Feeling unwelcome in a hall full of strangers was never a fun place to be, and yet, that’s exactly where Diya found herself.

  It was once a magnificent place, that much was apparent to her, a museum or perhaps an academy, yet despite its impressive scale, the boisterous arguments had no trouble at all filling it. Mother Nature had done her best to smother the place, ferns burst from cracks in the marbled floor, sunlight spilled through holes in the ceiling, meanwhile once treasured remnants of a time long past sat untouched beneath dusty glass cases.

  What was life like for the civilization who built all of this? Where they warriors, or artists, or farmers? What caused their collapse?

  Over the past hour Diya had found ample time to marvel at the assortment of ancient artifacts, her favorites being: the skeleton of a whale suspended from the ceiling, a massive diorama recreating an ancient battle she had never heard of, a section filled with mannequins dressed in the most extravagant and bizarre outfits she had ever seen, and a collection of strange machinery buried in dust and spider webs. Come to think of it, she had seen similar forgotten machinery throughout New Avignon, it made her briefly ponder what function it all may have served.

  The spirited arguments of those who she assumed to be members of the Hollow Heart Coven would have been a great deal more interesting if it was in a dialect she could speak, or at the very least understand. But no such luck.

  In many ways it was her worst nightmare made manifest. To be the center of attention with no rational way to affect how she was regarded—steady intentional breathing was the only thing keeping her from having a panic attack.

  She did her best not to let the stern looks or wagging fingers pointed angrily in her direction overwhelm her. But then his gaze fell upon her, and her mind went entirely blank. Eyes like oceans beneath an ornate fox mask. A shiver ran down her spine as if she had been dunked into a pool of icy water.

  The debate seemed to swirl around three figures, small crowds backed each but didn’t speak much outside of cheers and boos: Tamsin, in her white mask, a middle-aged woman wearing a veil weaved from cerulean-hued flowers, and the mountain of a man covered in black symmetrical tattoos who wore the fox mask.

  Diya returned her focus to her breathing. Everything is okay. What could go wrong? I’ve already come face to face with the scary stories from my youth. I trust that this will all work out.

  Just then, Tamsin pointed at Diya and said something that got the crowd worked up. The shouting reached a new intensity that somehow made the last hour seem like nothing more than a friendly tea party. The blue-eyed man wearing the fox mask shook his head furiously and roared at Tamsin. In response to whatever he had said much of the crowd turned to stare at Diya and Shikra, then they collectively boomed with laughter.

  It didn’t feel nice, that much she was sure of, and any lingering hopes of having a hand in shaping how she was viewed by the strangers were fading quickly.

  Tamsin stomped away from the gathering, grabbed Diya by the arm and dragged her out of the hall. The giant roc followed protectively.

  “What did they say?” Diya asked. “Where are we going?”

  No answers followed. Tamsin guided her out of the meeting hall and into the building next door. It looked like it had once been a bookshop. Now it smelled of damp paper and mildew. Ivy pushed through cracks in the walls, and dust rose from the floor with every step.

  The sound of frustrated breaths steaming against the inside of her painted wooden mask steamed as she paced back and forth. Spears of light shot in through holes in the ceiling, illuminating the cloudy dust particles.

  Diya stopped her and met her trembling stare. “What is it? What happened back there?”

  “T-those bloody fools! T-they would doom us all with their shortsightedness.”

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  “Hey, just breathe and let’s talk through this.”

  Apparently, Tamsin wasn’t so sure it could be worked out, because instead of taking either suggestion, she grabbed an old book and heaved it through a dusty windowpane. The glass shattered into a thousand tiny shards with a loud bang that startled Diya.

  A moment later, face contorted with rage, Tamsin spoke up. “They never even believed in the prophecy. He made it seem like my mission was vital, but now it’s clear he only wanted me out of the way!”

  “Your mission?” Diya asked, feeling like she was attempting to piece together a puzzle with more than a few missing pieces.

  “I told you earlier I had been away from my home since last fall. My brother sent me on a quest to locate the being foretold by prophecy.” Explained Tamsin, pausing only to hurl another musty old tome through a window. “Now that I’ve found you, they refuse to believe you’re who I think you are.”

  Diya looked around nervously, “and what makes you so sure that your brother sent you on this quest to get you out of the way?”

  “Our mother was the matriarch of this coven before she passed on. In my absence, Kromac has conveniently assumed the role of patriarch. Were I here, it would have come down to a vote to decide which of us ruled.”

  “The man in the fox mask?”

  Tamsin nodded, grinning wickedly. “Now, he shows his true colors by attempting to humiliate me and belittle my mission before the gathering.”

  ‘So, what next?” asked Diya. “If the coven doesn’t believe in me, what can we do to change their minds?”

  “One step ahead of you. I won’t allow him to dismiss you so effortlessly. I’ve demanded you be tested.”

  “Ah, great.” Diya muttered, with a tone that seemed to call into question her desire to be tested at all.

  Instead of digging into the reluctant response, Tamsin removed her mask and wiped tears from her face with her undershirt. It was the first time Diya had seen her without her mask on. Her face was young and angular, surprisingly pretty, even now with her eye makeup running. She wasn’t sure why it surprised her, but she had assumed Tamsin to be older.

  I know she’s only this emotional because she feels she failed on her quest and that her brother manipulated her, but in a way, it feels nice to be important to someone. Does that make me a bad person? I know I should empathize with her mistreatment, but I hardly even know her.

  The distant clang of a bell shook Diya from her thoughts. It was a brazen roar that rattled in her ribs. Shikra shifted nervously, unsettled by the noise. For a moment there was silence, and Diya caught a glimpse of Tamsin’s brow creasing curiously before she put her mask back on. The vibrations coursed through her bones, a percussive rhythm that pressed against her chest like a giant’s hand.

  Eyes wide, Diya turned to her masked ally, “What now—”

  “Somethings wrong.” Tamsin interrupted, immediately moving back towards the gathering.

  When Diya started after her, she simply held out an open hand. “You two need to stay here. I’ll be back when I know what’s happened.”

  Diya tried to argue, but Tamsin had already vanished. She was starting to think that vanishing out of nowhere might just be Tamsin’s special move.

  “I guess we’re staying here…in this moldy bookshop.” Diya said to Shikra, running thin fingers along her hard subtly ridged beak. In an entirely unfamiliar place, the familiar warm air softly wisping from her friend’s nostrils helped her stay calm.

  ***

  Tamsin’s body language had shifted entirely when she returned. While they wound through a maze of ruins Diya couldn’t help but wonder why her masked host was so chipper all of a sudden.

  Yet each time she asked, Tamsin told her she would tell her later. Diya was doing her best not to let it bother her, but it was annoying being dragged somewhere without any clue what was going on.

  Is this how Rohan always felt? The man was a saint for tolerating me dragging him along everywhere.

  Eventually they made their way to an overgrown courtyard drowned in verdant green. A fountain stood at the center, dry and broken, its basin filled with rainwater and choked by reeds. They stopped to refill their canteens at the fountain where Tamsin grinned at Diya.

  “That Skarlith war party we ran into, they apparently raided the outskirts of our settlement, we caught them on their way out. They made off with quite a haul.” Tamsin smirked.

  “Sounds like bad news to me,” Diya grumbled, scratching her head. “That’s what’s got you in this great mood?”

  “Obviously, it’s terrible. They used to leave our coven alone. It was always said they were fearful of our magic. But they have a new leader, and now they’re no longer afraid.”

  “Again, that sounds like bad news.”

  “It is!” Tamsin laughed. “But you see, every loss is someone else’s gain!”

  “And in this case, we’re the someone else?”

  “Exactly!”

  Diya rolled her eyes slowly, “are you going to explain, or?”

  Tamsin made a soft sound of comprehension, like she only just realized Diya couldn’t read her mind. “The Skarlith stole a relic known as The Sunroot Idol. I made a proposal to my brother; we will retrieve the relic and in return, you will be allowed to receive training in our blood magic.”

  “I thought his mind was set against me being trained or even acknowledged. Why the change of heart?” Diya asked.

  “Well,” Tamsin said, suspiciously no longer making eye contact. “I suppose you could say he views it as a suicide mission.”

  Diya closed her eyes and nodded, “great.”