Ravyn stomped down the ramp, away from the Emberlynn estate. Thunder boomed in the distance, but her gaze was glued to the smooth streets of Zhuli. She bumped into someone and then quickly sidestepped them. The woman barked her frustration at Ravyn as she passed. The words didn’t register.

“Ravyn, what’s wrong?” Bally asked. “You haven’t said a thing all morning.”

Ravyn came to a halt in an alleyway between two shops. On the off chance that she was being followed, she peered around the corners to ensure no one was there, then withdrew into the alley and pressed her back against the wall. 

“My mother is up to something, and I have to figure out what it is,” she whispered.

“Talk to me. I don’t understand.”

She crossed her arms and rubbed the back of her biceps. It did nothing to alleviate the cold, sinking feeling in her stomach. “I…think my mother is to blame for the Defiled.”

Bally narrowed his eyes into slits. “What would she gain from that?”

“I don’t know yet.” She shook her head. “But there’s no way a Defiled would go so long without being discovered. Not in Zhuli.”

“Ravyn. Your mother is deathly ill. Perhaps if—”

“Bally,” Ravyn hissed. “Sick or not, she is a Third Class. Not just any Third Class, either, but the [Arbiter] of Zhuli. Her name travels well beyond San Island. Even Destiny knew who she was.” She slid down the wall until she was seated, then pulled her legs close and wrapped her arms around them. “She has toppled foe after foe without so much as blinking. The Spells she weaves, the minds she’s bested”—she coughed a laugh—“this has her fucking hands all over it.”

“What do you intend to do about it?” Bally tucked his wings and landed on the ground in front of her. “I wish you would’ve said something while Tristan was still here.”

“No. I’m not roping him into this. He doesn’t deserve it.” She leveled her gaze on the opposite wall. Her eye twitched with how clean it was. “Besides, I may have an edge with him gone. She may let her guard down.”

Bally clicked his beak. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I.” She rose to her feet and dusted herself off. “Let’s do some investigating.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Interviews.”

To begin, she’d need to dispel some assumptions about the Defiled. Anyone who looked at it would have noticed the numerous faces and voices it mimicked. Such magic was rare and dangerous; the only example that came to mind was the scroll of [Impersonate Soul] that she had used on Matt. However, that alone would not be sufficient to prove that the Defiled had eaten or come into contact with the faces it displayed. Defiled magic was unlike any other.

But if she coupled interviews with research, it was possible she’d be able to explain how the Defiled performed such misdeeds. Or at least build a working theory.

“I feel like I’m back in school,” Ravyn sighed. “Well, we need to compile a list first. [Combat Mode].” Her Shulan attire disappeared, replaced by the robes Yukari had made changes to. She felt a surge of [Magic] fill her veins, and the urge to burn Emberlynn’s mansion to the ground came with it.

“Don’t burn Zhuli to the ground,” Bally said as he perched on her shoulder.

“I won’t. Just my mother’s estate.” She stepped forward and turned. Even from here, she could see the lavish buildings. She clicked her tongue. “Fucking eyesore.”

“You’re getting distracted.”

“Right.” Ravyn dug into her [Cat Pack] and extracted a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink. She set them on the ground, then plucked a quill from Bally’s wing.

“Ow. I wish you wouldn’t do that.” He puffed up and shook his feathers. “A familiar’s feather isn’t like a normal bird’s.”

“I know. That’s why I took it.” The magic behind familiars was temporary in nature. Within a few hours, the feather would disappear, and with it, any evidence that it had existed. Bally was helpful to a [Sorcerer] like Ravyn who was in need of quills from time to time. She dipped the quill into the ink bottle, then wrote a short heading labeled ‘Names.’ 

“There.” She rolled up the parchment and returned it to her [Cat Pack], along with the ink. She rose to her feet and then walked out of the alleyway. “Time to get our list.” 

Marching back to the gates that led up to the Emberlynn estate, she waved over one of the guards.

The woman jogged over to her, her armor clinking. “Yes, mistress?”

“I need the names of all citizens reported missing from the last six months.”

The woman—a newer guard from the looks of it—frowned. “Missing reports?”

“Yes. Mother—Emberlynn should have kept a report of anyone who may be missing. I would like to see the list of names.”

“Hm. That may take a bit.”

Ravyn crossed her arms. “I’ll wait.”

A few minutes later, the guard returned with a rolled-up parchment. “This is our sole copy. I hope you understand that I can’t give this to you.”

“I figured. I came prepared.” Ravyn procured her ink bottle and parchment, then found a section of the wall with a groove large enough for her ink bottle to rest. She placed the bottle, then readied her quill. “Go ahead.”

Penning down the names took time, but it was worth the trouble. To her relief, the guards had recorded the descriptions of the missing girls and the name and description of the person who had reported them missing. Considering the weight of the requested information, there was a chance that her meddling would find its way back to Emberlynn. But it was a risk she had to take. She just hoped that being Emberlynn’s daughter would cast away suspicion.

“Thanks,” Ravyn said. She penned the last name and returned her writing supplies to her [Cat Pack]. “You’re doing good work. Keep it up.”

“Y-yes, mistress.” The woman saluted.

Ravyn offered her a curt nod and carried on her way. The first name on the list was Serenity, the granddaughter of Kasira.

Locating the woman who matched Kasira’s description didn’t take long. An older woman bearing streaks of white and black hair was tending to a pen of chickens outside the Zhuli gates. The pattern extended to her tail and ears, and a small chunk of skin was carved out of her left ear. Modest robes of brown and white clothed her, tied tight with a dark sash around her midsection.

“Excuse me, Miss Kasira?” Ravyn approached and pitched her voice higher, as was customary in Zhuli when speaking to those who were older than you. The woman glanced at her over her shoulder, wiped the snot from her nose, and then turned around to face her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I wanted to ask you some questions regarding the Defiled attack.”

The woman scoffed. “Now you come to talk.” She tossed away the seeds in her hand. They clanged against the sheets of metal that made up the chicken coop, and the birds screeched. “It has been how long, and only now you are doing a proper investigation?” Her voice was thick with the old Zhuli accent, and her word choice put Ravyn on edge. She spat on the ground just short of hitting Ravyn’s shoe.

This was going to be a bad day. “I’ve lost dear ones, too, so I understand what you’re going through. But I need your help to figure out how this happened.”

The woman’s breathing was erratic. Her wrinkled face contorted and twisted into a myriad of emotions. Ravyn felt like she was watching the entire grieving process take place on her face. Eventually, she nodded. 

Ravyn drew a deep breath before continuing. “Thank you. Just to confirm, what was your granddaughter’s name?”

“Serenity.”

“And when was the last time you saw your granddaughter?”

The woman sniffed, then coughed into her elbow. “A few months ago.”

Ravyn nodded and procured her parchment and ink from her [Cat Pack]. Bally sat on her head the entire time, preening himself while she wrote. “I know it might not sound important, but how long have you lived on San Island?” She bore a traditional San Island name. Something of a rarity nowadays outside of Zhuli. 

Kasira’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “My whole life. I have lived in Zhuli since your grandmother was alive.”

That would’ve been before she was born. “When your granddaughter left, where did she say she was going?”

“She told me she wanted to meet a friend of hers in Shulan. Promised me she would not be gone for more than a couple of weeks.” Tears threatened to fall from Kasira’s eyes. Her cheeks were already as red as nyapples, and Ravyn’s toes squirmed and curled. Kasira waved the air in front of her face and licked her cracked lips. “Months passed, and I worried.” She bowed her head. “When I heard the rumors, somehow I…I just knew.”

Ravyn chewed her tongue while she penned Kasira’s tale of the events. “When you started to worry about where your granddaughter must be, did you tell the guards?”

Kasira nodded. “Of course. But she was young and stubborn like most girls her age, so the guards did nothing.” She sighed. “At the time, I could not blame them. It is not uncommon for one to go to Shulan and never return.”

Which makes it an easy story to lean on when you have something to hide. Ravyn nodded, and glanced up from her notes. “Thank you. Can you give me a description of what your granddaughter looked like?” While the guards had taken it down, it was better to hear things from the source.

The woman laughed, and it sounded forced. “Imagine me but much younger. Serenity has vibrant green eyes, white and black hair, and a smile to light the streets of Zhuli.” Her voice trailed. “She is… She is thin. Short. Freckles. Brimming with life.”

Ravyn shut her eyes, and her blood boiled. Not at Kasira, but at Emberlynn—sick or not—for dragging their name through the mud and refusing to give this woman the closure she needed. Kasira would never see her granddaughter again.

With another deep breath, Ravyn opened her eyes, carefully rolled up the parchment, and placed it in her [Cat Pack].

“Thank you, Kasira.” She bowed at the waist. It felt awkward and stilted, and it felt as if Zhuli’s tempered fingers crawled over her skin. But she was willing to show a shred of traditional decency to Kasira if it would bring her some semblance of peace. “I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened.”

Kasira nodded, then turned back to her chickens and apologized for upsetting them. Ravyn turned and made her way back to the main street of Zhuli. She glanced at Kasira on her way back. The woman was quiet and unmoving.

Ravyn ground her teeth. “This isn’t right,” she hissed as a group walked by.

“Bunch of roachshit, bunch of roachshit! Squaaawwwk!”

The women quickened their pace away from Bally, and Ravyn snickered. “Very good, Bally! That’s right!” She reached up and scratched her familiar behind his head. “What a good boy you are!” When the women were out of earshot, she whispered, “Mother’s going to pay.”

“Take great care,” Bally whispered just loud enough for Ravyn to hear.

By the time Ravyn had finished her interviews, she was on the verge of tears. Hearing the stories of mothers, daughters, and close friends losing one another was enough to reopen old wounds and stir memories of Finn and Yomi. Her mind invented new scenarios where Matt or Cannoli died next. 

The world began to spin, and her breathing hitched in her throat. I can’t do that again. I can’t. She slumped against the wall of a shop and hid her face behind her knees. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. How the hell was she supposed to calm an entire village when she could hardly move past her own memories? Tears edged into the corners of her eyes, and she wrapped her tail around her calves. 

“The living still need you, Ravyn,” Bally whispered against her hair. “Let the dead rest.”

Ravyn nodded and slowed her breathing. 

“You promised to stop running.”

The pounding in her ears died down. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bally.”

“You don’t have to.”

The spiral slowed to a stop, and her mind began to clear. No one else could help Zhuli. This rested on her shoulders. She steeled herself and stood.

Now that she had spoken to the friends and families of the victims, she was sure that the Defiled was responsible for the deaths of these women. Of the twenty-two names on the list, five of them had returned. The other seventeen, however, had all conveniently disappeared on their way to Shulan. When their disappearances were combined with the emergence of the Defiled, it was clear what had happened.

Even so… That still doesn’t prove my mother was responsible. Only negligent.

What remained was the mystery of the Defiled’s lifespan. None of this would matter unless she could prove that the creature was permitted to live due to her mother’s machinations. She needed something from the creature. Something important and indisputable.

“Karaka,” Ravyn mumbled as the realization hit her.

“Ka—?”

Ravyn spun around and marched in the direction of the restaurant. Bally clung to the hem of her dress with one talon, squeaking and squawking as she walked. She swung open the door to Karaka’s restaurant, then held her palm upward and summoned a glowing ball of fire, illuminating the room. She held the flame to her left, then to her right, then shut the door behind her.

“What is your intent here?” Bally hissed as he resumed his station atop her head.

“Quiet,” Ravyn said with a finger to her lips.

The restaurant was even creepier than she remembered. The scent had somehow worsened from before, and the way the wood squeaked beneath her weight gave her pause. When she entered the main dining room, she approached the wall and carefully leaned the ball of flame closer to where they’d found the black tendril.

A dark brown stain in the shape of the tentacle colored the wall, just above the remnants of a puddle at the corner where the floor and wall met. Ravyn used her free hand to tug at the mat that covered the floor, but the adhesive held firm.

“You’re up,” Ravyn whispered and raised her hand to her head. Bally shifted to her hand, and she guided him to the floor. 

“You’re joking.”

“We’ll be here all night if it’s just my nails.”

The familiar rolled his eyes. “Not one of my prouder moments.” Bally tore through the mat within seconds with his powerful beak. By the time he was done, the mat was in shreds tossed to the side to expose the floorboards underneath. He hopped back onto her shoulder when he was done, and Ravyn leaned over.

“What is that?” she murmured. A hole roughly twice the width of her arm had been torn through the wood. The edges were stained with black. What followed seconds later was a scent like no other. “Saoirse’s tits, what the fuck is that smell?”

“Don’t,” Bally warned as he hopped forward. “Let me.”

“No,” Ravyn hissed. “I will not let you do that.”

“I can come back. You can’t.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m your master, and as your master, you will do as I say.”

Bally sighed. “Ravyn, this—”

“No. End of discussion.” As she leaned forward to get a better view inside, she slowly dropped her hand to illuminate the area. Her body trembled. She kept her brow knit, tightened the muscles in her fingers, and breathed slow and steady. It worked; she stilled.

At first, she couldn’t see anything. Much of the hole was lit by the flame, and from what little she could see, it seemed to continue down. It could hardly be classified as a hole. There was an expanse down there—a tunnel.

Ravyn’s mouth dried, and a sense of hesitation stilled her when the familiar shape of a catgirl’s ear came into view.

“Ravyn,” Bally hissed.

Ravyn lowered the flame, and the rest of the figure came into view as her eyes widened. Inside was the rotting half of a catgirl’s skull. Ravyn’s breath hitched, and her hand continued to lower, revealing more and more of the corpse. As its body became more defined, she saw that bits and pieces of the catgirl were missing. A bone here, a muscle there. Spatters of acid pocked the rim of the girl’s skin where flesh was missing, and the smell…

Ravyn covered her mouth with the back of her hand, gagging and averting her gaze.

“Do you feel that?” Bally asked.

“Yes,” she said after a pause. The faintest trickle of Myana snaked through the air around them. It flowed upward with an almost sentient desire to be acknowledged. Even the gentlest Spells used more Myana than what she felt crawling out of that pit. 

She concentrated on the sensation, following it with her free hand and stopping short when she felt it slithering out of the hole. The thought of the corpse coming back to life occurred to her, and visceral images of her time spent on Shi Island returned.

She shook her head. Her knowledge of necromancy was rudimentary at best, but even she knew that reanimating a corpse would take a substantial amount more Myana. She constantly reminded herself of that fact while she reached into the hole.

“Careful, Ravyn,” Bally warned, “we don’t know what that magic might do.”

“I-I know that,” she stammered. 

With the bonus [Magic] granted to her by her new robes, the intent of the Myana became clearer as she neared. Yes, indeed, all it wished for was to be noticed, to be seen. This Spell was nothing more than a beacon. She dug her hand into the dirt, squirming and hissing through her teeth. 

As her fingers dug deeper, the flow of Myana became stronger until, eventually, her fingertip grazed something tough. “I think I found something.”

She scooped her hand around the object and pulled it free. She swept away what remained of the dirt, then held it at eye level. Her breath caught.

“Ravyn, that’s—”

“A garnet,” she finished for Bally. “A fucking garnet.”