Everyn’s uproarious laughter echoed brightly off the stark cave walls, “See he’s got a sense of humor.”

  She elbowed Sterling in the ribs as he glared unamusedly at her.

  “No, really,” Martin said with a straight face. “She was a white tier,” He extended his arm revealing a tiny, fresh scar at the crook of his elbow. “She cut me to stage the whole thing, but I didn’t even feel it.”

  “You’re really funny, Martin,” She chuckled as she took a bite of today’s mysterious cold mush and dried meat that tasted like it was some kind of wild game at one point.

  “I’m not kidding,” he insisted. “I didn’t believe it either, but she was so strange… She tripped over a chisel I left in the way and hid it from my handler.”

  Sterling shook his head, “If she was a white tier, there’s no way she would bother. She’s too old to be that stupid.”

  “Maybe she was a red tier in disguise?” Valan suggested, taking a bite of his own breakfast goo.

  Sterling set his spoon down and stared at him disappointedly, “Really? You think a red tier would impersonate a white tier then further risk her skin to free a human?”

  Valan shrugged, continuing his meal, “Makes more sense than a white tier. Some of those new red tiers are idiots. The Fae’s workmanship is getting shoddy.” He joked.

  “I don’t know,” Martin murmured. “I think she really was a white tier and she said she was going to try to free others.”

  “I concede,” Sterling said, picking his spoon back up. “Half-baked red tier. Dead half baked red tier.”

  “Good riddance,” Everyn muttered.

  Martin scowled at her.

  “Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “Any dead Demon is a good thing, even one with an alleged hero complex. Just means there’s one less problem to deal with later. Besides, she only has herself to blame.”

  Martin stood up quickly, his stool falling with a loud bang to the ground behind him as he slammed his hands down on the table, his bowl wobbling from the impact, “She saved my life.”

  “She was a Demon,” Everyn hissed, slowly rising to her feet. Just because she did one good thing doesn’t mean she isn’t a monster. How many people do you think she didn’t free? How many people do you think she tortured? How many did she kill?” She barked, her voice ricocheting around them.

  Valan gripped her arm, “Ev…”

  She took in a measured breath, “They’re monsters, Valan.”

  “Most are,” Martin said calmly. “She wasn’t.”

  Everyn sat back down in front of her bowl.

  “Let’s say you’re correct,” Ryala spoke up. “Let’s say this was some strange miraculous anomaly and there is a good Faedemon. You must admit, red or white tier, she would be dead by now, no? Or if somehow her ploy did work, the Fae aren’t ignorant. They would figure out the pattern of missing people sooner than later. Even if she did have plans to free more people, this plan would catch up to her.”

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  Martin picked up his stool and sat down with a long sign, “I suppose you’re right, but I just feel awful about this whole thing,” He looked up at Everyn. “I agree with you that most Demons are monsters. Hells, probably all but this one are. But still, she risked everything for me and did you ever think there's a chance that maybe they don’t all want to do the Fae’s dirty work?”

  “So what? You want to send her a nice thank you letter?” Everyn drawled. “‘My dearest Demon, thank you for not murdering me and dying instead in my place. Love and kisses, Martin’?”

  “I want to help her,” He said firmly. “You’re probably right. She will almost definitely be facing consequences but if by some miracle it hasn’t yet, she deserves a chance at freedom of her own.”

  “In theory, if everything you say is true, I would agree,” Sterling spoke softly.

  Everyn stared at him in disbelief. If it was possible for anyone to hate Faedemons more than her, it was Sterling and for good reason.

  “But,” he continued. “Even if we could somehow get permission to do this, get to Pearl’s Keep and get this miracle Demon away from the Palace, it wouldn’t mean anything. She would just be drawn back and probably be ordered to kill us all for the attempt. So, while the sentiment is good, it would be a less than pointless endeavor."

  “I suppose you’re right,” Martin replied dejectedly.

  “But, If we could find a way to trap her, she wouldn’t be able to return or try to kill us,” Ryala said matter-of-factly.

  “And how do you suggest we would possibly do that?” Everyn rolled her eyes.

  “She might come willingly.” Martin perked up. “If we can get into one of these stone rooms and place some kind of magical seal on the entrance after we bar it, it would take even a Faedemon months to tunnel through these walls by hand.”

  “And she may be willing to trade information for her rescue,” Valan added, looking to Sterling for approval.

  “Even if she was somehow ‘willing’,” Everyn argued. “They would just have her self-destruct or whatever they do before she could tell us anything useful.”

  “Not if they couldn’t find her,” Ryala said simply.

  “So you’re proposing we make her psychically invisible?” Everyn scoffed. “How the hells would we do that? She’s a Faedemon, Ryala. The link to her master isn’t going to just be blocked.”

  Ryala shook her head calmly, finishing her bite, “Not block. No. Distortable.”

  “Distortable?” Sterling echoed in confusion.

  Ryala raised her spoon gesturing to the ceiling and walls, “This is a stronghold of mages, ingredients and resources and we’re still hidden. Why do you think that is?”

  The four stared at her in confusion.

  Ryala, huffed, setting her spoon down, “Gods, you never thought about why they picked this mine? It’s small, dangerous, old. So why here? Dewsilver, you Parrii.”

  Parrii. Idiots. Everyn knew this word too. At this point she was beginning to wonder if the only Aldiran words she knew were insults.

  When no one spoke, Ryala groaned, reaching down to smudge some tainted Dewsilver from the floor onto her fingertips, “Did none of you study the Psychic Arts in your Houses? Dewsilver can not block psychic wave lengths and magical signatures but the particles fracture them, like a light through a prism. It confuses matters. They know we exist but they can not figure out where we are or what we can do.”

  She muttered and incantation Everyn recognized to be one to create a small flame at her fingertips. But a flame didn’t erupt, instead sparks escaped from beneath the Dewsilver along with dark smoke, but no flame.

  “We’re incomprehensible fragments,” Ryala said, as she wiped the remaining Dewsilver on the edge of the table. "And I theorize she would be too."