“Hello there,” a man’s voice said, piercing the darkness.

  Raea opened her eyes, groaning as she came to. Lying on her back, she found herself looking at a ceiling of rough hewn stone, illuminated only by dim torch light. With a deep breath she pulled herself to a sitting position and looked at the speaker. It was a priest in dirty black robes, kneeling on the other side of a prison cell door.

  With a snap and a crackle the priest lit a candle using flint and steel. Raea blinked and shielded her eyes with her hand, recoiling from the new source of light.

  The light also revealed the priest’s features as Raea adjusted her eyes. He looked young, but only in a vague sort of way that put him under 30 years of age but could fit anywhere from that point down to his late teens. His left eye was brown, dark and somber. There was a sense of caring too, but not in the same way as a Father Paul who cared deeply in the present moment. Rather, it was distant, watchful; caring but unsympathetic, if such a concept could make sense. His right eye was white and blind from cataracts, despite his apparent youth. Its gaze had a piercing quality that Raea found unsettling.

  “Who are ye?” Raea asked. “Where are we?” she added, glancing around the cell

  “These are the prisons below the High Hall,” the priest answered. “And I am Father Wodan, but a humble member of the clergy, tasked with offering prisoners a chance to confess before they are executed.”

  “And?” Raea said. “I don’t think I have any crimes to confess here.”

  “Hm,” Father Wodan vocalized, pulling a small book out from where it had been tucked under his arm. “Let’s see,” he said, leafing through several pages. “Ah!” he exclaimed, tapping his finger on one page. “See here?” he asked, turning the book to show it to Raea.

  “No,” Raea answered, staring at the indecipherable array of symbols and markings.

  “Oh, I see,” Wodan said, placing the book back under his arm. “Well, regardless, just tell me this. Had they cut off one of the elf’s ears or both by the time you intervened?” He mimed the act, using his own ears as props.

  “One,” Raea answered.

  “I see,” Wodan replied. “So that is your nature.”

  “What?” Raea asked, confused. Her eyes narrowed as that confusion fed her suspicion.

  “Or at least part of your nature,” the priest said, talking to himself more than anything. “But is there more to you than that? Ah, no time for that now.”

  Raea kept her silence, hoping that the priest would take that as sign that he should leave.  The priest continued on in spite of it. “Yes, there is no time.” He finally returned his attention fully to Raea. “The hangman’s noose is not your destiny and you shall not meet your fate come the morn.”

  “Fate? Destiny?” Raea asked. “I really don’t give a damn about yer nonsense.”

  “Regardless, help will be coming for you soon,” Wodan said, gathering his things and standing up. “One thing before I go. There is an elf in the cell across from you. Take him with you when you leave.”

  “Not likely,” Raea replied.

  “We’ll see,” Wodan said, smiling. “By the way, I am glad to have met you today, Astraea of Carsani. I have great hopes for your future.” The priest blew out his candle as he walked away, leaving Raea behind in the darkness.

  The girl sat in her cell, soaking in the isolation. With a jolt she then stood, grasping at the bars of her prison cell. “Wait!” she yelled out into the darkness. “How the fuck do ye know my name?!”

  In the silence that followed Raea found that she had nothing to do but sit and await her fate.

  ***

  Raea was uncertain how much time had passed before she heard anything again, lying still in the near dark with only slivers of dim torchlight to light the world around her. Eventually though, the sound of footsteps echoing through the prison pulled her attention to the cell door, like a small drop of ink falling onto a blank sheet of paper.

  The girl could feel her heart rising up to her throat despite her attempts to ignore it.

  Her anticipation was met by a guard walking by the cell door. Raea sighed, followed by a sudden sharp breath in as Cian stepped into view.

  “Old man!” Raea yelled in surprise, leaping to her feet.

  “Oh, Carag’s soul, girl, don’t act so excited,” Cian said upon seeing her. “I’m not the bearer of good news here.”

  “Old man, ye’ve got to get me out of here, please,” Raea pleaded.

  Cian shook his head grimly, the torch backlighting the Varathian in a way that made him more intimidating and imposing in that moment. “You say that like it’s some simple thing. But you fucked up.”

  “What?” Raea asked. In a rush she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the bars separating her from the Varathian, holding them in a death grip. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Ye grabbed from that hellhole of an island, dragged me all the way here, just so ye could leave me here to die?!”

  Cian sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I leave you alone for a few minutes and you run off on your own to do something unbelievably stupid. If that’s how you’re going to behave then I should cut my losses and leave you here to your fate.”

  “But…” Raea began without any more words in mind for her to say. Her mouth hung open like a door that’s been broken at the hinges. Her shoulders slumped forward and her grip on the prison bars slackened. Raea’s eyes lowered until the extending hand of Cian entered her vision.

  “This is goodbye,” the Varathian said. Raea stared at the proffered hand, thinking to herself that the gesture was an awful formal one for Cian to make. “Just remember,” the warrior added. “We all have a hand in forging our own destinies.”

  With a deep breath Raea took hold of that hand. Cian gave it a single firm shake as Raea’s eyes narrowed. Her arm tensed the moment her palm touched his and felt something small and metallic in his grasp. As he pulled his hand away she gripped the object and put her hand behind her back.

  She took heavy breaths through her nose, in and out, in and out, as Cian and the guard accompanying him walked away from the cell door. Raea stared at the spot where they had stood, unblinking, until the sounds of their footsteps faded away.

  With a deep, elongated sigh she pulled her hand out from behind her and opened it. Sitting in her palm was a key, heavy and metallic. Raea nodded to herself, whispering, “Ok, old man. I think I’ve got ye.”

  With a newfound vigor Raea returned to the cell door and reached through the bars, feeling for a keyhole. Once she had sighted it she inserted the key and with a grunt of exertion turned it. Raea suppressed a cackle as she pulled the door open and stepped out of the cell, smiling at her small victory.

  Looking to her left and her right, Raea wondered where she should go next. She perked her ears and listened hard, only to be met with the distant sounds of dripping water. She leaned back and forth, trying to catch glimpses around the corners at the ends of the halls. She gleaned no new information from this and, leaning back onto her heels, sighed in annoyance. As a last resort she took a few good sniffs of the air. She detected something faint but the unattractive quality of that smell told her that pursuing it would not be worthwhile.

  Raea’s mouth twisted in thought as she recalled Father Wodan’s request that she free another prisoner. A part of her resented the idea of using his or anyone else’s advice. But the more she thought about it the more she realized she didn’t have a better lead at the moment.

  With a sigh of resignation Raea stepped across the hall and peered through the bars of that prison cell door. Beyond it there was a lone elf, sitting crosslegged in the center of the cell. He was difficult to make out, with the only light coming from the torches in the hall, a cloaked figure whose head was either covered or bald. Raea reached out slowly and tapped the cell door bars with the back of her hand, producing a small ringing sound. Out of the darkness a single eye opened in response and peered at the girl.

  “Strange,” the elf commented. “Leave, oddity.” He commanded, closing his eye again.

  “That all?” Raea asked, brow raised in confusion.

  The elf took a deep breath before responding. “I have no interest in a human child. Be on your way.”

  Raea blinked a few times in wonderment before realization hit her. Stepping away from the elf’s cell for a moment, she pulled the key out of her own cell door and returned, holding it up in the torch light. “Have any interest in this?” she asked.

  The elf opened his eyes and upon seeing the key stood up. “It would seem that I do. And the fact that you have not left already means you lack either the skill or the information to progress further.”

  “So how about a deal?” Raea asked, tossing the key into the air and catching it. “I unlock this door for ye, and ye help me the rest of the way.”

  “I have no issue with those terms,” the elf replied. “I would like to clear up one matter before we continue, however. Do you know who I am?”

  “No idea,” Raea answered.

  “No idea, huh?” the elf said. “And yet of everyone in this prison you single me out.”

  Raea shrugged her shoulders in response. “Call it a hunch.”

  The elf chuckled softly as he approached the door. Closer to the light Raea could see him more clearly. His outfit was a pale, worn grey, with a black cloak and bandana. Running down his right cheek was a deep and nasty scar that seemed to ripple as a small smile formed on his face. “How unusual, an oddity indeed,” he said. “Well, then, girl with the good hunches, I am called Melos. Yourself?”

  “Raea,” the girl answered. “I’m guessing ye got an idea.”

  “I do,” Melos replied. “Open that door if you hope to see it in action.”

  Raea nodded in response before inserting the key in the door lock. She was about to turn it before the echoing sound of footsteps pulled her attention away. With a sharp intake of breath she glanced down the hall to see a guard turning the corner.

  Time seemed to slow for a moment as he came into view. For a second Raea searched and found the man’s eyes. A second later his own gaze had shifted and those eyes met Raea’s. Time resumed a normal pace as the guard’s step quickened, closing the gap between him and Raea as he placed his hand on the hilt of the sword that hung on his hip.

  “You!” he yelled, drawing his weapon. “What are you doing here?!” Charging forward he reached out to grab Raea by the neck. She ducked under his grasp and then dove away as he struck at her with a downward swing of her sword. She scrambled to her feet as the guard stared her down.

  With an abruptness of a lighting bolt, Melos’s hand shot out though the cell door, gripping the guard by the throat. With just as much speed Melos pulled the guard headfirst into the metal bars, bludgeoning him once, twice, a third time before Raea flinched, raising her hand to block the sight. The guard screamed in pain and shock, then went silent as his sword slipped from his grasp and his body went limp. Raea lowered her hand to see the guard unconscious, trembling, with streams of blood running down his face.

  Melos released his grip, pushing the man backwards away from his cell. He then calmly reached down to the key and turned it. The elf opened his cell and stepped out, by all appearances unconcerned with the blood splattered all over him. Bending down, he picked the guard’s sword up from where it had fallen and turned it over in his hands a few times.

  “It will have to do,” Melos said, and though he had only said those few words Raea could sense the contempt simmering in his voice.

  Without a hint of ceremony Melos slashed the guard’s throat and stood. It was then that Melos’ eyes turned and for the first time Raea saw another prisoner. Hair and beard matted and gray, he peered wide eyed through the bars of his prison cell.

  “I trust you will stay quiet,” Melos said, whipping the sword through the air, shaking the guard’s blood off the blade and causing it to splatter on the ground. The prisoner frantically nodded in response before making a hasty retreat into the darkness of his cell.

  Stepping away from his kill, Melos looked down at Raea, not a hint of emotion to be found on his face. “Come.”

  Raea took a moment trying to get over her shock. Melos’s cold manner was unnerving, how he seemed able to kill without feeling anything at all. The moment was cut short, however, when the elf began walking down the hall without her. Raea ran to catch up to him.

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  “So, what’s the plan?” she asked as she caught up with Melos.

  “We escape,” Melos answered.

  Raea sighed, intending to come back with a witty remark. Instead she held it back, deciding that pressing the issue with someone like Melos would be a stupid thing to do.

  Keeping her mouth shut, Raea followed the elf down the prison corridors. Melos scared off curious prisoners, an intimidating glare here, a flash of his sword there, keeping prying eyes quiet. This continued as they rounded a corner, leading to a large wooden door.

  “This it?” Raea asked, breaking her silence.

  “Yes,” Melos answered before violently throwing the door open.

  Beyond was a small landing with a set of stairs leading upward. Sitting in a chair, leaning back against the wall to Melos’ and Raea’s right, was a sleeping guard.

  “Wha…” the guard slurred out as Melos’ crashing in roused him from his slumber. “What’s going on?”  Melos gave no answer except to step forward and run his blade across the man’s throat. The elf then threw his stolen weapon to the ground and knelt down next to his newest victim, pulling a set of keys from the guard’s belt. He paused for a moment before looking over at Raea. “Did they take anything from you?” he asked.

  “No,” Raea answered, shaking her head.

  Melos nodded wordlessly before walking up the stairs. Raea followed, watching the elf as he reached the top. She followed his gaze as he studied the double doors at the top of the stairs before glancing over at another door to the right and settling his sight on it. By the time Raea had joined him on the landing the elf had already walked over to the threshold.

  Melos twirled the key ring around his finger a few times before grasping one of the several keys and putting it in the door lock. A quick attempt at turning it proved fruitless and so he tried the next in the set. This repeated a few times before finally he found the right one.

  Melos pulled on the out-swinging door and stepped into the room. Standing at the threshold, Raea could see an eclectic array of items, confiscated from prisoners, she assumed. Melos walked to the back of the storage room, where several weapons were laid out against the wall. There he grabbed a sword and pulled it from its sheath. The weapon was thin and curved slightly, the hilt and pommel inlaid with gold, as well as about a third the length of the blade on the side that curved back. Melos stepped towards the center of the room, swinging the blade a few times and spinning it in his hands, the weapon moving with such pace that it appeared to Raea as nothing but a blur and flash of motion. The elf then snapped to attention, straightening his back, and held the blade vertically out in front of him.

  “That’s better,” Melos said as he put the blade back in its sheathe. With a sense of ceremony that he alone seemed to revel in, he lifted the scabbard by an attached strap, looping it over his shoulder. He then let it drop from his grasp, the weapon settling in to hang loosely on his left hip.

  Raea began inching towards the other weapons, thinking that perhaps she should arm herself too. Her hand reached out to grab one, only for Melos to snatch her by the wrist and pull her towards the door.

  “Leave them,” the elf ordered, dragging Raea behind him as he exited the storage room.

  “Shouldn’t I get a weapon too?” Raea asked, twisting and pulling her arm free of Melos’ grip.

  “No need,” the elf answered as he stepped out the door.

  “Whatever,” Raea said to herself, following a few steps behind.

  Raea expected no further response from the elf and so nearly yelped in surprise when Melos grabbed her around the back of her neck and shoved her into the corner by the double doors. He then opened them, sliding over as he did so that he was hidden from sight as they swung inward. Raea almost said something to the elf but closed her mouth tight when she heard a voice from the other side of the threshold.

  “Hello?” the voice called out, slow and unsure. “Richard, is that you?”

  Peeking around the open door, Raea saw a guard step into the view. Laying his pike against the doorframe, he went and stood at the top of the stairs.

  “Richard?” he called out again. “What are you doing on the floor?” The guard reached up to remove his helmet, a full plated helm that completely covered his head. In the moment that the man’s hand left his side Melos sprang forward, drawing his recently reclaimed sword from its sheathe.

  The guard removed his headwear, giving him a clear view of the corpse lying at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, Carag-“ was all he managed to get out. Whatever else he meant to say was lost when Melos thrust his blade through the man’s throat, skewering it. With some protracted effort the elf pulled his weapon out before letting the now lifeless body fall to the floor with a thud.

  For a moment Raea was lost, watching the guard’s blood trickle out and spill over the stairs. She was so lost that her ears missed the sounds coming from the other side of the doorway, the metallic shuffling of another armored guard approaching. They did not miss the surprised gasp from the guard as he turned into the doorway.

  “You!” he exclaimed, accompanied by the sound of a sword being pulled from its sheathe.

  In a flash of instinct Raea rammed her shoulder into the door, causing it to crash into the guard on the other side. The sound of armored feet scrambling and stumbling filled the room for mere seconds before Melos dashed forward at his foe. Raea took a few deep, nervous breaths as the elf disappeared from her sight until only one leg could be seen from around the door. Creeping forward, she looked around that obstacle to see Melos cradling the guard, his sword shoved through a gap in the armored faceplate of the man’s helm.

  With visible effort Melos lowered the body to the ground, letting it rest against the stone floor with as little sound as he could manage. Extracting his weapon from his latest victory with some effort, Melos took in a deep breath and stretched his arms over his head. For less than a moment he glanced at Raea, scanning her, evaluating her. Then he turned his gaze away, slowly nodding to himself.

  “Come,” the elf said at last. He took his sword, wiped its bloody blade along the corner of the open door, and walked through the threshold. Raea glanced at the streaks of red on the wood before following Melos.

  She was shocked by the sudden shift of their surroundings from a dark and dank prison to a beautiful hallway of brilliant white marble and gold trimming. Melos, however, seemed more interested in his weapon, running a finger along its edge before nodding, a satisfied look on his face.

  The elf walked with a sense of purpose, not pausing even as he sheathed his sword, as if he knew the layout of the building. Raea certainly did not know, however, and felt the fear and anxiety rising in her chest as she followed after Melos. Those feelings were only heightened when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

  Before she could bring up the topic, however, Melos grabbed her by the wrist and began pulling her through the halls at an increased pace. Turning another corner they came upon a door, which Melos threw open before grabbing Raea by the back of her neck and shoving her into the broom closet that lay beyond. He ducked in behind her and, after closing the door, covered the girl’s mouth with his hand.

  The sounds of guards giving orders outside could be heard as the footsteps of several running men went by. “We’ve got a disturbance in the prison cells. Quell the riot, search the building, and kill any that attempt escape!” Raea heard someone yell. “Yes, sir!” came the near simultaneous response of several people.

  After that rush of activity came a great quiet that hung thick in the air, Raea anxious as she began to wonder if it was safe outside. Melos removed his hand from Raea’s mouth and cracked open the door. Peeking through transitioned into opening the door and poking his head out into the hallway as the elf kept alert for any sign of company. He nodded to himself before continuing on down the hall. Raea took a deep breath to quell the anxiousness in her chest before padding along behind him.

  They continued along like that some time, with the sounds of commotion falling further behind as they went. Melos pushed forward, unmoved by any noise, never once turning any corner. Finally they reached an end, the hall leaving only a left and right to go but no forward. Raea looked up at the stained glass windows that lined the upper reaches of the wall and realized that for the first time since waking up in that prison cell she was seeing natural light, with the moon shining through the colored glass. She took a moment to take in this discovery before she noticed Melos continuing on, turning left and pushing on much as he had before. Raea pushed on after him.

  At last, in some secluded corner of the building, Melos stopped at a door, opening it to reveal a staircase leading back down. The elf started his descent and Raea followed, sure to close the door behind them.

  “Where are we?” Raea asked, finally breaking her silence.

  “This is a cellar,” Melos answered, “and the means of our salvation.”

  At the bottom of the staircase there was indeed a cellar, rows and rows of wine barrels to be seen. While it had returned to the stone walls of the prison they were much finer cut, less rough hewn, with an air of refinement that the prison lacked.

  “What do ye mean ‘our salvation?’” Raea inquired.

  “What is today the White-Gold Square was once a fortress, built on an island in the river that runs through this city, and the structures of today were built on top of the ancient foundations,” Melos explained. “As a measure against enemy sieges, these cellars were designed to pull water from the river to ensure that the defenders would never go thirsty.”

  “And?” Raea prompted.

  “We’re going to swim out and escape by river,” the elf replied.

  By this point they had reached one of the back corners of the room, on the floor of which was a wooden trap door. Beyond it the sound of running water could be heard.

  At the sight of this Raea came to stand still. “Um…wait.”

  Melos opened up the trap door and looked at Raea. “What?”

  “I…can’t swim,” she replied.

  Melos sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

  “There’s-there’s got to be another way,” Raea said, nervous, taking a few panicked steps backwards.

  “Enough,” the elf interrupted, suddenly seizing Raea, putting his hand over her mouth and clamping her hard to his chest as he jumped into the water hole. Raea lost track of where she was as water rushed around her. For a few panicked moments she was lost in an ever changing view of water and air bubbles in front of her, separated by streaks of red as her hair billowed around her.

  Raea began gasping with desperation for air before she was even aware that they had broken through the surface. She could feel herself being hoisted up onto solid stone as she tried to blink the water out of eyes. Gasping for air and coughing up water in turns, she rolled over onto her knees. Melos climbed up onto the shore himself, making sure he still had his sword before shaking water from his cloak.

  “My debt to you is paid,” Melos said, standing over the girl.

  “What do…ye mean?” Raea asked between fits of coughing.

  “You owe me your freedom, as I owe you mine, that makes us even,” the elf said, emotionless eyes regarding the young girl before him. He smiled a little half smile, one that twisted and contorted the scar on his face until it looked like the toothy maw of some beast ready to pounce at Raea. “Pray that our paths do not cross again,” the elf added before disappearing from view, going around the corner into a dark alleyway.

  “Whatever,” Raea said to herself. She rubbed her eyes, her breathing fast and shallow as she attempted to reign in the feelings of anger, fear, and shock within. Yet, somehow, in the back of her mind she felt refreshed, like some great mistake she had made had all of sudden been erased, leaving her free to move forward once again.

  Standing up with some effort, Raea took a moment to steady herself before she started walking. Running her hand along the side of a building for support, she soon found herself back out in the Great Market.

  It was now empty and dark, save for a woman standing on the makeshift podium that the priest had occupied earlier that day. She strutted back and forth across her platform, dancing seductively and giving the gathered men flashes of her bare breasts as they yelled out ever increasing prices. Raea took a moment to sneer at the sight before turning the other way.

  Raea made it but a few feet before she heard once more that sound of armored footsteps. Not even stopping to check which direction the sounds came from she dove into a nearby empty stall for cover. Peeking from underneath it she saw a trio of guards walking through the square on patrol. A fourth guard came running up to them, panting and hunched over on his knees as he came to a stop.

  “What is it?” the patrol leader asked the runner.

  “Sir…” the messenger said before straightening his back and taking a deep breath. “There’s been a prison break, the elven bandit Melos escaped with the heretic child. The captain is calling in everyone available to track them down.”

  “Very well then,” the patrol leader said with a nod. “Let’s move, boys!” With that the guards ran off in the direction of the White-Gold Square.

  Raea sat underneath the stall, listening as the footsteps faded into the distance. “I’m not just some kid,” she said to herself, the feelings of spite heating up within her causing her lips to curl into a frown. Taking in a deep breath she took a moment to suppress that heat. “Whatever,” she stated aloud, looking up at the stars.

  Standing up with a new found calmness, Raea turned towards the inn Cian had been renting a room at before they had been separated. A quick initial glance told her what awaited her arrival. A figure, easy to make out even in the darkness, was leaning against the doorframe of the inn’s entrance. It was large and looming, with a sword hanging off his hip.

  “So, you live,” the figure called out in a gravely voice. For the first time since she was wrested away from her island home Raea felt relief and joy at the sound of that voice.

  “Old man!” the girl exclaimed in response. For a moment her steps quickened before she forced herself to stop. Raea took a moment to recollect her emotions, waving at the Varathian as she resumed walking.

  “Come on inside, before word starts to spread of your…circumstances,” the Varathian said, stepping through the door and motioning to Raea for her to follow.

  Following Cian through the inn Raea could feel a shiver running along the sides of her neck. Distinctly aware of the people all around her, she fought back the urge to lower her head and try to hide from everyone, lest they report her to the guard.

  “Calm down,” Cian said, placing his hand on Raea’s shoulder and half pushing, half guiding her to a staircase in the corner of the inn. “Nobody knows anything about anything, so act like it.”

  Raea nodded, straightening her shoulders and walking on ahead of Cian.

  “I do hope that you don’t get into trouble everywhere we go,” the Varathian said as they began their ascent.

  “I hope ye start being more helpful,” Raea retorted.

  “Hmph,” Cian snorted. “If I just up and helped you you’d start to think that you could screw up as much as you like. Besides, I don’t think that I’m the only help you’ve enlisted.”

  “What do ye mean?” Raea asked as they reached the upstairs, stepping into a long hallway.

  “Girl, I’m experienced enough to know that you didn’t get out of that prison by yourself,” Cian answered, pulling a key out of one of his pockets and approaching a door further down the hall

  “I guess,” Raea replied.

  “How many other people did you free?” the old man asked. “Not as many people as I would have thought, otherwise there would be more of a commotion.”

  “Just one person,” Raea answered.

  Cian glanced down at the escapee, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Who was he?”

  “Some elf named Melos,” Raea said.

  “Melos?” Cian queried as he inserted the key into the door’s lock.

  “Melos,” the girl confirmed. “Killed four guards on the way out and snuck me past the rest. Ever heard of him?”

  “A few times in passing,” Cian said, pushing open the door as he unlocked it. “A dangerous elven outlaw said to have killed dozens of people. Rumor has it he was once the personal guard of Queen Deboriah of the Elder Lands before they had a falling out. If this is the same Melos then it seems at least some of what I’ve heard is true.”

  “Hm,” Raea grunted to herself as she digested this information.

  “Something else on your mind?” Cian asked.

  “Yeah, did ye speak to a priest about me before ye came to see me?” the girl responded.

  “A priest?” the old man asked. “No, I didn’t speak to a soul about it, certainly not a member of the clergy. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, a priest named Wodan visited me before you arrived,” Raea answered.

  “Sounds pretty standard for this town,” Cian commented as he ushered Raea through the open door and closed it behind them. “They seem to place a lot of value on confessionals, for whatever that’s worth.”

  “Yeah, well, he warned me that ye were coming,” Raea stated. “Or at least, I think he did. He wasn’t really clear about the whole thing. He also asked that I free Melos from the cell right across from me.”  “Hm,” Cian vocalized, stroking his chin as he sat on one of the beds. “That is a mystery. Well, no use thinking about it now. Whatever game he was playing, it’s over and your part is done. I suggest you get some sleep before we head out first thing tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Raea replied. Without another word she fell into the room’s other bed. She stared out the window at the moon glowing up above, letting sleep creep up on her.