The sun rose bright and hot the next morning in Lagaema. Having spent the previous day fighting both the enemy and each other, the group was exhausted by the time they dragged themselves into the Flaming Flagon Tavern and Inn. When they awoke, they set out to find Firecrest Manor — and their missing mage.

After an hour and a half of argument-filled ambling through the streets of the city, the group found themselves in sight of the school of magic. It towered at the end of the road, its bricks burning a deep orange in the noonday sun. The walls met with a roof made from curved, clay shingles that were painted black; four spires rose up from each corner of the manor, looming high over the other buildings nearby. Atop each of them was a flag that whipped in the wind, but upon closer inspection, they turned out to be exactly what Jak Thornston had said them to be: flames.

Farrah gazed up at the building in awe. She had seen nothing like this in the village where she grew up, nor in her travels around the nearby islands. There were whispers during her childhood that there were grand buildings and palaces like that under the oceans that surrounded her home, but no one had ever been able to confirm it. All she’d ever really known was the endless string of ports and villages and the domestic wonders of small-town life.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” she heard Karina ask. Farrah turned; the dragonblood had appeared at her side without her being aware.

“Aye, quite. I’m not used to sights like this. Biggest building we had back home was the village’s town hall. Could fit the village, but there were only around 300 of us… I can’t imagine how many people you could fit into a place like that.”

Karina laughed. “Yes, I’m sure this must be a little bit of culture shock for you. My temple is probably around half the size of Firecrest, but I still found myself getting lost in its halls some days.”

“I can imagine. You know, it’s funny,” Farrah mused, “I’d never set foot in a temple growing up, much less met someone who had. Now in less than twenty-four hours, I’ve been thrown together with two people whose lives revolve around temple work.”

Karina glanced at the half-orc, her brow cocked. “Seriously? You’ve never been in a temple before?”

Farrah shook her head. “Nope. My mother wasn’t the religious type. Never even seen the inside of one…” Her voice trailed off as a memory flashed through her mind. A sanctuary. An altar. A man…

“Hey, are you alright?” Karina asked, leaning forward to look into Farrah’s eyes. 

The half-orc snapped back to reality, trying to brush the memory aside. “Aye, I’m alright. Just… I remembered a dream I had before I woke up in the cave with you all.”

Karina stopped walking, and it took Farrah a couple of steps to realize the dragonblood was no longer next to her. She turned to face Karina. “What?” Farrah asked.

“Was the dream in a sanctuary? Red carpets, silent people? Book on an altar written in red ink?”

The half-orc’s brow furrowed. “How did you know that?”

“Because,” Karina sighed, “I had the same dream before waking up in the cave.”

Farrah took a step back from the dragonblood. “There was a man… I couldn’t see his face. But he was on a throne and he reached out to me…”

“And when you reached out, you woke up.”

“Aye. All the details are hazy; I had forgotten about the dream until we were talking about temples. But I do remember that much.”

Karina crossed her arms over her chest. “If we had the same dream, I wonder if Aveline and Vice did too. They did wake up in the cave with us, after all.”

“It would make sense,” the half-orc nodded. “But let’s maybe wait before we bring it up. I’m not convinced that either of them trust us, and I don’t want to run the risk of them thinking we’re somehow aligned against them if they didn’t have the same dream.”

As if summoned, the other two caught up to Karina and Farrah. Aveline glanced at the half-orc, cocking an eyebrow. “Whatever you two are conspiring together is going to have to wait. We have to keep moving.”

Farrah threw a glance at Karina that screamed I told you so! then followed after Aveline. The group reached the end of the road and stopped at the gated entrance to the manor. The gate itself was black and iron-wrought with two torches hanging on the sides, alight with flame. They stared up at the closed gate, each of them sizing it up in their minds. “So,” Karina began, “how are we going to get inside?”

Farrah stepped forward, drawing one of her handaxes. She then swung it at the gate, hitting the metal bars with the butt of the blade. A loud, dull clang rang out along the sidewalk. When the sound subsided, a jet of flame from both of the side torches shot out and joined in front of the gate, morphing into the likeness of a young woman.

“Well,” Karina muttered, “I guess that’s one way to do it…”

The woman bowed to the group, her flames flickering and shifting. “Who wishes to enter the gates of Firecrest?”

“We are a group of travelers,” Vice began, “charged with collecting a missing professor from the Academia Mystick on the ventral plane. We’d hoped we could speak with one of your own and see if he’d been here.”

The woman’s eyes glowed and sparks danced within them. “Ah, the Academia Mystick? Yes, of course. Let me send someone to collect you. Give me a moment, if you please.”

At her words, the flames extinguished themselves and her form dissipated. The group turned to Farrah. “How did you know that would work?” Karina asked.

The half-orc laughed. “Hit something hard enough and you’re bound to attract some sort of attention.”

Suddenly, Farrah felt a gentle jerk on her belt. While she’d not been in any big cities, she’d been around enough pirates to know when she was getting pickpocketed, and the sensation was the exact same. The half-orc whirled around, grabbing the wrist whose hand was still in midair.

It was indeed a thief, but it was not the thief that Farrah expected — it was a young girl of about twelve years dressed in a hood and rags. Tangled tufts of dirty blonde hair jutted out from under the hood, and her face was smeared with patches of dust and city grime. She still held the coin pouch she lifted from Farrah’s belt.

The girl’s gray eyes met Farrah’s; time seemed to pause as panic flooded them. Without a word, she turned on her heel and began to sprint away from the half-orc, immersing herself in the crowded street. Farrah took off after the girl, herself diving into the mass of people. The two of them ran down the main street that the group had come up, sliding into the spaces between people, animals, and carts.

As Farrah’s boots pounded against stone, she realized that she had not closed much of the distance between herself and the child. Damned slivers of space… I need to be out in the open, she thought.

The half-orc pumped her legs faster; as she did, she saw the girl dart into a small, off-hand alleyway. A few seconds later, Farrah did the same. The alley was thin — but mercifully, it was empty. Farrah looked down the path; it ended in a cobbled wall covered in graffiti. Foolish girl, she thought, chuckling to herself.

The child reached the end of the alley and stopped, looking up at the wall before her. The sound of Farrah’s boots echoed across the surrounding walls; the girl took a glance back, her eyes widening at the figure approaching her. She turned back to the wall and began to tap on the stones, her hands darting all over the lower portion of the wall. Farrah watched as a large piece of the wall opened towards the inside, and the girl disappeared into the darkness of the newly-formed passage.

The half-orc was coming up on the opening just as it began to close. She reached a hand out in an attempt to stop its progress, but to no avail; the wall resumed its position as her fingers met stone. A heavy click echoed through the air.

Farrah stood panting, searching the wall for anything that looked like buttons or levers. After a few fruitless moments, she began to pound on the stone, trying to recreate the girl’s actions. As her frustration melted into resignation, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned — the others had caught up with her.

“What in the name of Solas did you take off running for?” demanded Karina, a frown on her face made of equal parts worry and annoyance. 

Furrowing her brow, the half-orc gestured to the empty space where her gold pouch used to be. Her words came out forced and thick with anger. “That… child! She lifted my money and ran with it! I tried to catch her, but she managed to do some sort of — I don’t know, sorcery or something? And she opened a door in the wall.”

Karina shifted her gaze to the wall behind Farrah. “A door in the wall…? I mean, there are some spells that allow for interplanar travel, but I highly doubt that a child would have mastery over them…”

Aveline stepped from behind Karina and approached the wall as the dragonblood was still speaking. She looked up at the graffiti covering the stone; red and black paint spelled out a series of words in Ignasi — her native tongue. A symbol of a flame stood next to the words in all black paint.

“This passage belongs to the Black Flame,” she said, thinking aloud.

Farrah turned to face her. “And what exactly is this ‘Black Flame?’”

“Not ‘what,’” Aveline began, “but ‘who.’ They are thieves, mercenaries, and assassins. They approach in the shadows, and if you get too close, you’ll always come away burned.”

“I take it you have experience with this… thieves’ guild?” Farrah asked.

Aveline’s gaze dropped to the ground. “We’ve had a few run-ins,” she muttered. “They were never much help to me.”

“You’ve hired them?”

“No, no. I…”

She sighed. No point in keeping it secret anymore, I guess. Aveline turned to face the others, her eyes still planted on the ground.

“I used to work for them.”

Farrah’s jaw fell — as did Karina’s. Vice seemed unfazed, but when Aveline met her gaze, she saw a faint hint of amusement in the theosian’s black eyes. Aveline opened her mouth to speak, but Farrah cut in before she could get any words out.

“You… used to work for a thieves’ guild? Doing what, exactly? Because I know for sure that you couldn’t have been a thief. No, no… if you had, you wouldn’t have the right to be on my back for my own choice of occupation. No, that would make you a hypocrite. And I know that you’re too perfect of a lady to be a hypocrite.”

Aveline felt Farrah’s words strike her as if they were blows from the half-orc’s fists. Her heart burned within her; the heat of her embarrassment crawled up her neck and blossomed across her cheeks. She looked away from the group.

“It was during a… difficult time in my life. I didn’t have anyone else to turn to, but they took me in better than my own family did. I never stole” — she glanced up at the half-orc — “but I did other jobs for the guild. They gave me what I needed in exchange for my work.”

Farrah crossed her arms over her chest. “You? In need? I thought you were of the great Bloodvines — the richest and most well-known family of daímons on the incendiary plane. What could you possibly be in need for that your money couldn’t provide to you?”

The half-orc could feel her voice getting louder as she spoke. She was on the verge of yelling in the daímona’s face when she saw tears beginning to run down Aveline’s cheeks. Farrah fell silent, the anger within her fading to a simmering heat. She leaned down, trying to catch Aveline’s line of sight, but the daímona refused to meet her gaze.

Karina stepped forward and put an arm around Aveline’s shoulders. “Farrah, I think that’s quite enough,” she said, her normally docile demeanor replaced by a stern one. “We all have things in our lives that we carry with us — there is a burden that we all bear. Just because someone seems to have a happy life doesn’t mean that’s what it is. That is exactly why” — she squeezed Aveline’s shoulder gently — “we cannot make rash decisions about people whom we know nothing about. That goes for both of you.”

Farrah’s gaze fell to her feet. Karina reached into her pouch and pulled out a handkerchief, then offered it to the daímona. Aveline took it and dabbed at her cheeks, her eyes still planted on the ground. After a few moments of silence, she lifted her head. The whites of her eyes were shot through with violet veins; under her eyes were tinged with a slightly darker shade of purple than her skin. She handed the piece of cloth back to the dragonblood.

She took a deep breath, then spoke. 

“Let me tell you about Cereza.”