"The amount of wards on that door should be enough to level pretty much anything," said Harlowe as she cracked her neck. "How many years have you reapplied them?"

Rene glanced from the Vallentins to Harlowe and then the door. "Four years of weekly castings." She paused to sigh. “If it needs to be used, so be it.”

Harlowe turned to Clair and whispered, “She’s getting sentimental for a door?”

“She spent four years on it,” Clair looked pointedly at Harlowe, “and she is a mage; what did you expect?” 

Harlowe shrugged slightly, then turned to Rene. “So how exactly do we get your door past whatever monsters are in that ‘ark’?”

Rene began to speak, raising a finger, then paused as the finger went slack. "I don't know, maybe teleportation?" She put her hand to her chin. "No, would probably set it off, hopefully after teleporting, but... hmm."

"Babe, I'm already indebted to the fae… so maybe we could have one of their knights take it in," pleaded Bea.

Berthold grabbed Bea by the hand. "Sis, no."

"What? It’s not like I–"

Rene interrupted, "we are not relying on the fae." She exhaled a ragged breath. "I'm already losing you for a year."

Bea looked down, her lips drawn into a line. "...Okay." 

The Vallentins spoke. "We're running out of time on keeping this portal open; do you have anything else to ask?"

"I know divine magic harms Harlowe," Clair put a hand on Harlowe's shoulder, "but what about these creatures? Does their curse being different change anything?"

The Vallentins stroked their chins. "You could test it."

Harlowe offered the stump of the severed arm she was carrying. "Yeah, here."

Clair took the arm and set it down on a stack of books that neared her chest in height. "Okay, here we go."

She grasped her pendant and pulled energy together. Scintillating arcs of magic crackled between her outstretched fingers. The Vallentins' eyes went wide. Clair touched the stump and released the built up magic. Inside the mostly dead limb, the still living cursed flesh writhed. It was trying to get away. The exterior of the limb bulged as the cords of undying flesh pressed against the recently frozen skin. They pushed out of the limb, reeling back like a wounded animal. Clair grabbed at the net of flesh and then released another jolt of magic. It quivered and writhed, briefly forming a mouth to scream before wilting and crumbling away.

Everyone else began to talk over each other about how the flesh seemed to have survival instincts and how useful the magic would be, but the Vallentins were strangely quiet. 

"So it does work." Rene looked at the pile of ash. "Could you manage on a larger scale?" She paused. "No, regular magic would have worked just as well." Before Clair could speak up, Rene was already looking for a book. "Have to figure out if you can produce enough for…" She paced in thought.

"You. Yes you!" the Vallentins were pointing at Clair. "You shouldn't be able to do that!"

"Magic?" asked Clair, slightly taken aback by their tone. 

The left Vallentin rubbed the bridge of her nose. "No, it's not that you're using magic." The right raised his hand, green energy arcing between his fingers. "It's that you're using Quintessence." He shook the energy off as he stared at her.

Clair blinked. "I'm using what?"

"The fifth element, raw magic, divinity!" said Rene. 

The Vallentins spoke. "It's the energy of spirits and deities." They turned so their backs were together and pointed. "You should not have or be able to make any."

"Are you forgetting your time in the Spire?" Rene snapped the book she had shut. "The exposed leyline it's built around is a source of quintessence.” 

The right Vallentin sneered. “Yes, I remember.” The left frowned slightly. "It's only a source of quintessence at the center of the leyline. It doesn't stay in that form for long before denaturing into aether, becoming mundane." 

Harlowe scoffed. "Mundane to you, but it's a part of how my prosthetics keep moving." She flexed her artificial hand. "That and my own cursed anima." 

Clair blinked. "Your what?"

Harlowe began to speak. "Anima, it's like…"

Rene's eyes narrowed. "Blood magic, dangerous stuff."

"So what if I end up more cursed?" Harlowe pointed to the pile of ash next to the thawing arm. "I’ve probably got that shit in me anyway."

"Harlowe, I could–"

"No, you can't, Clair. Remember, divine magic harms me." She stifled a bitter laugh. "If regular mana messes me up, I can only imagine what actual quintessence would do."

Clair closed her eyes. I almost did it again. Stupid, I shouldn't have said anything.

"It's fine." Harlowe placed her claw on Clair's shoulder. "Let's get back to figuring out what we're going to do about the nest."

"Yeah, let's." said Bea.

"Try the door, Rene. We are sure you'll figure out a way to get it there." The Vallentins looked to the rest of the room and sighed. "Goodbye for now; we can't reasonably keep the portal open for much longer." 

They were right, the two of them looked exhausted. Their eyes had slowly developed deep bags and their initial upright posture was now ever so slightly slouched. As they began to wave goodbye, the edge of the portal crumbled and it slammed shut. 

"Well, bye." Harlowe shrugged. 

Rene looked to the group. "At the very least it appears we know what we’re up against now.” She wrapped an arm around Bea. “I’m going to try and figure out what to do about the claim the Fae have on you.”

Bea up at Rene and smiled. “It can wait until we have this situation under control.” 

Berthold headed towards the door. “I need to consult with the Elder, she’ll know something.” He stepped outside. 

“Clair, Harlowe, come by in a couple days.” Rene squeezed Bea tightly. “I’ll have something cooked up to get this mess sorted, hopefully,” she said with a sigh.

“Alright, I’m going to see if I can catch your brother.” Clair turned towards the exit. “And try to figure this quintessence thing out. Harlowe, let’s go.”

Harlowe cracked her back with a series of loud pops then looked at Clair. “Am I to be your guardian construct?” 

“That’s my job.” Clair walked to the door and listened for Harlowe’s steps before opening it. “Bye, you two.” 

The pair headed out into the streets of Imerre.

_____________

After a wordless trek, Clair and Harlowe eventually arrived at the Faerie’s Folly. Inside the warm building was something unlike the other evenings, a group of people gathered around a table, but not for merriment. Erich stood at the other side, his hands pressed against the table. The other gathered townsfolk listened intently to him as he spoke. 

Harlowe looked to Clair. "I think it might be well enough in hand."

Clair sized them up, noting the ways they held themselves. Their seemingly determined postures betrayed a certain level of fear; shaking hands, sweat stains on their shirts, things that could be shrugged off if asked. She knew it well; she’d seen it when she helped organize militias in Lhoric. Their bravery was a front as much for themselves as for each other.

“No, I don’t think it is,” said Clair. 

Harlowe raised a brow. "I guess I ought to cede this to you. I'm not particularly versed in leading armies."

"I didn't mean it like that." Clair paused. "Maybe you could help them. I'm going to suggest we start training them tomorrow and I'd appreciate your help."

"You sure that's smart?" asked Harlowe.

Clair placed a hand on Harlowe's prosthetic arm. "Yeah." she smiled up at her. "Remember, I trust you."

She laughed. "So you do; well, go on. Your people await." Harlowe gently pushed Clair forward. 

Clair stifled a yelp and adjusted herself before approaching the gathering of potential militia members. It wouldn't be as easy for her as it had been in Lhoric. Even with the status women had in Kasite society, it would be difficult. She wasn't of their blood, as indicated by her height. Regardless, she stood as tall as she could and approached Erich from the side. 

Erich turned to look at her. "We're just wrapping up." He looked to the dozen or so townsfolk. "You're dismissed. I'll see you all midday tomorrow, assuming the snow isn't coming down too heavily."

The gathered people nodded and said their goodbyes as they either filed out or took seats around the Folly. 

"Clair, I'll be in the room. Catch up with me when you're done." Harlowe walked off.

Clair tried to reply, but the half ghoul had already disappeared up the stairs. She turned back to Erich; he rubbed one of his temples as he watched those who hadn’t headed home for the night settle in. 

"Headache?" asked Clair.

Erich looked to her and forced a faint smile. "Eh, not quite." He pulled a chair over and sat - or rather, he fell into it. "People are willing to fight, but I can't shake the feeling I'm sending them into certain death."

Erich might have been right. Village folk are usually tough, but she'd seen what these creatures could do. "It might be possible for the rest of us to handle it without getting the townsfolk involved." suggested Clair.

He shook his head. "Not something you need to bear. And besides, even if we're terrified, it's our damn home." Erich clenched a fist. "Dad brought me here to get away from strife and here it is now, though it wears a different face."

Clair moved to place a hand on his shoulder, but pulled back. "The Warring States, I understand." She sighed, life had been hard on her too. "You never told me about your life in Lhoric. I've had plenty of time to talk with your sister, but not you."

Erich looked down for a moment before shouting "Bring me a mug of mead, two of them!"

A few moments later Alex came by with the drinks. She avoided making eye contact with Clair, which made sense, considering their last interaction. Clair cast her eyes down and let the woman leave without saying anything.

Erich pushed a mug towards Clair. "Yours." He took a long swig of his then wiped his lip. "Much as I don't enjoy talking about my early childhood, I'd much rather speak of that than the current situation. So where did you want me to begin?"

Clair took a sip of the spiced mead. "Wherever is easiest for you."

"Lot of help that is." Erich sighed. "Dad and I lived with my mother for a few years while she reared my half sisters from her first husband. He'd died in one of the many petty wars before the big ones began." He leaned back in his chair. "Things were actually pretty good early on in my life; the village was prospering after they'd recovered from a great fire. Left the ground rich, you know?"

Clair nodded. She wasn't extremely learned about farming, but had enough exposure in her home village and through her travels to know that a burned field will yield well in later plantings. 

"Anyhow, when I was about seven or eight and my siblings were thirteen and twelve respectively, things started going wrong." Erich took another drink. "A man’s found at the side of the road near the eastern farms, he's burnt real bad, but there seems to be no evidence of flame around. Folk thought he must've collapsed after running from whatever got him."

Clair drew her lips into a thin line. "Esarans."

Erich nodded back. "Thing is, we didn't know much about the rest of the world back then, at least most of the village didn't. So while the burned man was in the care of the local apothecary the mayor is having the head of the guard look through his effects." He ran a hand through his brown hair. "The man was a messenger from one of the villages in the forest east of us. He'd brought a letter warning of the coming Esaran army; he died later that night."

Clair watched Erich down the rest of his drink. "I'm going to assume that the mayor did nothing."

Erich sighed. "The mayor tried, according to Dad. It was the lord our village was under that did nothing - no, worse than nothing."

"Collusion, then?" asked Clair.

"Yeah, the Lord of Suthwick invited the Esaran leaders in, gave their soldiers board in exchange for allowing them to conduct their business." Erich's face scrunched up. "The bastard sold out the whole town and… and Dad and I left. He tried to convince Mom to go, but she stayed for her own mother." The man began to cry into his cup. "I didn't really know what had happened until Rene came here by pure chance."

Clair felt the instinct to calm him with magic. "Erich, you were a child. You couldn't have done anything." She shook her right hand beneath the table, sparks of magic flying from her fingertips and dissipating into the air.

Erich wiped a hand down his face. "Could have told my sisters when Dad and I were leaving, got them to come with. I could have said more, but I didn't because of some stupid feud I'd had with Rene." 

"Erich, again, you were a child. The responsibility of it wasn't yours to bear, you don't need to do this to yourself." Clair pleaded with him.

"I'm okay, it's just a lot of guilt." He held a hand up. "Guilt that remains even if it wasn't my fault."

"I understand."

While Clair and Erich talked below, Harlowe sat on her bed, checking and rechecking her prosthetics. "If I am twice damned, so be it." Her gaze went to her organic left hand with its elongated bony fingers and taut pale skin that ended in black talons. "Clair and the others don't need to risk themselves." 

She stood and opened the window. It was cold as ever outside, even without any fresh snowfall. Harlowe paused then returned back to her pack and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for, a small box with cushioning inside that surrounded a polished metal cylinder. 

“This stuff doesn’t like quintessence, just like me…” With an exertion of will, the chamber in her right forearm opened and she removed the canister inside, “I would prefer not to use this, but it’s the only way to fix this without involving Clair or the others.” 

Harlowe replaced the old canister with the new one and closed the chamber. The half ghoul returned to the window and hopped out, landing heavily before sprinting into the woods.