PART I
The stone crumbled in his hand as he turned it over once more, the etched lines of his finger tracing the grooves worn by centuries.
Akpadiaha Uwem had stopped clearing rubble 15 minutes ago. His hands, now dusted with gray and ochre, gripped a loose shard of painted tile. Part of a frieze. Probably ancient. Maybe Kherkhani in make. He couldn't be sure.
The others were bustling, tossing wood and brick into neat piles like overworked golems. But Akpadiaha had been pacing—quiet, murmuring—eyes constantly scanning the wreckage not for labor but for meaning.
"Oh, but look at this scorched beauty!" he announced to no one, holding the tile up to the light.
"Carved basalt, likely temple debris. Possibly cursed. Hopefully cursed."
Do you see it, Vaene?, he whispered inwardly.
I see. I listen. But you're not listening to the wind, Akpadiaha.
He frowned, brushing a sweat-damp loc from his cheek.
The wind?
Empty. You’ve been too quiet, child. Where are your companions?
That gave him pause.
His eyes lifted. The field, once full of motion, was still. No shifting rubble, no tired complaints, no sarcastic mutterings from Calixtus. No elegant spell gestures from Aiko. No calm forms from Yuebing. No ragged breathing from Svenia. His stomach dropped.
“...By the cracked beak of a rusted ibis, where did they all scamper off to?”
He moved quickly, winded from panic alone, darting through the splintered remains of collapsed homes and buckled stone. He traced spells in the air to light the way, but the sigils flickered weakly, distorted by fear. Then—
Movement.
Three goblins stumbled from behind a tattered curtain strung between two shattered beams. One of them barked and pointed. Another grinned.
"Shiny boy!" one shrieked.
"Get ‘im!"
PART II
They lunged.
He barely ducked the first strike. A jagged blade grazed his side. Another jab—missed—then a club caught him hard in the chest. Akpa's breath left him in a rasping wheeze. The pain—sharp, deep, hot.
“No—no, not like this—”
Blood.
Too much.
Then—
Wings.
A whisper.
You are not alone.
Light burst from his chest in the shape of innumerable flickering bats. Shadow and shimmer spiraled outward, forming a faint translucent barrier. The goblins shrieked as one was hurled back, slammed into debris by one of the larger bat-shades.
"Magic! It bites!"
The others scattered.
Akpa staggered back against a fallen beam, clutching his side.
“Oh Gods. Oh bugs. That’s a lot of blood.”
“Vaene… I-I can’t… the blood—”
Breathe. Your body remembers the rites. You are the vessel, not the storm. Let it work.
He shook. Tears mixed with grime. But he closed his eyes and held a trembling hand to his wound.
The whispering wings circled slowly, shimmering in time with his breath. The blood flow slowed. The pain dulled. The wound began to pull together—not fully closed, but sealed enough to move.
He sat there for a while. Quiet. Listening.
Eventually, his fingers curled around the
weapon one goblin had dropped—a wicked curved blade notched with rust. He shuddered but held it, whispering a prayer as the remaining bats converged around it, forming a faint echoing glow.
One by one, Akpadiaha. Whisper. Strike. Vanish. They do not know the dark like you do.
He rose unsteadily, posture different now. Less flamboyant, more focused. The pain had flattened his humor into silence.
“No more waiting. No more wondering. One by one.”
Then he heard her.
Yuebing’s voice, clear and cutting, echoed from across the rubble:
"Show me where the others you ambushed are and I let you keep all your bones." She replied coldly.
He exhaled in relief.
Her? She was still fighting.
Too tired to fight smartly and too wounded to duel, Akpa tucked behind a broken wall and followed the voices at a distance, the winged glow of his
Sanctuary dimming with each cautious step.
PART III
He arrived just in time to see
Calixtus shout:
"Betrayal!" Calixtus declared when he saw Yue with the goblins. "She sold us out!"
Akpa blinked, stunned. His mind lagged a step behind.
“What?” he whispered. “Yuebing? That one? She’s... No. No, she’s not a traitor. That’s not how she walks.”
You see them clearer than they see each other.
“They’re fractured,” he muttered aloud to Vaene as he crouched behind a column.
“Shaken. Like a nest of chicks pretending they’re hawks. So much bluster. So much pain. And... no center.”
Then be still for them, Akpadiaha.
And then the goblins swarmed Yue.
“Oh, curses,” he hissed, scrambling upright.
Without thinking, he surged toward Yue, raised his hand, and shouted a desperate invocation. His voice cracked.
“O Lady of Bats—shield her!”
The shimmering bats burst outward again, swirling protectively around
Yuebing as she was attacked. A faint
bubble of light and shadow snapped into place, encasing them both.
One goblin’s club struck the barrier and rebounded with a
crack. Another shrieked as a bat-wing sliced across its face, non-lethally but enough to send it fleeing.
Akpa stumbled forward, chest heaving. He and Yue stood in the circle of the ward, the glow flickering as his energy waned.
He looked at her through bleary eyes. There was no quip. No elaborate greeting. Just a beat.
“I was holding a tile. It was beautiful. And now it’s just dust.”
His face sagged. His eyes were glassy and distant.
“Sorry. I’m... not well right now.” He pressed the heel of his palm to his temple.
“There’s too much sound. And all of it’s inside.”
The bats flitted slowly around them, watching. Waiting.
You are not broken, child. You are just open.
Akpa swayed slightly, but kept his eyes on Yuebing.
“I’ll keep the ward up. You... you go wild if you need to. I’ll be the quiet shell.”
And with that, he dropped to one knee, bracing himself, murmuring low prayers to keep the shield alive as long as it could hold.
