Blue eyes shot open.

Adrian sat up in bed, his heart pounding. Looking around, he quickly realized he was still in the royal suite at the Nebrasian castle, and his shoulders relaxed. 

Putting his face in his hands, he exhaled shakily. 

There was a gentle hand on his bare shoulder. “Hey, you alright?”

He looked up at the man with long, curly black hair and big, brown eyes beside him. “Sorry, did I wake you, Jacques?” His hand brushed over the bronze waist as he laid a gentle kiss to his lover’s cheek. “Go back to sleep.”

“You had another nightmare, didn’t you?”

He considered him then nodded. “I keep dreaming about that day when I almost lost you. Of all those people on the other side. That town up in flames…” Jacques swept long blond bangs out of his face as he listened. “Do you think we did the right thing, closing the portal and never looking back?”

“Of course, we would have died otherwise.”

“You think so?”

Jacques made a face. “Adrian, those Spillers would have killed us and everyone else had they come through.”

“I can’t stop thinking, what if those people on the other side needed our help? With that many Spillers and after what happened, I can’t imagine they’re living peacefully in the old world.”

“What would we be able to do about it?”

He shrugged. “I think I should tell Tony.”

“What?”

“Don’t you think the new king of Nebrasia should know the portal was opened? This is too big to be kept secret. I’m going to tell him.” Determination filled his chest as he threw the covers off, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Wait, what?”

Adrian found his undergarment bottoms on the floor and hurriedly slipped them on, making to stand when Jacques took his arm, pulling him back down.

“Right now? Adrian, for fuck’s sake, it’s the middle of the night. Not to mention, I don’t think this is something your brother should know about.”

“Why not?”

He made an exasperated sound. “Because we just got rid of Carnadine. Things are actually peaceful for us. Sweetheart, please. Isn’t that what you’ve been wanting? To live a life outside of this?” He gestured around the lavish bedroom. “To not be the one making the big decisions that affect everyone anymore? If we open that portal again and make it public knowledge, it’ll stir chaos. Venwick has had enough wars and unrest. We don’t need more.” He exhaled, letting go of his arm. “Is this decision really what’s best for everyone?”

He considered him. “Maybe... you have a point.”

“Maybe?”

Adrian sighed, then gave a short laugh. “Sorry. I haven’t relaxed at all since we arrived in Nebrasia. Something about this place makes me feel responsible for the fate of all of Elderian.”

Closing the distance between them by resting his chin on the pale shoulder, Jacques chuckled. “Mm, I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with you being the former king or anything.”

He grinned. “Certainly not.”

Jacques hugged him from behind, burrowing his nose into the crook of his neck. “I wouldn’t say you’ve been completely unrelaxed this trip.” Adrian turned his head to the side to look at him questioningly. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Twisting around to face him, Adrian laid a hand gently on his cheek, leaning in close. “No, not completely.”

Jacques met his lips, pulling him down on top of him.

As Adrian became lost in this man’s scent and touch, his worries of the portal drifted into the night air. 

For now, at least.

 

~Five Months Earlier~

 

First there was the smell of ash. In the distance, red forked tongues appeared, licking at the tops of round, palm thatched houses. 

A young girl with straight, waist-length, snow-white hair, brown eyes, and tawny brown skin stared down at the town below in horror. Blood pounded in her ears as she all but tumbled down the hillside in her haste. 

It was ironic. She’d been trying to leave this village, not return to it. She nearly tripped on the long, silk sleeves of her crossover shirt that was a size too big for her. The white shell pendant hanging around her neck glinted, the reflection of the surrounding flames dancing inside it.

“Emelri!”

She turned to see a girl her age with long black hair and bronze skin on the ground, her foot caught under a piece of fallen wreckage. Rushing over, she was relieved to find the wreckage was nothing too stubborn, and shifted it to the side, releasing her.

“You okay, Lula?” The friends briefly touched foreheads.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Guess it wasn’t the right time after all.”

“I’m sorry, Emi.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t just leave with the town in flames.”

She nodded, then pointed down the street lined with scorched earth. “There are more kids that need help. Follow me!”

Emelri ran after her. They passed several collapsing houses as people screamed and darted every which way.

“There!” Lula shouted, pointing to a house that was nearly engulfed in flames. “The door won’t budge. We need to get it open.”

They yanked on the handle, kicked at the sturdy wood, and even tried piercing it with a piece of fallen wood, using it like a battering ram, but nothing helped.

“I’m going to get more muscle,” Emelri said, and Lula nodded.

“I’ll keep trying. Go!”

She rushed away into the chaos. There was a family with five sturdy blacksmiths that would surely make short work of the door. Hopefully they were all there and not occupied with the raid. 

It was a raid after all. Her village had seen many of them, but never this violent. Something was stirring. The Spillers had never been this determined before.

The sounds of calamity quieted as she left the busy street and sprinted down to the docks where a small boathouse stood. The flames hadn’t reached this side yet. Before she could knock on the door, she was thrown to the ground as an explosion rang out. She slowly picked herself up, ears ringing.

“Wh... what happened?” She turned back to the rest of the village and her eyes widened. The street she’d just been on was nothing but ruins now, the houses charred, split open, and spitting flames. Gaping at the wreckage, she rushed forward, praying Lula was okay, but several figures stepped out, blocking her path.

She’d recognize a Spiller anywhere. The blood red hair, red weapons, and that uncanny hunger in their eyes. 

“Why are you doing this?” she shouted, and one of them grinned.

“We’re about to be reunited with our long-lost Spillers,” they started, but their more impatient companion pushed them aside, drawing a weapon from their hip.

“Don’t waste your breath on a child.” 

Before the blow could land, Emelri turned her shell pendant, and the Spillers halted at once, staring wide-eyed. 

She'd vanished, her body completely disappearing the moment she’d activated the necklace. Before they could register what’d happened, Emelri was sprinting down the docks that snaked all the way to the inactive portal gate in the middle of the water. Though the gate was empty, carved letters decorating its edges were glowing and dimming with an eerie green light.

The path was a dead end, but she had nowhere else to go. After a moment, she reached the platform made of black glass, chest heaving as she placed hands on her knees. Glancing up, she saw that Spillers were making their way up the docks as well.

Fear pierced her heart, and she closed her eyes, mumbling a silent prayer to Ziluria, but hardly began when a near-deafening sound that could only be described as otherworldly filled the air. She whipped around to see that the once empty archway was now filled with swirling green light.

She gawked, wondering if this was an answer from the heavens, then was brought back by shouting behind her. Head snapping to the side, she shot one last look at the docks and the burning town, then exhaled. There was no other choice. Taking a quick breath, she opened her eyes and threw herself into the pulsating magic.

Tumbling through a glowing green room, she was deposited into a large area filled with people. Looking up from the ground, she blinked at the back of a female Spiller with crimson hair wielding a red mace. The Spiller was fighting a tall blond man with waist length hair as well as a shorter man with a curly black ponytail who she realized from the glowing eyes was a magic user. She’d only ever met a few offensive users in her lifetime, so the flashy emerald lightning gave her pause. 

There was another, much smaller glowing portal in the room she noticed, and a big fight was going on. Things here were apparently not going much better.

She stepped out of the red-haired woman’s way, not realizing she’d been grasping the end of her pendant until a burly man bumped into her and she was forced into the nearby wall. The shell turned in her hand and to her horror, she could see herself again. 

Thankfully, the man was too preoccupied fighting a large black man wielding a massive battle axe to notice her, and she made a run for the exit leading outside. As she did, she grabbed the pendant and disappeared again.

A vast ocean met her, and wooden docks led from her spot all the way to the sandy shore. She sprinted, spotting the town in the distance. This civilization was bigger than any she’d ever known. The tall buildings left her gaping. 

Her shoes, which were made of black glass lined with animal pelts, clicked over the wooden platform as she ran. She couldn’t help but notice the humidity she was so used to now replaced by an intense dry heat. The sun beat down on her, and her lips couldn’t seem to hold any moisture. 

Reaching the shore, she was uncertain where to go next but anywhere was better than where she’d come from.

 

❀❀❀

 

Emelri sat on the filthy ground, hugging her knees in a thin, dark alleyway. The moon gleamed overhead.

With nowhere to go and nowhere to stay the night, she curled into herself for warmth. She’d tried going back to the portal, but it was no longer active, as if it’d opened exclusively for her then closed up soon after.

Sighing, she hid her hands inside her long sleeves. It’s not like she had much of a home left to return to anyway. She’d have to make do in this new place.

This city, she soon learned, was called Elden Town. She could not quite grasp the language everyone spoke, only occasionally catching similar or identical words to the ones she knew. She thought it must be some distant branch of the language, Venwi by how similar it sounded. 

If only these people spoke Venwi or ancient Elden like those in her small village, but that was wishful thinking. Everyone here had been separated from her land by the portal for centuries. She’d have to learn this strange cousin of Venwi if she wanted to survive. 

Glancing up, she realized she wasn’t alone. A group of three stood over her, the leader bending down and looking at her curiously. They were all adults. 

The man who headed the group grinned. “___girl______? ____white hair. ____touch.” 

She shook her head, unable to grasp what he was saying. “Sorry, what?”

He reached his hand out, grabbing a strand of her long, unkempt ivory locks. “__beautiful____. __come____”

She shrunk back, ripping her hair out of his hands and standing. They slowly crept forward, and she found herself backing into the brick wall behind her, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Stay back,” she warned, but they obviously didn’t understand her either, though they seemed to revel in how frightened she looked by the way they smirked in response.

The man in front began undoing the sash around his waist and loosening the strings on the front of his breeches, licking his lips as he gazed at her. She didn’t need a translation to know his intentions. Sticking her tongue out at him, she grasped the pendant around her neck, turned it, and vanished.

The group froze, blinking in shock. By the time they tried feeling around for her presence, she was sprinting down the dark streets behind them.

She ran as fast as she could, thinking she would never turn visible again.

 

 

Weeks painfully crept by as Emelri did what she could to get by. She’d go for days without food until she couldn’t bear it, then steal from a cart or other vendor, or take water from an unsuspecting tap then retreat to an empty alley to rest. It soon became apparent that water was hard to come by here and could only be retrieved from heavily guarded areas where she’d have to be extra careful.

It wasn’t long before she was picking up more of the language, which she’d come to learn was called Venish. She wished more than anything to hear her native tongue, but not as much as she wished just to be able to talk to someone. Anyone.

The closest she could get to that was in taverns where she’d listen in on others' conversations. Two months since arriving in Elden Town, she often found herself sitting behind the bar, staring at these Elderians, trying to soak up everything they said.

“We’re here for an Inn, Alphy,” a man said, and the bartender smiled in reply.

“Sure! That’ll be only___silver coins.”

She squinted at that. How many?

The man handed over the money, saying, “Rooms are getting more expensive. Here’s your two silver coins.”

Two silver coins for a room, she repeated in her head.

“Excellent. There’s a warm bed and a washroom waiting for you.”

Those words specifically left her chest filling with want. It’d been a while since she’d slept anywhere except on the cold streets. Oh, how lovely a bed sounded and a warm one at that. A washroom... She looked down at her invisible hands, imagining they must be filthy.

She needed that room.

 

 

A few days passed and Emelri managed to get her hands on a headscarf. 

Looking around her, she nervously turned the pendant, flashing back into existence. Her hands were indeed filthy, and bleeding as well. 

She clicked her tongue at them. “When did that happen?” she whispered, wiping the blood on her pants. It wasn’t a whole lot, most likely caused by scrapes and scratches when she’d needed to get into tight places quickly and quietly. 

She wrapped the scarf around her head as she’d seen some women do, successfully hiding her white hair that’d drawn unwanted attention her first night in Elden Town. Her outfit was not exactly inconspicuous though; the large silk shirt she wore was meant to end just below the knee, but it was mid-calf length on her. Around her waist was a cloth sash that kept the large garment in place. 

Her mother had never wanted to waste money on clothes that fit her when Emelri was sure to get fat soon anyway and need bigger ones. She frowned, pushing her mother’s voice out of her head. 

Steeling herself for this next moment, she marched into the tavern, her head held high. Approaching the counter and hiding her filthy injured hands in her pockets, she asked in an attempt at a passable accent, “Excuse me, Sir.”

The bartender looked around then his eyes fell on her. “Oh, hello, Young Miss! How may I help you this evening?”

She exhaled a weary breath, pressing on bravely. “Two silver coins. Room, please.” She quickly laid the payment on the counter before he could see the state of her hands. 

He blinked. “Sure thing. Here is your room number.”

“Uh thanks.”

She was handed a key. “Did you want to order food? Your parents around?”

“Um... thanks!” She grasped the key and skirted off.

He released a soft sigh, mumbling, “So many kids on the street these days,” as she made her way to the base of the stairs leading to the rooms above the bar.

Breathing out a sigh, she was ready to ascend the steps when something stopped her in her tracks, or rather, the sight of two peculiar strangers entering the tavern did. 

One of the strangers, a young boy with short black hair that hung in tight coils all around his face, green eyes, and copper-colored skin, had a nervous look on his face. He looked about her age while the other stranger was someone a few years older with the same copper tone if not a tad lighter and looser black curls that trailed over their shoulders. 

This older teen had a steely, aloof expression and sharp brown eyes. Their physique was male, but the clothes they wore were a mix of traditional male and female Venwickin dress. They were wearing women’s loose, baggy pants cinching at the ankle with a men’s orange vest over a long-sleeved white shirt. 

The pair wouldn’t have been significant except that one of them, the boy, fiddled with a unique necklace around his neck that she recognized at once as an Alchemist piece. It was a small pendant made of black glass with a cracked green gemstone in the middle. In Elden Town, she knew for a fact such a thing was worth quite a lot. 

Perhaps she’d have a warm bed and washroom multiple nights. Oh, the very idea of that! She glanced at the stairs then back at the two teens, then grinned slyly. If the bartender were to have looked over then, he would have seen the girl in strange clothes vanish before his eyes.

Emelri cautiously approached the unsuspecting victims as they came up to the bar and exchanged pleasantries with the bartender. The young boy said nothing, leaving all the talking to the older teenager next to him. 

They had an emotionless voice that complimented their expressionless face. “Know someone by the name of Jacques? We’re looking for him.”

The bartender perked up. “Yes, he was on his way to New Minoka. Lives with his two companions and his partner, Adrian.”

They folded their arms. “When? We need to find him.”

He put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “He came by a few months ago, I believe.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Certainly.”

“Could we get some drinks?” They slapped some coins on the counter, and he nodded.

“‘Course lad. ...Can I call you lad?”

They shrugged. “Sure. Call me whatever.”

“Alright then, what sort of drinks did you want?”

While they ordered their beverages, Emelri crept closer, blood pounding in her ears. 

The older teen turned to their shorter companion after a moment. “Well, Jacques is in New Minoka. Guess that’s where we’re headed next.” The boy nodded, his curls bouncing as he did. “You still have the money?” He patted his pocket proudly with a smile. “Good. Now—” before they could finish their sentence, they turned swiftly and grabbed Emelri by the throat. She’d gotten a single finger on the boy’s pendant but hadn’t noticed when she’d brushed against the other’s arm.

She gasped, clutching at the hands while brown eyes stared at her general presence in confusion. Wrenching out of their grasp, she shrieked when their hand found her pendant and ripped it off her neck.

Falling backward, her head covering flew off and she saw her bloodied hands before they made contact with the hard floor. She looked up with wide eyes. The older teen wasted no time stooping down and grabbing her by the front of her shirt, lifting her up. Their grip was unyielding, and she frantically fought against it.

Covering her face and panicking, she screamed desperately in ancient Elden, “Don’t hurt me! Just give me back my necklace!”

They froze, giving her a strange look.

The boy approached then, speaking for the first time in a soft, barely audible voice. “You speak ancient Elden?”

Her whole face shifted from terror to utter bewilderment. She was released, and Emelri gripped this green-eyed boy by the shoulders harshly. “You understand me? You speak my language?”

He froze at her touch, not saying another word.

“Yeah, we both do,” the taller one answered sternly, and though their accent and wording sounded a bit strange to her, they were speaking ancient Elden, nonetheless. “It’s a dead language. Why the hell do you speak it?”

Her lip trembled and she sank into the boy’s chest, weeping. He stiffened further.

“You understand, you understand!” She spoke through sloppy tears. “Oh, thank Ziluria!”

“Who’s Ziluria?”

She blinked over at them through wet eyes. “Huh? Oh, well she’s... Ziluria, you know?” They both watched her in silence. “Goddess of life?” No response. “Well anyway.” She pulled away, wiping her face, and the boy silently exhaled. “How do you two know ancient Elden?”

“Our mother taught us,” the eldest answered. “What about you? Why do you know it?”

“It’s what my village speaks.”

“They do? I thought only the royals spoke it.”

“The royals?”

They clicked their tongue. “You’re obviously from somewhere pretty remote to not know these things. So peculiar...”

“Are you a royal?”

They scoffed. “Obviously not.” 

“Oh. So, your mom was a royal?”

“No, but she learned from one.”

“I see.”

There was a pause. “Well, don’t try to steal from us again, because I won’t hold back next time.” They took their brother’s arm, switching into Venish. “Come on, Pep. We still need to find a place to stay.”

“You guys need a room?” she asked quickly. “I have one here. We can share if you want.”

They both halted, then the eldest turned around, repeating in ancient Elden, “A room?”

“Yeah. It’s only for the night, but it’s supposed to be warm and have a washroom.” She held out the key to show them. “Please. I don’t speak Venish very well. I left home and I feel so alone. I’m begging you. Don’t go.”

The boy’s green eyes filled with emotion as he looked her over. He reached up and tugged on his sibling’s sleeve.

“Where are your parents?” they demanded, ignoring him.

“My father left when I was five and my mother... let’s just say there’s a reason I ran away from home. I’m on my own out here.”

“You’re not from Venwick then?”

“Obviously.”

They loomed over her then. “This tavern room better not be some trick. Everyone who crosses me regrets it.”

She frowned. “It’s not a trick. I showed you the key, didn’t I? I’m just trying to get by like everyone else. I’ll tell you anything you need to know about me.”

They gave an unimpressed look. “And why would that be useful?”

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I have other magic charms you don’t know about that could be of use to you.”

At the mention of a charm, they looked down curiously at the invisibility pendant still in their palm. “Where did you get this anyway?”

“My father made it. He’s a craftsman of sorts or was. I don’t actually know if he’s alive or not. It works without a user.”

“What? How is that possible?”

Shrugging, she snatched it back before they could react. “Don’t know. If you ever find my father, you should ask him.”

They grunted before walking around her. “Come on, Pep, let’s find a table and wait for our drinks before we go to this room.” Their brother followed after them.

Emelri picked up the scarf off the ground and wrapped it around her head again, then noticed when the young boy smiled at her, motioning for her to come.

She came and sat down across from him at a small round table, looking him over curiously. “What was your name again?”

The taller teen just sneered. “If you’re trying to get Pep to talk,” they began, sitting beside their brother, “it won’t work. He rarely says anything, even to me.”

“Oh, really? Is there a reason why?”

They shrugged. “Just shy.”

“Well, sorry about that.” She tucked a stray piece of white hair behind her ear and looked at the boy with kind eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Pep. My name’s Emelri.”

He tensed in response, his cheeks reddening.

“Only I’m allowed to call him Pep,” the sibling corrected irritably. “His name’s Pepin and mine is Toulou.”

“Oh! My bad, Pepin!” she squeaked.

He shook his head shyly, motioning that it was okay.

“How old are you both?”

“I’m fifteen and Pep is thirteen,” Toulou answered. “And you?”

“Thirteen and a half.”

“Great. What’s with your hair? You dye it or something? You’re not originally from a rich family, are you?”

She went to touch her hair, then relaxed when she remembered the scarf was still covering it. “No, it’s natural.”

Toulou gave a short laugh then scowled. “You’re funny.”

“Why am I funny?”

“You can just admit you dye it, you know.”

“But I don’t!”

“Uh huh.”

“I really don’t! Look at my arm hair!” She pulled up her sleeve and thrust her arm out at them.

The siblings both examined it, then simultaneously gawked at the pale strands that stood out against the tawny brown skin.

“Oh, it is natural. Weird.”

“It’s not that weird. I’m an Alchemist, aren’t I?”

“What do you mean, you’re an Alchemist?” they repeated, making a face. “Don’t you mean you’re a descendant of the Alchemists?”

She furrowed her white eyebrows at him. “Is there a difference? And the culture isn’t dead. I’m here, aren’t I? Everyone in my village has kept our traditions alive for thousands of years.”

“Uh huh. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me, everyone in your village refers to themselves as Alchemists?”

“That’s right. Have you really never met one before?”

“Of course not. Two hundred years ago, Hans Fox forced all of them to assimilate or be killed. The Alchemist culture has been dead for a long while. Everyone knows that.”

“Really?” White eyebrows knitted together. “That’s awful. I had no idea.”

“How? How could you not know that? Just how far removed is your village from the rest of Elderian?”

She glanced to the side. “Uh, pretty far.”

“Where exactly? What country is it in?”

“Uh,” she wrung her hands together. “Okay. I’ll tell you, just don’t freak out.” She inhaled as the two siblings watched her curiously. “So, I’m from Yayma.”

Toulou blinked at her. “Okay. Where’s that?”

“Oh.” She checked their face for a moment to see if they were serious. “You know. Yayma. The group of four islands on the other side of the portal?”

Two tankards were placed down on the table then, but Toulou and Pepin ignored them, keeping their wide eyes locked on the white-haired girl.

“The portal,” the older teen repeated quietly once the bar staff had left. “The portal to the old world?”

“It’s not really to the old world. Yayma exists in a sort of bubble within the old world, yes, but it was added by the Elderians later, and there’s not exactly a way to travel to the old world from Yayma without breaking through the magic barrier surrounding the islands, so…”

They shook their head slightly. “You’re, I mean, you came from...” They let out an exasperated exhale. “The fuck are you talking about? You’re telling me you came through the portal between lands?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it just opened on its own, so I went through. I’m not sure how or why.”

“The portal. It... opened? On its own?” She nodded. “But… how?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It’s a good thing though that it did. Otherwise, I’d have been killed.”

“Killed?”

“My village, Yundet, has been under threat from Spillers for two hundred years. They were chasing me, and the portal was how I escaped.”

“Wait… you’ve faced Spillers?” They whispered the last word, glancing around for a moment nervously.

“Oh, yeah. They ravage my village all the time. They’re ruthless assassins that hunt more than just the magic users—”

Toulou reached over the table and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Stop. Don’t mention that here.”

She watched them with wide eyes until they let her go. “You mean... magic users?” They moved to shut her up again, but she leaned back out of their reach. “We’re speaking ancient Elden, remember? No one understands.”

They paused, then exhaled, looking sheepish. “Right. Listen, you can’t ever mention users here. Most people don’t know they exist, and those that do are usually Spillers.”

“What? But of course, they exist. How can people not know that? Wait, how do you know about Spillers and users then?”

They scowled. “None of your damn business.”

“Oh.” She blinked at the harsh tone. “Well, okay then.”

They exhaled an exasperated breath. “So, just to clarify, you were being chased by Spillers in your village, and that’s when the portal opened?”

“That’s right.”

“Did anyone follow you through?”

“I’m… not sure. It was closed when I went back there a few hours after it happened.”

“What if you brought Spillers here?”

She paled. “T-that would definitely be an issue, wouldn’t it.”

“Yeah, it would. We’ll have to keep an eye out for any while we’re here.”

“We?”

They frowned. “Pep and I. We leave you after tomorrow.”

“What?” Panic shot through her veins. “But you can’t just leave me behind!”

“Oh, yes, we can. You’ll have to find someone else to pal up with.”

“But I’m useful. I swear!” She put her hands together. “I’m an Alchemist from another world. Surely, that means something.”

“You might be an Alchemist, but out here, you’re nothing special unless you have some kind of monetary value to offer.”

“But… Please. Take me with you.”

“Not happening.”

She opened her mouth in protest when Pepin spoke up first, shocking them both into silence.

“She’s staying with us,” he said firmly, turning his head sharply away from his sibling, causing his black curls to bounce. “If you leave her, then you’ll have to leave me too.”

Their jaw dropped. “Pep, what’s wrong with you today? You don’t tell me what to do, in fact, you don’t tell me anything. You never talk. Hey, we aren’t taking her with us.”

“Have fun on your own then.” He raised his chin, holding his position.

“Pep.”

“Hmpf!”

They stared, then finally rolled their eyes. “Ugh. Fine. Are you happy? You’re part of the group now, Emily.”

“It’s Emelri,” she corrected.

“Whatever.” They finally slid the tankard on the table closer, lifting it to take a sip while Pepin grinned in triumph.

“What are you drinking?” she asked.

Brown eyes flicked up at her in annoyance. “Ale.”

“What’s that?”

“Alcohol.”

She snorted. “Wait, what?”

They eyed her. “Why are you laughing? Do they not have alcohol in Yayma?”

She giggled again, waving a hand in front of them. “They do, but...” Both siblings looked equally confused. “You must mean, alcohol.” She said a word in ancient Elden that was very similar to the one Toulou had just used.

“Oh, isn’t that what I said?”

“No, you said the word for when a woman lactates to feed her baby.”

“Breastmilk?”

“Yes, stop saying it!” She was laughing again. “It sounds like you’re saying you’re drinking that from a tankard.”

Their face fell, and Pepin became wracked with giggles. “Well, sorry my ancient Elden isn’t up to your standards. You rather we find someone else to talk to?”

“No, no.” She wiped a tear from her eye, attempting to keep her corners from turning back upward. “I just thought I’d let you know so you don’t embarrass yourself later. Oh my Ziluria, I will never forget this moment.”

Toulou rolled their eyes. “Anyway...”

“Say, aren’t you a bit young to be drinking?”

“No. Children younger than Pepin drink alcohol all the time in Nebrasia.” This time they used the correct ancient Elden word. 

“Are we in Nebrasia?”

“No, but I’m practically an adult. I’m fifteen.” Pepin shook his head disappointingly, and Toulou frowned. “Don’t even start with me, Pep. I am not having this conversation with you right now.”

Sticking his tongue out when Toulou wasn’t looking, the younger brother grabbed his own drink. Before taking a sip, he offered it to Emelri with a smile.

She tried to keep from scrunching up her nose. “Oh, I’m good—”

“Pep doesn’t like ale,” Toulou said sharply. “It’s just fruit juice.”

Her eyes widened in interest. “Oh? In that case, may I?” The boy nodded kindly, pushing the tankard towards her. “Thanks!” She took a long, delicious swig.

 “We’re headed to New Minoka tomorrow,” Toulou said, wiping their mouth, “so you’ll have to come with us if you want to be in our group. That a problem?”

“Nope!” She passed the tankard back to Pepin. “I’m not very fond of this city anyway. I won’t be a burden, I swear.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Pepin thwacked their arm. “What? Don’t hit me.” They smacked his arm back, and the younger sibling frowned, rubbing the spot painfully.

“Why New Minoka?” she asked before either could retaliate.

There was a pause and a seriousness swept over them. The older teen’s face was impossible to read. “We’ve been trying to track down a man named Jacques.”

“Jacques? Who’s he?”

“The last person who saw Carnadine according to the sources we’ve been able to find.”

“Carnadine?”

A bitter expression crossed their face. “The Spiller that killed our mother. She’s going to pay for what she did. I won’t rest until I find her and Elderian is cleansed of her filth.”

She blinked rapidly at the intense declaration. “You’re trying to hunt down a Spiller? Are you out of your mind? That’s suicide!”