Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Ausar barely glanced at the Volkers, even Rheinhard, though he gave Tianau a brief, grateful smile when he caught the young man's gaze. He paid no attention to how the others looked at him, and turned his focus back to Rehema.

Only Rehema felt the ground shudder as Qimming stepped up behind her, and she twisted her head around to watch the goddess.

"Thank you," Rehema whispered as Qimming stroked her cheek, then shuddered as the goddess reached within her, through her spirit, and drew out the babe. Even as Qimming cradled the infant soul and drew it into her bosom, one strong strand remained between Rehema and the babe, suspended between the priestess and the goddess. A strand that should not be severed, no matter what.

Ausar's heart clenched in his chest for a moment. He was as much of a soul healer as Rehema, just in a different way, and his senses were more attuned to the spirit. He caught a brief glimpse of his infant child's face before Qimming sheltered it away, saw its eyes shift from a deep brown with hints of amber to a stunning, rich blue.

They would need to make a shrine for Qimming, it seemed. At least he would be able to ask Tianau to help.

That will not be necessary, Aptuv whispered into Chaceledon's mind. You have to remain here so she has something to come back for. Just because you love someone so deeply doesn't mean you should sacrifice yourself so easily.


They seemed to walk into the light forever, at least to Seteta. Aptuv held her hand, and eventually, with nothing to mark the passage of time, she began to count her footsteps. Aptuv's breaths, she noticed, were few and far between.

"Stop worrying," Aptuv chided. "The journey can only begin when you are willing to delve into your own heart."

Seteta sighed, and stopped counting.

"Something is still bothering you," Aptuv said quietly after they'd walked a little longer. The light around them was beginning to shift a little. It seemed more like a glowing mist, hiding shapes and memories just beyond her reach.

"Why did this happen now?" she asked. "Why didn't you warn me about the magic, back at the temple?"

"Ah," Aptuv murmured thoughtfully. "It wasn't supposed to happen quite so quickly. I may be a god, but even I cannot predict the intricacies of how events might play out. There's too much free will involved. You shouldn't have come here quite so soon, shouldn't have been in the shrine yet. The Hedoni estate was... very important to Nailah. You will see."

There was no answer given about the magic, and Seteta knew better than to press further. She took another deep breath, uncertain if it was truly doing any good here in non-corporeal form, but the familiar action of it was at least soothing.

"I'm ready," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment and letting the worries and fears fall away, focusing on her hand in Aptuv's. Her god would guide her.

"Yes, you are," Aptuv smiled, and the fog fell away.


Those around the basin would never be quite able to explain what they saw--and felt--that day. Even Persian would catch glimpes, and be dumbfounded.

While the brightly lit fog had left Seteta, and she walked through memory and spirit unencumbered, it pooled on the surface of the water, then poured over the edges of the basin to fill the shrine and the ballroom, even creeping out the door over and past Persian's feet. It kept pouring and pouring out of the basin, until it rose over their knees

Seikilos, Chaceledon, and Rheinhard would experience things first, almost as if Seteta were reliving her life, but in reverse. In the fog, glimmers of her memories and recent experiences--moments that had already shaped who she was, even so quickly--would take shape and replay themselves. Persian even saw himself in them for a few moments, when she first encountered him in Witherhold.

Then Ausar and Rehema, and they would see glimpses of her childhood and early adulthood. Moments of significance they had been present for.

And then, for a very long time, there was... sadness. There were no memories, no images. Only long moments of silence punctuated by moments of heart-rending grief. There were many moments of grief in quick succession... and then the fog began to shift again. The images and glimpes of memory this time would be blurry to nearly all of them, even Rehema... but Seikilos would be able to make out more than any of them. She would see glimpses of many faces she knew and loved, though not as many memories.

Until at last even those faded away, and all the watchers were left in silence and light, weary and trembling after hours of standing and feeding the magic.

But Seteta still did not rise from the waters.
 
Chaceledon willed himself still as the fog poured over the basin and washed over them. He could see glimpses of his dearest Seteta…the moment she walked into his shop all shabby with terrible hair and that terrible abaya he’d grown to be affectionate for. She was so full of innocence then; no dragons or demons in the black. Just a girl wanting to escape a desert for the wide world beyond. Their loving embraces, odd courtship, and struggles with getting to know one another. They still had so much to do and so much time. He couldn’t wait for the rest of his days with her.

Rheinhard saw much of the same. Her moments in the Well and in Witherhold, even escaping Klaus and counseling him. She was a good mistress to him, and a good friend. Under her, her god and the power of a dragon house, she would ascend a throne once again…he was sure of it.

Seikilos’ heart tugged painfully. She remembered how her sire had spoken of Saltarello; words like ‘lost’ and ‘corrupted’. When she had first met Nailah she had been black with jealousy and hatred. While Saltarello had grown genuinely affectionate for her and she for him, she felt some measure of guilt for treating Nailah so poorly in the beginning. Even at dinners and social events Saltarello was no doubt railroaded into. She sighed, and let go of the past. She was here to help Seteta now, and perhaps helping her would atone for some of her own sins. She missed Saltarello, especially as Nailah remembered him: bright eyed, with that wolf-like hair he refused to tame, dressed like her closet had exploded. If nothing else she was grateful for those visions.

The light was gone. Chaceledon stood shaking like a leaf but frozen out of fear of breaking the spell. Even Rheinhard was stock still, and Persian had long since stopped taking notes. The slaver shakily sat down on the floor.

Outside the house, on the sands, were dozens of them. Wraiths were rare, but such a strong outpouring of memory had pulled them to the house like a lodestone. Gaal was there on his comatose stallion, the Lamplights quietly clutching their jars. Oor tightened his jaw, but the thrall they had been held in was fading.

A nice, but brief, spell. The wraith next to him sighed wistfully. How is it something that old bled freely into the earth..?

Healing. One of the Lamplights spoke up. Oor struggled to remember his name; small thing, with his head cracked open like a crushed egg. Someone was dying. It’s over now. He grabbed his twin’s wrist, and the pair of them vanished into the shadows.

Perhaps we should wait, see what creature did this. Another wraith suggested.

I know who did this. I just wonder why she had to use my property to do it. Oor growled. No dragon would let a wraith onto its estate and we’re all inviting flames just standing here.

I notice you don’t move so quickly. Gaal pointed out. Waiting for Rheinhard?

Oor clicked his jaws in irritation. Sometimes he regretted making an ally out of the Collector. No, just was waiting for the afterglow to fade. I’ll see them soon enough. I have work of my own to do.

One by one, the wraiths trailed away. Some had come for the great burst of magic. Others, like Gaal, out of curiosity. The Collector was the last to leave, noting the location of the geode nestled in the mountains. Maybe someone would be interested in it, or maybe he would keep an eye out for vulnerable fledglings and impressionable young dragons.
 
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Seteta wept, and laughed, and had her heart broken over and over again as she relived the memories. All of them.

At last, the dreams she'd been having made sense. There no longer disjointed fragments, but whole memories.

Aptuv was at her side the whole time, and when finally the earliest memories--of another life, another body, another family--faded away, Seteta found herself standing before... a mirror.

No. Not a mirror. Another version of herself.

Nailah.

Seteta was stood still, completely motionless, observing Nailah. Take away the piercings and the slight differences in choice of hairstyle and... they were... identical. Except for the large silver scar Seteta had running down the side of her body, and the small barely-noticeable scars on her face from Rheinhard's bite in the arena.

"It's time," Nailah's voice was refined and regal, in a way that Seteta didn't know if she could ever be, and gracefully extended a hand for Seteta to take. "We have been broken far too long."

Seteta trembled, and didn't reach out to take Nailah's hand yet.

"Will I... will I still be me?" she asked Aptuv, voice faltering, broken.

"Nailah has always been within you," Aptuv answered gently. "That part of you has merely been sleeping. Your memories of your past life should have come to you more gradually, but when the earth embraced you, it forced her awake because you didn't know how to handle that power. That is why the soul fracture occurred."

"But will I still be me?" Seteta pressed.

"You will not forget your current life," Aptuv promised. "Your feelings for those you love will not change. In your current state, you are who Nailah would have been if she'd lived your life. So in a sense, yes, you will still be you. But you will also be changed, because you will have the memories and experiences of who Nailah was--who you were--when you reigned the Inizae."

Gods, it was terrifying to contemplate. And yet... she realized the changes had already begun. She knew things--knowledge, languages--that she shouldn't have, even before the healing had begun.

"What if I don't want to?" she asked, voice small and frightened.

"Then Nailah will sleep again, and after your death in this lifetime, you will be reborn, to try again to restore the Inizae," Aptuv said, resting a hand on Seteta's shoulder. "But the Inizae will fall into darkness and obscurity once more, and there is no guarantee that they will ever rise again. It has taken millennia for this chance. It may take just as many millennia for it to happen again, if ever."

Seteta closed her eyes, and let the tears slip free once more.

"You will not be alone," Aptuv promised. "Chaceledon will be at your side, and so will I."

She opened her eyes again and looked at Nailah, who still stood with hand outstretched. Her eyes were ancient, and weary, but somehow still hopeful.

"I have sacrificed much for this opportunity," Nailah spoke. "Please."

Seteta bit her lip, and took Nailah's hand.


Rehema watched. The ancient memories she had not been privy to, but Aptuv showed her this.

She'd expected Seteta to bring them out of exile.

She had not expected that her daughter was Nailah reborn. The Inizae didn't subscribe to reincarnation, not... like this. Not with memories and magic and souls intact. At death, Aptuv would take a soul, and let it rest, and it would learn and grow and change before being reborn. Some were never reborn.

Nailah had stayed the same.

What had she sacrificed to make a way for a working like this?

Rehema wept with her daughter. She also sensed the dark souls, the wraiths, lingering around the estate, but Aptuv held them at bay. They could observe, but not interfere.

Then Seteta took Nailah's hand, and the vision shattered. Magic and spirit blasted over them all, and even as Rehema kept hold of the basin, she instinctively curled forward, sheltering her womb.

Cover me, Qimming! she silently cried in prayer, hoping the goddess would understand that the cord still binding Rehema and the babe needed to be protected.

Then the water in the basin exploded outward, filled with magic. It soaked them all, and left a layer of water across the floor.

Rehema leaned heavily against the basin, weary and exhausted.

"It's done," she gasped.

Within the basin, Seteta still lay silent, covered by just a few inches of water now. Rehema reached down pressed her hand to Seteta's forehead.

"Come back to us, bit," Rehema whispered. "It's time to return."

Rehema stumbled slightly, and gripped the edge of the basin again.

"Bring her out of the water," she told Chaceledon. "She'll need to be warmed up, and make sure she starts breathing again soon. It might be some time before she wakes."
 
The mountain wouldn’t allow the tenuous grasp between child and mother to be harmed, not by this. She was goddess of mothers as well as the high peaks, and she heard Rehema’s cry for protection.

As the light faded, and the magic bled away, Rehema in particular would see something else. Qimmiq returned the spirit of her child to her, as gently and affectionately as she had taken it. She folded Rehema’s spirit around the babe as though tucking it in for sleep, and gently grasped the elf’s shoulder. She raised a silent finger, and pointed. The ghosts of women were standing by each of the Volkers, barely perceptible except by the shifting of the light. They existed for but a few moments, visible only to Rehema through Qimmiq and Ausar.

Then Qimmiq was gone.

Chaceledon startled when the water splashed over them. He sucked in a gasping breath, steaming water rising off of his skin. Seikilos looked like a drowned cat, blinking and grabbing the edge of the basin as water flooded across the floor. The dragons looked slightly stunned, and Chaceledon was shaking like a leaf. Seteta wasn’t breathing. Why wasn’t she breathing? He let go of the stone and scrambled to her, slipping twice in the water. He held her face, kissing her.

“Seteta? Darling? You need to breathe now…” he couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. Had it worked? Was she gone? She wasn’t breathing! He heard a loud, gutteral snarl from Rheinhard. It was shaky, belying the warrior’s own exhaustion.

Persian ignored Rheinhard and slid next to Chaceledon, putting his finger under her nose. “Not breathing…” he muttered, and pinched her nose. He pushed Chaceledon out of the way, which wasn’t particularly difficult as the dragon was both exhausted and malnourished. Rheinhard was bristling but her guardian was barely clinging to the basin as it was; he was still human despite all his magic.

Persian pinched her nose, opened her mouth and covered it with his own.

“What in the gods names are you doing?!” Chaceledon snapped, scandalized.

Persian pulled his head back and sucked in a breath. “Filling her lungs with air, you ninny. She needs to start breathing again.” He snapped, and tilted her head back. He blew into her mouth again, and felt her chest inflate under him. Hopefully, the reflex would start her breathing again. Chaceledon hovered, unsure of what to do and unable to help much. He waited to see if Persian’s trick would work, practically holding his own breath as the fae put his ear to her breastbone.

Seikilos had her eyes trained on the young woman, and exhaustion was creeping over her. “We’ll take them back to the hotbed.” She said tiredly. She couldn’t help but share it with them; she was soaked to the bone.
 
Rehema clung to the basin as Qimming restored the infant's soul to her, trembling. Power washed through her when Qimming rested her hand on the priestess' shoulder. She struggled to lift her head and see what the goddess pointed toward, but she did so, and Ausar looked over as well.

"I understand," she whispered to Qimming, the faint impressions of the women fading so quickly they were barely more than a flicker, but Rehema recognized a spiritual vision when she saw one.

There were more than just Rheinhard and the men's souls trapped in the Well to be freed.

She felt Qimming's presence leave, and crumpled to the ground. Ausar caught her before she fell too hard.

"Is she breathing yet?" Rehema asked, wearily clinging to Ausar as he pulled her into his arms.

Ausar gave no answer. His hand clenched against her hip, though, and Rehema could read the answer in that. No. She craned her neck around the basin, watching as Persian--of all people--breathed air into her daughter's lungs.

Aptuv, Qimming... any god who hears me, Rehema silently cried. Please, spare my daughter!

Seteta's chest stayed still, though, for what seemed like an eternity. Just as Rehema was ready to crawl over there and beat life back into her daughter with her bare hands, Seteta sucked in a breath of air.

It wasn't distressed. Her lungs had not taken in any water. It was just... a breath. Long, and slow, and then another. And another. Her eyelids fluttered but didn't open, and her cheeks began to brighten with color.

Rehema went lax with relief in Ausar's arms, and felt her husband sway.

"She's alive," he murmured, pressed a tearful kiss to Rehema's hair. "She's alive."

Rehema shivered, and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I beg your permission to intrude," Ausar said to Seikilos when she mentioned the hot bed. "Please let Rehema come with you. She's too cold, and it could put the baby at greater risk. I will go and prepare food, and let your family and staff know it's safe to return."
 
“Come on, girl, breathe..” Persian growled, and closed his mouth over hers again. Chaceledon resisted the urge to claw him, and Rheinhard was voicing his discomfort with loud, sustained growling. It was a clear warning that, had Persian been in range, he’d have lost a finger. At the moment Rheinhard was too weak to draw a knife let alone bite with any meaning.

As Persian withdrew a final time, Seteta sucked in a breath. The fae let her go, just in time for Chaceledon to practically bowl him over in his haste to kiss her. Persian grabbed the side of the bowl and looked at the lot of them, sagging in exhaustion and clinging to the basin like drowned kittens. Seikilos waved off Ausar’s attempts at politeness; she was too tired.

“You’ve dismissed your staff for the evening, right?” He asked Seikilos, who nodded. She was at least standing upright, but swaying dangerously. “In that case…Rheinhard, you take Seikilos. She is the lady of the house-stop growling at me-and we owe her that.”

Rheinhard eyed Seikilos warily. She looked too exhausted to argue, and flopped an arm around his shoulders. He tensed, but steadied her and led her out of the room toward the hotbed. Chaceledon moved to embrace Seteta, but he might as well have been trying to lift a granite statue. Persian sighed and gathered her in his arms. He was the strongest one out of all of them at the moment.

“Come with me, the lot of you. Ausar, hold your wife. Chaceledon, my shoulder.” Persian said sternly, as though speaking to children.
Together, they shambled toward the hotbed.
Persian was able to awkwardly slide his charge into their mat, and Chaceledon stumbled in alongside her. Seikilos pulled away from Rheinhard the moment she was able to slither into the hot sand herself, forcing the other man to grab ahold of the wall to keep from pitching into the boiling crystals.

Persian helped Seteta into the bed, guided by Chaceledon’s awkward handholding. The dragon threw the blankets over them, and laid back in sheer exhaustion. Rheinhard, too unsteady or perhaps too unwilling to find a bed, curled up on the warm stone floor. Persian sighed, and tossed his coat over the Volker.

The fae turned to Ausar. “Servants only listen to the mistress of the household. That leaves you and I.” He said, warily. Ausar was big enough to be dangerous, even tired from the ritual. Persian was the strongest man out of them at the moment. “I suggest you get some rest. Food can wait but water cannot.”
 
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Seteta was breathing on her own again, but she barely roused even when Chaceledon kissed her. She shivered when Persian lifted her up, the air brushing over her bare, wet skin seeming cold as ice.

Ausar withheld a growl of his own when Persian tried to tell him how to take care of his wife. He was already carrying her! Thankfully, just a short walk through the halls later, he was helping Rehema out of her wet clothes and wrapping her up beside the hot bed in a spare blanket for the ones that had been brought for Seteta's bed... in the hotbed.

Seteta was already slipping back into sleep, giving a relieved sigh as the warmth of the hotbed cradled her. She managed to open her eyes just long enough to catch Chaceledon's gaze.

"I'm here, sehejib," she said softly, wearily, and then her eyes closed again and her breaths deepened.

Chaceledon said:
The fae turned to Ausar. “Servants only listen to the mistress of the household. That leaves you and I.” He said, warily. Ausar was big enough to be dangerous, even tired from the ritual. Persian was the strongest man out of them at the moment. “I suggest you get some rest. Food can wait but water cannot.”
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Ausar shook his head. "Rehema needs food. She's expended too much strength, and drinking water on an empty stomach right now will make her ill."

Ausar turned and left the hotbed chamber, and made his way back to the kitchen.

"Don't worry," Rehema told Chaceledon, scooting to sit near the edge of the hotbed where she could keep an eye on her daughter. "I thought... her soul just needed to be healed. I didn't realize that she would merge with herself from a past life. She will sleep for a long time, as all of the pieces settle into place. If we force her awake too early, it could make her go mad. So be patient."


It would be hours before Seteta woke, and then only briefly enough to ingest a small cup of broth. Ausar and Rehema were both asleep nearby, and as she settled back into the blankets in Chaceledon's arms, she looked over at Seikilos.

"Nailah--" her voice faltered for a moment. "No. I gave up everything to return. Everything." Her voice cracked in sorrow. "I will never reunite with my family in... in this life, or the afterlife. Saltarello will always be--has always been--yours. We were never meant for each other in that life, no matter how deeply we felt... and any hope of being with him in any future was... less important than saving my people."

Seteta turned her face into the blankets, and wept.

Her parents. Her siblings. Her husband, who she had not loved as deeply as Saltarello or Amphetrion, but she'd still cared for. Their children. All those she'd embraced, in that lifetime so long ago... she would never embrace again.

When she slept again, her dreams were filled with their faces.
 
Sleep ruled the household for many hours. Even Persian took to his room for a short rest, reviewing and rewriting his notes while the memory was still fresh. He noted the fading stain of shadow magic in the sands around the house; wraiths had been here, and in force. Apparently not for anything malicious, however, given they had simply come and left. Wraiths could be unpredictable in that way; calm and rational one moment and destructive the next. Perhaps they had felt something…he made a note to send a letter to Oor.

Rheinhard was the first awake, surprising no one. He wandered to the kitchen to drink half a gallon of water and a large amount of dried meat and fruit. He made up a small plate of easy things to eat; nuts, sliced apples, bits of jerky and soft bread, and took them back to the hotbed for Chaceledon. The dragon was well and truly out, exhausted from days of caring for Seteta in neglect of himself, as well as the magic. Seikilos nibbled at the plate, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with her feet in the hotbed.

She said nothing to Seteta’s rambling. The men she spoke of were dead and gone. Saltarello had been a good husband to her, as eccentric as he was, and she didn’t regret marrying him. Draconian marriages so rarely ended in happiness that way. Seikilos soon returned to her own bed to call the servants back and sleep. The servants, to their credit, got to work cleaning the place with very little complaint or questions. They shooed Ausar out of the kitchen, easily taking over the responsibilities of meals, giving Seteta and Chaceledon clean blankets, and making care routines for the dragons. Claws had to be polished, hair brushed out and treated, teeth brushed, skin conditioned and washed….so much to do!

Of course, the lure of jasmine skin cream was enough to get Chaceledon up and bathed, dressed in clean clothing. Seikilos choked on a glass of water when she saw him; the servants had given him loose, flowing pants, and he was wearing a light, brightly colored robe without sash or clasp. He looked like the spitting image of Saltarello, whether or not he realized it, minus the curly hair and glasses.

Seikilos openly stared at him as he made his way back to the hotbed. That was no child of Hokkaido. But how? Affairs were so coldly dealt with in dragon culture. While not exactly rare, eggs resulting from those unions were usually sought out and destroyed by all parties if not the mother herself. Having a bastard was a shame no dragon could shake no matter how socially affable or wealthy.

“Saltarello…what in the gods names did you do..” she muttered under her breath.
 
Seteta slept through the following morning, and the one after it, before she woke for longer than it took to drink a cup of broth and relieve herself. She finally complained that the hotbed was too hot for her, and Ausar helped her out of it and wrapped a blanket around her. She flinched a little. Her sternum was still sore. It would have to finish healing naturally.

Rehema pulled her into her arms, and Seteta tucked her face into her mother's neck for a while, letting the familiar scent of her skin soothe her body and mind.

She might not see her first family ever again, but she had this family still, and she loved them just as dearly.

"You are well?" Seteta asked when she pulled away. "And the baby?"

"I am tired, but well," Rehema answered, kissing Seteta's brow. "The babe seems to be fine so far too, and I've been drinking my tea and resting. Supti's caravan should be here in the next couple days, and the healer with them. We'll know more then, though I expect I'll be put on bed rest, regardless."

Seteta turned back to Ausar then, embracing him as she had Rehema.

"Thank you for taking the Well," she murmured. "I cannot think of someone who would handle it better. You might even be a better steward than I was."

"In a day or two, when you're a little stronger, I'll take you back in," Ausar said. "I have not woken anyone besides Tianau yet, but I think it might be a little easier if they all see you there too. They made quite a showing during your healing. You've obviously made an impression on them."

Seteta smiled fondly. Poor Nestor. Even in his dreams, he was probably worried out of his mind.

She breathed in her father's scent once more, then turned back to the pile of blankets in the hotbed. Chaceledon had hardly left her side: that she remembered very well.

"Sehejib," she called to him. "I would like a bath and a meal, I think."
 
Chaceledon slowly sat up in their bed, rubbing his eyes. “I think we both need a bath and a meal. Will you be alright to touch stone or do you need the wooden tub again?” He asked. He climbed out of the bed and stretched, pulling his light clothing around himself. She looked so much healthier. He smiled and kissed her cheek, pulling her close for a moment. He was warm from the hotbed.

Seikilos seemed more than happy to have the servants dismantle the hotbed’s little pile of blankets; it wasn’t right that a woman was so comfortable in it the way Seteta was. Mammals shouldn’t want to lay on boiling sand, and Seteta’s discomfort with it showed she was far better than she had been. It also enabled Seikilos and Chaceledon to actually use it as it was intended, polishing their scales and sloughing off excess oil from their manes and tail tufts.

Persian had directed the pets to cook something light but nutritious; chicken breasts on beds of spinach with clean water or tea, and a little rice cooked in chicken broth. Chaceledon picked at the rice, and eyed Persian as the man set down small shot glasses in front of them filled with a dark green liquid.

“Oh, thank the gods. Is this liqueur?” Chaceledon picked it up and sniffed it, then gagged.

“Pets take this weekly. Knotweed, dandelion, oatstraw, raspberry, raw egg, squid ink, fish oil, blueberry, mint and echinacea.” Persian told him. “Just plug your nose and drink. It’ll help with the magic exhaustion.”

“I thought cruelty to pets was illegal.” Chaceledon pushed the shot glass away, and Persian pushed it back.

“Nestor’s recipe.” He said pointedly. Chaceledon made a face, plugged his nose, and downed the glass. He unplugged his nose, and scrambled for his water glass, sucking down as much of it as he could and swishing it around. It was foul! It was sour, and bitter, and tasted like organs rolled around in lawn clippings and dead fish.

Persian looked expectantly at Seteta. “You need it more than he does, considering you’ve been surviving on soup and graze plates for days.” He told her. “Now as much as I want to sit about playing nursemaid, I do have a city to run.” The slaver smiled and patted her shoulder. “You’re welcome any time.”

“Thank you.” Chaceledon told him. “I’ll see what I can do about a few wreaths for your pets. It’s the least I can do.”

Rheinhard was settled in the garden, eyes closed. The Well was…different. Not exactly the same but not too far off from what Seteta had it either. The biggest change seemed to be the erotic art in the sunroom, which he tucked behind some pillows while blushing furiously. Ausar seemed more open with those types of desires, and it had colored the Well.

Tianau and Rheinhard were fairly matched in the Arena. Despite Krynid having a reputation for stocky men, Tianau was clearly built for speed. He knew how to use his sword well, and they found it easier to spar than to talk.
 
Seteta's breath faltered a moment as Chaceledon climbed out of the hotbed. She'd noticed the similarity in his looks to Seikilos' grandchildren before... but now. Her head quirked to the side. Gods, he looked more like Saltarello than Hokkaido.

Uncannily so.

She blushed faintly, and remembered he'd asked a question. Seteta glanced down at her bare feet on the stone floor.

"I think the regular tub will be fine," she said. Her stomach growled. "Meal first, though," she said with chagrin.

Her parents embraced her one more time. "We'll be in our room," Ausar told her. "Come find us when you're ready."

Seteta nodded, and leaned against Chaceledon, nudging him out of the hotbed chamber and toward one of the outdoor dining areas near the kitchen.

"I want to breathe fresh air," she murmured. "And feel the sun on my skin."

It was late morning, and the sun wasn't too fierce yet. As she settled into a chair, she let the blanket slip away from her shoulders, tucking it around her hips.

Her hair was a frightful nest of snarls and knots, and she was... almost gaunt. She'd lost far too much weight, her previously muscled and toned shoulders and arms now thin and bony. Her sternum was a messy bruise, all different shades of purple, green, and yellow, and when she took a deep breath, one could count her ribs.

Despite the faint glow of health in her eyes again, she was clearly still weak.

Seteta leaned against the chair back, tipped her head toward the sky, and basked in the sun. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, and while the magic coursing beneath her feet was strong, it didn't overwhelm her.

When the servants brought out the food, Seteta ate eagerly but cautiously, taking time to chew each bite of chicken thoroughly and give time for her stomach to readjust. The rice she practically inhaled, though.

When Persian arrived with the strange concoction, she scowled, but slung it back with less quarrel than Chaceledon, though she couldn't help gagging at the taste. She stole a couple bites of rice from Chaceledon's bowl to clean the taste out of her mouth before following that with a swig of heavily sweetened tea.

Chaceledon said:
“Now as much as I want to sit about playing nursemaid, I do have a city to run.” The slaver smiled and patted her shoulder. “You’re welcome any time.”

“Thank you.” Chaceledon told him. “I’ll see what I can do about a few wreaths for your pets. It’s the least I can do.”
Click to expand...

"How long will you be able to store Amphetrion's body?" Seteta asked quietly before Persian stepped away. "I don't know if we can manage a funeral before the Name Day, but if it needs to be done sooner, I'll speak with my mother."

It wasn't right, to delay laying him to rest for so long... but she knew Amphetrion would understand the circumstances.


Ausar undressed Rehema, tucked her into bed, stripped off his own clothes, and settled next to her under the blankets. He kissed her cheek and gently rested his hand on her belly. It was just barely starting to show a soft swell to it.

"Rest well, meruv," he whispered. "I need to tend to the Well."

Rehema hummed softly, already halfway to sleep. Now that Seteta gad finally woken and seemed to be herself, she could actually rest.

Ausar rested his head against her shoulder, and closed his eyes.

The Well was quiet. Mostly. He could hear the clash of weapons, and ducked out of the tent he had... appeared in. It contained thousands of scrolls, but he didn't take the time yet to look through them.

Outside the tent was... desert. Blue sky was bright overhead, but the sun wasn't overwhelmingly hot. There was sand beneath his feet, and Ausar looked down. His brows rose in surprise to see his feet were bare and he was... naked.

Last time... He'd been clothed, hadn't he? Ah, but he'd been clothed outside too.

He shrugged, and made his way across the sand to what seemed to be a fighting arena, standing off to the side as he watched Rheinhard and Tianau spar.
 
Chaceledon settled next to Seteta, letting her steal as much food as she pleased. Chicken was fattening anyway and he could smell a touch of ghee in the rice. Where in the nine hells had the man found ghee? It was a four letter word in most draconian kitchens. Outright forbidden in his. He leaned over to kiss Seteta’s shoulder; she was far too bony. Skeletal, even. The magic had burned up every fat and muscle reserve she had, and they would have to be so careful in bringing her back.

“You’re going to have to let me tackle your hair in the bath.” He joked with a soft smile, kissing her cheek. “You look like a fuzzy gryphon chick.”

Persian cocked an eyebrow. “Amphetrion can be stored for months. The cold spells in my storage are strong, and he was wrapped well. There shouldn’t be any issue unless you stall Pedeo’s engine again.” He meant it jokingly; a smile teased at the edge of his mouth. Chaceledon cleared his throat a bit. Persian deserved her thanks.

“He breathed air back into you, after the ritual.” Chaceledon told her.

___________________________

Rheinhard and Tianau were circling each other in the sands. Both had the balls of their feet up, and Rheinhard picked across the sand light as a dancer. Tianau had heavier, planted footsteps but kept up with Rheinhard just as well. Tianau lunged; Rheinhard parried and knocked the blade wide. Tianau used the momentum to bring it up and back around, aiming for Rheinhard’s head. He ducked, the pair regained their distance, and the circle began again. They roundly ignored Ausar as he came in.

“Illagio school?” Rheinhard grunted.

“Yes. Oor took me to him when I was ten.” Tianau growled back, and made a feint for Rheinhard’s ribs. Rheinhard slapped the blade away easily.

“An old school.”

“A good school.” Tianau stepped forward and engaged again. Rheinhard’s blades weren’t nearly as long or heavy as the longsword, but that also meant closing the distance quickly was to his advantage. Tianau was first to jump away this time, sporting a small cut across his belly.

“That was never in dispute.” Rheinhard stepped, paused, and lunged. As Tianau lifted his sword, expecting contact, Rheinhard stopped short. Tianau struggled to reset himself, and a swiftly-thrown knife buried itself in his throat. Tianau collapsed to his knees, grasping the knife as lifeblood flowed over his chest.

“There have been updates since your death.” Rheinhard told him. Tianau glared at Rheinhard, spitting blood at him. He pitched forward into the sand, and sank beneath it. Rheinhard retrieved his weapon as Tianau was launched bodily back onto his feet.

Unsurprisingly, he planted the sword in the ground and ran to Ausar. “Missed me that much did you?” Tianau grinned, taking in Ausar’s naked form.

Rheinhard cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Clothing.” He growled.

Tianau pulled his shirt over his head.

“Him not you.”
 
"I'll try not to make the earth hiccup again," Seteta answered with a soft laugh, then scowled slightly when Chaceledon spoke. "I could have lived the rest of my days happily without knowing that."

She knew Chaceledon considered him some sort of friend, but she did not want to have any sort of debts to the fae.

Even in Nailah's time, though they'd never met face to face, he'd had a troublesome reputation already.

Still, if he'd helped her safely wake, it was rude not to acknowledge it.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head to Persian, then turning her attention back to the food.

"I'll let you take care of my hair if you finish all of your food, sehejib," she said. "Otherwise, I'll shave my head."


Ausar watched silently, though he cringed when Rheinhard's knife landed in Tianau's throat. The younger Volker looked more annoyed than distressed, though, so Ausar assumed that death did not... work the same way inside the Well that it did outside of it.

A few moments later, the sand spit the boy back out, and Ausar grinned when Tianau jogged over to him.

He didn't answer, but just reached over and stroked his hand along Tianau's jaw.

At Rheinhard's words, his grin widened.

"It's okay if you want to look," Ausar purred, flashing mischievous eyes toward Rheinhard. "You can be attracted to more than one man at a time. You can appreciate without acting on the attraction, too. You didn't have any issues watching the Inizae males before you met Aetes."

Rehema had approached him back at the temple about... mentoring Rheinhard, after Aetes had spoken to her about Rheinhard's naivety on certain matters. He'd still been considering it, but now... if he was to be steward of the Well, it made the most sense for him to take that responsibility as well.

But, he wasn't going to tease Rheinhard too much, so Ausar slung his arm over Tianau's shoulders, and steered both the men out if the arena.

He wasn't about to cover up, though. If Rheinhard was going to be around the Inizae long-term, he was going to have to stop blushing every time he was met with unexpected nudity.

"Tell me about the Well," he ordered. "Who should I wake, besides Nestor? And who do I need to make sure knows that I am in charge, besides Klaus?"

Klaus was one he had to make certain of. If he ever dreamed of harming Rehema or the babe, he needed to have firm control of him.
 
Persian gave Chaceledon an amused look. They had been friends for a very long time, and he knew what he was doing. Chaceledon wanted them to be allies almost as badly as Seteta didn’t. “It’s alright. I only hope that if one day I am as vulnerable as you were, you remember it. As I said, you’re welcome in Pedeo. I would feel honored to have yourself and your mother come retrieve Amphetrion; Pedeo has already mourned his loss.” Persian told her politely.

Chaceledon looked slightly annoyed. The man had saved her life! None of them had known to do what he had done. He looked distressed at the idea of eating, but gods. Shave her head?! The horror was incalculable.

“Thank you, Persian. We’ll see you when we can.” He told the man, and Persian nodded his head. The fae headed back into the deeper annals of the house, no doubt to inform the staff he was returning to Pedeo.

Chaceledon sighed and speared his chicken with his fork. “Alright, alright.”

____________________________

Rheinhard blushed, keeping his eyes on the sands as Ausar passed him. Tianau laughed, cuddling into the man’s side and kissing his hand. So their host was a bit of a shy violet! He never would have guessed. He snaked a hand around Ausar’s ribs, tugging at one of his piercings playfully.

As they exited the Arena, their weapons and armor vanished. Those were strictly kept inside that singular room; everything else warranted street clothing. Tianau was happiest in simple trousers and a belt, and light boots. Rheinhard was dressed in a black shirt and pants, without shoes as was often wont. Thankfully, they steered the conversation away from sex and toward the Well. He was more accustomed to this.

“The Well is commandeered by you and you alone. You can evaluate remnants by visiting the library, there.” Rheinhard pointed. “That has every history of all of us, including health information, mental state, any permanent wounds, and how we died. Up above us is the body of the Well…memory. If you know what you’re looking for you can demand specifics of it, such as a meal I ate last week, or make general searches such as-“

“Watching the last time we fucked through my eyes.” Tianau interrupted with a coy grin.

“…Or which of us has ever visited a certain area, or has a certain skill.” Rheinhard glared at Tianau. “Each remnant is his own man, and while I know many of them I do not know all of them. Nestor would be wise to wake; he is intelligent and has studied the Well the most out of all of us. Ferenzi is a good resource to the northern fae, Gere the southern, Klaus knows the Autumn Court almost as well as I do. Yarel remains our only mage, and Brade our only Voltese member. It’s largely dependent on what you wish to use the Well for.”

Rheinhard looked back at the hallway. “Klaus is loyal to one man and that is the man who raised him. He is dangerous but can be reasoned with if you know his angle. He loves Jess Volker deeply out of all of us, but he is just as difficult to control. The both of them together is a dangerous combination and they will utterly ignore you for each other. Even Oor kept them separate. Shutting him away doesn’t solve the problem. Taming him is a project.”

“How wild could he be?” Tianau snorted.

“As I’m sure you know…each Volker is experimented on. You and I were both experiments in culture…Klaus was given the Well as a babe. He has never known anything else. We are usually given the Well as children, teenagers or young men, and our souls are settled. Klaus was twisted in the beginning by abuse and neglect, and the Well’s poison made it worse. He was killing by the time he could hold something effectively.” Rheinhard said firmly. “Jess comes from a similar background. He didn’t inherit the Well until he was a teenager, but neglect cracked his mind. I would recommend not waking them until you are sure you have command here. Waking Nestor, Aron or Yarel, and Ferenzi is my recommendation.”
 
Ausar shivered at Tianau's wandering, playful hand, and turned to gently bite the shell of his ear. "My pretty snow vixen," he purred, then turned his attention to Rheinhard.

"What are all the scrolls in the... tent?" he asked, "if the library houses all of the information about the Volkers?"

He looked where Rhienhard gestured as the rest of the Well's sections were explained. Ausar snorted at Tianau's comment, settling his hand on the back of Tianau's neck with gentle firmness, softly stroking his skin. But he listened closely as Rheinhard spoke of the other Volkers, then mulled over the options he'd been given while Tianau and Rheinhard spoke.

"Does it help?" Ausar asked, going back to one comment Rheinhard had made. "For you, and the Well, to have a purpose? Because I took it to help Seteta, that was all."

He could think of a purpose though... especially if Seteta truly was Nailah reborn. If she was meant to not only bring the Inizae out of exile, but to rule.

"For now... let's wake Nestor and Ferenzi," he said thoughtfully. "Are there any who... were familiar with the Inizae Empire, before it fell?"
 
Tianau grinned, shivering at the kiss to his ear. Damn the tour of the Well, he wanted to pull Ausar into the sunroom and greet him properly. He toyed with the piercing as Rheinhard spoke. Having Ausar around would certainly be refreshing as long as he could get the others to lighten up. Sadly, that had never really been a strong suit of the family.

“The scrolls in the tent are for the host. Me. My health, mental state, what I’ve killed recently, any sexual activities. Anything. They are in separate books, or scrolls now.” Rheinhard said stiffly. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Ausar prying. “The Well has a purpose. We dispense death at the command of the man or woman who holds the leash, in whatever manner we are trained for. I was trained specifically to kill fae, but as you know I’ve been more suited to bodyguard work.”

Rheinhard went to the hallway, and pushed the door open the rest of the way. He stepped inside, giving Klaus a look as he did so since he was closest to the door. “Nestor is further in. Ferenzi is the fifth one down from Klaus.” He stopped in front of the narrow, tow head Volker. Ferenzi, unlike the majority of them, wore clothing very similar to Chaceledon. He had his hands crossed neatly over his belly in sleep. “You are the only one that can wake them.”
 
"Ah," Ausar nodded. He doubted he would need to look at those scrolls, then, unless something had happened to Rheinhard. He highly doubted that Seteta had even looked through them herself.

He noted that Rheinhard brushed past the question about the empire, but was willing to set it aside as he mulled over the other thing Rheinhard had said--that he was suited for bodyguard work--then resolved to talk over his idea with Seteta later.

His hand slid from Tianau's neck down his spine as he stepped away from him and followed Rheinhard to the hall where the Volkers slept. He needed to remember to ask Tianau about Qimming before he left the Well.

Ausar only spared a glance for Klaus as they walked past him. If he wasn't going to be woken now, there was no point in contemplating him.

Chaceledon said:
“Nestor is further in. Ferenzi is the fifth one down from Klaus.” He stopped in front of the narrow, tow head Volker. Ferenzi, unlike the majority of them, wore clothing very similar to Chaceledon. He had his hands crossed neatly over his belly in sleep. “You are the only one that can wake them.”
Click to expand...

"I'd gathered as much," Ausar murmured, and reached out to take hold of one of Ferenzi's hands.
 
Ferenzi inhaled sharply and winced, pinching his nose bridge with his fingers. “Gods…I haven’t felt a headache like this since I was breathing…” he muttered, half-stumbling off the platform. He rubbed at his eyes, and lifted his head. He blinked blearily at Tianau, and Rheinhard, then his eyes fell on the very naked man brimming with piercings in front of them. “…Seteta has certainly changed.”

“This is Ausar, her father.” Tianau said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. He looked Ausar up and down, a grin spreading across his face. “I think they’re planning to wake Nestor next.”

Ferenzi sighed and shrugged out of his robe. He wore a simple silk undershirt, and fine trousers underneath. A sash about his waist recalled a more feminine figure. He held the robe out to Ausar. “Here. Put this on. If you’re looking to make a good impression with Nestor it’s a good idea not to give him a seizure. He’s a bit of a stodgy academic.”

“I think we would all appreciate some discretion.” Rheinhard noted with a sigh.

“You ought see the sunroom’s new art.” Tianau chuckled. “If he doesn’t like nudity he’s in for a surprise.”

Rheinhard made a pained noise.

Nestor, as predicted, wasn’t particularly amused. He eyed the lot of them upon being woken up, and shouldered his way into the hallway and out the door. No, no. This wasn’t good. Where was she? Where was Seteta? He stood in the middle of the Well, flipping back through his pages. This felt similarly to when Seteta had taken the Well from Oor, but slightly different. Someone else. He glared and snapped the book shut. “Someone had better get out here right this minute and give me a damned good explanation.” He growled.
 
"is it normal to feel pain in here?" Ausar asked, though he couldn't help the playful grin that teased at his lips when Ferenzi commented about Seteta and Tianau introduced him.

"It's obvious where she got her looks from," Ausar preened, glad that at least another Volker besides Tianau wasn't completely thrown by the mere sight of a naked man. Perhaps there was hope for some of them, at least.

He scowled as Ferenzi shoved the robe at him, but reluctantly shrugged it on. It barely closed in the front. At Rheinhard's audible distress about the sunroom, Ausar couldn't help but grin widely.

"If you're going to be Aetes mate," Ausar pointed out, "erotic art is the tamest thing you'll have to get used to."

He was led to Nestor, then, and the man reacted to being woken about as well as he expected based on the minimal interaction he'd had with him in the temple archives.

Ausar followed Nestor out of the hall of ancestors--that was the best way he could think of to describe it--and sat down on the sand nearby, patting the spot next to him in invitation. He waited for the others to join them.

"Seteta was dying," he told Nestor after a few moments. "When she channeled all that magic and woke up the full potential of her abilities, it also destabilized the Well.

"Additionally... it woke up something else inside her. Something we hadn't known before."

In that moment, they would all see the Ausar's demeanor shift away from the confident, sensual man that he'd been so far in the Well. There was an equal mixture of deep concern and unwavering pride in his eyes, and complete devotion.

"Seteta is Nailah reborn." The words fell from his lips, and he paused to take a deep breath. He'd... thought about it, what they'd all seen and realized in Seteta's healing, but this was the first time he'd actually said it.

"Between channelling all that magic, awakening the dormant parts of Nailah's reincarnated soul, and the Well... Her soul fractured. My wife had to do a soul healing to restore her, but Seteta had grown very weak. The Well was taking too much if her strength to maintain, and she wasn't able to stabilize it.

"If she'd tried to go through the healing while still taking care of the Well... it likely would have killed her."

Ausar reached up and scrubbed his face for a moment, catching his breath.

"So I took the Well, in her place," Ausar said. "She's not strong enough yet for me to risk bringing her in, but in a few more days, I'll do so, and you can speak to her yourself."
 
“Yes, actually. How do you think we were kept in line?” Ferenzi rubbed at his temples as they made their way out of the hall of ancestors, wincing at the blue sky. It was far too much light, and the Well looked like a swirling black hole of glass above them. The mirrors caught the light, spraying the sand with little light shafts every now and then. The effect wasn’t doing wonders for his headache and by the way Nestor’s eye was twitching he was experiencing something similar.

Tianau sat next to Ausar, and Ferenzi a few feet away. Rheinhard and Nestor stayed standing. The academic had his eyes on Ausar, his face twisting into a scowl with each passing moment. “That explains why Rheinhard was in here, all the chaos. But really, we all knew Seteta was something more than she appeared to be. Figured it took the slower men a bit to catch up.” Nestor said sourly. “I always saw the potential in the girl.”

“You did?” Ferenzi cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course I did.” Nestor huffed. “Any woman who stands up to an old wraith, Klaus Volker, and myself without blinking…much less keep up a conversation…is someone worth noting. Who, pray tell, decided to elect you steward and why in the gods’ names are you wearing Ferenzi’s robe? You’re stretching it.”

Ferenzi cleared his throat sheepishly. “He came in a bit underdressed.” He explained.

“And I wanted him to take it. He’s strong, and intelligent.” Tianau bristled.

“Both have yet to be seen.” Nestor grumbled, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “You must be one of the older ones judging by that accent. We haven’t had an albino either, not in a very long time.”

“Tianau, out of Guimel.” Tianau puffed his chest out.

“Well you couldn’t have been much use; you died a child. I recommend we put him back to sleep, the last thing I need to be doing is babysitting.” Nestor sneered. “And no matter, take me to Seteta anyway. I’ll take over the body a moment.”

“I don’t think so.” Rheinhard bristled. “I’ve barely had time to sleep let alone let you interrogate Seteta.”

“She is my damned pupil.”

“She is my charge.”
 
"And she is my daughter," Ausar growled out, standing up again. "None of you will be taking over Rheinhard's body and questioning her anytime soon. She's just woken up after sleeping for almost two days straight. Let her have a meal and a bath, for all the gods' sake, and a bit more time to settle back into her body."

He had to admit it touched him, though, that both Rheinhard and Nestor were protective of her. If she could win the devotion of not one but two Volkers, then perhaps... perhaps being perati would be within what she could handle.

"It was my wife's idea," Ausar said, going back to the earlier questions, "for me to take the Well. But at the time, the only other options were Chaceledon or another dragon, Persian de Soto, or... me."
 
Nestor folded his arms across his chest. “And is she being taken care of? Fed? Bathed? Chaceledon can be a selfish fool at the worst of times.” He snapped back. Ausar’s patronly authority clearly hadn’t shaken him one iota. Rheinhard nodded, relaxing slightly.

“Chaceledon has matured greatly seeing her like this. He is tending to her well.” Rheinhard told him gently. He could understand how Nestor was so protective; the man had gotten quite close to Seteta. Come to think of it, this was likely the first time he had seen the other man be this broody over someone who could no longer benefit him.

Nestor eyed Ausar. “I’m going to give you a recipe for a tincture. Have her drink it, daily. She’ll need things for her spirit as well. Chocolate, plants, good clean earth. Surround her with good things.” He ordered, like a doctor about to write a prescription.

Every man there, however, shuddered when Ausar mentioned the…other options.

“Dragons cannot take the Well. They are fire incarnate. We…learned that the hard way.” Ferenzi mentioned softly. “And Persian would breed us like cattle.” Tianau spat into the sands emphatically. It was clear what he thought of Persian’s potential leadership. Nestor would have thought the man a slightly better option than Ausar, given that they knew him, but Ferenzi had a point. Eventually, one of them would have gotten complacent. Oh, Persian wasn’t the type to make a direct order out of it, but he would bide time and it only took once.

“Right. While Seteta recovers I have some ground rules.” Nestor told Ausar. “Clothing. You’ll not come in here swinging your cock around. Secondly, I am allowed to continue my studies.” They all rolled their eyes at this. Nestor was notoriously protective of his original arrangement for academic freedom with Oor. “Lastly, if you put a finger on any impressionable, stupid teenagers like Tianau there-“

“Hey!” Tianau protested.

“-I shall beat the slave back into you. We’re killers, not your personal harem. There is dignity, reputation, and family pride here. Don’t fucking embarrass me.”

Ferenzi, Tianau and Rheinhard looked at Ausar. That was a fairly clear challenge to his authority. Nestor had also pressed Seteta in the same way.
 
Ausar waited out Nestor's ranting and demands with a patient look, though he did cross his arms.

He'd helped to raise Seteta, after all, and while she was a delight, she had also been headstrong.

When Nestor finally finished, Ausar just grinned, and stepped into Nestor's personal space, not bothering to hold Ferenzi's robe closed.

"Who are you to make ground rules?" Ausar crooned softly. "If anyone can make requests like those, it's Rheinhard, but I will say this:

"I will wear what I please, whether in the Well or outside of it. If something makes you uncomfortable, just look at my face and nowhere else.

"On the second matter, I don't care what you do with your studies, as long as you support Seteta when the time comes.

"On the third matter... well, it's a little late to keep me from touching Tianau, for starters," Ausar smirked, and shrugged Ferenzi's robe off his shoulders, letting it fall to the sand. He stepped closer to Nestor, close enough that the Volker could feel the heat of his skin and the warmth of his breath on face, but Ausar didn't actually touch him. "But I've never had to coerce someone into sleeping with me. And I don't sleep with children. Tianau may have been young when he died, but he'd already fought in war, and commanded men. That means he's old enough to decide for himself.

"And while I may have kin who were and are slaves, remember this, Nestor Volker: while I may not be Nailah reborn, I am still her descendent. Long before my people were enslaved, we ruled the sands, and we will do so again. Are you so sure you want to cross me?"

He held Nestor's gaze. He knew a challenge when it was given.

"And for the last time: Seteta is my daughter. Do you think I would allow anyone to neglect her? Her mother and I nurtured her into the vibrant woman she has been so far, and we will be by her side each step of the way as she becomes who she is meant to be.

"You can give me the recipe for the tincture, and if our healer approves it, we will prepare it for her."
 
Nestor, to his credit, stood his ground and faced Ausar squarely. He looked him in the eyes, almost pointedly so. He certainly wasn’t going to give him the distinction of looking down at his bare skin, though the closeness made a blush creep up his neck. As iron as Nestor’s will could be, he was still human.

“You won’t be sleeping with anyone, not here. Child or not, he is dead.” Nestor growled.

“I’m standing right here.” Tianau sniffed. “And speak for yourself, I’ll fuck who I please.”

Nestor ignored him. He might have been blushing, and his skin uncomfortably hot, but he wasn’t flinching. “And I am the descendant of men who made entire towns quail in fear. I’ve made kings vomit blood and turned thriving towns into wastelands. Do you think I fear you, Ausar?” He hissed.

“We are all here for Seteta’s welfare, not our own.” Rheinhard broke in. “Fighting between ourselves solves nothing.”

“I agree with Rheinhard. You two take it to the Arena, or fuck, or both, but posturing like this isn’t making her better.” Ferenzi agreed. “This ends right now.”

“Fine. Arena. Two minutes.” Nestor snarled, and turned on his heel. He stormed toward the Arena.

“Someone needs a good lay.” Tianau remarked dryly, getting off the sands and brushing his pants off.

“He’s just being an ass.” Ferenzi sighed. “Seteta had to go through the same pecking order nonsense with him.” He ran his fingers through his pale hair and gestured toward the Arena. “Weapon of your choice will appear, all you’ve to do is ask. You can’t die here; only visitors can. The man who holds the leash, and us obviously, can’t die.”
 
Ausar's grin widened as he spotted the blush crawling up Nestor's neck. He was no better than a boy almost old enough for the nazr'im, trying to make rules for something he knew nothing about.

"I'm the steward of the Well," he answered, eyes alight. This was going to be fun. "If there's anyone you fear, it should be me."

Ferenzi intervened, and Ausar conceded, though he didn't break his gaze with Nestor until the man stomped away.

As if he needed two minutes.

"Thank you," he nodded to Ferenzi, grateful to know how the arena worked. He grabbed Tianau's hand when he stood, pulling him close for a moment and tipping his chin up for a kiss.

"I'll see you afterward," Ausar purred. "I need to talk to you about some things. And maybe... do some things besides talking."

His steps didn't falter as he followed Nestor into the arena. As he walked, Ausar reached out into the Well, feeling the magic there.

It wasn't quite the same as the earth magic he was accustomed to wielding, but he could tell be the feel of this spell that the Well would heed his call just as the earth did.

So he should be able to use it in the same manner.

So he stepped into the arena, and at the first touch of his foot to the sand within... the sand rippled outward, as if Ausar were a pebbled tossed into a pond.

No weapons or clothing or armor appeared.

He approached Nestor, standing tall and confident, completely naked, the sand thrumming under their feet.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ausar asked, giving the stubborn Volker one more chance to submit.
 
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