's Shael.

Maybe she's got an attitude, and maybe she still hates them— or, her— after the circumstances of her joining; but she's still a part of this, and Mei has no intention to leave her behind.

“I don’t need my cloak going in there given the time of day, and if we do this, I'd like to look as unopposing as I can. If you can hold onto it, Shael— keep an eye out from above for any signs of conflict, hostility, or anyone approaching, and let us know if something changes— that would be ideal. ⁽¹⁾ You should be able to contact Eameia through it, so communication between us is available should anything happen. We could quietly coordinate where and how we'll regroup."

---

^{(1) Red Rogue Hood}

Mine went to the Rookery.

Eameia winces at those words. Losing the building filled with so many childhood memories, then losing the person she made those memories with all in the same year cut deep. She knows it hurts Mei too, as the key was a symbol of the trust the assassin had built up with her brother…or maybe even more than just trust.

She pushes those thoughts away. Now is not the time.

“The hidden corridor to the underground. I can alert my father to our plan and he will prepare things on the other side.”

Eameia pulls out a familiar little orb on a leather string.^[1] Zarius had used such items before to keep in contact with people across long distances. This time, the other half had been left back in Darkveil in the care of Anselm should anything go wrong with the mission.

When her father insisted on keeping one-half of the item, she regrets to admit she selfishly hesitated. Word of her own outings had made it back to her father via Eirynor’s reports. While the tall half-elf has always loyally stood at her side as her confidant and personal bodyguard, he was not one to lie on her behalf when her safety was in question. No doubt her father had worried about her venturing out in the world so soon after losing her brother, and no doubt her amateur attempts to follow in her brother’s footsteps had more than proven his worries valid. Even if Anselm would not point out her missteps aloud, he would take what actions he could to have contingencies in place should she slip up again.

Despite her wounded pride, she cannot deny the logic in that way of thinking. She and Karize lost a brother, their mother and father lost a son, and the family as a whole lost an heir. They could not afford to lose anyone else.

She quickly relays their intent through the item to her father on the other side, and once she receives confirmation she turns her attention to Mei’s list of details they needed to get straight before they attempted any kind of deception.

“How about we say one of the captives has important information pertaining to the location of another cult den in the Devil’s Ridge? We can use the list Lyari gave us, pick the name of one of the captives, and insist that we need to question them immediately before the cultists have a chance to flee. The urgency is key, otherwise, they may turn us away or say we should travel with them to their final destination. I doubt we will be left completely unsupervised, but a few guards are more manageable than a whole troop. I can keep reinforcements from getting in and make us an escape route through a wall once we have moved all the captives.”

“Wait,” Shael interjects. “If you can just make a door wherever why not just use that to sneak in?”

“My concern is that there is a risk with using that spell outright. I cannot see through walls before creating a doorway in it. If we open a hole into a guarded room we will not have much time to work with to get any chains or restraints removed,” she explains.

That answer seems to satisfy the teenager, but she still looks a bit unsure about this whole thing. She reluctantly takes the bundled-up cloak when Mei offers it to her. As she pulls it around her shoulders, she looks like she wants to say something. However, the words - whatever they may have been - die on her tongue. The most Mei gets in response after the teenager turns around to face away from them is a curt, “Fine.”

---

[1] Talking Heads

The wince that twitches Eameia’s shoulders isn’t lost on Mei; and the changeling’s expression softens with sympathy. She cannot change what’s happened or what’s been said, but she wishes she could. As much as Shael’s earlier comment had stung, she has a point: Zarius wouldn’t want to see them dragging themselves around like wounded Woolfuls during a mission.

It isn’t like Mei to let her personal life bleed into business; and the simple fact that Shael could tell- that she had to warn her to get it together- is yet another failure on her end. She needs to think about the here and now: she needs to make sure Shael and Eameia get home safely.

Mei swallows her thoughts while Eameia pulls out a familiar orb on a leather string to contact the other half, which Mei presumes must be with Anselm. “The hidden corridor,” she repeats; she tries to map out the hidden corridor in her head, presuming she has the right one. No matter the case, the underground is a much better option than dropping a gaggle of goons directly into the manor’s living room. “Good; that should work well if he can ready the other side for a couple of unexpected visitors.”

Mei leans back to unclasp one of the pouches on her belt; she pulls out the list that Lyari had given them earlier, navigating through the names of the hostages taken. She’s careful to hold the loose pages tightly, lest they blow off Indra’s back.

She recognizes some of the names in hindsight: Griffin Ashbough, a half-elf listed, has rumoured connections to auction houses that moonlight with black market dealers; Anrin Tenbrand, a halfling she’d met last year, helps run one of Lyari’s speakeasy fronts…

“Kres,” Mei remarks, “Kres Thilze? A Draconynh; I don’t recognize her family name. She looks like she may be the least notable individual on the list.” Or at the least, she looks like she’s the least traceable; it’s her guess that the legion isn’t completely stupid and already has gotten a good amount of dirt on larger names even before this heist. They’ve likely already battered them in interrogation for partners, participation, and confessions; but putting a target on someone relatively unknown may give them more reason to cock an eyebrow and let them through.

The Legion would probably jump on one more reason to convict their hostages, regardless of who they choose to throw under the wagon's wheel.

She offers the information over to Eameia so that she can parse through them- ensuring the fellblood is able to take them before she releases them, or puts them away depending on her response. “If we can land Indra somewhere close enough for us to walk to the camp, but far enough for her to be out of range from danger and keep Shael out of sight, we might be able to pass her off as a postal drake- or our express transport- because we so urgently needed to speak with our prisoner. It may look more suspicious if we show up this far from Darkveil on foot.”

Removing her cloak to hand it off to Shael is but a click of the ties holding it together; and when the girl takes it, she seems like she wants to say something.

Then doesn’t.

Something about it, paired with the perceived moping while she turns away from them, ignites mischief. “You’re not… worried about us, are you?” Mei muses in a tone that’s laced with a playful, conspiratorial gasp after receiving Shael’s curt answer; she didn’t expect anything else from Shael, but it’s the mere predictability of her infinite attitude. It’s been a while since she had the energy to poke back at her. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you can even start to miss us.”

"That will work, Kres it is,” Eameia nods as she reviews the information and hands it back. “Best put that somewhere safe.”

She looks around at the sea of inky darkness stretching out for miles on end. Mei had a good point, if they just appeared out of nowhere with no visible means of transportation, that might raise more suspicions than arriving on drake back.

"Good idea. With any luck, they’ll never get close enough to identify Indra either.”

Shael is busy fiddling with the clasp on the cloak when she visibly bristles at Mei’s teasing. She flips Mei the bird without looking back at her. "You're such an asshole."

Still, the banter lifts the mood a little, though that is short-lived as they prepare for the task at hand.

"I'll hold you to that," the teen mutters, finally getting the cloak secured. "Otherwise, I'm stealing your room in the fancy house."

The young drake rider pulls her scarf up over her nose to at least obscure her face a little before directing Indra to close in on the fortress just enough to be seen but not identified.

Almost immediately there’s some shouting from the fort as the guards spot the drake off in the distance. The guards by the gate draw their weapons and stand at the ready for whatever happens next. It’s only reasonable they would be on high alert on the border of two regions teeming with criminals and bandits.

Eameia sticks close to Mei’s side as the pair get off Indra’s back, cross the sands, and approach the front in their guises.

“Halt,” one of the gate guards points his weapon in their direction. “This area is off limits.”

“We’re here on urgent business,” Eameia strides up confidently and nearly shoves the forged document into the guard’s hands. “Let us through.”

The guard reads over the page with a disgruntled look before showing it to the other guard who looks equal parts perturbed and skeptical.

“Well?” Eameia presses with a tone of impatience to drive forward the urgency of the matter.

“Fine. You can meet with our superior, can’t guarantee he’ll let you near the prisoners.”

The elf-looking fellblood scoffs and snatches the document back. “Well, if he likes his station, he’ll consider it.”

After the gate is opened for them, two guards on the inside escort them into the interior of the ruined courtyard. There are more guards that they can now see that were previously unidentified during their scouting, at least two more pairs worth.

Instead of being brought inside the fortified structure of the ruins, the guard escorts them to a tent that is tucked against the exterior wall. They pull back one of the entrance flaps and gesture for them to enter. Upon entering, the pair come face to face with a grizzled human man in armor.

Despite the insignia on the fort’s gates, this man does not wear any emblem of the Legion. In fact, none of the guards do. Either these are Legionnaires traveling more discretely, or they’re just hired mercs with permission to use the ruins as a pit stop. There’s no easy way to tell, but either way, they are well-armed and outnumber the pair of imposters. Best not to start a fight if they can help it.

The battle-scarred human looks up from the maps on the table to the unfamiliar faces entering the tent. He straightens and holds his hands behind his back, looking down his nose at them with a look of scrutiny and suspicion.

“We were not expecting visitors. State your business.”

Eameia takes a step forward and offers the forged document to him. “An urgent matter of public safety. We need to interrogate one of the criminals.”

The man takes the page and glances over it before eyeing the two of them again.

Mei has always had a penchant for chaotic banter; and when Shael flips her off without even looking at her, she snorts and erupts into a laugh. It’s been a while since she has laughed - really laughed, that is. It feels good. “An asshole you’re worried about,” she points out in the remnants of a chuckle, “I hope you’re good with having a room-mate; Charlotte doesn’t snore, but she’s got a bad habit of leaving webs everywhere.” Mei places her journal back into her belt, out of sight, and prepares for their arrival.

To no one’s surprise, as Indra swoops down into the dunes near the fortress, the guards rearrange themselves and prepare for the worst. Mei narrows her eyes, waiting for Indra to stop moving before she rises to her feet; she vaults over Indra’s side, knees buckling slightly as she hits the sand. She brushes her hair back as she rises, posture straight, and glances back to wait for Eameia while keeping the guards of the fortress in her peripherals.

They’re doing this. Indra’s arrival, the landing, means there’s no backing off this plan. She keeps close to Eameia’s side; she lets her shoulders relax, playing a role more laid back than Eameia’s confident aura. “We know,” she calls back, “That’s why we brought the papers.”

Internally, however, she feels her heart tighten as the distance between Eameia and the armed guards closes. She begs the shadows to keep her safe. Her frozen heart flutters like a phantom in her chest at the sound of paper crumpling into the guard’s hands; and yet, Mei crosses her arms and tilts a hip, waiting with an unbothered and somewhat impatient expression while the guard reads their missive for entry.

Skepticism is written all over their faces.

“We never got prior mention of an arrival,” the opposite guard says as he takes the missive from the other.

“Urgent business.” Mei reminds him from Eameia’s side, earning herself a side-eye from the missive-wielding mercenary. He looks displeased while his compatriot agrees to let them through; and he scowls when Eameia snatches the paper back from him.

With much reluctance, the two young women are let into the fortress; the gate opens, and Mei sticks close to Eameia’s side with long, quick steps as they walk. Hostility rolls off the guards they pass in waves; narrowed eyes judgingly following each step, as if waiting - daring - them to fall out of line. She hates the feeling of being surrounded by enemies, but acknowledging it will put further skepticism on the pair and jeopardize this entire charade.

She ducks inside, raising an arm to brush away the entrance flap once they’re gestured into the tent nearby. “Good evening,” she greets the grizzled man; but he’s already looking through them with a paranoid skepticism. Legionnaires or not, there’s no question that this group consists of a great deal of mercenary veterans. The scars are only one signal; the skepticism, the paranoia, and the natural mistrust are another; and the sense of superiority? A dead giveaway.

She allows Eameia the floor, eyes following the transfer of the document from hand to hand, before lingering on their presumed superior. He gives it a once over before looking down his nose at them once more. An uneasy silence falls between the imposters and the battle-scarred sergeant; the tension is thick, palpable, before he finally speaks in a broken and graveled voice, “The prisoners have already been interrogated.”

“With all due respect, sir, we have on good authority that one of your criminals is involved with the cult activity in the Ash Lands.”

Narrowed eyes shift from Eameia to Mei. After a moment of meeting his challenging gaze, he asks with a sharp, low tone, “And that criminal is?”

“The draconynh, sir.”

He exhales heavily through his nose as he tosses their missive dismissively onto his maps. “Your missive is repetitive.”

“Our missive is of utmost importance,” Mei lets her voice pitch in a way that borders insulted; he opens his mouth to argue, but she raises her voice. “Lest I remind you that the state of Darkveil is a reminder of the capabilities of these extremists still at large.” She can tell he doesn’t like the attitude by the way his nose wrinkles and his lip curls, “Any leads we are able to recover are of utmost importance. Each moment those zealots are free, the crown - and our way of life - remains in a state of perpetual danger. Darkveil is just the start.”

A belligerent growl claws out of his throat.

“So, with all due respect, sir.” Mei places her hands behind her back primly, meeting his bitter gaze with narrowed eyes, and repeats firmly, “We have on good authority that one of your criminals is involved with cult activity; and it is urgent that we interrogate them immediately. Please allow us to do so.”

The man holds Mei's gaze for a moment, eyes narrowing as he looks over both the women head to toe. It's pretty obvious he isn't too keen on trusting their words, but rather than throwing them back out of the fort, he lets out an annoyed sigh.

"Fine. Just the draconynh." He waves his hand to dismiss them from his presence. 

The two are escorted back out of the tent and over to the reinforced structures of the ruins. Eameia keeps a close eye on the two mercenaries flanking them on either side. Even though the leader has given them the go-ahead, no one is letting their guard down. It’s incredibly annoying.

Instead of going through one of the doors added to the ruins to enclose one of the buildings, they’re taken to a hatch at the base of the towers. Mei can sense that there are a number of living beings below their feet in addition to all the guards roaming the fortress.

The hatch is opened and the pair are brought down a short ladder into what might have at one point been a cellar or cold storage. It’s dark, but that’s hardly an issue for the pair. A few torches cast flickering shadows across the stone walls from their sconces. There’s no immediate sight of the captives and there doesn’t appear to be a door or passageway in the same direction that Mei can sense the number of heartbeats. The only blips Mei gets in the immediate area are those of the two guards who descend the ladder after them, and of Eameia at her side.

The hatch closes behind them with a heavy clunk, and it feels like the tension in the room grows thick enough to cut with a knife. Eameia glances at Mei, ready to pivot their plan if the guards try anything. But glancing back over their shoulders, the guards just stand there casually.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Eameia confronts the guards. “Where are the captives?”

“No joke, I'm afraid.” The sound of a flapping cloak reveals a tall, violet-skinned umbral elf with stark white hair pulled back into a braided ponytail as he appears out of thin air at the far side of the chamber.^[1] His eyes gleam in the darkness to an unnatural degree, shining like rubies in the flickering torchlight. The reveal is unexpected, in fact, Mei can’t sense their presence at all even though they’re standing right there before them.

Their eyes flicker from Eameia to Mei. “Stop them.”

While potentially expecting the guards to make a move to apprehend them, Mei instead would feel Eameia’s hand land on her shoulder. The air warps around Mei and locks her in place.^[2] Glancing over at the fellblood, her eyes are glazed over, as if not in her right mind.^[3]

The umbral elf’s face lights up in look of surprise and he lets out half a laugh. “Oh, that’s convenient.” He strides towards the pair and circles around them like a hungry wolf inspecting a wounded fawn. “Quite bold to try impersonating Stablemen to get access to our prisoners. Sorry to say that I’m the only one going to do any interrogating here. I suggest you cooperate, otherwise, things may get very uncomfortable for you both.”

The elf nods to the other guards who can be heard moving behind them. The clink of metal chains bounces off the stone walls and the guards approach Mei and Eameia with sets of manacles at the ready.

“Careful with that one,” the elf mentions to one of the guards closing the metal bands around Mei’s wrists. “I do not sense any heartbeat. It’s not often I find a kindred spirit, even less often I find one keeping a pet at its side.”

“What do you advise, sir?” Asks one of the guards as Mei’s wrists are pulled back behind her back.

“Mundane chains will likely not hold them for long, and we do not have the means to deal with them properly at this location. That said,” the elf’s ruby eyes fall on Eameia. “We can at least keep one of them from slipping through our little trap.”

The elf steps up behind Eameia once the guards have finished securing the manacles. “Do try to keep that one back once the spell releases them. This will take a moment.” He grabs Eameia under the jaw and tilts her head to the side as he leans in from behind. His eyes flick up to meet Mei's. "There's still a chance for a civil conversation, so you best behave yourself." He then sinks two long sharp fangs into the exposed side of Eameia's neck.^[4]

The glazed-over look in Eameia’s eyes is blinked away as she yelps in pain and drops the spell holding Mei. The elf keeps a firm hold and forcibly drags her backward while the guards attempt to gang up on Mei and pull back on the chains to try and keep the two separated.

---

[1] Invisibility (Agent)
[2] Hold person
[3] Powerful Presence (Agent)
[4] Wicked Desires (Agent)

Mei holds his gaze; she has every intention to kick up a fuss should she have to; but to her surprise, he relinquishes. She pauses, lips pursed while he agrees to let them see their requested target; his disgruntled expression and initial resistance led her to believe he’d put up more of a fight.

When he waves them away dismissively, she casts a sidelong glance at Eameia before dipping her head in a formal, diplomatic bow. “Thank you, captain.”

---

As they leave the tent and re-emerge into the ruins, Mei remains close to Eameia; it’s clear that with or without the Captain’s approval, their presence is unwelcome all the same. She holds herself proudly - adjusting one of her gauntlets while keeping one of the flanking guards in her peripheral - but if looks could kill, the wandering scowls of indignant swords for hire might leave a mark. She doesn’t believe that the mercenaries loitering along their path would directly disobey their higher-up so openly - the chances are never zero - but it’s difficult not to feel like they’ve wandered into a den of restless wolves.

Their heartbeats are staggered as they pass; one on the right, two to the left. Mei recognizes Eameia and the position of the two guards without looking at them - but most intriguingly, the steady thrum of living people or creatures lies beneath their feet. She does her best to count them - at minimum there’s four - and she has no reason not to believe it might be their destination. As they approach a hatch to descend into a lower area, she feels affirmed in that theory.

Eameia descends first, and Mei hip-checks one of the flanking guards to ensure that she follows her down next. “Not one for manners, are you?” The guard looks shocked at first after recovering from a stumble, but his surprise turns to a scowl while Mei dismissively waves over her shoulder and steps down the first couple of rungs, “Ladies first~”

She hears an audible, “Tch,” as the guard leaves her line of sight.

Once Eameia has cleared down below, Mei releases the ladder and drops the last few rungs to the bottom. She lands just a pace behind the disguised fellblood and naturally moves to join her; but something is… off. Her steps slow as she scans the room, expression gradually darkening when she comes to realize that there’s nothing here, and that any passageway from the front leads farther from their presumed destination.

She glances over her shoulder, but as the last of their escorts descend the ladder, there is nothing. No door, no passageway. Mei shares a wary glance with Eameia. It seems that they’re on the same page without words: this isn’t right. The air grows thick with tension as the hatch groans shut.

Mei furrows her brows as Eameia moves to confront the guards. She brushes the pads of her fingertips over the hilt of her dagger in preparation for the worst and opens her mouth, but the voice that fills the room is not her own.

It is not Eameia’s voice.

It is not either of the guards’.

Terror thunders through her like a lightning strike and stutters her breath into a whispered, “What-?” Mei spins on her heel, fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of her dagger as the guards become a secondary priority to the elven man in the darkness; his gaze is predatory, eyes glowing despite the dim light under the ruins.

Three.

There are three heartbeats in this room, and that elf is not one of them.

Her throat tightens, eyes growing wider as realization crashes over her.

Oh. Shit.

Mei takes a step back in an attempt to reconvene with Eameia, but doesn’t realize that the light in her eyes has begun to fade. “You-“ Mei starts, her voice trembling in indignation; but as a soft weight falls on her shoulder, gravity closes in around her all at once.

Her eyes grow wide in shock as she’s halted against her will.

She frantically throws her gaze to her companion: Eameia’s eyes are glazed over, her expression is blank. A wave of frigid horror washes over her and chills her to the core. She wants to speak, but the corners of her mouth only tremble. Wild-eyed, her eyes dart towards the umbral elf as his laugh bounces off of the empty cellar walls; each step he takes sends a jolt up her spine.

“Quite bold to try impersonating Stablemen to get access to our prisoners.”

Gods… damn it.

Mei’s curled fist trembles against the warped space holding her while he monologues; any effort to move is utterly useless. Desperation claws up into her chest and rattles between her ribcage frantically. The last of her breath squeezes from her lungs in a strained, apprehensive exhale as the jangle of metal punctuates his silent command to restrain them.

She should have known when the captain relinquished so quickly that something was off, but how did they have time to communicate? Actually, forget that - why is there an undead in their ranks? Fuck, how could she have known?

Mei’s eyes grow darker when the elf’s attention shifts to her, and her lips twitch when he refers to Eameia as a pet. Without the ability to speak, Mei hopes that she can bore a hole directly through this elf’s head; but the threat behind her gaze only sharpens when his attention turns to Eameia.

Don’t.

Mei’s shoulders are jerked back as the guards unceremoniously pull her arms behind her back; one of them pries her dagger from her cold, undead hands while the other clasps the manacles around her wrists. Her gaze follows each step, each movement the elf takes towards Eameia; her body trembles in efforts to lunge, to move, to stop him.

She can’t. She wants to scream.

Don’t you dare.

“There’s still a chance for civil conversation, so you best behave yourself.”

There is not a chance in however many layers of hell.

The moment his fangs sink into Eameia's neck, and the spell drops, Mei roars to life.

Chains begin to rattle and one of the guards makes a choked sound when the manacle on her right wrist falls through her rapidly darkening arm as though it were becoming ink. _{(1, 2)} “Get your fucking hands off of her!” The desperation that’s built into her chest releases all at once, and her high-pitched, strained cry echoes off the walls back at her and sound nothing like she thinks she should sound like. Dark droplets slough from the empty, tightened manacle and plip onto the floor as it swings behind her; and her free hand rakes its claws through the air in front of the elf, but he’s too damn far and one of the guards still has a hold on her.

No… no, no, no!

Her boots slip against the stone beneath her, unable to take her any closer, and the remaining manacle bites into her skin. She hears the unsheathing of a sword behind her as one of the chains go slack; but the other remains tight, gathered around the guard’s reddening fist in a loop around his palm. “Civil conversation, my ass.” Her voice shakes when she speaks, “You pompous parasite, I will not even have the decency to throw you back into the crusty coffin you crawled out of when I send you right back to the grave.”

A yell from one of the guards comes as a warning to the inky hand that reaches around the elf in an attempt to cover his eyes and forcibly drag him off of the fellblood. The silhouette, completely featureless save for four blank, white eyes that feather at their edges, looks a whole lot like the outline of the woman in front of him. ₍₃₎ Strands of dark, thread-like ink leave a trail of puppet's strings from the darker recesses of the cellar where she emerged.

---

_{(1) Eldritch Claws
(2) Phantom Limb
(3) Shadow Clone}

The dark elf laughs as Mei lashes out at him both physically and verbally. “Ouch. My feelings are hurt. There’s no need for such venom between undead souls such as ours.”

His eyes flit between Mei and the guards, expecting them to do their damn jobs and at the very least keep Mei out of arm’s reach. They succeeded at least partially which only feeds into his smug grin.

He licks a dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth and holds Eemeia under her jaw. “I will say, you have fine tastes in pets.”

His expression, however, changes a bit when he glances to Eameia to make sure she’s been subdued. The bite was a quick one, but casters are more fragile than fighters. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so cocky so quickly as he’s met with a sharp golden glare.

There’s an audible crunching noise as Eameia chomps down on his hand in retaliation for his transgressions against her. He cringes a bit and pulls his hand away but then she throws her head back into his face. The vampire’s face is the unfortunate recipient of not just the back of her skull, but the tips of her fellblood horns as the spell changing her appearance fails.

“GAH!” He reaches up to cover his eye as thick blood starts to gush from it, stepping back only to bump into the shadow clone behind him.

Dragged backward with him, Eameia twists her wrists in the manacles and quickly casts a spell. Her body turns incorporeal and she phases through the manacles and the vampire’s grip.^[1] It’s hard to maintain the spell though since it was so hastily cast, so she flickers back into being physical as she stumbles into Mei’s side. She’s a bit unsteady on her feet from the lightheadedness clouding her mind, but luckily the vampire didn’t get the chance to completely incapacitate her.

The guard behind Mei who drew their sword raises it to take a swing at her back. Eameia instead puts herself between the two and the blade deflects off of the Mage Armor protecting her torso. The magic shell shatters with the blow, but at least it keeps her and Mei in one piece for the time being.

“I am okay,” Eamiea says through her gritted teeth, her voice strained despite the words of reassurance. “We need to leave.”

The fellblood knows that’s easier said than done. They were in a hole with two guards and a vampire, she was injured, and there was an entire unit of legionnaires just above their heads. This stealth mission was a bust, they would have to fight their way out. Luckily they have air support on standby.

Eameia tugs at her hood.^[2] “Shael. We need a distraction. Now.”

“Huh? It’s only been like ten minutes!”

“NOW.”

Hopefully, the teen would come through, but they couldn’t worry about that right now. Eameia tries to re-up her mage armor, but her hands are shaking too much to weave the formulae arcanum into anything cohesive. The guard doesn’t waste a second taking another sword strike at her while the other tries to pull Mei off balance.

---

[1] Phase Walk
[2] Red Rogue’s Hood