Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Hello! I have decided to take requests for JRWI and write them, as a way to get new ideas and just do something fun :D

I have watched:

- Riptide (up to episode 115)

- Prime Force (this is NOT the Patreon campaign, it’s Bizly’s Oneshot)

- Black Rose Pirates

- Campaign One/The Fated

- Convergence (episodes 1-6; I didn’t see the others on Twitch)

- Mythborne

- Prime Defenders (all episodes!!)

- Blood in the Bayou

- Apotheosis

- The Suckening

- Wonderlust (full campaign)

- Total Monster Kill

- Judgement

Thus, those are the characters I’ll write; anyone from those campaigns! It can be a player character or a non-player character, or a character of a guest (for example Gillion, Captain Lizzy, and Clorten are all valid options for Riptide)

I will write any ship or style of fic as long as it is not:

- NSFW (smut or gore or otherwise, though for BitB or the Suckening I could make gore exceptions)

- A toxic ship (no Ob’nockshai or Niklaus, sorry Dealbreaker enjoyers)

- Incest (this includes Chip/Lizzie, but does NOT include Chip/Jay)

Any other type of fic, angst or fluff or hurt/comfort or ANYTHING, is completely fine! (Though I reserve the right to decline if I’m uncomfortable)

Be aware I am not good at writing make-out scenes, but I will do my best! (My personal skills are angst and whump but I’ll write what you ask :D)

Crossovers between campaign are also welcome, as is almost any kind of AU!

You can request as many thing as you’d like, but please do it in separate comments so I can keep things straight, and comment requests on this chapter!

Ask away!

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Apotheosis

62: For the Dancing and the Dreaming: Rumi dances with Peter. 

72: It’s Not a Big Deal, I’ll be Fine: Peter hides the fact that he’s sick. 

83: Onions for Breakfast: Thanatos tries to provide for Rumi and Peter.

87: A Snow-Dusted Morning: Peter and Elena spend a quiet morning together. (Peter/Rumi)

90: Streaked Stone: Peter gives Rumi a gift. (Rumi/Peter)

98: Retribution: Exandroth, irritated at his loss of powers, decides to make Peter's life miserable. Elena is not happy with this. (Rumi/Peter)

114: Rifts and Races: Mallard gets a few interdimensional visitors. (Apotheosis x Riptide x Prime Defenders x the Suckening crossover)

117: Treasure Trove of the Soul: the godslayers go shopping for clothes. Thanatos has a lot of thoughts about it. (implied Peter/Rumi)

126: The Silvertongued Monarch: Rumi hears a plea from one of their citizens.

Blood in the Bayou

89: Speak Your Mind: Rolan has a migraine, so Kian and Rand take it upon themselves to help. (Rand/Rolan/Kian)

93: Blood, Gore, Bugs, Darkness: Rand struggles with what’s real and what isn’t.

97: True or False: Kian, Rolan, and Rand decide who they're going to prom with. (Kian/Rolan/Rand)

112: Third Time’s the Charm: William meets three ghosts that share a connection. (Prime Defenders x Blood in the Bayou crossover)

121: Staying in Galloway: Rand, in need of comfort, goes to Rolan's house. 

Convergence

5: A Moment’s Respite: Bubbletrench provides an opportunity for everyone to rest. 

6: Unwanted Return: Fergus makes his reappearance, much to Alastyr and Kasper’s dismay. 

7: Fireside Chat: Kasper and Strangle talk. (Kasper/Strangle)

13: A Much Needed Hug: Alastyr needs a hug after the hospital. 

17: Helping a Friend: The Riptide Pirates help Kasper and Alastyr through the Navy raid on Geraldo. (Riptide x Convergence crossover) 

23: Keepsakes: Kasper and Alastyr fight over the loss of Strangle’s journal.

30: Pyrophobia: Thanks to Fergus, magic training goes awry for Alastyr. 

36: Lost Control: Fergus decides to take Alastyr for himself. 

65: Sleep and Warmth: Alastyr deals with chronic pain, but thanks to Kroe and Kasper, he doesn’t have to deal with it alone.

115: An Empty Sky: Alastyr once again finds himself unable to sleep. 

The Fated

12: The Grand Reveal: Br’aad and Taxi reveal their relationship to the others. (Br’aad/Taxi)

18: Brothers for Life (Lives): Jay being injured makes Gillion remember something. (Riptide x the Fated crossover) 

33: Hypotheticals: Sylnan gets a nightmare about Br’aad, and talks to Ugarth about it. 

37: Boyfriends Help Boyfriends: Sylnan gets attacked in an alley, leaving Ugarth to save him. (Sylnan/Ugarth)

43: What’s Deserved: Taxi helps Br’aad after a nightmare. (Taxi/Br’aad)

73: Cursed Across Time: Gillion’s curse bleeds over to Br’aad. (Riptide x the Fated crossover)

80: Cotton Clouds and Bandages: Taxi saves Br’aad from a plummeting demise. 

88: Confessional: Br'aad and Sylnan finally talk about everything they've gone through. 

107: You Would Not Believe Your Eyes: The Fated enjoy a calm night by the campfire.

119: The Soul-tied Five: the Riptide Pirates discover a group of adventurers trapped in the Black Sea. (Riptide x the Fated crossover)

122: Wharf Explorers: Br'aad and Sylnan go on an adventure in the sewers. 

Mythborne

15: Ashes, Ashes: Connor thinks about what he did to the rats. 

16: Movie Night: Aster, Ryan, and Connor watch a movie together. 

20: Practicing Pyromania: Connor gets a little too interested in a campfire. 

48: Dramatic Music: Connor acts on his impulses. 

81: Interdimensional Escape Room: Aster attempts to escape a house with a bunch of strangers. (Mythborne x Prime Force crossover)

82: Beneath the Mask: Ryan talks about his issues with his identity. 

Prime Defenders

99: Safe and Sound: Dakota needs some reassurance from William after a bad nightmare. 

102: Puppet: William's attempts to purge a chaos demon do not go as planned.

103: Oversea Interlopers: William accidentally summons some pirates from another world. (Riptide x Prime Defenders crossover)

104: Hot and Cold: William's parents try to take him back to Deadwood. 

108: Keystone: Ashe wakes up in the hospital, and Dakota is there, but Ashe isn't the one who needs comforting.

109: Astraphobia: William helps Vyncent and the Greats struggle with their fear of lightning. 

112: Third Time’s the Charm: William meets three ghosts that share a connection. (Prime Defenders x Blood in the Bayou crossover)

113: Don’t Look at Me, Don’t See What I Am: William struggles with the feeling of being watched in Deadwood. 

114: Rifts and Races: Rifts and Races: Mallard gets a few interdimensional visitors. (Apotheosis x Riptide x Prime Defenders x the Suckening crossover)

116: Perfect Timing: William, without even thinking, summons the Riptide Pirates to help in a fight. (Prime Defenders x Riptide crossover) 

120: A Grounding Cold: Dakota attempts to hide an injury, which of course goes poorly for him. 

128: The Boy that Could’ve Been: William ends up in the hospital. His parents come to visit him. 

139: Swapping Places: Vyncent gets picked on in class, overwhelmed, and helped by William. 

140: Death-Defying: William gets a visit from a very distressed spirit. (Prime Defenders x Riptide crossover)

Prime Force

10: Harness the Darkness: Harlem gets a nightmare. 

21: How are we Gonna Make This a Teaching Moment?: Miss Gilbert takes some heavy hits during the fight with Darkstar. 

22: Unfinished Math Homework: Harlem comforts Miss Gilbert and tries to ease her insecurities. (Harlem/Miss G)

54: A Movie with Sprinkles: Harlem and Jason arrange a movie night with Miss Gilbert. 

58: Arts and Crafts:  =Jason steps in for a guest appearance in Miss Gilbert’s class. 

81: Interdimensional Escape Room: Aster attempts to escape a house with a bunch of strangers. (Mythborne x Prime Force crossover)

125: Placing Blame: Jason indulges in a night of drinking and feeling sorry for himself. 

Riptide

3: Destiny’s Demise: Gillion’s favor finally catches up to him.

4: Preparations on Loffinlot: Chip, Jay, and Gillion discuss their next move on Loffinlot Island.

8: Betrayal of the Heart: Gillion struggles with loving two people. (Gillion/Chip/Jay)

9: Chameleon Carp: Gillion gets food poisoning. 

11: Take a Break!: Gillion can’t let himself rest. 

14: Chess and Memories: Chip thinks about how far he’s come. 

17: Helping a Friend: The Riptide Pirates help Kasper and Alastyr through the Navy raid on Geraldo. (Riptide x Convergence crossover) 

18: Brothers for Life (Lives): Jay being injured makes Gillion remember something. (Riptide x the Fated crossover) 

19: Jealousy: Lizzie wants what Chip has. 

24: Queen of the Undersea: Gillion learns some things about themself. 

25: Tales of Roses: Chip talks with Gillion about Finn. 

26: Soulmate, Poet, King: Chip hears the singing of his two soulmates. (Chip/Gillion/Jay)

27: Battle Tactics: Gillion trains Ollie. 

28: Twisted Desires: Gillion and Caspian uncover something dark beneath the waves. 

29: Shredded Memories: Chip trades a memory to Niklaus. 

31: The Sea’s Freedom: Jay talks with her Uncle Drey at a family dinner. 

32: Adjusting to the Surface: Gillion tries to train in an unfamiliar environment. 

34: Well-Cooked Fish: Gillion does not deal well in the desert. 

35: The Champion’s Festival: Geraldo celebrates the winners of their Paramount Tournament.

38: Reminiscing: After defeating Niklaus, the Riptide Pirates reunite. (Jay/Lizzie) (Chip/Gillion)

39: Tearing Stitches: Caspian helps Gillion with an injury. 

40: The Photograph: Ollie learns the truth of his parentage. 

41: Sucker Punches and Secrets: Jay and Lizzie learn something about each other. (Jay/Lizzie) 

42: Wall Building (or Breaking): Captain Rose patches up one of Drey’s injuries. (Drey/Captain Rose)

44: A Well-Made Trap: Gillion and Edyn team up to make Caspian take a break. 

45: A Slip of the Tongue: Ollie accidentally calls Chip “dad”, and Chip is thrilled about it. 

49: Soulsong: The Puppeteer looks into Pretzel’s mind. 

50: Changes and Promises: Arlin comforts Chip after a nightmare. 

51: Twisted Time: Caspian and Edyn talk on the phone about Gillion’s disappearance.

52: List of Loss: The Riptide Pirate crew members talk about what their captains have gone through. 

53: Subtlety: Caspian tries (and fails) to flirt with Gillion. (Caspian/Gillion)

55: Into the Riptide!: The cast of the hit show Riptide! sit down for an interview. 

56: Overtime: Chip and Gillion’s deals catch up to them, leaving Jay to pick up the pieces. 

57: Subtlety: Reprise: Gillion tries to explain his feelings for Caspian. (Gillion/Caspian)

59: Go Without Armor: Caspian helps Gillion learn to be vulnerable. (Caspian/Gillion)

60: SNEAKING ONTO THE SET??? RIPTIDE! BTS CONTENT (REAL): Ollie films behind the scenes on the set of Riptide! 

61: Pounding Heart: Chip nearly loses Ollie, and realizes some things. 

63: Guppy: Edyn comforts Gillion after a hard day of training.

64: The Fabled Sar Chasm: Gillion tries to learn what sarcasm is.

66: A Fish and a [REDACTED] Walk Into a Bar: Gillion and Goobleck meet. 

67: I’ve Got You: Ollie returns to Zero, and learns a horrible truth. 

68: Blue: Jay’s shot goes awry in the BLOCK. 

69: Conch Calls: Edyn realizes that Chip’s advances haven’t been entirely worthless. (Edyn/Chip)
70: White with Red Corners: The Riptide Pirates encounter a peculiar adventurer on Noctis. 

71: Eating Pipe Cleaners: The various camp counselors of Riptide Summer Camp enjoy a day on a lake. 

73: Cursed Across Time: Gillion’s curse bleeds over to Br’aad. (Riptide x the Fated crossover)

74: A Hero’s Protector: Pretzel comforts Gillion. 

75: Clockwork Angel: Ollie takes it upon himself to engineer something for Drey. 

76: Where You Belong: The Navy attacks Zero, and Jay has to face her father. 

77: Two Families: Chip finds Arlin earlier than he expected to. 

78: Sugar-Spun Sting: Chip learns why you’re not supposed to touch jellyfish. 

79: The Riptide Pirate Splash War: The Riptide Pirates get up to a bit of fun on their ship. 

84: Your Past Destiny: Chip comforts Queen through their distress. (Chip/Queen)

85: Petals of Dread: Chip, Gillion, and Jay encounter a Tiefling… gardener? 

86: Sureshot’s Secret: Jay talks to Chip and Gillion about something she’s been hiding from them. 

91: Catnip Cuddles: La Alma tries to sleep in Chip's bed, but Chip has a question for him. (La Alma/Chip)

92: Sleep Like a Goldfish: Gillion neglects to tell the crew what happens when he’s in cold weather.

94: A Terrible Weakness: the crew learns a bit more about Triton biology.

95: Mutiny: Queen remembers something about their past that causes a conflict with their captains. 

96: Sibling-Ribbing: Chip, Lizzie, Jay, and Gillion go on a double-date, but Chip and Lizzie can't stop making fun of each other. (Chip/Gillion) (Jay/Lizzie)

100: Accidentally Caring: Earl and Drey's first meeting after Drey is freed from the BLOCK. 

101: False Reflections: Chip mistakes Gillion for his doppelganger, and they talk about it. 

103: Oversea Interlopers: William accidentally summons some pirates from another world. (Riptide x Prime Defenders crossover)

105: A New Riptide Pirate: Goobleck decides they want to join the crew. 

106: Welcome Home: Chip sees Jay and Gillion as children. 

110: Mementos: Chip loses Arlin's coin. 

111: Lacuna: Chip trading his memories away has unintended consequences.

114: Rifts and Races: Rifts and Races: Mallard gets a few interdimensional visitors. (Apotheosis x Riptide x Prime Defenders x the Suckening crossover)

116: Perfect Timing: William, without even thinking, summons the Riptide Pirates to help in a fight. (Prime Defenders x Riptide crossover) 

118: Worthwhile: Chip, jealous that his companions have healing magic and he doesn't, decides to hide an injury. 

119: The Soul-tied Five: the Riptide Pirates discover a group of adventurers trapped in the Black Sea. (Riptide x the Fated crossover) 

123: The Grandberry Bakery: Chip and Jay try to get themselves dates. (Chip/Gillion) (Jay/Lizzie)

124: Dreading the Dread Helm: Chip tries to clean Gillion's helmet, then drops it and panics. 

127: Help From a Surprising Place: Ollie gets hurt, and Earl displays a surprising caring streak. 

132: Lover's Coral: Gillion develops a worrying, potentially fatal illness. (Chip/Gillion) 

133: Chill Me, Warm Me: Chip deals with insomnia by going to his co-captains for help. 

140: Death-Defying: William gets a visit from a very distressed spirit. (Prime Defenders x Riptide crossover)

The Suckening

114: Rifts and Races: Rifts and Races: Mallard gets a few interdimensional visitors. (Apotheosis x Riptide x Prime Defenders x the Suckening crossover)

129: Internal Conflict: Arthur shows up at Viv's warehouse unexpectedly.

131: Hunger: Theo finally sees Emizel again, and helps him out a bit. 

Total Monster Kill

136: A Bout of Foolishness: Jin and Lucia realize their teammate might be as monstrous as their opponents. 

Wonderlust

134: You Can't Optimize Childhood Joy: Troy shows his father an invention he's been working on. 

135: Cousins: Runt plays a prank on Troy. 

137: Boy, Where is Your Home?: Troy has a virtual run-in with his father. 

Chapter Text

Chip woke in the middle of the night, cool air blowing down from above deck to the sleeping place of the crew, covered in a cold sweat and yet unsure of what exactly had woken him up. It was probably a nightmare, but Chip couldn’t remember what it had been about, and for that he was grateful: he’d seen how haunted Jay looked when she was frightened awake, and he didn’t enjoy experiencing it for himself.

Looking around, Chip made sure the rest of his crew wasn’t distressed. Old Man Earl was nowhere to be seen, but that was expected, as he often slept above deck where he could be under the stars. Jay was wrapped in a thick purple blanket on the wooden floor, using her bunched up jacket as a pillow and looking as calm as Chip had ever seen her. The circular top to the barrel Gillion slept in was leaning against the barrel itself, and water darkened the wood around it. That was odd. 

Chip stood up and made his way above deck, fiddling with his golden coin in his pocket. Gillion stood over the railing, gripping it tightly and bending over the edge, occasionally giving a harsh jerk that caused Pretzel to make distressed noises. Something was splashing into the ocean with every convulsion that wracked Gillion’s body. Chip let go of his coin and ran to Gillion, putting his hands on the Triton’s shoulders. 

“Gill!” He exclaimed. “Buddy, you alright?” Even as he spoke, Chip could see that Gillion was far from alright. It was difficult to see in the moonlight, but there was a thick black substance falling from Gillion’s mouth and down to the sea in thick globs. Chip started feeling sick too, but now was not the time to have his own problems when Gillion was choking and vomiting up ink in front of him. Gillion took a rattling, wet-sounding breath and turned his head to Chip, black muck still leaking from the corner of his mouth, moving slowly, almost like thick paint or honey. 

“I will be fine.” He said in a slurred voice. “Do not waste your energy on me.” 

“Gill, you’re not fine!” Chip scolded. “Come on, let’s go below deck. We can wake Jay up, and she can heal you of… whatever this is.” Chip desperately hoped it was something that could be cured by magic; he didn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t. Was this a normal sickness for Tritons? Was coughing up black goop a typical thing? Chip wasn’t sure, and Gillion didn’t seem to be in any condition to answer such questions as he hurled over the railing once again. Chip looked away and gripped his coin so tightly it hurt the palm of his hand. 

“I simply need—a moment to—compose myself—” Gillion managed to get out between heaves. “Please—return to your bed—” Chip wanted to make a joke about how he didn’t sleep in a bed, he slept on the floor, but he didn’t think now was a good time to do so. 

“I’m not gonna leave you.” Chip said stubbornly. “Not when you’re sick like this.” Gillion shuddered, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. It could have been Chip’s imagination, but it seemed like the ooze was coming from beneath Gillion’s eyelids and trailing down his face. 

Gillion stood up and turned to Chip. Chip realized it had not been his imagination at all. Ink poured in rivers down Gillion’s face like jet black tears, sluggishly making their way to his neck and chin. The same substance was dripping from his fingertips as well as the side of his neck, where a curving mark of the Undersea had once been. The muck coated Gillion’s right arm. Gillion looked at Chip and snapped his eyes open, revealing pits of black with nothing but sea-green rings in them. He drew his blade, making a show of twirling it around. Pretzel spun in her globe and pounded on the glass, but was unable to escape or do anything to stop Gillion from slashing at Chip. 

Chip leapt backwards, his reflexes the only thing saving him from Gillion’s sword in his chest, grabbing at his swords—he always slept with them on, just in case he needed them. Chip brought the blades up just in time for them to clang into Gillion’s longsword, Chip’s muscles straining under Gillion’s considerable strength. This was not a fight Chip was going to win, even if he’d been willing to hurt Gillion. 

“Gill, come on!” Chip said as he diverted Gillion’s sword away from his head with the flat of his own blade. “Snap out of it! It’s me, Chip, remember? The guy who saved you from the sea? Who helped you find your destiny?” Gillion spat black onto the deck, baring his teeth. 

“My destiny… is your death.” He said in a mangled voice, his words thickened by the ink that filled his throat and spilled from his mouth. He leapt upwards, swinging his longsword down, and Chip once again tried to divert the attack with his swords. He managed to keep Gillion from slicing his head in two, but the whalebone blade dug deep into his shoulder, sending agony cascading through his veins as he clutched at the new injury. Gillion advanced again, his face completely blank, not even a hint of confidence or regret in his unsettling gaze. Chip raised one sword, the other now lying on the deck, and braced himself. 

An arrow stuck itself straight through Gillion’s chest, exploding from his armor, sending fragments of black steel onto the deck. Gillion fell to his knees, then forwards onto his face, not moving. Jay ran over to Chip, running her hands over his shoulder and reknitting the wounded flesh. 

“Gill!” Chip ignored her, kneeling down beside his friend, lifting the Triton onto his back and praying that Gillion wasn’t dead. 

“Chip, look out!” Jay pulled Chip backwards as Gillion tried to punch him. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Chip stammered as Gillion staggered to his feet, picking up his longsword once again. Even with an arrow in him, he still looked at Chip with murderous intent. Jay drew her bow again. “You can’t kill him!” Chip said frantically. Gillion turned to look towards Jay with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s not Gill anymore, Chip.” Jay’s voice was cold. Chip hated it. “We can’t let him kill us.” 

“We can’t kill him either!” There were tears welling up in Chip’s eyes and making his voice tremble. “Please, Jay, we can’t!” 

“You think he wants to be stuck like this?!” Jay shouted. She shrieked and ducked as Gillion swung his sword, chopping off her ponytail. Chip gave an angry shout, slashing down with his sword as Jay drew her bow again. Gillion stumbled as he tried to block, slipping on the ooze that coated the deck as Chip’s blade stuck right into the side of his neck, spilling crimson blood tainted with black onto the wood. Gillion tried to keep himself upright, on shaking hands and knees, but he fell limp and unconscious in a puddle of blood and ink. 

“Gill! Gill, come on buddy, you gotta get up. You’re gonna be fine now, okay?” Chip rushed to Gillion. He hadn’t meant to hurt him so badly! He had just been trying to protect Jay, not kill Gillion!

Gillion lashed out at Chip as he approached, still trying to attack him. Chip brushed tears out of his face. 

“Gill, stop!” Chip shouted, not trying to dodge another one of Gillion’s off-kilter swings; the Triton couldn’t hit him even if Chip tried to get hit. “You gotta stop, okay?” Gillion looked at him with those black eyes with their almost glowing blue-green irises, hissing. He tried to say something, but it was lost in sounds of gasping and choking as Gillion started to cough, spraying black ooze all over Chip and adding to the filth on the deck. He hacked and heaved, his entire body quaking, until a clear and desperate breath sounded out across the night air. 

Gillion fell silent and still upon The Albatross. 

“G-Gill?” Chip whispered, afraid of what he could get in response. “Hey, wake up.” He shook Gillion’s shoulder. “We still have things to do, remember? You haven’t fulfilled your destiny, you gotta keep going.” Gillion gave no response. “Gill!” Chip wasn’t whispering anymore, far from it. “Please, Gill, I can’t lose you too.” Chip put his head down on Gillion’s chest, not caring that his hair was getting soaked with blood and ooze. “I can’t.” His voice broke. 

Gillion never opened his eyes.

Chapter Text

“So, what are we going to do now?” Chip asked, using both his hands to hold a glass of water up to his mouth. He sat at one of the tables that dotted the bottom floor of Loffinlot’s inn, looking at Jay and Gillion, waiting for their response. Jay, who had seemed on edge from the moment they arrived at the town with its laughing curse, looked even more nervous than she usually did. Every time someone slapped a table or slammed down a mug she jumped. She was chewing on the end of her ponytail. Gillion looked completely unlike himself, different from Jay, who was always vigilant even when there was no need to be (even for her, though, this was a bit much, Chip could admit that). The Triton refused to look up and make eye contact with anyone, settling for staring downwards at Pretzel’s globe and tapping his fingers along its smooth glass surface. Pretzel made worried chirps and clicks, but Gillion didn’t respond to anything. The bluebird Gillion had rescued, Apple, flitted around the coral on his head and perched on various objects throughout the tavern. 

“What do you mean?” Jay said. “Are you seriously—ah!” She covered her ears and flinched backwards as a patron suddenly stood up, his chair falling to the ground. Jay put a hand on her chest and took a deep breath. “Are you seriously asking that? We can’t leave now.”

“Why not?” Chip raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see a problem with it.”

“We’re stuck on this island until we stop the curse, Chip!” Jay exclaimed, exasperated. “We have to figure out what’s causing it and get rid of it before we can do anything. Right, Gillion?” Jay looked expectantly at him. Gillion glanced up at her.

“Um, right.” He said, looking back and forth between Jay and Chip before returning to watching the floorboards. Jay bit her lip and surveyed the tavern again, a hand near her bow as if she expected to have to attack something before leaning back over the table to talk with Chip. 

“Even if we could leave now, we shouldn’t.” She said. “I don’t want you or Gillion to be stuck with these burdens longer than you have to be.” 

“That’s kind of you, but I’m fine.” Chip lied. It was blatantly obvious how fiercely he was shaking, almost to the point of risking his own injury. Chip pushed against the table and stood up, Jay joining him. “We shouldn’t say this out here; wouldn’t want to give these people false hope.” It was a rude joke, but Chip was trying to find any way to lighten the dreary mood. “Come on, we can talk in one of our rooms.” 

“Yours.” Jay said immediately. “You are not going in my room.”

“Okay, okay, wasn’t planning on it.” Chip raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey Gill, you coming?” 

“Of course. Apologies.” Gillion stood up, still keeping one hand wrapped around Pretzel’s globe, now rubbing his thumb and index finger across it. The motion seemed to bring him at least a bit of comfort, similar to Chip’s fiddling with his coin or Jay’s messing with her hair. 

“No problem.” Chip assured him, giving Gillion a pat on the shoulder. Gillion offered him a very small and tentative smile that Chip took as encouragement. “You wanna help us strategize?”

“If you want.” Gillion said. 

“We’d love for you to join us.” Jay said. Gillion nodded, following Chip and Jay up the stairs to Chip’s room, where Jay immediately flopped onto his bed and closed her eyes, her body still tense—she had no intent of sleeping. 

“So.” Chip clapped his hands together, immediately feeling guilty when he saw how both Jay and Gillion flinched. “Sorry. If we’re gonna stop this curse, what do we do first?” 

“I think the mayor said something about going into the woods.” Jay said from where she was lying on the bed. “I bet the curse is in there.”

“Of course it is.” Chip muttered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy curse be in the creepy woods?”

“If…” Gillion pulled on the fins that branched off his arms. “If you do go into the forest, I would like to accompany you.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, of course you can come!” Chip said. “You’re part of the group, buddy.” 

“Thank you.” Gillion murmured. 

“Sure thing, Gill.” Chip glanced out the window, noting that it was getting late; the sky was a vibrant ripple of orange and red. He faked a yawn. “I’m gonna hit the hay, alright?”

“Oh. Right.” Jay sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest. She looked up at Chip. “Can… Chip, I don’t want to sleep alone.” She sounded almost afraid, and it made Chip feel uneasy. Jay wasn’t often afraid. “Can I stay in here?” Chip paused, caught off guard. That hadn’t been what he had expected her to ask. 

“Uh, sure.” Chip told her. He looked to Gillion. “Do you want to?” 

“Can I?” Gillion said, his tone painfully hopeful. 

“I asked! If you want to, I’ll let you.” 

“Alright.” Gillion walked over to the foot of Chip’s bed and lay down. Chip looked to his bed, which was a lot bigger than anything he’d ever slept in before. Probably big enough for four or five people, and that gave Chip an idea. 

“Hey, uh,” Chip rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to stammer. “If you guys want to… uh, use my bed, I’ll let you.” He pointed at the bed with a desperate and quick motion. 

“Th-Thanks.” Jay said, climbing under the covers of the bed and pulling them up to her chin, turning onto her side. Gillion very nervously did the same, trying to be as far away from Jay as he could, almost to the point where he was hanging off of the bed itself. Chip got in the other side, leaving Jay sandwiched between them. 

“Goodnight, guys.” Chip said. 

“Goodnight.” Gillion said. Jay gave an already half-asleep response; she evidently hadn’t been sleeping nearly as much as Chip had thought. Chip looked up at the ceiling, then over at Jay and Gillion, then back at the ceiling. Loffinlot was a hellhole, that much was certain, but at least Chip had friends to help him through it, and they had him. 

Chapter Text

With Heleus interrogating the suspected thief and Kasper scamming the crystal store owner, Alastyr, Flynn, and Kroe were free to investigate Bubbletrench and do whatever they pleased. Alastyr wanted to go find a place to exercise Bingus, maybe let the little frogtopus swim around or learn some tricks, so they were on the lookout for some sort of clearing to use in the streets of Bubbletrench. 

“What about this way?” Kroe pointed down yet another side street.

“Oh! Great idea, let’s check it out!” Alastyr exclaimed, running down the street without another word. Kroe followed him, and Flynn rolled his eyes. Kroe was the oldest one in their trio, he should be the one chaperoning, but no, Flynn ended up having to corral the two of them. He didn’t actually mind that much, he found Alastyr and Kroe’s almost brotherly relationship endearing, but he did think that it was amusing. 

The road that Kroe had chosen went on for long enough that Flynn was out of breath by the time they found its end, mostly on account of his short stature and thus short legs. He doubled over as Kroe and Alastyr finished running, taking in a few gulping breaths of air.

“Wow!” Alastyr said. “This place is perfect!” Indeed, it was. The road had led to a dead end with nothing really of note anywhere around it, but because it was an empty space with nothing but sandy ground and a few pieces of waving kelp that sprouted up from it, that made it exactly what Alastyr had been looking for. “Come on Bingus, you wanna look around a bit?” Alastyr opened the little glass globe, allowing his three-tentacled purple frogtopus to squirm along the ground, staring at his surroundings with wide beady black eyes. Kroe sat down against the back of a building, watching Alastyr and Bingus with a tired expression. Flynn joined him. 

“What do you think’ll happen next?” Flynn asked, side-eyeing Kroe. “If that lady stole the egg.”

“I dunno.” Kroe shrugged. “I suppose we’ll just keep going until we find a way home.” 

“Yeah.” Flynn said. 

“Guys! Look what Bingus can do!” Alastyr’s excited voice interrupted Flynn’s thoughts, and the halfling watched as Bingus stood on his three little tentacles and flung himself into the air, doing a spin before landing on the ground and twirling. 

“Woah, that’s neat!” Flynn said, eyes wide. “Very impressive.”

“Bingus is very athletic.” Kroe added. Bingus puffed up his cheeks and grinned. Alastyr had a proud expression on his face as he looked at the frogtopus. Flynn certainly had not expected Alastyr to adopt a frogtopus while on an adventure to determine the fate of the world, but he wasn’t going to complain either. It was endearing, and it was nice to have levity in such a serious situation.

Chapter Text

Sleep found Alastyr the moment he lay down, his young body already exhausted from the ordeal with Fergus and Kasper in the sewers. He was thankful for Kasper’s saving him, of course, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt to have a knife driven into him, and passing out left him feeling dizzy and disoriented. 

His dreams were pleasant, to Alastyr’s surprise. He had been getting nightmares of those horrible corpse-creatures he had fought in Spidbu’ur’s palace. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear their screams as they were burned alive or broken into little bloody pieces, he could see their undead yellow eyes and their jagged teeth, feel their grip on his ankle and feel viscera hit his face. Needless to say, sleeping had been a challenge. He’d caught himself dozing a bit during the meal in the Garden, but besides being unconscious for almost a day he’d hardly slept at all since before Spidbu’ur. 

Well, his dreams were pleasant until the very end. Alastyr was holding a fluffy white rabbit, one of the cutest creatures he’d ever seen, and the moment he looked away and then back, his hands were slick with blood and the rabbit was gone. A slit opened in his abdomen, strangely absent of any pain, and it grinned, exposing sharp teeth. 

“Fergus…” it hissed. 

Alastyr snapped awake, his hands clutching his stomach to push back whatever monster had lurked there. But when he looked, almost afraid to see what he knew would be there, he saw nothing besides his shirt. No mouth, no blood, no teeth ready to tear into something. He must be going crazy. 

Alastyr carded his fingers through his hair, pulling so tightly it hurt, not that he cared. He was sweating rivers down the sides of his face. His nightmares had never ended so drastically different from how they’d begun before; nothing like that had ever happened. Alastyr looked down at his pillow. He knew he needed to sleep more, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to, not anymore. Even if he’d wanted to, he didn't think it would’ve actually happened. He was much too rattled for that. Perhaps going outside could offer some respite. 

He stood, grabbing and twisting the doorknob, pushing outwards. Alastyr remembered it was a door that one had to pull and did so, laughing to himself. Of course he would forget something like that—despite being intelligent scientifically, he could be quite the scatterbrain. The hallway was empty, thankfully, and cool air floated through it from open windows on either end. Alastyr took a few deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm his still racing nerves, and started walking. He didn’t know where exactly it was he was going to go, besides away from this building, but he could figure it out as he went. 

He only made it halfway before a sharp stinging pain, almost as if four or five wasps had all stung him at once, attacked his right arm. Alastyr hissed, grabbing his wrist and looking down at his hand. What he saw made his heart pound even harder than it already was. The skin of his arm and hand was a bright feverish red color, though Alastyr did not feel sick, and what looked to be worms or snakes writhed just beneath his skin, crawling through one another and creating ripples down his arm. It hurt; it felt like the snakes, whatever they were, were crushing his arm and his bones. 

It felt like what Fergus had felt like when he’d almost killed Alastyr. 

A terrified breath slipped through Alastyr’s lips. This wasn’t right. Fergus was gone, he had to be. Alastyr had watched Kasper crush him under his boot. And yet, if he was truly gone, then why was this happening? Alastyr didn’t know, and this wasn’t something he could find out from a book. 

The snakes pressed in harder, and this time Alastyr definitely heard something crack. He barely kept from screaming, biting his lip so hard blood dribbled down his chin, stumbling backwards into the door he had been standing next to. The pain increased, pushing inwards, pushing black into the corners of Alastyr’s vision. 

“F-Fergus, if that’s y-you, please stop it!” Alastyr said in a harsh whisper, not wanting to wake up anyone in the hallway. It wouldn’t be very kind of him to keep people from sleeping, even if he was scared and hurting. “Please!” The pressure didn’t let up. Alastyr’s breaths came in hissed gasps, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He fell to his knees, his arm still grasped to his chest, pain now creeping up his shoulder and towards his neck. His ear started stinging, and a high-pitched sound pierced through his frantic thoughts. Great. So whatever this thing was, it was going towards his brain, too! Lovely. If Alastyr had any breath to spare he would’ve laughed. 

Alastyr was barely conscious at this point, or at least he thought he was. Even if he was completely conscious, all he could feel or think about was agony, and it wasn’t worth being awake for that. He wished he would just pass out already. 

He heard another series of cracks and got his wish. 

When Alastyr opened his eyes after yet another bout of unconsciousness, he was lying in his bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Wait, no, that wasn’t right. The ceiling to his room was drywall, not wood. Where was he?

“Alastyr, you’re awake! I was worried about you.” Kasper’s lilting voice said. Alastyr groaned as he tried to turn his head and found that his entire body felt as if it had been beaten with a club; everything hurt. “Hey now, don’t move. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt any further.” 

“K… Kasper?” Alastyr said. “Why am I in your room?”

“Well, I found you passed out in the hallway, and I couldn’t exactly leave you there.” Kasper sat down on the bed, looking at Alastyr. He was smiling, but his eyes were concerned. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know.” Alastyr shivered. “My arm started hurting, and I passed out.” He purposefully didn’t tell Kasper about the fleshy worms, not wanting to upset the man or make him any more worried. 

“I know it was Fergus, Alastyr. You don’t have to lie to me.” 

“I wasn’t lying!” Alastyr protested. “I was just… holding information.” Kasper tilted his head, his expression growing fond for a moment. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I couldn’t get rid of him back in the sewers.” 

“Oh no, that’s fine! You tried as hard as you could.” 

“Sure, I just wish I could’ve done more.” Kasper looked away for a moment, sighing. Alastyr grit his teeth and pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching over with one hand and putting his hand on Kasper’s arm. Alastyr noticed that his arm was wrapped in thick white bandages, with dark purple bruising visible where the bandages weren’t covering. 

“Don’t feel sorry, Kasper.” Alastyr told him. “I’m fine!” Even as he said it, dread and anxiety boiled in his gut. He didn’t think Fergus was going to be going away any time soon, not after what had just happened, but he wasn’t about to make Kasper more guilty by telling him that. Kasper turned back towards him. 

“I’m glad you are, Alastyr.” He said. “Just… please, don’t get yourself hurt again. It’s not fun for me, or for you.” Alastyr met his gaze and nodded. 

Chapter Text

The night was cool and dark, with the only light coming from a small-but-brightly crackling fire in the middle of their camp. A few pinprick stars twinkled overhead, and the moon was nothing more than a sliver in the sky. Most of the adventurers, as they could now be called, were sleeping in a tangled heap. Heleus was behind the Strangler Wrangler and out of Kasper’s field of vision, but he could clearly see Kroe, Alastyr, and Flynn. Kroe had one arm wrapped tightly around Alastyr and his other arm was being used as a pillow for Flynn, who had his limbs splayed out like a starfish. Kroe was snoring, the low rumbling filling the camp. Kasper was sitting beside Strangle, his head on the taller man’s shoulder, staring into the fire. Strangle’s arm was around him, and while normally Kasper would’ve felt trapped, he felt safe. 

“Those kids are really somethin’, aren’t they.” Strangle said in his gravelly voice, nodding towards the sleeping trio across from the fire. 

“You can say that again.” Kasper chuckled to himself. He looked over at Strangle, taking in the man’s chiseled features and the way the firelight danced off his eyes. There were teeth marks and scratches on his other arm from where the dragon had tried to pull him from the Strangler Wrangler. Kasper thought it made him look all the more heroic. “Thanks for saving them. I… I don’t know what I would have done if they’d died.” He thought back to Alastyr and Flynn, falling hundreds of feet out of the World Tree, screaming as Alastyr tried to find a way to save them. Kasper didn’t think his potion idea would’ve worked. Strangle had truly been a godsend, and he had impeccable timing. 

“Of course, Kasper.” Strangle said with a grin. “It’s my pleasure, and I’m glad you’re okay too.” Kasper felt his face heat up, and not from the fire this time. He felt like a schoolboy, struck senseless by some random stranger with a pretty face! That wasn’t to say the only pretty thing about Strangle was his face, of course. Kasper found a certain sort of elegance in the tattoo the other man had on his arm, among other things. 

“Likewise.” Kasper told him. The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Kasper’s head on Strangle’s shoulder and Strangle’s arm around Kasper’s side, before Kasper barely suppressed a yawn. 

“Kasper, you know you can sleep, right? If you need to.” Strangle said, startling Kasper a bit and making him flinch. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“No, it’s alright.” Kasper said. “I don’t want something to happen while I’m out, y’know?” Strangle smiled understandingly, rubbing his hand down Kasper’s arm. Kasper shivered despite the warmth of the fire. Somehow, Strangle never failed to make him nervous, but it was a good nervous, if there was such a thing. 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Kasper.” Strangle assured him. “I can watch ‘em.”

“I dunno, I wouldn’t want to force you to—”

“Kapser.” Strangle interrupted. “I would be happy to, and you need to sleep. Go to bed.” Kasper blinked a few times, and even now he could feel his eyelids growing heavier. He nodded a few times, lowering himself to the ground and using his hands as a pillow. Strangle nudged his shoulder, and he looked up. “Use this.” Strangle held out his leather jacket, and Kasper took it carefully. 

“Um, thank you.” Kasper said. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at a loss for words. “Really.” 

“Not a problem, Kasper.” Strangle said with a confident grin, and he leaned down to press a quick kiss to Kasper’s lips. Kasper froze, his eyes wide and mouth agape for a moment, before reaching upwards and bringing Strangle’s face down to his, reciprocating the kiss in a much more passionate way. 

“Good night, Strangle.” Kasper found his teasing voice again. “I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, Kasper put Strangle’s jacket under his head, curled onto his side, and went to sleep. 

Chapter Text

The sun hurt Gillion’s eyes as it shone down on him, but he stayed unmoving on the cobblestone street of Loffinlot, because Jay had fallen asleep on his chest, and if he moved even to blink he would certainly wake her up. The sunlight made his already sore head pound ever more so. Why would humans invent drinks that could cause such a thing? They were like squirties, but with bad aftereffects. Gillion didn’t understand why humans couldn’t just make drinks that didn’t give you a headache. 

After what was probably an hour, Jay woke up, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. The instant she realized she was laying ontop of Gillion, she scrambled off him. Gillion felt the slightest bit disappointed, for some reason. Jay took a moment to tie her ponytail before nodding towards Gillion, her face slightly flushed. She was squinting, probably from the same headache Gillion was suffering from. 

“Morning, Gill.” She said softly. “Ah, my head…”

“I feel the same.” Gillion said sympathetically. “Are you alright? I believe I have some magic I could use.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Jay waved a submissive hand at him. “It’s just a hangover. It’ll go away.” Jay looked around at the few other Loffinlot inhabitants who were just beginning to wake up. “Where’s Chip?”

“I don’t know. Shall we look for him?” Gillion stood up, offering his hand to Jay. She allowed him to help her stand up, one hand massaging her temple. 

“I think… I think I remember him going to Old Man Earl’s inn.” Jay said. Gillion paused to think, sifting through hazy and slow-moving memories of last night’s celebration. 

“Y’know, Gill, you’re really cool.” Jay said, leaning forward across the table to gesture towards Gillion, who gave her a characteristically solemn nod. 

“Thank you.” He said. “You are… beautiful.” Normally Gillion wouldn’t have admitted to such a thing, but he was more than a few drinks deep into the partying, and it was true. Jay did look beautiful, with moonlight streaming in from a window to bounce off her hair, which had been removed from its tied-up state almost an hour ago. The pink-orange locks fell in waves across her shoulders. It reminded Gillion of a sunrise.

“You too.” Jay returned the drunken compliment with equal conviction. “Chip’s not too bad either.” She mused. 

“Chip is wonderful.” Gillion told her. He was not well-versed in the ways of romantic attraction, certainly not with humans, but he was almost positive that he loved Chip just as much as he loved Jay. It was a thought he felt he should not have, for some reason. 

“Yeah.” Jay agreed. “Hey, Earl!” She suddenly shouted, shoving herself to her feet and almost stumbling backwards. “More drinks!” Earl laughed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed another pair of drinking glasses. 

Gillion froze for a moment. Yes, that had definitely happened, despite the foggy nature of the memory. He had confessed to finding both Jay and Chip beautiful. And, even now, he agreed with his intoxicated past self. He looked down at the ground. It wasn’t right, for him to have such feelings for two people, and here he was, stuck with a traitorous heart that cared impossibly deeply for Chip and Jay. 

“Gill? You alright?” Jay waved her hand in front of his face. Gillion snapped out of his reverie and nodded without thinking. 

“Fine.” He said. “Let’s go find Chip.” Jay gave him a side-eyed look, but she said nothing more as the two of them walked to Old Man Earl’s inn. 

The inn was empty besides a few patrons drinking massive glasses of water, Old Man Earl standing behind the bar and wiping it down, and Chip, who was hiding under the bar with a truly terrified expression on his face. 

“Chip! Are you alright?” Jay bent down. 

“Jay! Oh Jay, it’s so good to see your face, you gotta save me. Please Jay.” Chip scrambled out from under the bar, his chest heaving. Gillion reached for his sword, looking away from Chip and down the hallway to the inn’s many bedrooms. 

“What happened?” Jay asked him. 

“Uh, I’m not really sure, but there’s this orc woman who wants me to marry her!” Chip exclaimed. Jay paused, mulling this over in her head, and then she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she was bent double, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t laugh at me!” Chip said, indignant. “It’s not funny!” 

“Oh my God, you got drunk-married, I can’t breathe—” Jay said between gasps of laughter. 

“Jay!” Chip sounded genuinely distressed. “Come on, you gotta help me!” 

“Chip, darling!” A new voice boomed as a sturdily-built woman with an orc’s green skin and thick fangs that protruded from her bottom lip came running down the hallway, grabbing Chip despite his shrieks of protest and crushing him in the tightest hug Gillion had ever seen. Chip struggled to break free of the hold, but the woman was much stronger than he was. Gillion remembered her to be the orange seller from a few days ago. “Why do you keep running away?” She held him at an arm’s length for a moment, a reprimanding expression on her face, before pulling him in again, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to his lips. Chip’s eyes went wide as he tried to push her away. Gillion felt some sort of unpleasantness begin to fill his stomach. It felt like jealousy, but that couldn’t be right, because Gillion couldn’t possibly be in love with Jay and Chip. He couldn’t. 

And yet, his heart told him otherwise. His heart told him that he was betraying his people by feeling this way. 

Before he even knew what he was doing, Gillion ran.

It took a lot of yelling before the orc woman agreed to let Chip out of her sights, but once she finally did, Jay grabbed Chip by the forearm and dragged him out of the inn to search for Gillion. She wasn’t sure why he had suddenly bolted away, but the anguish on his face made her worried. Gillion never looked that upset about anything, except for perhaps when he’d blown up the Big Chipper, but even then he’d just looked guilty. 

“Thank you.” Chip said. “I can’t stand another moment with her.”

“I’m not doing it for you, idiot!” Jay snapped. “I’m doing it because something’s up with Gill, and you’re going to help me find out what it is so you can help me fix it.”

“What? Why do I have to help?”

“Because I have a feeling you caused it, whatever it is.” 

“Hey! That’s not fair, that’s just a superstition!”

“And it’s right, isn’t it?” Jay said, exasperated. Chip paused. 

“Yeah, probably.” He sighed. “Alright, let’s go find Gill.” 

It didn’t take long for Jay and Chip to find Gillion, who was sitting behind one of the buildings with his head in his hands, seemingly having an argument with himself. He was muttering and shaking his head, occasionally looking at Pretzel, who stared up at him with a concerned look in her dark eyes. 

“Gill?” Jay said. Gillion flinched, glancing up for a split second. The moment his eyes came to rest on Chip, his face turned a deep blue and he looked away for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine. I merely need a moment.” Gillion said, voice muffled. “Please.” Pretzel vehemently shook her head, drawing a little heart in the water with her tentacles and then pointing at Jay and Chip. 

“Are you…” Chip trailed off as he spoke, his hand on his chin as he thought. Jay waited for him to speak instead of interrupting with what she’d already figured out. “Gill, are you in love with me and Jay?” 

“No, of course not!” Gillion quickly exclaimed. “I cannot be.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t be?” Jay pressed. 

“Polyamory is punishable by death in the Undersea.” Gillion said, wringing his hands and looking very uncomfortable. “Even if I did have feelings for the both of you, I cannot allow myself to act on them.” His voice broke. “No matter how desperately I want to.”

“Gill, that’s ridiculous!” Chip said, speaking exactly what Jay was thinking—albeit a little less eloquently and more loudly, but that was Chip at his finest. “If you love both of us, go ahead! You know what, I’ve been holding it in long enough. I love both of you too.” Chip sounded almost angry, but his face was bright red. Jay smiled fondly at him, then knelt down next to Gillion, putting her hand on his shoulder. 

“You can love whoever you want to, Gill, and if that means you love two people, then I think that’s wonderful.” She said as kindly as she could. “I think it’s amazing that you care so deeply about us. I’m flattered that you think I’m worth loving just as much as Chip is.”

“Of course I do!” Gillion insisted. “You are both more than I could ever wish for in a partner. I just cannot help but feel like I am betraying my people in admitting this.” 

“It’s not betrayal.” Chip knelt down on Gillion’s other side. “They’re your feelings, Gill. You don’t have to force yourself to feel some way just because your people want you to, especially not when it comes to love.” 

“I… I don’t know, Chip. I truly do care for you and Jay, but it is hard to just ignore my people’s traditions.”

“That’s okay too.” Jay put in. “However long it takes you, we’ll be there to help. Whether your feelings change or not.” She leaned in and gave Gillion a quick kiss on the cheek, then gave one to Chip, who’s face flushed even further. Chip lifted Gillion’s hand and kissed it as if he were greeting a prince or a noble.

“I will join you in a moment.” Gillion said. “I need to compose myself.”

“No problem.” Jay said. “Take your time.” She grabbed Chip’s hand and walked off down the streets of Loffinlot, sparing only one glance over her shoulder. Gillion was holding Pretzel’s globe up to his face and speaking quietly to her. Jay wasn’t sure how Gillion was feeling, but she was sure that they could work it out together.

Chapter Text

As much as Chip complained, Gillion didn’t personally see anything wrong with eating so-called “pirate food”. Plus, because Marshall John and Ollie were sailing alongside them, the meal was much more entertaining and energetic than it would have been without them. They were sitting in a circle on Marshall John’s ship while Old Man Earl sailed The Albatross , eating the remainder of the chameleon carp Aslana had caught for them alongside some bread Marshall John had from Zero. Jay, for some reason, had a bottle of hot sauce as well, and Chip was putting copious amounts of it on his fish. Gillion was in between Marshall John and Chip, with Ollie on Chip’s other side, and then Jay between Marshall John and Ollie. Ollie was looking anywhere and everywhere that wasn’t in Jay’s general direction, and his face was the color of Chip’s, though for a reason different than spicy food. 

“This fish is really something!” Marshall John proclaimed, holding up his plate for all to see. Even in death the scales of the chameleon carp were shifting colors, from the blue of the sea to the brown of the ship’s deck to the white of John’s ceramic plate. “I can’t believe stuff like this actually exists!” 

“Chameleon carp are very common in the Undersea.” Gillion said. “They are one of my favorite things to eat.” 

“I dunno, kinda freaks me out a little.” Chip said around a mouthful of bread. Despite saying the fish “freaked him out”, he had eaten all that he had been given—all that was left was a smear of hot sauce on his plate. 

“It’s certainly unusual.” Jay agreed, swallowing the last of her food. 

“Y-Yeah!” Ollie said, louder than necessary. “Sorry.” He shrunk down a bit. Jay chuckled to herself, pushing some of her ponytail away from her face. They continued to eat in silence, with small bouts of conversation shared between John and Gillion or Chip and Ollie, until they had finished all of the carp and bread, and then the five of them returned to their respective ships and cots. 

The next morning, Gillion woke up immediately knowing something was wrong. His skin was wet, more than usual, and it was with a feverish sweat rather than just his typical Triton moisture. His stomach seemed to boil and roll like a stormy sea, and when he looked at his hands, they were trembling. Gillion stood up and climbed out of his barrel, gripping the edges of the wood hard enough to leave dents, and then he suddenly felt a nasty, acidic… something rising up his throat. 

Gillion bent over the barrel, vomiting up the entirety of last night’s dinner into the water, spitting foul-tasting bile out of his mouth. His head started to pound, a heavy pulsing that rhythmically drove itself through his thoughts. Gillion stumbled to the main deck, turning away from the barrel before it made him gag again. 

“Morning Gillion!” Old Man Earl shouted from where he was steering The Albatross. “You feelin’ sick too?” Gillion opened his mouth to speak, intending to mention his earlier sickness to Old Man Earl, but he felt it returning again and ran to the side of the ship, coughing up more chunks of fish and bile. Earl made a sympathetic noise. “Go to the other ship. They got stuff set up over there.” Gillion didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded and made his way over to Marshall John’s ship. Chip, Jay, and Ollie were nowhere to be found, but Marshall John himself stood near the railing, upturning a metal bucket full of formerly eaten food into the sea.

“Hey, Gillion!” John greeted. His brows furrowed as he looked at Gillion, pale and wavering on his feet. “Oh no, are you sick too?” 

“I am afraid so.” Gillion admitted. 

“That’s no good.” John muttered. He clapped his hands together. “The others are downstairs, can you make it there yourself?”

“Of course I can!” Gillion said, turning and going to the door that led down to the ship’s hold. He made it down two steps out of ten before he felt his stomach start hurting again. He clapped his hand across his mouth, a groan edging past his lips, and suddenly Marshall John was right next to him, going under his arm and helping him down the remaining eight steps. 

In the hold, there were two bedrolls laid out with Ollie and Jay on them, both of them covered in feverish sweat and with a bucket next to Jay; Marshall John put the newly empty one next to Ollie, who grabbed it and shoved his face in it almost instantly. The entire hold smelled like vomit and sickness. Chip was sitting on a chair, looking vaguely green himself—though he didn’t look sick like Gillion, Jay, and Ollie were, just uncomfortable at his circumstances—and trying to make conversation with a very tired Jay. 

“I told you Gill would be sick.” Jay said, flinging a limp hand towards Gillion as Marshall John helped him lay down on a bedroll. “You owe me five silver.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Chip said. He looked over at Gillion, now accepting another bucket from Marshall John. “Gill, you alright?”

“My stomach feels as if it is being beaten from the inside.” Gillion said. “I do not like being sick.”

“I would, if I was on Zero.” Ollie said, his voice echoing since he was talking while looking down into the bucket. He made a poorly concealed gagging noise. “Y’know, since I could skip school—” He convulsed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the bucket tighter. Marshall John walked over to him, putting a hand on his back and rubbing gentle circles. Gillion, who deeply hated being bedridden like this, counted himself lucky that he wasn’t as sick as Ollie.

“Why did we have to eat that fish?” Jay lamented. “Why didn’t you get sick too?” She pointed accusingly at Chip.

“Hey, you should be glad I’m not.” Chip said. “I’m helping you out.”   

“Sure.” Jay turned and reached for her bucket. 

“Is the fish what caused this?” Gillion asked. Marshall John, who was using one hand to support Ollie’s back and the other to hold the boy’s hair out of his face, nodded at Gillion. 

“Yup. It was probably rotten.”

“I was not aware fish could be… rotten.” Gillion took a deep breath to push down a wave of nausea. “That does not happen in the Undersea.”

“Probably because you eat things before they rot.” Jay said. She coughed into her fist and winced as if the motion hurt her ribs. Chip climbed down off his stool, laying down between Jay and Gillion and reaching out to the two of them. Jay took his hand immediately, but Gillion hesitated.

“I do not want to get you sick as well.” He said. 

“It’s food poisoning Gill, it’s not contagious.” Chip told him. 

“Oh.” Gillion turned his head, taking comfort in the natural and not feverish warmth of Chip’s skin against his. 

“Call me if you need anything.” Marshall John said gruffly, holding Ollie to his side as the two of them went up the stairs and to the deck. Gillion sighed, his stomach starting to cramp up again. His bones felt like lead as he grabbed the bucket and sat up, momentarily letting go of Chip’s hand so he could empty his stomach again. 

Two hours later, Gillion felt slightly better. He was sitting, his head on Chip’s shoulder and Jay on Chip’s other side, the three of them cuddled up in a corner of the hold. Marshall John and Ollie were still absent, but Gillion wasn’t completely opposed to it. He was perfectly fine with just getting to spend time with Chip and Jay, even if it was because he and Jay were sick. Not as badly now, though—they had left Jay’s bucket on the other side of the hold, and Gillion’s was only a little bit full. 

“I still think it’s dumb you didn’t get sick.” Jay whined. 

“I’ve got an iron stomach.” Chip said proudly. “I never get sick.”

“I severely doubt that.” 

“What do you mean? I do! Come on Gill, you agree with me, right?” Chip nudged Gillion, who blinked his eyes open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them in the first place. 

“What?” Gillion said. 

“I don’t get sick! I can eat anything.” Chip repeated. 

“Sure, sure.” Gillion said, putting his head down into the crook of Chip’s neck and shoulder again. He heard Jay chuckle through a haze of soft sleepiness, and felt Chip card fingers through his hair before he fell asleep, the pain of his queasy stomach finally subsiding. 

Chapter Text

Darkness. It was everywhere around him, swirling past his eyes, tangling in his hair, running down his throat like ice water, coursing through his veins. His hands were shaking, but when he looked down he couldn’t see anything but more impossibly endless darkness. The room, space, expanse he was in seemed to go on as far as he could imagine, but everything was so black that it could have ended two inches from his face and he never would’ve known. He reached out a hand, trying to find the end of this darkness, and took a step forward. 

There was no ground, and he tumbled forward into the abyss of void, a scream echoing through the space and yet, somehow making no noise. 

He crashed into a floor, something that felt like glass, even sounded like shattering glass as he landed, and yet it didn’t break. A pair of molten eyes stared down at him, a grin apparent even with the lack of a mouth, and a massive weapon came hurtling out of the darkness, heading right for him. 

Harlem jerked awake, sitting up so quickly he almost flung himself out of bed entirely. He looked around, his heart pounding, his eyes adjusting to the dim light provided by a small star-shaped night-light that was plugged into the outlet by his bedroom door. Harlem fumbled with his phone as he opened it, heaving a breath as the light seared into his eyes, and immediately went to the group chat he shared with Miss Gilbert and Jason—dubbed ‘We’re Heroes!’ by Miss Gilbert. 

Silhouette: any1 awake

Origami📜: Yeah, what’s up? 

The Mighty Hexpert: Hey TA! 

Silhouette: I just wanted to make sure u guys were ok

Origami 📜: I’m fine, thanks! 

The Mighty Hexpert: Same! Just working on some last minute grading ;) 

Harlem sighed with relief, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked pink hair. They were both alright. Neither Jason nor Miss Gilbert were going to die, neither of them were going to be swallowed by infinite darkness or a pair of glowing eyes—not that eyes could swallow people, that was just his frazzled mind running away with his imagination. He turned back to his phone.

The Mighty Hexpert: Harlem, are YOU okay? 

Silhouette: fine

Origami📜: You’re not the only ones who gets nightmares, you know

Origami📜: If you want to talk to us we’re happy to listen

Silhouette: it’s just a dumb dream it’s not even real

The Mighty Hexpert: Okay, time out, wait just one second. I’m going to see if I can figure out how to do this. 

There was a moment of waiting before Harlem’s phone buzzed, displaying the message ‘Miss G would like to call’ on the screen, with both the green ‘accept’ button and the red ‘decline’ button. Harlem paused, debating whether or not he really wanted to be talking to them right now, before pressing accept. 

“—Oh, great! It worked!” Miss Gilbert’s excited voice said through the phone, the sound crackling with the tone of her voice. 

“Not so loud, Miss G, it’s the middle of the night.” Harlem said in a fond-but-exasperated tone. He knew that Miss Gilbert was just a naturally excitable person, it was part of the reason she was such a good teacher.

“Oh. Sorry.” She whispered. 

“No problem.” Harlem replied.

“So, Harlem, uh,” Jason’s voice said, accompanied by the sounds of shifting fabric that probably meant Jason was nervous, “do you want to talk with us? I mean what I said, about being happy to listen.”

“Nah, it’s nothing.” Harlem said. “I don’t wanna bother you guys.”

“Now, I only took one psychology class, but I know it’s useful to talk when you need to.” Miss Gilbert said, clucking her tongue. Harlem hoped she couldn’t hear his sigh through the phone; of course Miss Gilbert would have taken psychology classes. 

“It was just a dream, Teach.” Harlem stubbornly insisted. “It’s not even real.”

“Just because it’s not real doesn’t mean it isn’t scary.” Jason said. “Martian’s illusions were fake, and they were terrifying.” As much as Harlem didn’t want to admit it, Jason made a good point. 

“Alright, fine!” Harlem exclaimed. “I’ll talk.”

“If you don’t want to—”

“Nah, I will.” Harlem interrupted Jason’s rush to assure him. “It just… alright. It was dark. And I know how much I talk about darkness, but it’s kinda scary, y’know? And I couldn’t see anything, so I tried to walk forward, and for some reason the goddamn floor was gone!” A very quiet “language” was heard from Miss Gilbert. “And so I fell, because there wasn’t any floor, and then Darkstar’s creepy eyes kept staring at me and he tried to hit me with this… weapon… thing. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s scary too.” Miss Gilbert said. 

“Thanks, Miss G.”

“I agree with Miss Gilbert.” Jason put in. “If you’re scared, you’re scared. And dreams are very good at making people scared. There’s no need to be ashamed about it.” 

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Harlem said with a bit of sheepishness. “I’m alright now, thanks. I think I’d like to go back to bed, and I’m sure you guys would too.”

“Well alright then.” Miss Gilbert told him. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m always happy to help.”

“Me too.” Jason said, and then the call ended, Harlem’s phone giving a few droning beeps before he moved to turn it off. He saw two text messages pop up at the top of his screen. 

Miss G: Hope you sleep well! See you at school tomorrow for the field trip :D

Jason: Goodnight, Harlem. Be sure to tell me if you need to talk. 

Harlem smiled to himself, turning the phone over and placing it back on his bedside table. He turned towards the nightlight, pulling three layers of heavy blankets up to his chin, and closed his eyes, comforting himself in the fact that he had two of the best friends he could ever want just a phone call away. 

Chapter Text

“—fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty…” Gillion said between breaths as he did pull-ups with the strange black rod he had gotten from the casino. Pretzel was sitting on his shoulder, chirping encouragement whenever he paused, but whether she had been encouraging him or not, Gillion would not have stopped his training. He had to stay in peak shape, as fit and strong as he could possibly be, so he could fulfill his destiny and protect his friends. 

Chip and Jay did not quite share the same sentiment, but Gillion supposed that was to be expected. In his experience humans were generally weaker, at least in a physical sense, than he was, and neither of them were heroes of a prophecy—not that he knew of. Chip was currently chatting with Jay at the ship’s uppermost deck, where the wheel that controlled the rudder sat, trying to make some sort of plan as to where they should go next. Gillion was pretty sure that their next adventure, whatever it was, would simply come to them, or they would stumble upon it, but he could admire Chip’s attempt at planning. 

 “—ninety-nine, one hundred, one hundred-and-one, one hundred and-two…” Pretzel tapped Gillion on the shoulder, making a concerned trilling noise. Gillion looked over towards her. “I do not need to rest, Pretzel, I must finish my training!” Pretzel crossed two of her tentacles and looked at Gillion with a furrowed expression. “Come on, do not seem so disappointed! I know my limits, and I shall be sure to exceed them!” Pretzel poked Gillion’s cheek. Gillion smiled at her. “I will not hurt myself, do not worry. Now, let us get back to it!” Gillion resumed his pull-ups, grinning despite the burning of his arms and core and the sweat running down his face. Pretzel climbed down his side and went back to her globe, seemingly pouting. 

After what was probably an hour, Gillion attempted to do his three-hundred-and-seventy-second pull-up and found himself completely unable to do so. His arms quaked simply hanging from the bar, even before he tried to do anything specific. He clicked the button on the end of the rod, falling a few feet to the deck, and sat there to catch his breath. Pretzel crawled out from her globe and onto Gillion’s hand, looking up at him with her head tilted. 

“I am… fine, Pretzel. I trained… well."

“Gill, you need to not work yourself so hard.” Jay walked down from where she had been talking with Chip and crossed her arms, looking very much like how Eden—his sister—looked when she had told Gillion the exact same thing. “You’re not any help to us if you can’t breathe.”

“It is merely training, Jay.” Gillion wiped his forehead. “Do not worry.”

“Too late for that.” Jay muttered, kicking at the deck. “Look, just make sure you can still do what you need to, okay? Neither Chip nor I want you getting hurt.”

“I am sure I am capable.” Gillion assured her. “Thank you, Jay.”

“You’re welcome.” Jay walked to the side of the ship and stared out at the sea, the wind blowing her ponytail into her face. Gillion smiled softly at her indignant sputtering as he went below deck and lowered himself into his barrel. It wasn’t particularly late, only a few hours past noon, but he was exhausted from his training. Pretzel moved up to cling to the corals on his head, trilling a few times in a distinctly proud manner. Gillion leaned his head against the interior of the barrel and fell asleep. 

A crash sounded above the deck, startling Gillion awake. He climbed out of his barrel, immediately grimacing as his muscles protested, almost refusing to move entirely. Perhaps he had trained a bit too hard. Not that the hour-and-a-half regiment was uncommon for Gillion, but he had not done it in weeks, and never above the surface. He would have to be more careful in the future, but right now he had to see what was happening that was so loud. He grabbed his sword, taking just enough time to painfully slide his chestplate on before he ran—stumbled—up the stairs. 

The sea was rioting and boiling, with huge dark waves crashing against the deck, making the wood slippery and almost making Gillion fall as he made it up the stairs. The sky was covered in a thick blanket of gray clouds with torrents of rain falling from them, and an occasional bolt of lightning crackled through the air. 

“Gill! Come on, we need your help!” Jay shouted over the roaring storm from where she was tying a rope to the ship’s railing. “Tie that rope to the railing too!” Gillion immediately jogged over to do it even as his knees threatened to buckle and fastened the rope as securely as he could. 

“Where is Chip?” He yelled to Jay. She jerked her head towards the wheel of the ship, where Chip’s form was being silhouetted by lightning. He seemed to be trying to keep the ship from capsizing, and it was thus far working. 

A wave swept over The Albatross , slamming Gillion into the railing. He clung onto it for dear life, straining to keep his grip against the pull of the water, and managed to keep himself on the ship. Gillion looked up to the wheel. Chip was still standing there, thankfully, but when Gillion turned to make sure Jay was alright, she was nowhere to be seen. He ran to the other side of the ship, looking down into the water, seeing just the faintest glint of gold in the waters below. 

“Chip!” Gillion cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted with all his might. “I am going to rescue Jay! Be careful!” And without waiting for a response, Gillion dove into the sea. 

His already tortured limbs threatened to seize up in the freezing waves, but Gillion refused to. He swam forward, wrapping an arm around Jay. She was still conscious, but it was clear that all of her energy was being used in just staying afloat, let alone actually making it to the boat. 

“G-Gill?” Jay coughed, looking up at him. 

“Hang on. I will get us both back on board.” Gillion raised a hand, calling upon the waters to form into an icy ladder that he and Jay could use to climb back onto The Albatross . Water swirled around his arm, snaking up the side of the ship, but it didn’t freeze. Gillion tried again. The same result. “Please, please…” He said under his breath, concentrating as hard as he could to get the water to bend to his will. It froze, but not at all how Gillion had wanted it to. Instead of a ladder, he had created one massive rod of ice that was now stuck through the hull of The Albatross , as if the ship were a piece of meat on a skewer. The Albatross began sinking. 

“—Gill!” Gillion opened his eyes, trying to spring to his feet and only succeeding in knocking himself and his barrel over, where he lay, dazed and sore. Jay and Chip were looking down at him with concern on their faces. “Gill?” Jay repeated. “You alright?”

“I am fine.” Gillion tried to stand and quickly realized that it was not going to be possible, not with how fiercely his legs were shaking. Chip pulled him up, letting Gillion lean on him, and Gillion hated it. He hated needing assistance to do something as simple as standing. 

“I told you to be more gentle with yourself.” Jay said. Gillion was once again reminded of Eden. “If you can’t stand up, how are you going to be able to protect anyone? Even yourself?”

“I… I was foolish.” Gillion said. “Truly. I am sorry for troubling you both so.”

“It doesn’t bother us, Gill, we’re worried for you.” Chip said. “We don’t want you to work so hard you can’t even stand.”

“I overshot, alright?” Gillion said, harsher than he’d intended. Why wouldn’t Chip and Jay just leave it alone? Gillion realized he had made a mistake in training so hard, but that didn’t mean that his friends needed to constantly remind him of it. “Leave it alone. I will be fine.”

“We’re just trying to help—”

“Well I do not need your help!” Gillion cut off Jay. “I am fine, I will be fine, I simply need a moment to rest! Will you at least do me the honor of not reminding me of my failures any further!” 

“Sorry.” Jay hugged her arms close to her chest and looked away. Chip made an apologetic noise in the back of his throat. Gillion sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. He knew it was ridiculous to be angry with the both of them, he knew that they had played no part in his self-destructiveness. 

“No, I am sorry.” He said after a moment. It felt like a phrase he had been meaning to say for a while. “I allowed my anger to get the better of me. Forgive me."

“Always, buddy.” Chip patted him on the shoulder. “Now, do you wanna watch the sunset with Jay and I, or do you wanna pout down here?”

“I…I believe the sunset is a better option.” Gillion said, smiling in spite of himself. Chip grinned at him and helped him up the stairs, assuring Gillion multiple times over that it wasn’t a problem to have to do so, and the three of them watched the sun drift below the horizon together. 

Chapter Text

Great. Of course the creepy sewers that were already dangerous enough as is had a massive bug monster in them, because why could anything ever be easy? Taxi was convinced that some greater entity—maybe this mysterious lion turtle Br’aad had mentioned—wanted the five of them dead. The bug… thing was a hulking figure of hard carapace, difficult for even Mountain to pierce with his three-pronged spear. Br’aad wasted no time in flinging out a hand and attempting to blast the thing with his magic, but the energy simply bounced off and scorched a mark into the stone a few inches from Sylnan’s head. 

“Br’aad!” Sylnan yelled. 

“Sorry!” Br’aad shouted back, ducking under a snap from one of the creature’s claws. Taxi thought it was called an Umber Hulk? That sounded about right. Taxi drew his scimitar, his tail lashing anxiously from side to side. He wanted no business in fighting something this terrifying, and disgusting. Mountain had no such qualms, leaping at the Umber Hulk with what could easily be considered a war cry. Sylnan had drawn his daggers, but he was hanging back a bit, probably because such tiny weapons wouldn’t do much of anything to the Umber Hulk, with its steel-like shell. Br’aad’s tattoos were glowing brightly as he charged up for another attack. Velrisa took out her warhammer and leapt at the Umber Hulk, the weapon clanging off of the creature’s back. It angrily reared backwards, and Mountain took the opportunity to drive his trident into its stomach. The Umber Hulk screeched, slamming one of its claws downwards and knocking Mountain away from it. 

“Take this!” Taxi ran forward, slashing across the Umber Hulk’s arm with his scimitar. The grating sound of metal-on-carapace made his feline ears ring. A blast of energy, courtesy of Br’aad, caught the Umber Hulk in the side of its head and caused it to stagger backwards. One of Sylnan’s daggers found a home in the Umber Hulk’s eye. The Umber Hulk turned around, rage in its beady eye, and it screeched again. Taxi wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear when this battle was done, especially if the beast kept up its unpleasant noises. 

“Uh, sorry!” Sylnan said to the creature, as if that would actually do anything; it didn’t. The Umber Hulk charged forwards towards Sylnan, picking him up in one claw and slamming him downwards into the hard and rocky ground. Br’aad screamed, the sound just barely registering in Taxi’s ears past the ringing and the sounds of Sylnan being beaten bloody. 

“Sylnan!” Mountain lunged forward and drove his spear into the back of the Umber Hulk, and it shrieked again, throwing Sylnan across the room. Br’aad immediately rushed to his brother, leaving Mountain, Velrisa, and Taxi to fight the Umber Hulk.

“Sylnan, Sylnan I’m sorry I don’t have any healing magic, just stay awake, alright? Vel will patch you right up.” Br’aad said, looking over Sylnan’s injuries with a frantic and panicked gaze. Sylnan met his brother’s eyes and nodded weakly. “Okay. You stay right there, this’ll just take a second!” 

“Br’aad, you wanna finish him off?” Taxi dodged a swing from the Umber Hulk as Velrisa smashed her war hammer into its ribs. 

“I can try!” Br’aad said, clasping his hands together, his tattoos seeming to move across his body as he prepared an attack. Mountain stabbed the Umber Hulk again, spraying blood across the ground when he yanked the weapon out. “Go away!” Br’aad shot a massive blast at the Umber Hulk, which had just enough time to turn and look vaguely afraid before Br’aad’s magic caved in its skull and it collapsed. Velrisa immediately turned and ran to Sylnan, laying her hands on the lacerations around his torso and healing them as best she could; the wounds closed up enough that Sylnan could stand and limp his way over to Br’aad, Taxi, and Mountain, who was angrily stabbing at the Umber Hulk’s body. 

“We did it.” Taxi said. “Good job, Br’aad and Mountain. And Velrisa and Sylnan, of course.”

“Don’t thank me.” Sylnan said. “I didn’t do anything except get my ass beat.” 

“You stabbed its eye.” Taxi pointed out. He retrieved Sylnan’s dagger and handed it to the half-elf. “That counts for something.” Sylnan shrugged. 

“Good job, Taxi!” Br’aad said, running over to the Tabaxi and wrapping his arms around his neck. Taxi had only a split second to think oh, we’re really going to reveal this now, before Br’aad was kissing him. 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Taxi said once Br’aad pulled backwards, stumbling over his own tongue. 

“Congratulations! Didn’t think you had it in you.” Mountain was grinning as he slapped Taxi on the back. Taxi suspected it was supposed to be more of a hearty pat, but Mountain was very strong for his stature. Velrisa didn’t say anything, but there was a satisfied smile on her face. She didn’t look surprised in the slightest, in direct contrast to Sylnan, who was standing with his mouth gaping open and staring at his brother.

“Is everything alright, Sylnan?” Br’aad waved his hand in front of Sylnan’s face, raising an eyebrow. “The Umber Hulk didn’t bang your brains out, right?”

“No no, I’m fine.” Sylnan said. “It’s just… how long were you planning on not telling us?”

“I knew for a while, actually.” Velrisa put in. 

“You did?” Taxi sputtered. “How? I didn’t tell you!” 

“It was rather obvious, Taxi.” Velrisa said. Taxi slapped his hand to his forehead. Of course Velrisa would’ve noticed even without Taxi having to say anything. 

“We were going to tell you!” Taxi said to Sylnan, ignoring Velrisa for the time being. “At least, I was planning on it.”

“I wanted to do a grand reveal.” Br’aad put in. Taxi’s ears flicked. This was news to him.

“Well, you certainly succeeded on that!” Mountain exclaimed. “Grand reveal indeed!” 

Chapter Text

Leaning back in his wooden chair, Kasper carded his fingers through his brown hair and tried to ignore the dread and anxiety knotting together in his stomach. Flynn and Kroe were asleep already, Flynn on the ground spread out like a starfish, Kroe with his back against the wall near the door of Food. Kasper still thought that was a stupid name for a store. 

Alastyr lay rigid on the floor, breathing slowly, his skin still too pale for Kasper’s liking. Kasper was not a man who became easily afraid, but he had felt true fear twice in the past day. Once, when those fleshy spider beasts had lifted him into the air, holding him frighteningly high above the ground, forcing him to look around at how far he had to fall. The second time had been more unexpected, and much worse. Alastyr had been caught in that forest of thrashing tentacles, beaten to the point of being half-dead, and then Spidbu’ur had stabbed him, leaving a gaping hole in his chest. Kasper had never seen so much blood come from a single person. The blood now soaked Alastyr’s previously white lab coat, so dark it was almost black in places. 

At least Alastyr was breathing now. Kasper had hated looking at the high elf’s body and barely being able to see a sign of life. He refused to lose another person, not after Strangle. 

Kasper sighed and yanked at his hair. This was ridiculous. Being afraid of something that had already happened and passed was ridiculous. Alastyr was fine, Kroe was fine, Flynn was fine, they were all fine! So why did he still feel worried about it? He shoved his glasses back up on his face, turning towards the curtain-covered windows. Despite the logicality of his thoughts, he couldn’t shake the lingering anxiousness and fear from the past few days. That was one of the things he’d always hated about feelings. They didn’t go away, even if they were stupid. 

Something rustled behind him, and Kasper spun around, his heart starting to race. He calmed down a bit—but only a bit, mind you—when he saw that the rustling was from Alastyr, who was slowly coming back to consciousness. Alastyr’s eyes were unfocused as he turned his head and looked around. 

“Hey, kid.” Kasper said, moving over to the boy, relief flooding his veins. “Welcome back. You feeling alright?”

“My ribs hurt.” Alastyr said hoarsely. Kasper chuckled. 

“That makes sense, you just got stabbed, for God’s sake. I thought you’d died.” Kasper tried to smile, but he could tell it wasn’t convincing. 

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t mean to get hit like that. Sorry.” Alastyr coughed. 

“No, it’s okay! Not your fault that creepy spider bastard went after you.” Kasper said. “It’s a good thing Kroe got rid of him.”

“He did?” Alastyr turned his head to look at the sleeping form of Kroe. Kasper nodded. “Oh. Good for him. Where are we?” 

“We’re still in the city, unfortunately.” Kasper told him. Alastyr glanced at the window, though he couldn’t actually see what was outside of it since there were curtains over it.

“Kasper, uh, I…” Alastyr swallowed nervously. “Could you help me up? I think I wanna walk around a bit.” 

“Are you sure?” Kasper asked. “You’re still weak.”   

“I can handle it.” Alastyr said with certainty. “Please?” Kasper sighed, pushing his sunglasses farther up on his face. No matter how hard he tried, it was nearly impossible to say no to Alastyr on anything. Kasper grabbed Alastyr’s hands, pulling him up to his feet. Alastyr stumbled forward slightly and wrapped his arms around Kasper to keep from falling, only once he had steadied himself, he didn’t let go. 

“Alastyr? Everything okay?” Kasper said uncertainly. He felt like he should do something other than stand there with his arms raised, but he wasn’t sure how to proceed. 

“Yeah, I just needed to do that.” Alastyr said, pulling away from Kasper. Kasper heard just the faintest hint of a sniffle from the boy. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Kasper initiated the hug this time, and it was one of the best hugs he’d ever had, even though he hadn’t had that many.

Chapter Text

The air was warm and smelled of salty seawater, with a breeze that swept through Chip’s hair and ruffled the sails of The Midnight Rose. Though for once, Chip was not distracted by the sheer euphoria of being a pirate. He sat on Arlin’s knee, his hand on his chin as he examined the wooden game board in front of him, scattered with both white and black chess pieces. Chip wasn’t very good at chess, but Arlin was giving him suggestions—not helping him, mind you, because Chip didn’t need help—and some of Arlin’s ideas were good. Finn was sitting on a barrel opposite Chip and Arlin, stroking his mustache as he thought about his next move. Drey was just watching to see who would win; he’d promised a bullet to whoever won. Chip desperately wanted it. 

Finn moved his bishop diagonally, taking out Chip’s remaining knight, but Chip grinned. This was what Arlin had told him about! He knew how to win, hopefully. Chip reached out his hand and slowly started to move his rook, watching Finn’s face as he did so. Finn raised his eyebrows. 

“Checkmate!” Chip exclaimed. 

“All right, you did it! Good job!” Arlin gave Chip an enthusiastic high-five. 

“Good job, young one.” Finn said as he picked up the chessboard and the pieces. “You beat me fair and square.” He gave a very obvious wink to Arlin, who cocked a golden-toothed grin. Chip was too caught up in his victory to notice. “He is rather good at that, Arlin.” Finn said.

“I know! He’s my boy, he can excel at anything!” Arlin clapped Finn on the back, making the Triton stumble forward a few paces. 

“Hey, Chip! Come here.” Drey held up his hand. Chip hopped down from Arlin’s knee and ran over to Drey, cupping his hands together and holding them out. “This one’s my lucky bullet, alright? If you keep it on you, you’ll always be safe.” Drey dropped a small bullet into Chip’s outstretched hands. It looked like any other bullet Drey used, but Chip stared at it in fascination. 

“Woah! Thanks!” He said. 

“No problem.” Drey tousled Chip’s hair and walked over to the railing of the ship, starting up a conversation with Arlin and Finn. Chip looked over his shoulder to where Elizabeth was having a very important-sounding conversation with Jug the Tortle. 

“Elizabeth!” Chip called over to her, and she looked past Jug’s arm at him. Chip held up the bullet. “Look what I got!”

“No fair!” Elizabeth stomped her foot on the deck. “I want one too!” Chip stuck his tongue out at her. 

“You can’t have it.” He said in a sing-song voice. “You gotta beat Finn at chess first!”    

“Fine! I will then! Mr. Tidestrider, play chess with me!” Finn looked over his shoulder, startled, but he relaxed when he saw it was Elizabeth shouting at him. He took out the chessboard again and rubbed his hands together. 

“Alright then, let’s see if you can beat me.” He said. Elizabeth skipped over to him, sticking her own tongue out at Chip as she passed. Chip stuck out his foot and tried to trip her; she avoided it easily. Chip tried to do it so much she had probably been expecting it. 

The air was warm and smelled of salty seawater, with a breeze that swept through Chip’s hair and ruffled the sails of The Millenium Chipper. Though for once, Chip was not distracted by the sheer euphoria of being a pirate. He leaned against the railing of his ship, lost in memories of the Black Rose Pirates. Jay and Gillion were playing chess; Gillion—or rather, Pretzel—was winning. 

Oh, how different things had been when Chip was a boy. Being a child was deceptively simple. Everything seemed perfect and right, and it wasn’t. Chip had learned that quickly. 

He missed Arlin. Gods, he missed the entire crew of the Midnight Rose. They were the closest thing to a family he’d ever had. But, looking over his shoulder at Jay and Gillion, maybe he had a second family now. 

Chapter Text

The sun had set and the sky was black, the moon just appearing over the back of Aster’s head as they talked. It made her dark hair seem to glow silver. Professor Eliana had brought out thick patterned blankets, insisting that the night was cold, and Aster had taken two of them. Connor had taken one, and Eliana himself was using the fourth after Ryan’s repeated declining of it. The night was cold, and there was a crackling fire in the center of the four of them, sending the occasional ember or flake of ash spiraling up into the sky. It made Connor’s skin crawl. 

“Do you have to do that routine tomorrow dad? Can’t you just talk for ten minutes and leave the stage?” Aster said, wrapping her blankets tighter around herself. Her cheeks and nose were dusted red from the chill. Her father laughed good-naturedly and combed his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s part of my persona, Aster! You know that.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s so embarrassing for you! I can’t see how you can bear to do it.”

“It’s fun!” Professor Eliana exclaimed. “I never drag you into it, do I?”

“Yes you do!” Aster said. “You pointed spotlights at me once!” At this, Professor Eliana paused, already halfway into formulating a response before he realized that was a completely reasonable point. 

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention you this time.” He said, leaning back in his lawn chair. Aster nodded, satisfied, and pulled her blankets up to cover her face until just her eyes were visible. Ryan chuckled at her. Connor normally would’ve as well, but he was distracted looking into the fire. Soot and ash drifted away from the flames and up into the night sky, and all Connor could think about was how he’d killed all those rats back in the theater. Sure, it had been to save Ryan, but that didn’t change what he’d done. He’d still killed innocent animals—innocent, because it hadn’t been the rat’s fault that Romeo had chosen to do what he’d done. Even nearly passed-out drunk, Connor had known the difference between right and wrong. He’d known that killing animals was wrong, it was why Jorge the chicken was still alive. He had killed those rats with no prompting, he’d just panicked and his first thought had been to disintegrate them into little piles of ash. What was wrong with him? What kind of person’s first reaction was to kill something when they were afraid of it? 

Ryan laughed at something Professor Eliana had said, almost tipping backwards in his chair, leaning forwards quickly to readjust and flinging out his arms, tossing more little flakes of ash up, this time in a concentrated bundle. A rat-sized bundle. Connor stood up and said some ridiculous excuse about needing to go to the bathroom before turning and walking into the house as quickly as he could without it seeming suspicious. 

Aster, Ryan, and Professor Eliana looked at each other. Professor Eliana looked confused, but Ryan and Aster wore expressions of concern for Connor. Both of them had been there to witness Connor’s outburst of power at the theater, and they knew it had upset him, but neither of them had expected anything else to come of it.

“Oh, Ryan!” Aster snapped her fingers, standing up and pulling the edges of her blankets away from the fire so they wouldn’t get burned. “I forgot, I wanted to show you a plant I’ve been growing!” 

“Is this the cactus with the flowerbud?” Professor Eliana asked. 

“Yeah!” Aster lied. Ryan looked between the two of them, curious as to why Aster would want to tell him about a plant. Maybe it was a really fascinating plant. “Come on Ryan, it’s really cool.” Aster beckoned over her shoulder as she started back towards her house, and Ryan stood up to follow her. 

The Eliana House was cozy without feeling cramped, with hallways covered in patterned wallpaper and dark wooden tables sitting in seemingly random spots, almost every single one topped by sheets of paper and at least one vase of flowers. If he hadn’t already known, Ryan would have been able to guess that this was Aster’s house just from the sheer amount of plants everywhere. Neither Aster nor Ryan could see Connor or see where he had gone, but they heard a door slam upstairs. 

“Come on.” Aster said, turning down the hallway, passing the kitchen, and going up a flight of carpeted stairs that creaked as she and Ryan walked up them. The hall at the top of the stairs went to the side of the house, with a window at the end and three doors along the side—two on the right and one on the left, going to Aster’s room, a bathroom, and Professor Eliana’s room, respectively. There was the faintest sound of jingling bells down the hallway, coming from Aster’s room: she’d strung lights and bells all along the walls and door of her room, alongside plants sitting in every corner, just to make it a little more interesting and feel more like something Aster would actually live in. 

Aster opened the door, relieved that Connor hadn’t thought to lock it. Connor was sitting against the far wall, looking down at his hands, which were shaking fiercely. His magic book was next to the door, face-down. He jerked his head up towards Aster and Ryan when they entered. 

“Oh, uh h-hey, guys!” Connor said, waving as he looked at them. “What’s up?” 

“Connor, don’t do that.” Aster said, and her voice sounded sad. It made Connor even more upset to know that he had upset Aster, and Ryan’s worried face was not helping either. “You don’t have to hide your feelings from us.” 

“I’m not hiding anything!” Connor said in a completely unconvincing way. 

“Don’t lie!” Aster said. “Please.” She sat down in front of Connor, sitting cross-legged and handing him one of her two blankets. Connor took it with a smile and wrapped it around himself, digging his hands into the sides of it. 

“You doin’ alright?” Ryan said. “We didn’t think of the fire, sorry about that dude.”

“No, it’s fine.” Connor said. “I just… guys, am I a bad person?” Ryan and Aster shared a glance. Aster very tentatively put her hand on Connor’s knee. 

“Nah, you’re not a bad person.” Ryan assured him. “Why would you think that?” Connor looked over to him, distressed. 

“B-Because of what I did to those rats, and the drama kids’ costumes, Ryan, I killed people! Well, I killed rats, but that’s not much better! They’re dead because of me! I got nervous and I killed them.” Connor put his head in his hands and his shoulders started to tremble. 

“You did what you had to, Connor.” Aster said softly. “You’re not a bad person for protecting your friends.” 

“But I murdered them!” Connor said, his voice wobbling now with tears. “You don’t understand how that feels, Aster.” 

“You’re right, I don’t.” Aster agreed. “I can’t even imagine it. But I do know one thing, Connor, and I want you to look at me while I say it.” Connor raised his head, meeting Aster’s gaze. “You are not a bad person. You are a wonderful person, and don’t ever forget it.” She smiled at him, and Ryan gave a thumbs up. 

“Yeah! I’m happy you saved me from those rats and those crazy drama kids.” He said. Connor looked between the two of them, looking for a moment as if he was going to cry again, and then he wiped his eyes and stood up. 

“O-Okay.” He said. “Thanks, guys.” 

“Of course, Connor.” Aster said. “We’re always here to help, even if you don’t think you need it. Ryan and I both.” 

Chapter Text

“Guys! I’m so glad you could make it.” Aster exclaimed, opening the door and grinning at Connor and Ryan, who had duffel bags and sleeping bags under their arms. Connor smiled, and Ryan waved. “Are you excited?”

“So excited!” Ryan said. “I haven’t done a sleepover since I was in middle school.”

“Me neither.” Connor said. Aster agreed with the two of them.

“Well, then this will be fun!” She said. “Come in, come in! You can put your stuff in my room, and then we’re gonna watch a movie.” She stepped out of the way of the door, allowing Ryan and Connor to step in, and then dashed up the stairs to her bedroom. Connor almost tripped as he followed her, and Ryan had to grab the collar of his shirt so he didn’t fall on his face. 

Aster’s room was at the very end of the second-floor hallway, and she’d flung the door wide open so both boys knew exactly where to go. The room was painted a soft gray with an elaborate white chair-rail, and plants in almost every available spot on both the carpet and the desk where Aster did her homework. Aster’s bed was shoved into the very corner, which allowed for Connor and Ryan’s sleeping bags to be laid out next to each other on the floor. Ryan just put his duffel bag on the ground and waited by the doorway, while Connor unpacked his sleeping bag and placed a stuffed bear on top of it. 

“Are you guys ready?” Aster said from where she was sitting on the edge of her bed, excitedly swinging her legs. 

“Sure!” Ryan said. “What movie are we watching?”

“Well, I’d picked out three and I was going to let you guys choose between them.” Aster said. “Come on, let’s go downstairs!” She ran back out of her room, checking for a moment to make sure that Connor and Ryan were coming before going down a second flight of stairs that led to the home’s basement. The basement had concrete walls, but the floor had a thick carpet along it and there was a worn sofa facing a television. A coffee table sat between the sofa and the television, currently with empty bowls and cups on top of it, as well as three DVDs. Aster immediately grabbed them and showed them to her friends. “We could watch Big Hero 6 , Epic , or Luca . What do you guys want?” 

“Hmm.” Connor put his hand on his chin. Ryan mimicked him. “I’ve seen Luca before.” Aster nodded and put it back on the coffee table. “ Epic and Big Hero 6 both look really interesting. Ryan, what do you think?” Ryan squinted at both of the movies. 

“I like the look of that one.” Ryan pointed at Big Hero 6 . “Looks like some superhero movie.”

“It is!” Aster said, moving over to the DVD player and putting the movie in. “It’s my favorite movie, I’m so glad you picked it.” She moved over to the sofa, sitting right in the center so Connor was on her right and Ryan was on her left. “We can make popcorn too, once it gets a little later.”

“Sounds delicious.” Ryan said. The three of them settled and watched as the movie began to start, opening across a scene of a city three times as big as anything they had ever seen before. 

When the movie ended, Ryan leapt up and cheered, clapping his hands together. Connor covered his ears and glared, but he was smiling. Aster was grinning at her two best friends.

“That was really good!” Ryan said. 

“Wonderful!” Aster said. “I’m happy you liked it.”

“I still can’t believe the masked guy was Callahan.” Connor mused. “Like, it wasn’t obvious at all! I suppose it made sense though, seeing what happened to his daughter and all.”

“I’m just happy Baymax didn’t die.” Ryan added. “Thanks for showing it to us, Aster.” 

“You’re welcome.” Aster said. She yawned. “It’s really late, I forget how long that movie is. Come on, let’s go upstairs.” She grabbed the bowls and cups, setting them on the kitchen counter to be cleaned later before going back to her room and flopping down on the bed. Connor and Ryan took a quick moment to change into their pajamas before getting into their sleeping bags. “Thanks for coming over, guys.” Aster said to the ceiling. 

“Sure!” Ryan’s voice was still at its characteristic volume, despite the fact that it was past midnight and Aster’s father was sleeping one room away. 

“Of course, Aster.” Connor said. “Thanks for inviting us and showing us that movie.” Aster smiled, and the plants that lined the room seemed to grow a little taller, the flowers blooming a little wider and their colors turning just a bit more vibrant. They knew Aster was happy and content, so they were too. 

Chapter Text

“Everyone! We are going to ram the navy!” Gillion was shouting, holding the strange sound-magnifying object up to his mouth so everyone on Geraldo Island could hear him. The pirates and civilians were running in a panicked rush to the docks in order to escape, but a few pirates looked over their shoulders at Gillion and gave frantic nods. “Head to your ships!” Gillion leapt down from his spot on a random rooftop and started towards The Albatross . There were people everywhere, either running from or being arrested by navy officers. Gillion could not see Marshall John, Caspian, or Captain Lizzy anywhere, nor could he see Chip or Jay or Old Man Earl. He was effectively alone in this chaos. 

Gillion looked around for any familiar faces or people he could help, and he spotted a pair of figures stumbling towards the docks, a scrawny boy trying to support his taller and older companion, who was sporting what looked like a broken leg. Gillion recognized them as Alastyr and Kasper from the casino. He ran towards them, maneuvering around people until he reached the two of them. 

“Gillion!” Alastyr exclaimed, looking over to him. There was sweat pouring down his face, cleaning away dust and dirt that clung to his fair skin. He had blood on his previously clean white coat and a little piece of his left ear was missing. Even with that, Kasper looked much worse than Alastyr did. The man was conscious, thankfully, but his right leg was bent in a completely unnatural direction and there was the tiniest bit of bone showing through. He looked up at Gillion. 

“Hey, Tidestrider.” He said. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Greetings.” Gillion said. “Alastyr, what does your ship look like?”

“It’s light brown and there’s a frogtopus on the sail.” Alastyr replied. “Can you help us get there?”

“We don’t need help!” Kasper exclaimed. As he spoke, he had to take in a few hissing breaths. “Gillion, don’t you have other people to worry about?”

“Chip and Jay can handle themselves.” Gillion said. He moved under Kasper’s arm to keep him upright, and Alastyr gratefully accepted the help. “Let’s get to your ship.”  The group of three made their way as quickly as they could towards the docks, and Gillion noticed that Kasper was progressively slowing down and tripping more often. His head was lolling on his shoulders. 

“Come on Kasper, we’re almost there.” Alastyr encouraged. 

“I’m trying, kid.” Kasper got out. 

“You are doing wonderfully.” Gillion said. Almost immediately, a scrawny navy soldier with a red-and-gold coat ran towards them, brandishing a spear.

“Stand down, pirates!” He exclaimed. His voice cracked. “You are under arrest.” Kasper muttered a curse. 

“Do not interfere.” Gillion said, fixing the soldier with the most threatening glare he could muster—the same he had used upon many a villain. The soldier looked a lot more uncertain, but he didn’t drop his weapon. Alastyr dug around in his belt and pulled out a vial and uncorked it. Light blue mist spiraled from the glass, going up the legs of the soldier and forming into thick ice that stuck him in place. 

“Come on!” Alastyr resumed moving. “We have to get to the ship.” 

“Good thinking.” Kasper slurred. “Smart.” Alastyr shot him a wide-eyed and concerned look that neither Kasper nor Gillion noticed. They kept going, blessedly avoiding the attention of any more navy officers or soldiers, and reached Alastyr and Kasper’s ship, which indeed had a purple frogtopus with three tentacles on the sail. Words painted on the side named the ship as The Strangler Wrangler. They got Kasper on board, and Alastyr carefully lowered him down. Kasper’s face was tight and grimacing. 

“Kasper! Oh god, are you alright?” A gray-skinned hobgoblin ran from the ship’s wheel, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, showing two sharp canines. “What happened?”

“Burning beam fell.” Alastyr was out of breath from carrying Kasper, even though Gillion had helped for the last stretch. “Where’s Flynn?” The hobgoblin jerked his head to the inside of the ship. “Still seasick?”

“Yeah. And I don’t think this,” the hobgoblin gestured around, “is helping.”

“Makes sense.” Kasper hissed. 

“Here.” Gillion put his hands on Kasper’s leg, ignoring the groan from the older man, and he channeled his divine powers into healing for the injury. It didn’t completely fix it, but the bone retreated back into the skin. Kasper relaxed just the tiniest bit. “I hope that is useful.”

“Thanks.” Kasper said. 

“Of course.” Gillion dipped his head. “It is my duty.”

“You should go back to your ship.” Alastyr told him. “We’re okay now, we can get out of this.” 

“Are you sure? I do not want to leave if I will be needed.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kasper said. 

“Yeah.” Alastyr agreed. “You should make sure your friends are okay.” Gillion nodded and stood up, bowing towards Kasper and Alastyr before running back off the ship in search of Chip or Jay. 

Chapter Text

Though the sea was calm, the atmosphere atop the three ships was anything but. Gillion stood with his sword outstretched amidst three goblins, only one of whom looked like a worthy opponent for the Hero of the Undersea. Marshall John was confidently fending off any goblins that leapt for him, swinging around his metal club and sending them either staggering backwards or flying away from him. Ollie was trying to sail The Albatross away from the fighting, but he was more hiding behind the wheel than anything else. Chip was helping to keep Ollie safe. Jay was on the main deck of The Albatross , shooting with her bow at goblins that got close. 

“You’re looking pretty evil, little guy.” Gillion said venomously, his eyes and hair beginning to glow as he pointed his sword at the leader goblin. The goblin spat at him. Gillion swung, his blade slicing just along the goblin’s forearm, but even just the smallest amount of contact was enough to activate his thunderous magic. Lightning exploded from Gillion’s blade, crackling down the goblin’s body, and a flash of light blasted outwards from the ship. 

“Nice one!” Jay shouted. “Could use a little help over here—ah!” She screamed, and Gillion looked over his shoulder to see two goblins attacking her. The first one slashed at her ankle, forcing her to bend downwards, and then slammed the pommel of his sword into her face. She stumbled back, trying to nock an arrow, but the second goblin drove its sword right through her abdomen. 

“Jay!” Chip yelled from where he was defending Ollie. “Gill, get to her!” Gillion nodded, slashing down the leader goblin before leaping from their ship to The Albatross and impaling the goblin that had just stabbed Jay. Jay was on her knees, her hands covering the blood that poured down her shirt and was just beginning to pool around her legs—

The massive blue orc drove its scimitar downwards into Sylnan’s already unconscious body, simply leaving the weapon stuck there as it snarled at Br’aad, flames covering its body and rage filling its eyes. Br’aad flung a hand out and shot a blast of magic into the orc’s chest, already running for Sylnan, sending a second blast as soon as he was closer. The orc staggered backwards, fell, and stopped moving. Br’aad knelt right next to Sylnan, cursing Ob’nockshai for not giving him healing magic. Sylnan’s face was pale and blood soaked his clothes, warm against Br’aad’s hands as he tried to apply enough pressure to stop the wound from bleeding. The orc’s scimitar was still in his chest. 

Sylnan was dying, and there was nothing Br’aad could do about it because he wasn’t good enough to save his brother—

Jay was bleeding out, trying futilely to keep herself alive, her mouth open in shock. In a panic, Gillion slashed down the remaining goblin and left his sword forgotten beside the corpse as he took Jay in his arms and pressed down on the stab wound in his stomach. 

“Come on, Sy—Jay, stay awake. I can help.” Gillion said, his voice sounding just a bit different to his own ears. Jay’s hands were limp against her stomach, and blood was now flowing completely undeterred onto the deck. Gillion prayed to the gods for healing, closing his eyes and facing upwards, trying to reach some semblance of calm so he could beg to his deities. If his powers were going to work, they had to work now. They couldn’t fail him now. 

Wish granted. A voice said in his head, a voice that felt familiar even though Gillion had never heard it before, and healing flooded from him into Jay. Golden energy spiraled into her, flowing into the bloody wound and knitting the flesh back together as if she had never been injured in the first place. Jay gasped, coughing out a splatter of blood before fumbling with her bow. Thank the gods. 

“Jay!” Chip bounded down towards Jay, having defeated the goblins that had been terrorizing Ollie. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t fast enough—”

"It’s alright.” Jay said, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Gill.” 

“Of course.” Gillion’s voice was trembling. Every time he blinked, he could see Sylnan’s body bleeding out in front of him. Jay looked down at her clothes, which were covered in blood, and wrinkled her nose. 

“I hate blood.” She muttered. “Gill, you think you could help with this?” Gillion blinked, his thoughts taking a moment to process themselves before he realized what Jay was asking and he nodded. He reached his hands out to the sea, moving up a large splash of saltwater and drenching Jay. She watched as some of the blood that coated her clothes ran off and across the deck. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Gillion said. 

Above, in a land of both everything and nothing, two half-elves looked down and watched the three pirates laugh and talk and cry together. Br’aad turned to his brother, a smile on his face. 

“They’re good for each other.” He said. 

“Yeah.” Sylnan said. “Yeah, they are.”

Chapter Text

The escape from Geraldo could be called a success, and Chip was referring to it as such, but he wasn’t so sure his companions agreed. Gillion had been moping for the past few days, his normal valiant and boisterous manner reduced to half-hearted exclamations about defeating evil. Every time he thought he saw a ship on the horizon, he was completely sure that John had returned, and every time he was wrong. Jay had been more withdrawn as well, glancing down at her hands when she thought no one was looking and staring at Lizzy’s red tailcoat with unreasonable fear. Captain Lizzy herself was keeping up her appearance of being in control and sure of herself, but Chip suspected that was not the case. Chip himself was not that concerned about the happenings on Geraldo, besides the loss of Marshall John, but he was almost sick with worry over Ollie’s new height and stature. Why had he ever let the boy have the compass? 

The sun was setting, a chill coming into the air as the night fell, and stars were just beginning to sparkle overhead. Both Jay and Gillion were already below deck. Chip, however, had decided that he wanted to speak more with Lizzy before going to bed himself. There were still a lot of questions he wanted answered, and he could use some familiar company. 

He walked across the board that connected The Millenium Chipper and The Crescent Moon , the dark sea lapping at the sides of either boat below him, and gave a nod to Caspian, who was sitting at the figurehead of The Crescent Moon and staring out across the waves. The moonlight sparkled off his skin. Chip could imagine Gillion making a remark about it already. 

The door to the captain’s quarters was closed, and Chip discovered it was also locked. 

“Go away!” Lizzy’s voice said from behind the door, sounding impossibly tired. “Don’t come in.” 

“Lizzy, it’s Chip.” Chip ignored her words and spoke. “I want to speak with you.” Lizzy sighed so loudly that Chip could hear it through the door. 

“About what?”

“Nothing in particular. Just wanted to talk.” The doorknob turned and Lizzy was standing in the doorway, her dark hair tied in a messy braid and black smudges under her eyes. Chip couldn’t tell if it was because of fatigue or if it was her makeup. Her eyepatch was slightly off-kilter, making Chip want to reach out and touch it, but he refrained from doing so. For now. Lizzy rolled her eye and took a swig from the bottle on her hip. 

“Fine.” She said, stepping away from the doorway so Chip could enter. Her room was disheveled without being messy, with the map still centered on the wooden table. Chip took a quick glance at it as he walked inside. Lizzy laid on her side on the bed and raised an eyebrow at Chip. “Talk.” Chip sat next to her and sighed. 

“I just… Lizzy, why did you stop looking for the Black Rose pirates?” 

“What?” A bit of a dangerous edge entered Lizzy’s voice. 

“You told me you weren’t looking for them.” Chip repeated. “Why not?”   

“Because it’s pointless. Because I’m not going to waste my life looking for people who are already dead.” 

“They’re not dead, Lizzy.” Chip said. 

“How do you know?” Lizzy retorted. “You’re spending all this time looking for them, for Arlin, and you’re never going to find him.” 

“Yes I am!” Chip stood up, coming dangerously close to shouting. “I am going to find him, because he’s alive! I have—I have a way.” 

“Do you, Chip?” Lizzy took another drink from her bottle. “Do you really? Or are you just lying to yourself, because you don’t have any other ideas of what to do?” 

“I do!” Chip was shouting now. “You just don’t get it because you never cared about them!” Lizzy snapped up into a standing position, and Chip realized that maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so angry so quickly. But she’d insulted him, and Arlin. She had spoken rudely of the one person who had cared about him, and Chip was going to make her pay for it. 

“I cared, Chip.” Lizzy hissed, her voice breaking. “I cared. Don’t you ever tell me otherwise.” Her finger drifted down towards her pistol. “Alright?” Chip swallowed and nodded. “Now get out.” Lizzy shoved Chip out of the door, then slammed it so fiercely that Caspian jolted and fell off the figurehead with an exclamation of surprise. It took him only moments to climb back aboard, soaking wet and with a confused look on his face. 

“What did you do?” He asked. 

“Not telling you.” Chip growled, stalking back over to his ship. His ship, that he was captain of, because Arlin had taught him how to be a great captain, and Arlin could keep teaching him, because Arlin was alive. Lizzy just didn’t get it. 

The sound of a gunshot from Lizzy’s room made Chip flinch, but he didn’t look back. Her stupid crew could help her. 

The following evening, Chip was sitting in the crow’s nest of The Millenium Chipper and feeling guilty about how he had treated Lizzy. Caspian had angrily confronted him just this morning over making Lizzy upset, which wasn’t at all helping Chip’s turmoil of emotions. 

“I thought I could find you here.” Lizzy said, climbing up into the crow’s nest. Chip looked over his shoulder at her. “I, uh, I think I owe you an apology. For speaking so harshly.” 

“Nah, it’s fine.” Chip said. “It wasn’t right of me either.” Lizzy made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a breathy laugh. She sat down next to him and let her legs dangle over the edge of the crow’s nest. 

“I never meant to insult you.” She said to the open air. 

“I know.”

“I just… I can’t believe how dedicated to them you still are. I guess I was jealous.” Lizzy sounded like she despised admitting her envy, and Chip didn’t blame her for it. He was, however, surprised. 

“Jealous? Of me? What do I have that you’re jealous of?” 

“You have hope, Chip.” Lizzy gave him a very sad smile. “You still think they could be out there. I gave up on hope a long time ago, and it’s been too long for me to get it back.” 

“Well, you can always try.” Chip told her. Lizzy met his eyes, curiousness and brokenness in her gaze. “I’d love to help you. You and your crew really have something special, y’know? You guys can do anything together.”

“No, we can’t. Not when I’m like this.” Lizzy sniffed and wiped at her eye. “Not when I can barely think straight because I’m so worried about John, and Caspian, and this crazy plan to attack the navy, and I just don’t know what to do—” 

“Hey, hey.” Chip cut her off and put his hand on her shoulder. “Deep breaths, copy my breathing.” He breathed in and out slowly, making sure Lizzy calmed down enough to match him, watching her hyperventilating slow to normal breathing. “Good. You better?”

“Where did you learn to do that?” Lizzy said, her voice wobbling slightly. 

“A friend.” Chip said enigmatically. In reality, it had been Jay who had taught him that, on one of their first nights at sea together—before they’d found Gillion. Lizzy smiled ruefully.

“It’d be really nice to have a friend right now.” She said, so quiet that Chip could hardly hear her over the light breeze. “Someone who doesn’t look up to me.”

“Well, I’m taller than you, so I think I’m a good fit.” Chip teased. Lizzy shoved his shoulder. 

“I meant as a captain, you dingbat.” Some of her characteristic exasperation was back in her tone, so Chip congratulated himself. “But thank you. That would be… nice.” Lizzy leaned her head on Chip’s shoulder, her hair tickling his nose. Normally he would’ve teased her about it, but for now, he was content to sit like this.  

Chapter Text

While roasting marshmallows and making s’mores was always something Ryan enjoyed doing after an exhausting day of floatball practice, it was even more enjoyable when Connor and Aster were there to accompany him. They had set up a fire in one of the many firepits that dotted their college campus, with Ryan having brought basic s’mores supplies, Aster a few blankets, and Connor a bag of peanut butter cup candies, which he claimed were superior to simple pieces of chocolate for a s’more. 

As Ryan had suspected, Aster was one of those people who hardly toasted her marshmallow before putting it on the chocolate and graham crackers; she only let the fluffy white turn to a light golden rather than letting it fully cook, like what Ryan did. Connor, on the opposite end of the spectrum, had stuck his marshmallow deep into the heart of their campfire and waited for it to burn to a black and bubbly crisp before eating it, of course with one of the peanut butter cups he had brought. 

“Why do you always do that, man?” Ryan asked, looking up from roasting his second marshmallow to glance across the fire at Connor, who was staring at the flickering flames. 

“Huh?” Connor startled. “Do what?”

“Burn your marshmallows! You char ‘em.” Ryan exclaimed. Aster nodded, taking a bite of her s’more. 

“Oh, I dunno.” Connor said. “I guess I just prefer them that way, that’s all.” He reached over and grabbed two more marshmallows, sticking them on the end of his roasting stick before plunging them into the fire again. Aster visibly cringed and looked down at her almost complete s’more, with its barely toasted marshmallow. Ryan shrugged and finished cooking his second marshmallow, grabbing the chocolate and graham crackers so he could eat it properly. They ate in silence for another few minutes, until Ryan noticed that Connor was leaning into the fire so closely that the tips of his hair were starting to look burned.

“Dude!” Ryan said, a bit louder than he’d intended, so loud in fact that Connor jumped and almost went tumbling face-first into the fire. His grip on his lawn chair kept him from doing so, and he reeled backwards, staring wide-eyed at Ryan. 

“What?” Connor didn’t even sound that frightened from almost falling into a crackling fire. Aster looked a lot more afraid than he did, and she hadn’t been in any danger. 

“You gotta stop doing that! You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

“You worry too much, Ryan.” Connor said.

“Me? Worry more than you? Nah, man, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t burn to death. In a fire.” He put extra emphasis on the last three words. Connor rolled his eyes. 

“Connor, please.” Aster said. “You can think fire’s cool and all, but don’t get so close to it.” Her voice took on a bit of a pleading edge, and Connor looked away from the fire to regard her. “We don’t want you getting hurt.” Connor blinked, then sighed. 

“Yeah, I know.” He conceded. “Sorry.” 

“No problem.” Ryan shrugged. “Now, why don’t you cook me a marshmallow? I wanna see how it tastes all black and burned like that.”

“Gross, probably.” Aster put in, taking away what was now her fourth marshmallow, and this time just popping it straight into her mouth rather than using the other s’more materials. Ryan and Connor ignored her, Connor grabbing another marshmallow with a grin and sticking it into the fire. 

Chapter Text

Her chest heaving, sweat pouring down her face, Miss Gilbert looked up at Darkstar, his inhuman and soulless eyes staring down at her. 

“You’re not heroes.” He said in his growling voice. “You’re barely even humans!” Darkstar tore a portion of the train tracks from the ground, raising it above his head. Energy coursed up his arm, wrapping around the train tracks, and he slammed the now glowing metal down onto Miss Gilbert as hard as he could. She braced herself for impact. 

The tracks smashed into her, snapping her head to the side and sending her whole body stumbling sideways. Darkstar swung the train tracks again, and Miss Gilbert barely had enough time to see the attack coming before it hit her square in the chest. She fell to her knees, blood welling up in her mouth, her vision wavering as she tried to focus on Darkstar through her knight’s helmet. Even though he lacked a true face, she could tell he was revelling in beating her. 

Even with her entire world shaking and blurring and spinning, Miss Gilbert refused to give up. She had to protect her students, and her TA, and the city, with whatever it took! If she died saving them, so be it! It would be worth the risk. 

She dug through her utility belt, pulling out the first object her fingers touched: a silvery orb with a button on it. Miss Gilbert thrust the orb onto Darkstar, and the metal caved and collapsed in on itself, forming a swirling mass of purple energy that sucked everything in towards it. The weight of Miss Gilbert’s armor kept her from being sucked into the shadowy portal, and though Darkstar was not destroyed by it, he was damaged. 

Harlem, or rather Silhouette, leapt out of the miniature black hole just as it was beginning to dissipate. He drove his inky-bladed katana right into Darkstar’s chest with a smug expression. Darkstar looked at Harlem, shock vaguely present in his face, and then he collapsed onto the remnants of the train tracks. Harlem kicked at the body with a look of disdain. 

“We did it!” Jason exclaimed, hopping down off of his floating notebook, grinning widely. 

“We harnessed the darkness.” Harlem said in his characteristically serious voice. His eyebrows furrowed with concern when he looked to Miss Gilbert, who was on her hands and knees, her arms shaking as she coughed violently, blood dripping onto the ground. Her heart was pounding, throbbing, in her ears. “Hey, Miss G? You alright?” Miss Gilbert took a deep, shuddering breath that made her entire body hurt, and forced herself to stand up. She wiped blood away from her mouth and made a mental note to get bandages for her ribs after she made sure her kids were okay. 

“Good job, TA.” She said, putting her hand on Harlem’s shoulder. He brushed it off, and Miss Gilbert smiled good-naturedly. 

A sound began to echo through the streets of the city. Miss Gilbert’s heart plummeted. It was the train, coming down across the tracks at high speeds, the conductor rapidly honking the horn as he saw the hole in the tracks and Darkstar’s body lying across it. 

“Oh no…” Jason held his hand to his mouth. 

“Don’t worry.” Miss Gilbert said. “I have a plan.” She marched over to the train, limping heavily but determined. She planted herself in front of the oncoming train, her hands held out, and she took another deep breath that caught in her chest and made her wince. If there was any time for her hero powers to work perfectly, now was the time! Full medieval armor should be enough to stop a train, right? 

The conductor’s eyes were wide as he yanked on the train’s brakes, trying to bring it to a stop before it hit Miss Gilbert or the gap in the tracks. It slowed a bit, sparks flying off the wheels, but it couldn’t stop completely with such short notice. 

The train rammed into Miss Gilbert, who screamed as she felt bones in her arms shift and break at the hard impact, but she refused to go down now. She had people to protect, people that were counting on her, and she was not going to fail. She dug her boots into the ground, pushing with all her newfound strength against the train, hoping to stop it before it reached the gap, where Jason was now trying to put a paper pathway. 

Miss Gilbert was pushed backwards atop Jason’s newly-made path, where her boots tore right through the paper, sending her falling to the ground as the train screeched to a halt, its front just hanging over the hole in the ground, but stopping before going completely over the edge. Miss Gilbert lay there, on her back, staring up at the sky with vision that was rapidly tunneling to almost pitch blackness. 

“Miss G!” Harlem shouted, leaping down into the crater, kneeling next to Miss Gilbert and anxiously looking her over. His face was blurry and indistinct, more just a shape with a shock of pink hair than anything else. Jason stood next to him, a blonde blur in bright white, chewing on his nails. “Come on, get up! You gotta get up, so we can make sure those brats are alright!” The mention of the kids brought Miss Gilbert back to a semblance of being awake, but it was only for a moment. She tried to push herself up, to go find her kids, but agony ricocheted up her spine and all she heard was a cry from Harlem before she lost consciousness. 

Harlem watched in horror as Darkstar slammed the fragment of train tracks into Miss Gilbert, making a sickening crack echo through the city. Miss Gilbert staggered backwards, clutching at her side, then fell to her knees as Darkstar hit her again. She pulled an orb from her belt and stuck it to Darkstar, creating a swirling vortex of shadow, and Harlem saw his opportunity arise. He acted without a second thought, appearing out of the vortex with his katana in hand, sinking it deep into the chest of Darkstar. Darkstar crumbled atop the train tracks. 

“We did it!” Jason descended to the ground with a joyous expression. 

“We harnessed the darkness.” Harlem said, smirking under his mask. A coughing and hacking from behind him drew his attention, and he turned to see Miss Gilbert on her hands and knees, her whole body jerking with the force of her coughs, her armor clanking together. She sounded like she was struggling to breathe past tears. “Hey, Miss G?” Harlem said, stepping closer. “You alright?” Miss Gilbert gasped in a desperate breath and stood up slowly, her hand wiping something red away from her mouth. That didn’t bode well. 

“Good job, TA.” She put her hand on Harlem’s shoulder, and he reflexively pushed it away. She was not deterred in the slightest, as usual, though Harlem could see blood darkening the fabric that held her armor plates together. 

There was, of course, the problem of the train that was now rapidly approaching. 

“Oh no…” Jason’s face was pale, and his hands were over his mouth. 

“Don’t worry.” Miss Gilbert assured them. “I have a plan.” She walked purposefully over to the train tracks, standing directly in front of the oncoming train and reaching out her arms, as if she could actually catch such a fast moving object. Jason started trying to repair the broken tracks by using paper, but even Harlem could see that that would never work. 

Harlem didn’t have a moment to do anything before the train came crashing into Miss Gilbert, who screamed in agony as it made contact, pushing her backwards. She fell directly through Jason’s paper train tracks, landing on her back as the train hung over her, moments away from collapsing, but safe, thanks to her. 

“Miss G!” Harlem yelled, leaping down into the hole and skidding to a halt next to Miss Gilbert, who’s eyes were unfocused, her face pale and blood starting to spread down her clothes. “Come on, get up!” Harlem put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a light shake. Her face contorted in pain, and he quickly let go. “You gotta get up, so we can make sure those brats are alright!” This seemed to register with Miss Gilbert, who tried to stand up, muttering some half-coherent nonsense under her breath before she cried out and fell back to the ground, completely unconscious, her breathing shallow. Harlem and Jason looked at each other. Jason snapped his fingers and made a large floating platform of paper. 

“Get on.” He said. Harlem picked up Miss Gilbert, trying his hardest to be gentle and to not panic, and climbed onto the platform. Jason flew them through the sky to the nearest hospital they could find, all while Harlem frantically watched Miss Gilbert for signs of life. She had to be okay, she just had to. 

When she awoke, Miss Gilbert was lying in a rather uncomfortable bed in a too-bright room with one window on the side and two chairs along the wall. Harlem and Jason were sitting in the chairs, Jason rigid and upright, while Harlem was asleep with his head resting on Jason’s shoulder. It was heartwarming to see. 

Miss Gilbert groaned, her whole body aching, though it was not nearly as terrible as it had been when she had fought Darkstar alongside Origami and Silhouette. She had a headache, there were bandages tightly wrapped around her chest, and both of her arms were in casts. She probably looked like some sort of broken doll. 

There was a collective gasp as Miss Gilbert awoke, coming from her class of students, clustered around her bed and whispering quietly to one another. She turned her head to look around at them, smiling tiredly. 

“Miss Gilbert!” A girl exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

“Shh, Tori!” A boy put his finger to his lips. “We have to be quiet here.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Miss Gilbert said to her students. Her voice was hoarse. “Are you all okay?”

“We’re fine.” Said a girl with a long braid. “Thanks for saving us.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes, and Miss Gilbert noticed that a lot of her students looked like they had been crying. 

“You were all very brave today.” She told them. “I’m very proud of you. When we get back to class, remind me to give you all gold stars.” The girl with the braid laughed shakily. 

“Okay.” She said. 

“Kids, I’d like to speak with Miss Gilbert now, and the room is a little bit crowded.” Jason spoke, his gentle voice still catching everyone’s attention. The students looked at each other, nodded, and started shuffling out of the room. Jason poked Harlem on the shoulder to wake him up. Harlem immediately leapt to his feet. 

“Miss G!” He exclaimed, then quieted down as soon as Jason hushed him. “I’m so happy you’re okay. You… you didn’t look so good.”

“I can imagine.” Miss Gilbert said. She couldn’t quite remember what had happened during the fight with Darkstar, at least after she had stood in front of him to take any hits he would have had to offer, but she knew what he had done regardless. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine.” Jason said. “We’re more worried about you.” 

“Don’t be.” Miss Gilbert told them. “I’m okay, and better now that I know you guys are.” 

“Thanks.” Harlem said. He dug through his bag and pulled out a laptop. “I brought this, if we want to watch anything.”

“Oh!” Miss Gilbert said, eyes wide. “Alright! What do you guys want to watch?”

“Miss G, you’re the one in the hospital.” Jason said. “You get to pick.”

“Hmm.” Miss Gilbert would have put her finger on her chin, if she could move her arms enough to do so. “What about a documentary? I know there’s a cave episode of Planet Earth. ” Jason smiled; of course Miss Gilbert would want to watch a documentary when she could watch anything. Harlem opened his laptop and pulled up exactly what Miss Gilbert had said. “Awesome! Thanks, guys. Sorry for all the stress.”

“No worries, Miss G.” Harlem said. He sat on one side of the hospital bed, with Jason on the over, and put the laptop in Miss Gilbert’s lap. The documentary started, and even though Miss Gilbert only made it fifteen minutes in before she fell asleep, neither Jason nor Harlem minded. As long as she was alive and healing, she could sleep however much she wanted. 

Chapter Text

Harlem was sitting at his desk and bent over a sheet of very complicated math homework when Miss Gilbert opened the door and sat down at the kitchen table, putting her head in her hands. Harlem looked up from his homework, watching the way that her shoulders trembled. He put his pencil down and walked over to the table. Miss Gilbert didn’t look up or give any sign that she knew he was there, but Harlmen reached over and put his hand on her shoulder anyway. 

    “You alright?” He said. 

    “Harlem, am I a bad teacher?” Miss Gilbert’s voice was muffled by her hands, but it was easy enough to hear the amount of pain in her voice. 

    “No, Becca, you’re an amazing teacher.” Harlem said sincerely. “You work harder than anyone else I know—”

“I do, and it doesn’t matter.” Miss Gilbert said. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
    “What happened?” Harlem said. 

“Parent-teacher conferences.” Ah, so that was it. Harlem had very fond memories of the disappointment on his parent’s faces after those, and he could imagine that parents would be rather rude to teachers, particularly new teachers like Miss Gilbert. “I… there was a man who didn’t think I was doing a good job, and he might be right.”

“No, he’s wrong.” Harlem said, a bit of force entering his voice. “You are great at what you do, and anyone who says otherwise is lying.” Miss Gilbert sniffled, looking up towards him and straightening her glasses. 

“Really?”
    “Really.” Harlem confirmed. Miss Gilbert nodded and smiled at him. She stood, wiping her eyes, taking a deep breath, and walking over to the sofa in their living room. Harlem followed her and sat down beside her. 

“Thanks, Harlem.” She said, putting her head on his shoulder. Harlem felt his mouth turning upwards in a smile, and he leaned his cheek on the top of her head, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Miss Gilbert pressed herself further into Harlem’s side and sniffled. The two of them sat there, Harlem holding Miss Gilbert close to himself and fighting off sleep, for almost thirty minutes before Harlem realized that Miss Gilbert had actually fallen asleep. He sighed contentedly, carding his fingers through her soft red hair, then glanced over at his math homework. Eh, he could do it later. 

Chapter Text

Morning in the Garden was a lot calmer than Alastyr had expected it to be, given how chaotic and scary the City of Nightmares as a whole was. Everyone gathered in the main hall for breakfast, gathering around a long wood table and making conversation with one another, laughing and smiling. Even so, it was obvious that everyone was on edge, and it was because of the newcomers—Alastyr’s group. Currently Alastyr and Kasper were the only ones who were awake and up; Kroe and Flynn were still sleeping, probably. 

Alastyr held his plate of scrambled eggs close to himself and moved to sit down at the end of a table, not looking over at Kasper, who was still moving through the line of people. His shoulders were hunched over. Alastyr felt guilt pool in his stomach. He hadn’t meant to lose Strangle’s notebook, really, he hadn’t, it had just happened! It had been lost somewhere during the fight with Spidbu’ur, probably when Alastyr had been attacked, and he had told Kasper as soon as he’d realized he didn’t have it, which had been almost immediately upon waking up, but Kasper still seemed a bit upset. Alastyr didn’t blame him. Strangle had been very important to Kasper, and then Alastyr had gone and lost one of the last things Strangle had owned. 

It only took a few moments for Kasper to join Alastyr with a plate of bacon and eggs, nodding to Alastyr as he sat down. 

“Good morning.” He said. 

“Morning.” Alastyr’s voice cracked. “H-How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” Kasper said. 

Alastyr nodded. “That’s good.” The two of them ate in silence for almost ten minutes before Alastyr slammed his fork down in frustration. “Kasper, are you mad at me?” He said. Kasper glanced over to him. 

“No, of course I’m not.” Kasper said. 

“Why are you lying to me?” Alastyr pressed. 

“I’m not.” Kasper said curtly. 

“You are! See, you’re getting mad at me right now!” 

“Because you’re being annoying!” Kasper shouted, slamming his plate down on the table. Alastyr flinched back. He hadn’t actually expected Kasper to yell at him. In the din of the hall, no one else seemed to notice Kasper’s outburst. Kasper sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Alastyr. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
    “I know you’re upset about me losing the notebook.” Alastyr said. “You have every right to be; it was something important to you and I lost where it was.” 

“I’m not angry, Alastyr, really I’m not.” Kasper said. He laughed mirthlessly. “Well, maybe a bit. But I never meant to yell at you like that. I just…” Kasper’s voice broke the slightest bit. “I really miss him, and that notebook was one of the last things of him we have.” He said.

“I know it was.” Alastyr said, looking away for a moment. “Are you sure you’re not mad? Because if you are, I get it.” Kasper put his hand on Alastyr’s shoulder. 

“I’m not. I was when you lost it, and I think I was a few moments ago, but I’m not now.” 

“It’s okay to miss him, you know.” Alastyr said gently. 

Kasper took a deep and shuddering breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I know.” Alastyr leaned forward and hugged Kasper, and in contrast to the embrace back in Food, Kasper hugged back this time. Alastyr felt tears soak into his lab coat, but he didn’t say anything. As long as Kasper wasn’t angry with him, and he wasn’t holding all of his hurt inside, that was good enough for now. 

Chapter Text

    Chip pinched his coin tightly between his fingers as he sat around the planning table with Jay, Gillion, and Ollie, readying a plan to invade the castle of Edison Kingdom and steal from their king. They were also considering assassinating him, depending on how horrible he ended up being, but Chip personally hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He still didn’t love the idea of killing someone. 

    “So Ollie and I are going to get into the vault, while you and Gill distract the king, right?” Chip said, gesturing to Jay. 

    “That’s the plan.” Jay agreed. “Can you two handle that?”

    “I think so!” Ollie said, his face brightening. Jay nodded. 

    “That means Gill and I have to find our way to the king.” She mused. “Gill, maybe you could pretend to be an officer or something! A noble!”

    “But that would be lying, Jay.” Gillion said. “I am sorry, but I refuse to lie.”

    “Well then… maybe you only speak Primordial!” Chip exclaimed. “Jay can translate for you, so you’ll never have to lie but we can still do what we need to do.” 

    “That… that is acceptable.” Gillion said. “Jay, do you like that idea?”

    “Works for me.” Jay shrugged. “But who is Gill going to pretend to be?”

    “Wh-What about the King of the Undersea?” Ollie suggested. Chip snapped his fingers and pointed at him. 

    “Awesome. Gill, you’ll be the King of the Undersea.” He said. Gillion shivered, almost imperceptibly, but he nodded. 

    “Let’s get some rest, then.” Jay said. 

    Jay looked down at herself, sighing. The uniform Gill had chosen for her certainly was strange, but that was probably a good thing: it sold the ‘foreign translator’ look even further. At least Gillion had let her wear a little bit of jewelry from her casino outfit—lots of golden earrings and a bracelet. Her heeled boots clicked on the wooden floor as she made her way back to their meeting room. Chip and Ollie were already there, dressed in dark clothes to better hide in the night, but Gillion had not yet appeared. Jay sat down next to the two of them.

      “Where’s Gill?” She asked. 

“Not sure.” Chip said. “He’ll be here soon, I’m sure.” As if Chip’s voice had summoned him, Gillion came walking into the room. He wasn’t wearing anything different from his normal clothes, and he was nervously wringing his hands. “Oh, hey Gill? What’s up, where’s your costume?” 

“I would like to change the plan.” Gillion said. 

“Right now?” Chip sounded exasperated. “Gill, it’s a little late for that.”    

“Chip, I cannot go through with this.” Gillion continued. His voice trembled. “I cannot be the King of the Undersea.” 

“Why not?” Jay asked. 

“It isn’t… me.” Gillion seemed to be stumbling over his words. “I cannot be him.” There was venom in the word. 

“Okay, so what should we do?” Jay said. 

“I think I would prefer to be Queen of the Undersea.” Gillion looked down at the floor. “Please.” Jay had never heard him—her?—sound so desolate. 

“Gill, do you mean you’re a girl?” Ollie, surprisingly, was the one who spoke. 

“I am certainly not a boy.” Gillion said. “I do not know if girl is completely right, either.”    

“That’s okay!” Ollie encouraged. He took a deep breath, then reached down and pulled his black tunic off, exposing pink crescent-shaped scars under his pectoral muscles. “I think I know what you mean.” Gillion’s face was shocked. Chip and Jay felt the same, but Jay was the first one to speak. 

“Gill, if you want to be Queen of the Undersea, you can be.” She said. “Do you want us to use she/her pronouns?” 

“Is… is there an in between? Those fit, certainly, but I do not know if they are the only ones that fit.”
    “You can use they/them too, buddy.” Chip put in. Gillion smiled, their face full of relief and something akin to euphoria. 

“That is perfect.” She said. She looked at Chip, Jay, and Ollie. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, Gill.” Jay said. “Can we still call you Gill?” 

“You may.” They said. “I like my name. It is the name of a hero.” 

“Yeah it is.” Chip grinned. “So, we need a new outfit, don’t we?”
    “I think I can figure something out.” Jay said. “Ollie, are you any good at sewing?” 

“Yeah!” Ollie said. “I sewed up my clothes all the time on Zero!” 

    “Awesome! Come on, let’s do this quickly. Gill, follow us.” 

    By the time Ollie and Jay finished fixing Gillion a new outfit, it had been almost an hour. Chip had come in to bug them about their time constraints an annoying amount of times, and Jay had brushed him off with an increasingly annoyed tone every time. 

    Gillion looked at herself in the tall mirror, marveling at the outfit. It was a white blouse tucked into a dark blue skirt that swished around her legs; it was a feeling Gillion was unused to but one that they loved. They wore a golden circlet (one of Jay’s casino accessories) and the necklace given to them by Aslana. The skirt had embroidery of waves along the bottom, and the cuffs of the blouse billowed at the ends, draping over Gillion’s hands. 

    “Is that good?” Jay asked, looking at Gillion’s outfit. 

    “It is wonderful.” Gillion said sincerely. “I cannot thank you enough.”
    “Thank them later!” Came Chip’s voice through the door. “We have to go!” Gillion chuckled and rolled her eyes. 

    “Alright.” She said. “I am ready to go.” Jay and Ollie nodded, leaving the room. Gillion took one last look at themself. 

    “Queen of the Undersea.” They said.

Chapter Text

Wringing his hands together, Chip looked around the edges of the pond that sat in the beautiful garden they had discovered, right at the top of the Isles of Ire. Jay was back in one of the two buildings, and Aslana was sleeping at the bottom of the central pool, with Pretzel swimming little circles around her head, but Chip didn’t see Gillion anywhere, and the Triton was exactly who he was looking for. 

    Last Chip had seen of him, Gillion had been going towards the second building—the library—to see what he could find. He walked past the pool and into the library, breathing in the scent of old paper and leather, and just the slightest hint of salty sea air. 

“Hey, Gill? You in here?” Chip called, his voice echoing off the bookshelves. He could perfectly imagine some old librarian telling him to be quiet in a crotchety voice. Gillion’s head poked out from around the side of a bookshelf. 

“Greetings, Chip!” He said enthusiastically. “What brings you here?”
    “I just wanted to see what you were doing, that’s… all.” Chip winced as he realized how clingy and creepy that sounded. Well, he knew Gillion wouldn’t mind. 

“I am reading this book!” He proclaimed, showing the book to Chip, who walked over to see. It was an elaborate and thickly-bound book with the title Rose-Colored Spectacles embossed on it. “It was written by my grandfather.” Gillion pointed to where “Finn Tidestrider” was written, right at the bottom of the book. Chip opened his mouth to say something and found himself unable to speak. Finn was Gillion’s grandfather? He supposed it made sense, given the shared last name, but Chip hadn’t actually made the connection yet. “Chip?” Gillion’s voice cut through Chip’s racing thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Your grandfather is Finn Tidestrider?” Chip managed to say.

“Well, yes. Have you heard of him?” 

“I knew him, Gill.” Chip said. Gillion’s eyes widened. 

“You did? When—How? I never knew him, how did you?” Chip took a deep breath. While both Jay and Gillion knew a bit of how he had lived before the sinking of the Midnight Rose , Chip hadn’t gone into significant detail about it to either of them, and he honestly hadn’t been planning to. 

“When I was a kid, Finn was in the same pirate crew that I was in.”
    “Alongside Arlin and Drey, you mean? The Midnight Rose ?”
    “Yeah.” Chip’s hand went into his pocket, and he fiddled with the coin that sat there. He could feel the pattern of it on his thumb. Gillion looked down at the book, thinking, and then he spoke again:
    “Chip, could you tell me about him? From the stories I have heard and this book, I feel as if I would have enjoyed to know him.” 

“Uh, sure I can.” Chip sat down and crossed his legs. “Finn was amazing.” He said, memories of the Black Rose Pirates beginning to fill his mind. He thought about them often, but he rarely allowed himself to be this nostalgic. “He was a genius, at least when it came to magic. He could cast practically any spell you could think of. Kind of like you, Gill.” Gillion perked up a bit. “He was always looking for these elusive sea creatures.” Chip made a sound between an exhale and a laugh. “Arlin and I played a prank on him once. We put hot sauce in his drink. Oh, Gill you should’ve seen his face, it was so red.”

“Like the time Jay and I pranked you.” Gillion mused. 

“Yeah, just like that.” Chip put his hand on Gillion’s shoulder. “And Finn never once got angry at us for it. He was always so patient and understanding. Whenever you had a question, he answered it. Whenever you were feeling down, well, he comforted you! He’d make all these pictures with water, or read from his magic book about sea creatures too big to actually be real. He was awesome, really. When we find him, you should talk to him. He’d love you.” Gillion smiled. 

“Thank you, Chip.” He said. “I appreciate it. It sounds like my grandfather was a great man.”

“He is a great man, Gill.” Chip told him. 

“Could you… Chip, do you have more stories?” 

“‘Course I do! Do you want more?” 

“I think I would. Perhaps I could tell you what I have heard of him too.”
    “Why not? Let’s exchange stories.” Gillion nodded, putting the book down next to him, and settled in to listen to Chip dramatically tell stories about the Midnight Rose and the great Finn Tidestrider.

Chapter Text

Gillion was trying to focus on his studying, really he was, but it was becoming more and more difficult as a voice kept singing in his head. He was supposed to be studying sword forms and thunder magic, something he enjoyed learning about. The voice made it impossible to fully focus. It sounded like a young boy’s voice, higher in pitch than Gillion’s but still a masculine tone, and it was singing one of Gillion’s favorite songs: a sea-shanty tune Gillion had heard only from sailors, when he ventured closer to the surface than he was probably supposed to.

    There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword, sang the voice, he will tear your city down, o-lei o-lai o-lord, o-lei, o-lai, o-lei, o-lord 

    Gillion hummed the final he will tear your city down alongside the voice. He heard a laugh in the back of his mind, as if the singer had realized he was humming along. 

    There will come a poet, whose weapon is his word, he will slay you with his tongue, o-lei o-lai o-lord

    “O-lei, o-lai, o-lei, o-lord,” sang Gillion, “he will slay you with his tongue o-lei o-lai o-lord.” His voice echoed throughout the place where he was studying, rippling through the water. He tried not to be too loud, so that the others in the space—his tutors—wouldn’t hear him and get angry, but it was a beautiful song, and Gillion was not a quiet person. 

“There will come a ruler, who’s brow is laid in thorn, smeared with oil like David’s boy, o-lei o-lai o-lord, o-lei, o-lai, o-lei, o-lord, smeared with oil like David’s boy, o-lei o-lai, oh!” Gillion finished the song, smiling to himself. The boy’s voice had sung alongside him, and it had almost seemed like a third voice, this one that of a girl’s, had joined them at the very end. 

“Champion?” Asked an older man, raising an eyebrow as he poked his head into the room. “Is everything alright?”

“Wonderful, in fact.” Gillion responded, gesturing to the book he had been reading from. His face hurt from smiling. “This is very fascinating.” The man nodded his white-haired head. 

“Good.” He stepped back out of the room. 

“Arlin, there were other people singing with me!” Chip came to Arlin, his eyes alight with wonder and excitement. Arlin leaned down and put the boy on his knee. 

“Oh really?” Arlin said.

“Yeah! I was singing Soldier, Poet, King; and other people sang along! They were just in my head though, I didn’t see them.” Arlin looked over towards Drey, who was doing a poor job of pretending not to listen. 

“Chip, that’s wonderful!” Arlin exclaimed. “Those were your soulmates!” Chip gasped. 

“They were?”
    “They were!” 

“That’s awesome! They sounded so nice, too! One of them had a funny accent, though.” Chip wrinkled his nose. Arlin laughed and ruffled Chip’s hair. 

“That just means they’re a bit different, Chip. I think that’s a great thing.” Chip nodded, leaning back and putting his head just under Arlin’s chin, humming a song. Arlin looked at Drey and gave a grin that made his gold tooth shine in the sun. 

Chapter Text

Under the bright light of the sun and atop the wooden deck of The Albatross , Gillion held his whalebone longsword out before him, going through the motions of a fight against a nonexistent enemy. Running through his practice routine at least once was something Gillion did every day, but this was his fifth time through. The capture of Marshall John had originally left Gillion without motivation, disheartened because one of his closest friends was gone. Not anymore. Gillion had realized, after a conversation with Jay, that the only way to get John back would be if Gillion was powerful enough to save him, which meant more practicing than Gillion had ever done before. 

Once Gillion finished with the sword-form routine, he would do a set of pull-ups with his Immovable Rod, then do push-ups on the deck, jog a few times around it, and repeat the process until he had to stop for fear of keeling over. Practicing magic would come later in the night, when the dark sky would make it easier to see how successful his spells were. 

“H-Hey, Gillion.” Ollie said, and Gillion sheathed his sword, turning around to face the tall half-elven boy. Ollie looked down at the deck rather than making eye contact. “Can I, uh, can I train with you?” 

“Of course, Ollie.” Gillion said with a smile. “Do you have a weapon?” 

“No.” Ollie admitted. 

“One moment.” Gillion said. “Chip!” He shouted. Ollie startled. “I must borrow one of your swords!”
    “For what?” Came Chip’s voice, from the crow’s nest. 

“I am going to train Ollie!” 

“Alright!” Chip leaned over the side of the crow’s nest, dropping one of his swords off the side. Ollie shrieked and ran away, while Gillion took a few striding steps forward and caught Chip’s sword by the hilt before it embedded itself in the deck. “You got this, Ollie!” 

“Here.” Gillion held the sword out to Ollie, who took it. “First thing, let’s work on your grip and stance.”
    “O-Okay.” Ollie said. He did his best to hold out the sword, standing in a similar position to how Chip did: low to the ground, knees bent, stance wide, arms held close. It was very different from Gillion’s straight-backed and strong-armed stance, which relied on power and defense, but Chip’s fighting style was very different from Gillion’s: he relied on evasion and borderline unfair tactics. 

“Don’t stand so wide.” Gillion said. “Dodging is important, but you are off-balance.” For emphasis, he poked Ollie’s shoulder. Ollie brought his feet a little closer together. “Good.” Gillion bent to examine the grip Ollie had on the sword. It was white-knuckled, almost painfully so. “If you grab your blade so tightly, you lose momentum.” Gillion said. “Loosen your fingers a bit.” Ollie complied, still grabbing the sword in a firm grip but not as aggressively. “Good, Ollie, that’s good!” 

“T-Thanks!” Ollie stammered. 

“We can start with forms.” Gillion said. 

“Are those the things you were doing earlier?” 

“They are.” Gillion nodded. “They improve your form and help you to better wield your weapon.” He went through his routine slightly slower than normal, letting Ollie follow him through miming swings, stabs, blocks, and parries. Ollie learned surprisingly quickly, faster than even Gillion himself had, and he learned with determination. 

After a week of practicing and training, both Gillion and Ollie were sore. Gillion had worked himself even harder than normal, to show more obviously to Ollie the maneuvers he was to learn, and Ollie had never done something so physically taxing in his life, not to mention he still wasn’t used to his newfound height. The two of them were now sparring with wooden swords Jay had carved, and while Gillion was winning, he could feel that Ollie had improved dramatically since the first day. Impressively so. 

Ollie swung to the side, adjusting his grip to add more power behind the swing, and Gillion parried. His moves were slightly sloppier than normal, only because he wasn’t used to the relatively less weight of a wooden sword, but he blocked nonetheless. Ollie used his now-almost-perfected stance to leap backwards when Gillion swung for him, easily hard enough to bruise; both of them already sported purple and blue spots across their arms from previous sparring matches. 

Gillion thrust his wooden blade forwards, and Ollie used his sword to deflect the stab. Gillion carried his momentum forward, turning and slashing again. Ollie grunted as he held back Gillion’s considerable strength. Gillion removed his blade, going back into a defensive stance, and Ollie came at him with a flurry of blows that were faster than anything Gillion had seen Ollie use before, forcing Gillion to defend himself without a moment of reprieve. 

And then Ollie’s leg came out in a sweeping motion, knocking Gillion’s feet out from under him. Ollie pointed his sword at Gillion, his chest heaving. Chip, who had been watching, immediately started cheering. 

“Woo, yeah Ollie! You did it!” He shouted. Ollie looked surprised at his own actions. 

“Congratulations.” Gillion said, pushing himself back up to his feet. “That was impressive.” 

“Thank you.” Ollie said breathlessly. He leaned in towards Gillion and spoke in a quieter voice. “D’you think Miss Jay saw?” Gillion looked past Ollie’s shoulder at Jay, who had, in fact, been watching the duel. She was listening to Chip now, as he ranted excitedly about Ollie’s success. 

“She did.” Gillion told him. Ollie’s face went bright red.

“Hey, Ollie!” Jay stood up and walked over to the two of them. Chip shot a look of conspiracy at Gillion, who returned the look with one of confusion. “Nice job! I don’t I’ve ever been able to beat Gill.” If Ollie’s face could have turned more red, it would have. 

“Th-Thanks, Miss Jay.” Ollie said. “Gill, you’ll still help me learn, right? You won’t stop just because I beat you?”
    “Of course not!” Gillion exclaimed. “You are a wonderful student, Oliver, and teaching you would be my pleasure.”
    “I wanna help too!” Chip trotted over to their group. “I taught him some stuff, y’know.” He slung his arm over Ollie’s shoulder. It was an awkward maneuver, considering Ollie was taller than Chip. 

“Well, if you guys are gonna teach him, then I think I should too.” Jay said. Ollie made a strangled, squeaking noise in his throat. “Ollie, have you ever shot a bow before?” 

“N-no.” Ollie said. 

“It’s never too late to learn!” Jay proclaimed. 

“For now, though, I believe we should rest.” Gillion interrupted. “Ollie, you have done extremely well. Go get some rest, and we can continue this tomorrow.” Ollie nodded.

“Thank you, Gillion.”
    “Of course.” Gillion dipped his head, his tone humble. Chip walked off towards the hold, Ollie following behind him, and Jay following behind Ollie. Gillion leaned against the railing of The Albatross , looking at the crew of the Crescent Moon , sailing right beside them. Lizzy was nowhere to be seen, but Caspian was practicing manipulating the seawater up and down, swirling it around his head. “Caspian!” Gillion shouted. Caspian looked over his shoulder, smiling. “May I join you?”

“I would love it if you would!” 

Chapter Text

“What the heck is that?” Chip exclaimed incredulously, pointing over the side of The Albatross at something in the waters below. Gillion glanced towards him, raising an eyebrow. He sheathed his sword across his back and jogged over to Chip, looking down into the ocean to try and see what Chip was seeing. He could make out dark, jagged shapes beneath the waves, almost like black talons. 

    “I will investigate.” He said, then dove over the railing before Chip could say anything else. He heard shouts of surprise from Jay and Chip before he hit the water, all sound muffling momentarily before his ears adjusted to being underwater. Gillion took a nostalgic breath. The water felt cool and comforting around him, and his hair floated in front of his face. It was just like his home had been; it had been much too long since he had been to the Undersea. 

    “Gill!” Chip’s voice came from above, difficult to hear. Gillion swam back to the surface. “Gill, what are you doing?” 

    “I am investigating, Chip!” Gillion called. “You wanted to know what was beneath the surface, so I am figuring it out!” 

    “Gill, it could be dangerous down there!” Jay’s head showed itself over the railing, her face concerned. “You don’t know what kind of stuff lurks—well, I guess you do.” She pulled on her ponytail. “Can we send someone to go with you? Just so things are safer?”
    “Sure, I suppose.” Gillion said. “But you all are not fish!” He raised his voice again. “How will you accompany me?”
    “They won’t.” Caspian strode over to the railing, a slight smile on his pale blue face. Gillion gasped in delight. Pretzel chirped excitedly. Caspian jumped into the water with a splash. He nodded up to Chip and Jay, then dove downwards. 

    “I will see you soon!” Gillion promised them before following Caspian into the depths. It only took a few moments of swimming down, the water pressure just barely noticeable, before the two Tritons found out what the dark shapes had been. 

    Massive peaks of black stone, only the stone seemed to writhe and slither. It looked to be coated in a thick black substance that clung to it like glue, but occasional little globules of ink would float into the water. Gillion swam over to one of the peaks, trying to figure out what had happened. This didn’t look like anything he had ever seen before, but the black goo had a chilling similarity to the substance that had come to be associated with Niklaus Hendriks. The water around the stone stung and felt bitter in Gillion’s throat. Caspian coughed and covered his mouth with one hand. 

    “I do not like this, Gillion.” He said. “Perhaps we should go back to the ship.” 

    “I suspect magic has tampered with this place.” Gillion said in response, moving away from the stone spire. “We should figure out what has happened here.” He swam further down, staying close to the stone as he did so. The stone structure got wider and wider the deeper Gillion and Caspian went, and the substance got thicker, until you couldn’t see even a hint of stone beneath it, and ink was coming off the stone in waves that Gillion had to bat aside with his hand. Pretzel whimpered. 

    The bottom of the spire was fixed in grayish sand, close enough to others that it seemed as if Gillion was in a forest of black stone. The smell of blood was thick in the water, almost enough to make Gillion sick. 

    “Something is very wrong here.” Gillion said. 

Caspian sniffed. “Obviously.” Gillion knelt in front of the stone, putting his hands in the frigid sand. He felt something smooth under the sand and grabbed it, pulling upwards. It was a curved piece of white stone, not quite as long as his forearm.

It was a rib bone. Gillion took a few frantic steps back, dropping the bone onto the sand. A cloud of gray, ashy sand flew up around it. Caspian turned and cursed, colorfully, in Primordial. 

“Gillion, we should go.” He put his hands on Gillion’s arm, tugging. Gillion didn’t move. 

“What happened here?” He said. He looked to Caspian with a look of anger and alarm. “Caspian, what happened here?”
    “I don’t know, but I don’t think we should be here anymore.” Caspian told him. “Come on.”
    “No, we have to figure out what happened. An injustice occurred here.” Gillion sifted around through the sand again, this time finding something smooth and round. When he pulled it out of the sand, sooty gray sand poured from the eyes and mouth of a humanoid skull with sharp teeth and bony structures along where its ears would have been. A Triton’s skull. Gillion placed it on the ground, murmuring a prayer to the Titans for the deceased individual, whoever they had been. 

Caspian took an uncertain step forward, his gills flaring with unease, and bent down to examine the skull. He tilted his head. Before Gillion could do anything to stop him, Caspian reached forward, into the skull’s mouth, and pulled out a small circular object. He held it up so he and Gillion could better see it. It was a large pearl, not nearly as big as the Luxbris had been, closer to an egg in size, but it was an inky black shot through with streaks of gold. 

“A strange artifact to keep in one’s mouth.” Caspian remarked. 

“May I see it?” Gillion asked. Caspian handed him the pearl, and Gillion took it. It seemed to pulse with a divine energy that thrummed through his veins alongside the magic that Gillion himself possessed. Gillion’s energy crackled and jumped around like the lightning it was manifested as, but this force seemed to flow like a slow river, and it felt as if it was clogging up Gillion’s magic with its own. 

“Hello, Champion.” A deep, accented voice said. 

“Niklaus.” Gillion almost growled. Caspian looked towards him, eyes wide. 

“Gillion?” He said.

Gillion ignored Caspian. “Niklaus, what have you done here?” 

“Nothing that I was not asked to do.” Niklaus said, chuckling. “Deals are tricky, you know.” 

“Tell me what happened here.” 

“I can’t do that! It ruins the confidentiality of the deal.” Niklaus told him. Gillion drew his sword. He could picture Niklaus standing in front of him, no, Niklaus was standing in front of him. The Tiefling had an ornamented hand on his chin, and a low laugh shook his shoulders and made the golden decorations on his horns jingle. “If you really wanted to know, we could make another deal.”
    “I want nothing to do with you.” Gillion said. Niklaus shrugged. 

“Alright. I’m content to leave you in mystery.” He took a step back, touched one of the stone pillars, and was gone in a swirl of black ink. The ink spun upwards like a snake, turning to Gillion, and shot forwards through the water at him. 

“Gillion!” Caspian shouted, a burst of icy magic shooting from his palm and crashing into the snake-like creature, knocking it to the side. Gillion turned towards Caspian. It was hard to think past his anger at Niklaus, the thunderous energy coursing through him, and a pain in his chest that seemed to be getting stronger every moment.

The inky snake reformed and angled itself towards Gillion again. Gillion held out his sword, waiting for it to dive towards him before slashing it cleanly in half with a burst of lightning energy that shot through the water around them, making Caspian flinch backwards. The snake burst into bones that fluttered to the seafloor. 

“We should get out of here.” Caspian walked up and put his hand on Gillion’s shoulder. 

“How could Niklaus do this?” Gillion said, his voice angry. 

“Gillion, we need to get out of here.” Caspian repeated. Gillion blinked a few times, his vision blurring for only a moment as he looked at Caspian. 

“Right.” Gillion had to force himself to step away from the bones. The pain in his chest was worsening, almost as if there was something pressing down on his ribs. Caspian kicked off the seafloor and started swimming upwards, alongside the now thinning stone spire, towards the blur of light barely visible overhead. 

When the two of them broke the surface, Captain Lizzy was also at the edge of The Albatross , talking with Chip and Jay. She looked over the railing as Caspian and Gillion started to climb up the rope ladder that Chip had tied to the side of his boat. 

“So? What happened with the spikes?” Chip asked as soon as they were up. “What’s down there?”
    “Nothing good, I’m afraid.” Caspian said. 

“Are you hurt?” Lizzie’s voice was alarmed. She took a few striding steps forward and grabbed Caspian’s face in her hands, examining him for any injuries. Caspian pushed her arms away.

“Both of us are fine.” He said. Lizzie nodded and stepped back once again, now beginning to blush a bit. 

“So then what did you see?” Jay said to them, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. 

“There were bones beneath the sand.” Gillion began to explain, having to forcefully reign in his anger so his voice didn’t show it. “Niklaus had something to do with it.”
    “Awesome!” Chip said sarcastically. “Then let’s get the hell out of here!” 

“No, Chip, we cannot leave.” Gillion said. “We must figure out how he caused this and give these people justice.”
    “Gill, it isn’t safe here.” Chip retorted. “If Niklaus was involved, I don’t want anything to do with it.” 

“We cannot abandon these people!” Gillion exclaimed, almost shouted. “They died because of Niklaus, and we must find out why!” 

“But if we stay here we could die!” Chip yelled. “I don’t know about you and your savior complex, but I’d rather not die!”  

“Maybe we should—”

“We cannot run away from all of our troubles, Chip.” Gillion cut off Jay and stepped angrily forward, lightning starting to crackle around his eyes. “People were murdered, because of something Niklaus did, and it is our duty to bring them honor, even in death.” 

“No, Gill.” Chip stopped yelling. “I can’t let you do that.” 

“But my people are dead!” Gillion shouted. “He killed them, Chip!” His voice cracked on ‘killed’. Everyone froze, Chip and Lizzie’s eyes wide with horror. Jay’s face was full of pity. 

“Gill, we didn’t know.” Chip said. “Are all of them… dead?” Jay elbowed him. 

“No.” Caspian spoke before Gillion had the chance to. “But there were a lot of skeletons.” 

“We have to go back down there.” Gillion said desperately. “We have to bring my people to justice.”
    “It isn’t safe, Gillion.” Caspian said. “Our own safety comes first.” 

“It’s awful that you had to see that.” Lizzie spoke up. “But you have to think of what would happen if you were gone. Your crew needs you.” Gillion looked to Chip and Jay with a lost expression. 

“Look, Gill.” Chip ran a hand through his brown hair. “I’m sorry. But if Niklaus really is involved in this, it isn’t safe for us to be here.” 

“But…” Gillion’s breath caught in his throat, and everything came crashing down. He fell to his knees, then forward onto his hands, tears pouring down his face and darkening the deck. Feeling Chip and Jay’s arms around him, comforting him, only served to make him cry harder. “I am sorry—” He got out through sobs. “I am weak—”
    “You’re not weak.” Surprisingly, Lizzie was the one to speak, and her one dark eye was filled with compassion. “Being able to handle seeing that proves it.” Gillion said nothing, unable to force himself to speak any more. 

“Gill, you gotta breathe.” Chip said. Gillion gasped suddenly; he hadn’t realized that he hadn’t been breathing. “That’s it, now follow me.” Both Chip and Jay began breathing deeply, waiting patiently as Gillion tried to copy them. 

“Good job.” Jay told him. Gillion took a very slow and rattling breath, then met Chip’s eyes.

“I do not wish to leave these people alone.” His voice broke again, on ‘alone’, but he refused to cry again. 

“We don’t have to forever.” Chip said. “Here—Jay, go get me a map!” Jay nodded and ran below deck. “We’ll mark this on our map, so we can come back and pay respects later. But right now, it isn’t safe for us to be here any longer.” Gillion rubbed his hand across his face. 

“Alright.” He said. “Thank you, Chip.” Chip clapped his hand onto Gillion’s shoulder.

“Anytime, buddy.” 

Chapter Text

“Well, if I truly am to offer you this,” Niklaus drawled, his tongue flicking off one of his sharp teeth, “there has to be some sort of transaction. You’re asking for quite the reward, you know.” He raised a dark eyebrow at Chip, who tightened his grip around Arlin’s coin. “Tell me, Chip, what do you think I desire? What can you offer?” 

    “I can get you money.” Chip said. Niklaus laughed. 

    “Money? Darling, look around! I have all the money I need.” He gestured at the golden artifacts that filled the meeting room. Chip cursed internally. “No, what I want is something unique to you.” 

    “What is it, then?” Chip said. “If you’re asking for my fingers, I’m gonna have to decline.” Niklaus smirked at him. 

    “Oh no, I’m not that primitive.” He leaned forward, staring into Chip’s heart with his deep, dark eyes. Chip squirmed uncomfortably. “Chip of the Black Rose Pirates, what I want is something you have hundreds of. Just a little shred of a memory, that’s all.” 

    “Absolutely not.” Chip said immediately. Niklaus shrugged. 

    “Alright, then. I would have thought you valued your family more than that.” Chip stopped from where he was standing and turning to leave, pivoting around to look at Niklaus. 

    “What is that supposed to mean?” He said in a hard voice. 

    “Well, if you cared about them, maybe you’d be willing to sacrifice a little something.” Niklaus said. Chip grit his teeth. How dare Niklaus accuse him of such a thing? The Midnight Rose meant more to him than almost anything in the world. “Have you reconsidered?” The tone of his voice indicated that he already knew the answer, and his grin widened when Chip sat back down. 

    “Fine.” Chip said. “Just let me see them again.”
    “Of course.” Niklaus assured him. “I’m no liar.” He waved his hand and his eyes flashed green. 

    Chip was in a body a lot shorter than the one he was used to, standing on the deck of The Midnight Rose and looking around as salty sea-air blew in his face. Finn and Drey stood leaning out over the deck, conversing amongst one another. Arlin was lying on his back and watching seagulls fly overhead. 

    “Arlin!” Chip shouted, running towards the bulky man. Arlin sat up, a wide grin on his face. Chip leapt at him, wrapping his arms around Arlin’s neck. “I’m so happy to see you!” 

    “Well, I’m happy to see you too!” Arlin’s low voice rumbled in his chest. “But it’s only been five minutes, Chip!” 

    “I missed you anyways.” Chip muttered. He sniffled. 

    “Hey, are you crying?” Arlin said incredulously. Chip hadn’t realized he was, but now that Arlin mentioned it, he was crying. There were tears pouring down his face. “It’s alright, there’s no need to cry.” 

    “I’m sorry—”
    “No, it’s alright, Chip.” Arlin said. “No need to apologize.” Chip nodded, hugging Arlin even tighter, cherishing the moment while it lasted. 

It didn’t last long. Chip was sitting back in Niklaus’ cabin, his face wet with tears. He numbly wiped them away. 

“Was that enjoyable?” Niklaus said. “I so dearly hope it was.” 

“I… yeah.” Chip wasn’t even sure anymore what he had asked Niklaus about. “Yeah, it was.” Chip stood up as Niklaus smiled at him. 

“Wonderful.” Niklaus almost purred. “Thank you for your patronage.” He snapped his finger, and Chip was standing back in the flower field, next to Jay, Gillion, and Julian Booker, all three of them trying to pull the door to Niklaus’ cottage open.

“Chip!” Jay exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Chip said. His hand went to his pocket, almost subconsciously, and he pulled out a gold coin, tarnished and marked with a peculiar symbol. “Hey, look at this! There’s a coin in my pocket!”

“Yes, Chip.” Gillion told him. “That is Arlin’s coin.” Chip looked at him, head tilted. 

“Who?” 

Chapter Text

“Guys, can we take a break?” Kasper asked for what was probably the fifth time. He kept eyeing Flynn’s lamp, and Alastyr was reminded of how excited he had been to see what was inside. 

    “You know what? Sure.” Sophia put her bag on the ground, leaning against it and crossing her arms. “Thirty minute break, everyone.” The group sighed, Flynn with relief and Kroe with disappointment. Alastyr didn’t mind one way or another, he was still distracted from his magic practice with Kasper the previous night and the unsettling dreams he had suffered from. Kasper immediately walked over to Flynn and started terrorizing him about going inside the lamp. 

    “Alastyr, maybe we should use this to train a bit. We don’t know what we’ll be facing.” Kroe walked over to Alastyr, speaking in his low and quiet voice. 

    “Okay, yeah!” Alastyr smiled at him. “That’s a good idea.” There was a triumphant exclamation as Flynn finally agreed to let Kasper see what was inside his lamp, and the man disappeared in a flash of golden light. Flynn rolled his eyes, then looked towards Kroe and Alastyr. 

    “Are we gonna practice a bit?” He asked. 

    “We are.” Kroe said. 

    “Awesome.” Flynn tapped on his lamp a few times to summon Garuda and started having a conversation with the green-skinned man. Kroe took out his rapier, moving through practice swings and stabs—his typical routine. Alastyr sat down, cross-legged, and started mixing up new potions in some of his empty beakers. A lot of his abilities were done through science, but Alastyr had to practice his arcane talents as well. After finishing a “Beam of Frost” vial, he stood back up and dusted the dirt off his coat. 

    Alastyr took a deep breath. First step, fire magic. He reached deep within himself, feeling around for the reservoir of magic he knew was there, trying to grasp at it and pull it out in tongues of flame. For some reason, the magic eluded him. Alastyr grit his teeth and tried again, with the same effect. 

    “Everything alright?” Kroe looked over his shoulder, pausing for a moment. 

    “Just having a bit of trouble with my magic, that’s all.” Alastyr told him. “I’ll get it, don’t worry.” Kroe nodded and returned to his practice. Alastyr grasped for his magic again, his brow furrowed with concentration. 

    The magic leapt to him frighteningly fast, almost hungry, faster than it ever had before. Flames exploded from Alastyr’s hands in a massive blast, hitting the dusty ground and towering upwards. Flynn screamed, Kroe shouted in surprise, and Alastyr stumbled backwards, something within his very flesh writhing in protest. The flames burned as bright as a spotlight; Alastyr brought his arms up to shield his face and found that his skin was flushed a dark red, almost bloody. The creature inside of him was screaming in fear, hissing in anger, the sounds coming from the bottom of Alastyr’s throat and stinging his mouth as they emerged. 

    “—hear me? Alastyr, can you hear me?” Kroe was standing next to him, hands on his shoulders. Alastyr whipped his head up to look at his hobgoblin friend, trying to push himself away with his hands. As soon as he tried to put weight on his arms, they completely gave out on him, trembling and shaking even as he clenched his fists. He opened his mouth, intending to tell Kroe he was fine and that he could go back to practicing, but all that came out was an amalgamation of sobs and panicked breathing.   

    “Alastyr, breathe for me.” That was Flynn’s voice, coming from behind Alastyr. He flinched. “Can you take a deep breath?” Alastyr was trying, really he was, but something kept blocking him from doing so. His vision was tunneling black. “Breathe.” Flynn said again, his tone firm. Alastyr took one gasping breath. “That’s better. Slow down.” As the flames died down, Alastyr found it easier and easier to manage his breathing until his vision returned to normal. Kroe was kneeling in front of Alastyr, examining his arm. The red coloring had faded from the skin, turning more into a nasty-looking sunburn rather than splashes of blood. 

    “Are you alright?” Kroe asked. 

    “Totally!” Alastyr’s voice cracked. Frankly, it did so often, but it wasn’t because of natural causes this time, it was because he was on the verge of breaking down and refused to in front of Kroe and Flynn. “I’m fine!” 

    “Alastyr…” Flynn wrung his hands together. “Please don’t.”
    “Don’t what?”
    “It’s, uh, it’s alright to be freaked out, you know.” Kroe said uneasily. He wasn’t good with feelings. “By the fire.”

    “And whatever just happened with your arm.” Flynn added. Alastyr took a deep breath, wrapping his sore arms around himself, hoping his torn and dirtied lab coat would keep Kroe and Alastyr from realizing how badly he was shaking. “Look, I know Kasper’s normally the one to do all this stuff, but if you want to talk, we’ll listen.” Kroe nodded in agreement. 

    “I just… I don’t know.” Alastyr said. “I’m not normally that frightened by fire, I guess it just startled me. Really, I’m fine.” He was lying, but neither Flynn nor Kroe seemed to realize it, and how could they? Neither of them had been present in the sewers, when Fergus had made his appearance. 

    “Alright, Alastyr.” Kroe put his hand on Alastyr’s shoulder. Bile rose rapidly in his throat, and Alastyr pushed it down. It wasn’t he himself who was disgusted by the touch, it was the thing inside him that he was desperately trying to ignore. “If you think you’ll be okay, then I trust you.”
    “Thanks.” Alastyr said. Kroe nodded. Flynn seemed a bit more on edge still, probably not completely believing—and rightfully so—that Alastyr was undamaged, but he didn’t say anything, and for that Alastyr was grateful. Kroe sheathed his sword and went over Sophia, who hadn’t said anything, but her eyes were concerned. Flynn rubbed his lamp and freed Kasper. The other man looked annoyed until seeing Alastyr still huddled on the ground, and then he immediately ran over. 

    “Hey, you alright kid?” He helped Alastyr up. “Anything happen?” It was clear he was asking about Fergus, and Alastyr gave him a small nod. “You’ll be okay.” Kasper said in a quiet voice, just soft enough so that only Alastyr could hear him. “We’ll get through this.”
    “Yeah.” Alastyr whispered back. Kasper smiled at him and ruffled his hair, then jogged over to Kroe and began enthusiastically explaining what had been inside Flynn’s lamp, while Kroe tried to tell him he had already seen everything. Alastyr looked down at his arms and shivered. 

Chapter Text

Jay’s fingers were trembling, ever so slightly, as she reached for a fork and stabbed it into her meal. She made sure not to talk; her father had taught her not to speak unless spoken to, and since he was sitting right next to her, she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. The rest of her family: her sister, her mother, her uncles and aunts, were all laughing at some absurd conversation, all except her Uncle Drey, who was sitting across the table from her, seemingly lost in thought. 

    Her father stood up, speaking to one of her uncles and walking out of the room to have a more private conversation, away from prying ears. Jay looked up from her food and made eye contact with Drey. He cocked a smile at her.
    “Hey, I got some things I want to talk to you about.” He said. 

    “Of course.” Jay stood up and walked over to him, pulling down the ends of her coat to make sure they sufficiently covered her belt. “What is it?”
    “Let’s talk out there.” He pointed towards a balcony. 

    “W-What?” Jay stammered. “Are you sure?”

    “Why not?” Drey raised an eyebrow. “Come on.” He grabbed Jay’s hand, the contact warm and almost comforting. The two of them walked to the balcony, Jay not going near the edge, while Drey leaned over the railing and stared out at the ocean. Jay glanced behind her to make sure her father hadn’t noticed she was missing. “I’ve always loved the ocean.” Drey said. He looked at Jay. “How about you? What do you think of the ocean?”
    “It’s pretty.” Jay told him. “Very blue.” Drey laughed. 

    “That it is.” He said. “I guess I’ve always loved it because it’s just so open. Out there, you can do anything, and you can be anyone you want; the ocean doesn’t care. You can sail the seas as long as you’d like and no one can tell you not to. That’s the life I want.” He glanced down at his hands. “Not this.” It was said in a low voice, but Jay heard him anyway. 

    “I’m gonna sail the seas someday.” Jay told him. 

    “Is that right?”
    “Mm-hmm! I’m gonna be a navy captain.” Drey’s expression wilted slightly, and Jay worried she had done something wrong. 

    “Alright, Jay.” He said, reaching over and ruffling her hair. “Just remember, you don’t have to be what your parents want you to be. Follow your dreams and sail the sea however you want.” And with that, he stood up and walked back inside. 

    The next morning, Jay woke up to her father in an exceptionally angry mood, yelling at almost anyone who even approached him. Drey was gone, apparently. Jay turned and watched the sunrise, wishing Drey the best of luck on his ocean-faring adventures. 

Chapter Text

It was only Chip’s second day of captaining his massive crew of two, and he was already exhausted. He was used to having Jay aboard The Big Chipper , but their newest member was, well, new, and to more than just being a crew member. He was new to just being above the surface of the ocean: Gillion Tidestrider, Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep, and The One. 

    Chip woke up to a clattering above the deck, and he groaned as he got out of his hammock and went upstairs, rubbing at his eyes. Jay was sitting and watching Gillion do… something with an amused look on her face. Gillion seemed to be fighting an invisible enemy, dodging from side to side and swinging his sword back and forth. Only, every time he swung, the blade would go flying out of his hands and land on the deck; the wood was already scratched significantly. 

    “Everything alright?” Chip asked. 

    “Fine, Chip!” Gillion proclaimed. “I am training to keep up my strength!” He swung again, and this time his sword embedded itself between two of the planks. 

    “Hey, hey!” Chip exclaimed. “Stop it, you’re hurting my ship!” Gillion paused, looking at Chip with a horrified expression. 

    “Is it living?” He said. 

    “What? No, it’s just an expression.” Chip waved his hand in an exasperated manner. “Just… try not to throw your sword around, alright?”
    “I am not trying to.” Gillion said, offended. “I am not yet accustomed to how fast your air is.”

    “Fast?” Jay raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, an amused look on her face. “What do you mean?” Gillion turned towards her, swinging his arms around to demonstrate his point. Understanding dawned on Jay’s face. “Oh, you mean there’s no water!” 

    “Yes.” Gillion said. He gestured wildly at their surroundings. “The air is fast.”
    “Yeah, I suppose that’s one way to say it.” Chip said. “Maybe you could… come up with new training or something? Maybe try to do it slower so you won’t throw your sword?” 

    “Hmm.” Gillion put a hand on his chin, thinking. “That is a good idea, Chip.” He started going through the motions of his invisible duel again, moving slowly enough that Chip could have followed along if he'd wanted to. It seemed even harder for him to do the routine slowly, but he stayed focused and ignored both Chip and Jay while he practiced. 

    “You’re doing great!” Jay encouraged. 

    “Thank you, Jay.” Gillion said. “This was a good idea, Chip. I believe it will help.” He swung his sword again and barely managed to keep it from slipping through his fingers. “As long as I keep practicing.”
    “Yeah, you can get it.” Chip told him. 

    “That I can! It is my destiny!” 

Chapter Text

    Normally, sleeping in one of the Wharf’s famously disgusting alleyways would mean Ugarth was shivering against the harsh and cold air, but on this particular night, such was not the case. His newfound companion, the half-elf Sylnan, was curled into Ugarth’s side with his head resting on his shoulder. Sylnan had been blushing furiously when he had suggested sleeping beside each other to conserve warmth, assuring Ugarth that this had been a common occurrence among him and his brother, Br’aad, but Ugarth had merely laughed and agreed with him. He was glad he had done so. 

    As much as he wanted to sleep, Ugarth stayed wide awake. Someone had to watch for potential cutpurses or murderers, or any other type of criminal that prowled the streets. Ugarth and Sylnan fit into that category too, he supposed. And Sylnan was well known in the Wharf as a trickster and thief, which made them even more likely to be stolen from than anyone else. 

    Sylnan shifted against him, making a sound almost akin to a whine. Ugarth, startled, flinched and looked down at Sylnan. The half-elf’s face looked anguished and distressed, almost heartbroken. 

    “Hey, Vengolor, you alright?” Ugarth said in a whisper that was still rather loud. “Come on, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Sylnan didn’t respond. His hand whipped up to the side of his face, hitting the skin with a painful clap , scratching at something he imagined was there. “Sylnan!” 

    “Br’aad!” Sylnan’s eyes snapped awake and he jolted forwards, one of his knives flipping into his hand. He looked around, eyes wide and hands shaking, until he met Ugarth’s gaze, and then he sighed in a not-quite-disappointed way. “Oh. Hey, Ugarth.”

    “You alright?” 

    “Fine.” Ugarth could hear in Sylnan’s voice that he was lying, but he could also hear the veiled “don’t press it” and decided against further questioning Sylnan. “Nightmare.”
    “Ah. Do you want to take watch now?”
    “I… yeah. Yeah, I would.” Ugarth nodded, leaning his head back against the alleyway wall. Sylnan didn’t join him, rather, he stood at the entrance to the alleyway with his knives drawn, shooting venomous glares at any unlucky people still on the streets at this absurd hour. 

    “Ugarth, have you ever done something you regretted doing?” Sylnan asked. 

    “Of course. Many times.” 

    “What if… what if you did something you regretted doing but there was nothing you could do to fix it?”

    “Sylnan, I feel like you’re not talking hypotheticals now.” Ugarth raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you need to talk about?”

    “Uh, okay, so,” Sylnan turned towards Ugarth and rubbed the back of his neck, “I have a brother. His name’s Br’aad. I haven’t seen him in… Gods, it’s been months.” 

    “I’m sorry.” Ugarth was unsure of what to say. “Do you know where he is?”    

    “Not anymore.” Sylnan said. “He left on a boat months ago.”

    “Do you miss him?” 

    “Of course I do.” Sylnan sounded more desolate than Ugarth had ever heard him sound. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize to him, either. He just left.” 

    “I’m sorry.” Ugarth said again. He really wasn’t sure how to respond in this situation; Sylnan had been very closed off towards him, even with their voyage together, and he hadn’t expected the half-elf to just spill backstory in a random alleyway in the middle of the night. “I hope he returns soon.” 

    “So do I.” Sylnan took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. It was starting to grow out, and it stuck up in every possible direction as soon as the hat was removed. It made Ugarth smirk. “Thanks, I guess. I don’t think I realized how much I missed him.” Casting one last look out at the now uninhabited streets, Sylnan made his way back over to Ugarth and sat down next to him, once again leaning against the taller half-orc’s shoulder. His face was red, though it could have been from the cold.

    “Shall I take watch again?” Ugarth asked. Sylnan waved a hand. 

    “Nah, we don’t need it. I think we’ll be fine tonight. It’s freezing out, anyways.” Sylnan pulled his cloak further around himself. Ugarth smiled, knowing Sylnan couldn’t see the gesture, and put his arm around Sylnan’s shoulders. Sylnan froze for a moment, but he relaxed into the warm contact and fell asleep within minutes. Ugarth tilted his head back against the alleyway wall, murmured a prayer for the safety of Br’aad, and closed his eyes. 

Chapter Text

Even after being on the Surface for months, Gillion did not understand why environments this uncomfortable—no, this agonizing—existed. It was just hills and hills of sand that seemed to go on forever, with the scorching sun beating down on him and Chip and Jay, threatening to burn them alive. The Surface was cruel. 

    All three of them were struggling in the sand, Chip and Jay stumbling along in front of Gillion, who was carrying the frozen statue of Marshall John. Normally, ice would have been a welcome respite in such a desert, but all it served to do was make Gillion feel even more overheated on every part of him that wasn’t touching John. Sand coated his ankles, and his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. He wasn’t sweating, like Chip and Jay were, he was just dry, feeling very much like how he’d felt during his first day on the Surface, when he had been fully exposed to the sun for the first time in his life. 

    “—ill? Gill!” Jay’s voice cut through Gillion’s self-pitying thoughts. “You okay?”
    “Of course.” It was difficult to speak, but Gillion hoped he didn’t sound too troubled. “I am fine.” 

    “You don’t look fine, buddy.” Chip put in, furrowing his eyebrows. His face was practically shining with how much sweat was on it; Gillion was surprised to almost envy him. 

    “I am fine.” Gillion repeated. “Do not slow down to speak with me; we need to get out of here.” 

    “Right.” Jay nodded. “Let’s keep going.” 

    Now, Chip liked to think of himself as resilient, but if he had to walk ten more minutes in this searing desert, he was going to start saying words Drey had taught him and Arlin had subsequently taught him not to say. This was ridiculous. It felt like they’d been in this desert for hours, even though Chip knew it had probably only been fifteen minutes at most, and the door still didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Jay, who hadn’t been bothered by the frigid wasteland room, was sweating and stumbling through the sand in front of her. Her ponytail was plastered to her face, and she looked so miserable Chip almost wanted to tease her, but his throat was so dry he wasn’t sure if his voice would work. 

    Gillion, dragging Marshall John’s frozen form behind him, was having a harder time than Chip or Jay were, not that he was willing to admit it. His face and arms were already red and sunburned. 

    “Chip!” Jay’s voice suddenly screamed. Chip whirled around, watching with alarm as Gillion drew his sword and swung at Jay. She went down immediately, the blade biting into her shoulder and spraying blood onto the sand. “Help me—” She was cut off when Gillion cut his blade right through her neck. 

“What the hell, Gill?” Chip demanded, tears springing to his eyes. 

“What do you mean, Chip?” Gillion tilted his head. Chip blinked rapidly, the image of Jay’s body disappearing from view, and he realized Jay—alive—was standing right next to him. 

“I… never mind.” Chip waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Alright.” Gillion eyed Chip worriedly, but he kept walking. Jay bent her head down to speak to Chip without Gillion hearing.

“Hallucinations?” She said. “I’ve had a few of them too.”
    “Yeah.” Chip said. “I’m fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” Jay nodded, brushing some of her hair away from her forehead and taking a deep breath, then wincing as if breathing hurt her throat. They had a couple minutes of walking in silence, which Chip kind of hated, because it gave him more than enough time to think about how miserable he felt. 

“Can we take a break?” Surprisingly, Gillion was the one to speak, his voice hoarse and his words coming slowly. Chip and Jay turned around. Gillion took another step forward, and then he stumbled. Chip scrambled forward and caught Gillion before he had a chance to completely collapse. “Only for a moment.” Gillion’s skin was alarmingly hot, almost feverishly so, and there was none of the typical wetness on it that Chip was used to feeling and seeing. 

“Gill, we need to keep going.” Jay said, helping Chip lift Gillion back up to his feet. 

“Please, I…” Before Gillion could finish, he fell limp in the arms of his two friends, making Chip shout in alarm. 

“Gill!” Chip shook his friend to no avail. Jay reached forward and put her hand on Gillion’s forehead, then drew it away with a resigned expression on her face. 

“We can’t stay here any longer.” She said. “Gill might not make it if this takes us another ten minutes.” Chip opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but then realized he knew exactly what Jay was talking about, and he nodded, taking a step forward. Even with Jay helping him, Gillion was ridiculously heavy, and their feet slipped in the sand as they tried to progress.

“Wait,” Gillion’s voice was raw and pained, “we need John.”
    “Gill, we can’t get him and you.” Jay said. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be.” A deep voice said—Marshall John. Chip had never been so happy to see the determined grin of the man as he reached out his tattooed arms towards Gillion. “I’ll carry him. We gotta get out of here.”
    “John—” Gillion coughed, harshly, almost throwing himself to the ground with how forcefully he shook. John gently took him from Chip and Jay, moving more carefully than Chip had yet seen him move, lifting Gillion up in his arms. A tease about how John’s hold on Gillion was a bridal carry rose up in Chip’s throat, but he had a feeling that this was not the time. 

“Gillion.” John said as a way of greeting. “Hang in there, alright? We’re gonna get out of here. You’ll be fine.” Gillion nodded weakly, his head lolling on his shoulders, and leaned into John’s side. John looked back at Chip. “Let’s go.” 

“Thanks.” Chip said breathlessly. He turned and started running towards the door with newfound vigor, Jay right beside him, John and Gillion as close behind as they could be. 

When he reached the door, Chip wasted no time in leaping through it, the blast of cool air in the brick hallway so relieving he wanted to cry—he would’ve, had he not been so dehydrated he didn’t think he could. Jay collapsed forwards onto her hands and knees, then rolled over onto her back and lay there, panting, her face drenched in sweat. 

“You look awful.” Chip told her. 

“Shut up, I’m way prettier than you.” Jay shot back. 

“Help me out here, would ya?” Marshall John said, putting Gillion on the ground. The Triton mumbled something incoherently. “His armor’s so hot I can hardly touch it.”

“Right.” Chip scolded himself for forgetting, even momentarily, about Gillion. He grabbed at Gillion’s chestplate, going to lift it off, and immediately let go of it as the metal burned his hands. “Ow!” Steeling himself, Chip tore the chestplate off as quickly as he could, throwing it to the side with a curse hissed through his teeth. Jay was working on getting Gillion’s shoulder plates off, and John lifted up his half-conscious body to take the back portion of the chestplate off. The thin and dark clothes that Gillion wore beneath his armor were almost completely burned away, sitting in charred scraps across his blue-green skin, which was burned an angry red by the red-hot metal armor. 

    “Here.” Jay took a health potion out of her bag, holding it up to Gillion’s half-open mouth and pouring it down his throat. “This should help.” 

    “Is there anything else we can do?” Chip looked anxiously to John, who appeared to be contemplating their next course of action. Before John could answer, Gillion started coughing, trying to push himself up off the ground. John put his hands against Gillion’s back and held him so he was sitting up. 

    “Where…?” Gillion trailed off, looking around with confusion. “Where am I? Where’s my sister?” 

    “What do you mean?” Jay asked.

    “My sister, Eden, she was speaking to me while we were traveling.” Gillion insisted. “I know she was.” 

    “There’s no one else here but us, Gill.” Chip said. 

    “What?” Gillion looked at him, alarmed.

“You were hallucinating.” For once, Chip didn’t beat around the bush and just told Gillion the flat-out truth. Jay was vaguely impressed. 

“Oh.” Gillion’s voice was borderline vulnerable, almost weak. He rubbed at his face as if he was disguising tears. “I see.” 

“We have to keep going.” John said to him. “We’re still tryin’ to get out of this place, aren’t we?”
    “Right.” Jay said. Gillion nodded, standing up with the assistance of John, trying to make it look as if he wasn’t leaning on him as heavily as he actually was. Traveling with Chip so much meant Jay saw through facades; she knew Gillion was hardly keeping it together. “Gill, you stay at the back with John, alright? Chip and I will lead.”
    “I assure you, leading is not a problem—”
    “You should help me watch our backs.” John interrupted. Gillion swallowed, coughed, and then gave one very reluctant nod. John motioned to Chip and Jay to start going down the hallway, and he muttered a few encouraging remarks to Gillion that the Triton half-paid attention to. 

“We’ll be fine.” Jay said to herself. “This is going to be fine.”

Chapter Text

    Waking up the morning after winning that murderous game of Capture the Jolly Roger, Chip was annoyed to hear laughter and loud chattering coming from outside his and Gill’s room. Gillion was gone already, probably to train for the Dome of Destiny, even though that fight was a few days away, and Chip guessed Jay had followed him, though he couldn’t actually be sure because he was not willing to peek in her room to find out. If he was wrong, she might pluck out his eyes. Maybe. 

    Chip put his swords at his belt, running his fingers across the chains that linked them, and tied up the strings at the front of his shirt. His boots were sitting right by the door; he quickly put them on and walked out into the inn hallway. The sounds got a lot louder, sounding as if they were maybe coming from somewhere as close as the tavern just below him. What in the world was going on? 

    The tavern itself didn’t have anything out of the ordinary in it, just the groups of defeated competitors and a multitude of Geraldo residents, talking and laughing and toasting wooden mugs of what Chip hoped wasn’t alcohol this early in the morning. 

    “What’s going on?” Chip asked a woman. “Why’s everyone so happy?”

    “It’s the Champion’s Festival today!” She told him. “Haven’t you heard?” Before waiting for a response, the woman darted off to join a group of her friends, leaving Chip processing her words in the middle of the tavern. He shrugged, grabbed a glass of… something off a table, downed it in one gulp, and started towards the door. His throat burned as he swallowed what he now realized was very powerful alcohol, but Chip refused to back down, straightening his posture and throwing the door open. 

    The world was a lot more colorful than it had been the previous day, that much was certain. It burned Chip’s eyes. There were flags and banners hung from every house and tree of colors bright enough to show up from miles away, and splashes of paint had been swirled on the cobblestone. 

    “Chip!” Jay’s voice shouted at him from within a crowd of cheering people that were clustered around what looked like some sort of carnival game; it reminded Chip of what he had seen in the casino, which put him on edge immediately, but that woman had said it was a festival, so hopefully no rigged gambling was going on. Jay ran out of the crowd, waving. “This is awesome!”

    “It’s pretty cool.” Chip agreed, looking around and seeing even more carnival games. “Where’s Gill?” Jay pointed behind her, to where there was a table set up that looked to be a Frogotpus race. “Has he won?”
    “Not yet. The race starts in a few minutes, he’s been over there for almost twenty, hyping Pretzel up and making sure she knows how proud of her he is.” Jay explained, a smirk on her face. Chip laughed to himself at the mental image of Gillion giving Pretzel a pep talk, especially because he knew Pretzel would be encouraged by Gillion’s speech. 

    “I gotta see this.” He strode over to the table, where there was a shallow but long fish-tank set up for the frogtopus to race in. Gillion had Pretzel in the palm of his hand, and he was using his other hand to point purposefully at various things in the fish-tank—a ridge, a trench, a few ring-shaped rocks—as he explained what he thought was the best strategy for completing the course as fast as possible. 

“—and Pretzel, when you go through the rocks, be careful so you don’t scrape your head. I would rather you lose than get injured.” Pretzel nodded, her brow furrowing, and Gillion placed her in the fish-tank, alongside three other frogtopus: a green-and-white one, a black one, and a now very familiar purple one with three tentacles. Alastyr was grinning at Bingus, and gave his pet a thumbs up. Chip smiled to himself. 

“Hey Gill.” He said, waving. Gillion’s head snapped over to Chip, and he grinned. 

“Chip! It is good to see you awake. Pretzel is about to win the race!” He said. 

“I can see that.” Chip looked down at Pretzel, who waved a tentacle at him. Chip waved back. “Have you tried any other games?”

“Jay noticed there is a sharpshooting game.” Gillion told him. “She is waiting to do it until after the race, so I can compete as well.” 

“Nice.” Chip had heard of such games, and he could already picture Jay doing ridiculously well at one; her skill with the bow almost rivaled Drey’s gunslinging. 

“Alright, racers!” The frogtopus racer said to the competitors. “The first frogtopus to go all the way through the track, grab a flag, and tap the other end of the tank is the winner, and will win this, as well as fifty silver coins!” The man held up a little gold medal with a blue ribbon on the end. There was excited splashing from a few of the frogtopus in the tank. “And, we have the winners of Capture the Jolly Roger competing!” The man gestured to Gillion, who blinked in surprise. 

“Yes, hello!” He exclaimed after only a moment’s hesitation. 

“Don’t expect us to go easy on you!” Taunted a Dwarven man, and the black frogtopus nodded along. Chip wanted to hide behind Gillion; the man’s glare was a force to be reckoned with. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Was Gillion’s response. The frogtopus racer laughed good-naturedly, then spoke again. 

“Let’s get this started! On three! One! Two! Three!” As the man said “three”, all four of the frogtopus started swimming, Pretzel immediately shooting into the lead and propelling herself over the first ridge. The trenches were even easier; going down was less work than going up, and before Chip could even blink Pretzel had reached the stone rings, with the black frogtopus close behind her. She didn’t slow down even a little, despite Gillion’s previous warnings, and grabbed a flag with one of her tentacles, turning back around and maneuvering around the green-and-white frogtopus in order to start the return journey to the other side of the fish-tank. 

“Yes, Pretzel, keep going!” Gillion yelled, pumping his fist. Pretzel didn’t react to the encouragement, she was much too focused on the race, and she slammed her tentacle into the wall of the fish-tank moments before the black frogtopus did. 

“And there’s our winner!” The racer exclaimed. Those who had lost sighed, with the Dwarf spitting on the ground by Gillion’s feet before reaching into the water to retrieve his frogtopus. Gillion didn’t notice in the slightest. Alastyr picked up Bingus, assuring the frogtopus that he had done well despite getting last place, and disappeared back into the crowd, probably to go find Kasper. 

“Good job Pretzel, you did it!” Gillion said to his pet, who was sitting in his palm, triumphantly waving the little yellow flag in her tentacle. Gillion suddenly gasped, prompting Chip to look over to him with alarm. “You’re injured! I told you to be careful around the rocks.” Gillion lightly touched his finger to the top of Pretzel’s head, and a scrape that Chip hadn’t even noticed closed up with a glow of blue magic. Pretzel chirped a few times; Gillion returned her to her bowl. “Let’s go find Jay!” Gillion dashed into the crowd before Chip had the chance to say anything, so he rolled his eyes and ran after his excitable friend. 

Jay had moved from where Chip had found her earlier, and was now waiting in line to try out the sharpshooting game, which was a setup of moving targets and a crossbow that shot wooden dowels with just enough force to knock the targets over, though Chip could tell they’d only fall if you hit perfectly in the center of the targets, which meant it was near impossible to win any of the prizes that were being offered—a shame, since they looked very nice: there were plush animals, and there was a box with a bow tied around it and some holes punched in the top. 

“Alright, next up!” Said the gamerunner, gesturing to the targets with a charismatic smile on her face. “You, girl! You’re the Champion from yesterday, so let’s see how you do!” Jay stepped up to the game, determinedly squaring her shoulders. 

“You can do it, Jay!” Gillion called to her. 

“Don’t screw this up!” Chip shouted. Jay shot a look at him over her shoulder, then picked up the crossbow, examining it for a moment, probably to get a sense of how powerful it was before starting. 

“That crossbow has twenty bolts, and there are ten targets.” The gamerunner explained. “Knock over five, you get one of these.” She nodded at the stuffed animals. “Knocking over all ten will win you the big prize.” Chip figured that was the box. He was very curious about what was inside it. “Start whenever you’re ready, and you have two minutes before your time is up!” Jay lifted the crossbow and aimed. There was the chiming of a bell, and the targets started to move. Jay shot immediately, and the dowel just barely missed the center of a target; it swung back and forth before resuming an upright position. Jay refused to be deterred, and she kept shooting, felling target after target until there was only one left, and she had only one dowel left. 

“C’mon, Jay!” Chip yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

“Ten seconds!” The gamerunner looked shocked at Jay’s success, and Chip really wanted to see the look on her face when Jay knocked over the last target. 

Jay shot, and the target quivered before falling over—it had been hit directly in the center.

“You hit all ten!” The gamerunner clapped her hands. “Congratulations! I guess the Champions never lose.” She handed the box to Jay, who nodded thankfully before stepping back so the next competitor could try. 

“Hey, nice job!” Chip held up his hand for a high-five that Jay gave him with enough vigor to hurt his hand. “Ow.” She smirked at him. 

“What is in the box?” Gillion looked over Chip’s shoulder and pointed at Jay’s prize. 

“Good question.” Jay undid the ribbon on top, then took the lid of the box off. She gasped at whatever was inside and nearly dropped the box. “Oh my God!” She put the box down on the ground and took out its contents, and Chip saw immediately what had shocked her so much. She was holding a small calico kitten in her arms, and the kitten looked up at her, blinking its bright green eyes and meowing. “Why was there a cat in the box?” Jay said in a whisper, as if she didn’t want the kitten to hear her. “I don’t know how to take care of a cat!” 

“Relax, we can ask Braxten about it.” Chip said, speaking of the potion-store-owner they had spoken to a few days ago. “He has a cat, he’ll know what to do.”
    “Yeah, you’re right.” Jay said. She glanced at Gillion. “Gill, you alright?” Gillion was staring at the kitten with a mixture of rage and reproach. Chip was reminded of how he’d reacted to Braxten’s cat. 

“Are you sure that creature is safe to have around?” Gillion asked. His hand drifted towards his longsword. 

“For the last time, it’s just a cat, Gill.” Chip said. “It’s perfectly safe.” 

“I do not trust it.” Gillion insisted. “Look at it! There is evil in those eyes.” The kitten looked at him and meowed. Gillion shuddered. 

“It’s a kitten, Gill.” Jay said. “And I’m going to keep it.” She cuddled the kitten up near her face. 

“Alright, then what’re you going to name it?” Chip asked. Jay regarded the kitten for a moment, her head tilted to the side.

“I like Bow.” She said. “Since I used a crossbow to win her, and she came in a box with a bow on top.”
    “That is a good name.” Gillion told her. He still seemed uneasy around Bow, but he wasn’t grabbing onto his sword anymore. 

“Thank you.” Jay replied. “I’m going to take Bow to the ship so she can meet Earl and Ollie, you guys wanna come?”
    “Sure!” Chip said. “I haven’t seen Ollie in a bit, and maybe Earl made some new kinds of juice for us.”
    “Let us go, then.” Gillion led the way to the ship, with Jay carrying Bow and scratching the top of her head, talking quietly in what Chip called the “puppy voice”, though he supposed he’d have to start calling it the “kitten voice”.

Chapter Text

    After some careful deliberation, Kasper had decided that he hated everything about this aptly-named City of Nightmares. Being chased by fleshy amalgamations of muscle and bone and blood was just about the worst thing he had ever had the displeasure of experiencing, besides watching Strangle get eaten by a dragon. And now, Kasper had to explore this creepy laboratory and find another one of those ridiculous golden eggs so they could finally get out of here. At least all of his friends were present, and no one had gotten mysteriously teleported away into a different hallway of horrors yet. 

    They were now in what Kasper assumed was the basement of this tower, after a very stressful escape from a massive beast and the rest of the tower collapsing on top of them. Whether they found the egg or not, they were trapped down here, so Kasper hoped that the egg was actually in this basement and not somewhere else within the City. 

    “Why is it that every lab I’ve ever been in is this creepy?” Kasper asked, not sure if he was asking himself, his friends, or the sterile white walls around him. Regardless, Alastyr was the one who answered:
    “It’s not that creepy.” He said, then flinched when a lightbulb above them flickered. Kasper raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, so it’s a little creepy.” Alastyr conceded. “I’ve still seen worse.”
    “Agreed.” Kroe didn’t turn towards Alastyr as he spoke; he was leading the group with his rapier drawn and eyes trained on their surroundings. “At least there’s no zombies in here.” Alastyr shuddered. Kroe just kept walking, pointing his rapier at random things that startled him—scratches in the white tile floors, a lightbulb that burst when he went under it, even Flynn at one point, when his genie decided to appear to offer advice that no one wanted to hear. Kasper almost felt bad; Garuda looked incredibly insulted when Kroe swung around with weapon in hand. It had also been slightly funny. 

    They reached a door, pure white like everything else in this God-forsaken lab, with a shining golden doorknob. Kroe reached out towards it; Alastyr shivered and moved closer to Kasper, who put a protective arm around his shoulder. 

    “I don’t think we should go in there.” Alastyr whispered to Kasper, but before Kasper had a chance to respond or do anything, Kroe had already opened the door and took a step into the next room. Kasper sighed at Kroe’s impulsiveness, knowing full well that he was just as bad in other regards, and followed Kroe into the room, Alastyr clinging uneasily to his side and Flynn guarding their backs. 

    The room was just like every other room Kasper had seen in the labs Spidbu’ur had built, square-shaped without any other entrances or exits, dried blood sprayed and smeared up the walls and clumped in the grooves of the tiles. The stench was bad enough to make Kasper gag, and he didn’t have a heightened sense of smell like Kroe did, who looked like he was about to pass out. 

    “Oh, God.” Flynn said what everyone was thinking, uneasily inching backwards towards the door. “Let’s get out of here—” He stopped short when he saw something that made Kasper’s heart stop: the door was gone.  

    “That’s not good.” Kroe said bluntly. 

    “No kidding.” Kasper glared at him. 

    “Guys—”

“How are we meant to get out now?” Kroe interrupted Alastyr. “The door is gone.” 

“I don’t know, Kroe, you tell me!” Kasper fired back. 

“Guys, something’s—”

“It was just here, I’m sure we can find it again.” Flynn said. “No one panic, we’re going to be fine.”   

“Flynn, the door disappeared!” Kasper exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “We’re trapped in here!” 

“Guys!” Alastyr shouted. Everyone froze, turning to look at him. Alastyr almost never shouted, so whatever was bothering him had to be bad. It was. Alastyr’s face was streaked with bright red that seemed to wriggle and crawl across his skin, and the flesh of his arms had turned a deep scarlet. It was branching down his fingers. Kasper could see something moving under his lab coat. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it isn’t good!” Alastyr’s voice was mangled and wrong, as if something was lurking in the back of his throat and hindering his words. 

“Hey, kid, hang in there, alright?” Kasper did his best to keep from panicking; Alastyr needed him to remain calm. “We’ll fix whatever’s going on.” He took a step forward, and Alastyr took a step back, a jerky step that looked as if he was being puppeted by something. There were tears welling up in his eyes, and Kasper saw with horror that the tears were red. 

“What’s going on?” Kroe demanded of Kasper. 

“I don’t know, why would you ask me?”
    “This isn’t good.” Flynn said to himself. 

“Flynn, Flynn, you’re magic, aren’t you?” Kasper turned to the halfling in desperation. “You have to be able to fix this!”

“Nah, sorry Kasper.” Garuda appeared with an apologetic look on his face. “I can’t do anything about this.” He swirled back into his lamp, green mist hovering around Flynn’s head for a moment before dissolving. 

“Kasper!” Alastyr was screaming now, and bloody tears poured down his face. Kasper ran to him, freezing with his arms held out, unsure of what to do. “Help me!” Alastyr’s voice was almost completely unintelligible. Kasper pushed down all of his uncertainty and reached forward, trying to tear some of the flesh from Alastyr’s arms, like he had in the sewers only a day or two prior. The sound that ripped itself from deep within Alastyr and echoed around the room was not human; a roar mixed with a wail mixed with something that gave Kasper chills. Alastyr’s hand snapped at Kasper’s face. Kasper didn’t realize he’d been hit until he registered Kroe pulling on his arms to help him up, and until he saw blood drip from his face and splatter onto the ground. 

“Alastyr, what…?” Kasper trailed off, no words could ever encompass the horror he felt when he took in the situation before him. Alastyr was hunched over, his arms wrapped around his middle, bloody tears pooling on the ground and soaking through his boots. The red flesh that Kaper knew was Fergus—what an innocent name, for such a horribly destructive creature—had curled its way down Alastyr’s arms until not a hint of his pale skin was visible, and it had branched outwards along his fingers, forming claws. What scared Kasper the most were the thick strands of muscle that snaked away from Alastyr’s back, four of them, and they smashed into the ground hard enough to break the tile, lifting Alastyr off the ground. “Alastyr!” With tears pouring down his face, Alastyr raised a scarlet hand, pointing towards Kasper. Something in Alastyr’s face had changed. Kasper couldn’t quite place what it was in the chaos of his circumstances, but it seemed like Alastyr wasn’t fully… there, anymore. 

“Kasper, look out!” Flynn shouted, firing a blast of magic that struck a massive fleshy creature Kasper hadn’t even seen. The thing looked to be a bigger version of the lupine beasts they had fought earlier, with teeth that stuck out at unnatural angles along its jawline. Two more of the creatures scrambled their way into the room, crashing through the while tile floors and standing around Alastyr, who snarled down at Kasper, Kroe, and Flynn. 

“How is he doing this?” Kroe ducked under a snap of jaws, stabbing upwards into the creature’s chin. “What is going on?” 

“I don’t know.” Kasper said. He felt a pit in his stomach grow as he prepared to fight these creatures, drawing a blade he had taken from the Garden before this mission. Garuda appeared, swore a few times upon seeing their surroundings, and got ready to fight alongside Flynn. 

All three of the wolf-like beasts leapt at the same time, and all three of the heroes attacked them in similar fashion. Kroe’s rapier pierced down the throat of one, Kasper’s rusted sword sliced a leg off another, and a magic blast that made Kasper’s ears ring, courtesy of Flynn, blew one of the creatures into oblivion, rendering it nothing more than a red smear on the already bloody walls. Another creature crawled out of the ground to replace the one Flynn had killed, and Kasper realized that they would probably just keep coming until he and his friends were dead, and Alastyr, if he managed to escape the clutches of the being that held him, would be left with the reality of how alone he was. Kasper refused to let that happen. He had already lost Strangle, he wasn’t going to lose anyone else. 

“I have an idea!” He shouted, hoping Kroe or Flynn heard him over the growls of the beasts, and he slid under one as it leapt for him, running for Alastyr’s body, still held aloft by the tentacles of red flesh. Kasper swung, hacking at the tentacle, ignoring the sounds of anguish coming from Alastyr as he did so. He knew it would hurt, he had known that when this idiotic plan entered his mind, but it hurt nonetheless to hear Alastyr so distressed, even if it wasn’t really Alastyr. “Kid, you’ve gotta snap out of it!” He yelled up at Alastyr. 

His face slammed into the tile. Something wrapped painfully tight around Kasper’s middle, and he felt himself get pulled off the ground, his head pounding as he was held up in front of Alastyr. The blood flowing from Alastyr’s eyes mimicked what was now pouring from Kasper’s nose. He thought he could hear Flynn shouting his name, but the sound seemed to be coming from underwater. 

“Kid, please.” Kasper’s voice was raw. “Please, don’t do this.” Alastyr tilted his head, as if he didn’t understand what Kasper was saying. 

“I do what I want.” He said, in a voice that most definitely was not Alastyr’s voice. He regarded Kasper for a moment, face passive even with tears, and then he threw Kasper across the room. Kasper had just enough time to do one thing, so he did something Alastyr had taught him. He held his hands out, channeled his magic through his veins, and shot the biggest fireball he’d ever managed to conjure directly at Alastyr, murmuring an apology. He knew Fergus hated fire, that was something they had learned when fighting the flesh wolves in the City, so hopefully this would be enough to free Alastyr. 

Kasper hit the wall, fragments of broken tile digging into his back, and he slumped forward, consciousness gone before he had the chance to feel the pain of falling almost twenty feet down. 

Kroe had never fully understood magic, and he didn’t think that would ever change. As Alastyr threw Kasper, a fireball blossomed from the man’s fingertips, slamming into Alastyr with concussive force, and all of the fleshy creatures they were fighting howled to the skies, their voices anguished, and then they collapsed into blobs of muscle and blood. Kroe stumbled back, fatigue setting into his limbs. He had never fought that many things so fiercely, and he now saw that they had landed a lot more hits on him than he originally thought; there were bruises all along his arms, and a few harsh slashes on his sword arm that were starting to sting now that the battle was over. He remembered being body-slammed by one of the creatures, and he was starting to feel how it was a lot harder to breathe than it normally was. Flynn didn’t look physically injured, but his hair was plastered to his face with sweat and blood from the beasts was striped across his face. His eyes were wide and startled, and his hands shook as he put his lamp back on his belt. 

Kasper was crumpled behind Flynn amidst dust and chips of tile. 

“Kasper!” Kroe exclaimed, limping forward to his fallen friend, lifting Kasper up so he was leaning against the wall. He winced when he saw Kasper’s face. Bruises almost completely obscured his skin, and blood soaked the front of his shirt from where Alastyr had broken his nose; blood was dried across his mouth as well. One of his hands was scorched black, and the skin was bubbling with blisters. Kroe pushed bile back down his throat before he hurled. As Kroe positioned him, Kasper’s eyelids fluttered, and he managed to open his eyes enough to look at Kroe. 

“Kroe?” He said. His voice sounded nasally and congested. Kroe would have laughed if it hadn’t been because his nose was shattered. “Wh… where’s the kid?” Kroe looked over his shoulder to where a mass of red flesh hid Alastyr’s form, nervously chewing on his lip. 

“He’s fine, Kasper.” Kroe lied, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. “You need to rest.” 

“Here.” Flynn knelt—well, collapsed—in front of Kasper, reaching out his hands and casting some sort of glowing white spell. Kroe watched with a sort of morbid fascination as Kasper’s nose rearranged itself and fused back together. Kasper sniffed and grimaced. His hand didn’t look any better, but Kroe figured that was not fixable, even with magic. “Rest.” Flynn told Kasper. 

“Alright.” Kasper closed his eyes, and was out like a light in moments. Kroe and Flynn looked at each other, Kroe seeing the dread he felt reflected in Flynn’s face, and they made their way to Alastyr. Flynn might have staggered a few times, but neither he nor Kroe said anything about it, not that Kroe thought he would’ve been able to; his chest was beginning to feel as if someone was crushing it. 

Alastyr’s body was nestled in clumps of muscle, the smell of rotten flesh hitting Kroe’s nose. He once again had to force himself not to vomit. Curse his Hobgoblin sense of smell. Kroe reached down and pulled Alastyr from the blood and flesh. To his horror, there were miniature versions of the tentacles still connected to Alastyr’s back, and they retracted beneath his skin as Kroe picked him up. Angry pink burns pulled Alastyr’s skin, not as severe as what was on Kasper’s hand, but covering a much larger area—half of Alastyr’s face, down his neck, evident on one of his arms, and probably beneath his miraculously-in-one-piece lab coat. Said lab coat was stuck to Alastyr’s body, soaked in blood with its edges singed off, but it wasn’t shredded to ribbons, somehow. 

“We have to take this off.” Flynn peeled the lab coat away from Alastyr, laying it in a pile on the ground next to them. Alastyr’s undershirt was equally as damaged, so Flynn used his small knife to cut it off, Kroe anxiously watching, unsure of what to do. He wasn’t a medic, far from it, and he was embarrassed at his lack of knowledge. He felt helpless. Alastyr didn’t have any cuts or slashes, thankfully, but as Kroe had suspected, burns covered almost his entire chest. Kroe had never realized how scrawny Alastyr was, either. His coat always made him appear slightly bigger, since it billowed around him, but Alastyr was just a kid, and his build reflected that. 

Kroe could see things wriggling under Alastyr’s skin, across his ribs, and he knew exactly what they were: more of those fleshy monsters, small enough to hide within a person and strike only when they could cause the most problems. Flynn put his hands on Alastyr’s stomach, forcing healing magic down into his bones. The burns lessened in their intensity, only a bit, looking a bit more patchworked rather than a blanket that covered more than half of Alastyr’s body. 

“That’s all I can do for him.” Flynn said. “We just have to hope he makes it.” Kroe nodded, then coughed a few times, tasting blood as it was flung onto the tiles. “You didn’t tell me you were that hurt!” Flynn accused immediately, seeing what Kroe had hoped he wouldn’t. 

“K-Kasper and Alastyr are m-more important.” Kroe wheezed, screwing his eyes shut and trying to stave off the pain that constricted around him. “I d-didn’t think it was that b-bad—” He coughed harder, his arms shaking. He could barely breathe, and he couldn’t speak to tell Flynn. Kroe did not panic easily, but he was panicking now. 

“Kroe?” Flynn’s voice started to sound alarmed. “Kroe! Kroe, you have to breathe!” Kroe tried to tell Flynn that he couldn’t; his chest rattled and his voice failed him. “Kroe!” Flynn’s screaming was the last thing Kroe heard before his senses left him.

Flynn wrapped his arms around Kroe, pulling the Hobgoblin onto his back, then he channeled every fragment of healing magic he had left into Kroe’s body, praying that it fixed whatever was wrong with him. He heard Garuda’s voice, Woah, Flynn, are you sure about this? I ain’t got much magic left! I’m gonna have to take a hiatus!, and he ignored it. If he lost his magic for a few days, then so be it. He’d lost his magic before, and he would do it again if it meant his friends survived. 

The last of the healing flowed into Kroe, and Flynn could tell in how weak he felt that his powers were gone. Kroe was completely limp, almost lifeless, but with a bit of listening, Flynn could hear that his breathing was much more regular and that there was none of the worrying rattling or wheezing there had been. Flynn pushed himself to his feet, wavering, and walked back over to Alastyr. The boy seemed like he was going to be fine, at least physically. Flynn was still the most worried about Kasper’s hand, but without healing magic, there was nothing that could be done, and even what he knew about field medicine was not nearly enough to deal with a burn so severe. 

Flynn sat down against the wall of the lab, looking numbly at his bloodstained hands, some of the blood from the creatures he had exploded, and some of it from his friends, who he had just barely managed to save. He let his head fall forward and closed his eyes, the tiredness that came with such vigorous magic weighing down on him, and Flynn allowed himself to sleep, trusting that his friends would be there when he woke up. When he did, they could talk about whatever had just happened with Alastyr, only if Alastyr was comfortable doing so. Flynn knew Alastyr was sensitive, and to make matters worse, he was just a kid. God, he was just a kid. 

Chapter Text

    Even with his half-elven eyesight, Sylnan’s vision was swimming far too violently for him to begin making out the face of his attacker, given the fact that he’d had his head slammed into the cobblestones at least three times, and he was pretty sure he’d been stabbed, given the warm coppery liquid that pooled in his mouth and soaked his clothes. 

    He felt himself get raised into the air again, and tried to grab at the dagger that had been thrown to the side as soon as the confrontation had started, hoping he could get his fingers around its hilt and stab his attacker before they killed him—he was scared to realize it, but Sylnan would die here if he couldn’t get a weapon. Whoever was attacking him had no weapons that he had noticed, but they were incredibly strong, probably strong enough to break bone with their bare hands, if they wanted to. Part of Sylnan suspected that he was just being toyed with, since if this enemy really wanted him dead they could’ve killed him long ago. 

    Sylnan still couldn’t believe he’d gotten surprise-attacked. He was normally so vigilant, and it had been months since someone had managed to sneak up on him. He supposed almost a year without his brother trying to play pranks on him was starting to show. 

    “Sylnan!” A gruff voice said, and with not a moment to spare, Ugarth came barrelling down the alley, slamming his shoulder into his attacker, who dropped Sylnan to the ground as they stumbled backwards, cursing in Orcish. Sylnan scrambled backwards and grabbed his dagger, pressing himself against the alleyway wall and holding his weapon out. He used a crate to push himself up so he was at least standing, though he knew it was obvious that he was supporting himself on the crate, and that he wouldn’t be able to take a single step in any direction without collapsing. 

    Ugarth had pinned another Orc to the ground, this one much taller than Ugarth was, and with light blue skin covered in thick snaking tattoos. Ugarth had no weapon, as usual: he fought much better with his hands and feet. Sylnan had once worried that Ugarth would get hurt without steel to protect himself with, but watching how forceful his punches were, he realized that had been a foolish worry. The sounds of Ugarth attacking the other Orc echoed through the alley, and a loud crack that made Sylnan wince caused the Orc to scream in anger, swinging his arm out and shoving Ugarth to the side. The Orc stood, one of his massive hands clutched over his face, and he advanced towards Sylnan. 

    Ugarth growled something in Orcish—Sylnan really needed to get Ugarth to teach him Orcish—and grabbed the Orc’s ankle, pulling him backwards. The Orc whipped his head around, looking down at Ugarth with rage, before yanking his foot out of Ugarth’s grip, shoving Sylnan backwards into the wall, and storming away.

The dagger slipped from Sylnan’s shaking hand, clattering to the ground as Sylnan slumped down beside it. 

“Sylnan, Sylnan, don’t close your eyes.” Before he could fall forwards, Ugarth was there, taking Sylnan in his arms and looking down at him urgently. “By the gods, boy, I can’t believe you’re alive.” He muttered it, but Sylnan heard him, even through his delirium. Ugarth grabbed a slightly dirty canvas sack that was sitting atop the pile of crates, pressing it into Sylnan’s side to try and stop his wound from bleeding. Sylnan winced and coughed blood. His head was starting to hurt, pounding in time with his heart and the pulsing of his side, and once again his vision swam, obscuring Ugarth’s concerned face. He blinked a few times, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and Ugarth sounded nearly panicked when Sylnan let unconsciousness take him. 

Waking up was painful, as it so often was when one lived in the alleys of the Great King’s Wharf. However, this particular instance felt worse than most of them did. Sylnan blinked against the sunlight that shone on his face, taking a breath in through his mouth that made his chest ache. He could feel dried blood beneath his nose. 

“Sylnan.” Ugarth’s voice said in a low whisper, as if he was afraid to hurt Sylnan’s ears. Sylnan appreciated it; his head was still spinning. “Are you awake?” 

“Yeah.” Sylnan said, coughing. Ugarth helped him sit up, and the stiffness around Sylnan’s chest told him there were bandages tied there, and tied tightly. Sylnan turned his head to look at Ugarth, who was looking down at him with concerned eyes. Sylnan had once found Ugarth’s Orcish eyes to be intimidating, but not now, when it was so fearfully directed at him. 

    “You almost died.” Ugarth informed him. “I cannot believe you’re alive even now.” 

    “Thanks for saving me.” Sylnan replied. “Why did you?” Ugarth chuckled, and the bass of it rumbled through Sylnan’s bones. His stomach did a little flip. 

    “Well, you said it yourself.” Ugarth smiled. “Brothers help brothers, don’t they?”
    “I guess they do.” Sylnan said, thinking for a moment of Br’aad, wondering where his baby brother—even if Br’aad wasn’t a baby anymore—could be, what kinds of chaos he could be getting himself into. He grabbed Ugarth’s hand and squeezed it, and after a moment Ugarth squeezed back. “Can we get out of here? I don’t want to be where that Orc attacked me. He might come back.” Ugarth nodded, using his grip on Sylnan’s hand to pull the half-elf to his feet, then steadying him with an arm when Sylnan swayed, stumbling back towards the alley wall. He knew he probably shouldn’t be up and walking around so soon, but it really wasn’t safe to stay in one place for too long, especially after being attacked by a foe as powerful as that Orc had been. 

“Let’s go.” Ugarth kept his arm wrapped around Sylnan, holding him close, seemingly for Sylnan’s own stability, though Sylnan suspected it was also to help convince him that he was alive instead of bleeding out. They walked along an unfortunately busy street in the Wharf, getting nervous looks or venomous glares from people they passed; all it took if someone got too close was a baring of Ugarth’s fangs for them to back away, for which Sylnan was grateful. He did not have the energy to deal with people. 

For once, the two of them didn’t have to sleep in a grimy alleyway. Ugarth roughly pushed open the door to an inn, ignoring Sylnan’s protests, and walked right up to the little desk where a human woman with tangled gray-brown hair was waiting. She blinked, almost intimidated, as Ugarth and Sylnan approached. 

“Yes? What can I do for you?” She asked, and Sylnan had to give her credit for not stuttering or sounding suspicious. 

“I would like a room. For the two of us.” Ugarth said. He grabbed three silver coins from his pocket and slammed them into the desk. The woman’s eyes widened (that was a lot more money than most people in the King’s Wharf were willing to pay for anything, but Ugarth evidently wanted the best room he could get). 

“Of course.” The woman handed Ugarth a key. “Top floor, all the way down the hallway.” Ugarth nodded his thanks and walked towards the staircase, helping Sylnan up to the building’s second floor, which was also its top floor. One of the steps creaked under Ugarth’s weight. 

The room was the nicest room Sylnan had seen in years, and certainly the nicest room he had been given the pleasure of sleeping in since escaping the orphanage. There was a single bed, but it was big enough for two people, and there was a lantern on a carved wooden table next to a window that was locked shut; Sylnan guessed that no one had the key to open it and it was meant to remain closed. 

“Wow.” Sylnan said. 

“Indeed.” Ugarth agreed. “I hope you do not mind, we will have to share.” He gestured to the bed. Sylnan felt his face heat up as a blush covered his cheeks, but he shrugged. 

“I don’t mind.” 

Chapter Text

    Waiting excitedly at the Coral Port, Jay scanned the ships that were coming in, watching for The Albatross . She squeezed Lizzy’s hand, turning to grin at her, and got a smile in response. Even after a year of the two of them being together, Lizzy’s smile made Jay’s heart jump—or jump more than it already was, because she was not a patient person, and Chip and Gillion sure were taking their time in arriving. 

“Calm down, sunshine.” Lizzy told her. “They’ll be here; it’s hardly noon.” Jay nodded, though she didn’t stop staring out at the ocean as boats arrived. 

A ship came into view, still extremely far away, though Jay thought she could make out a figure on the front of it. She pulled her spyglass off her belt and held it up, peering through it at the faraway vessel. She heard Lizzy scoff at her, but ignored it. Lizzy could tease her all she wanted, Jay knew she was just as excited to see Chip and Gillion as Jay herself was, only Lizzy wasn’t as open in showing it. 

The figure at the front of the ship had sharp features, shoulder-length hair, and a pink frogtopus in a large globe at their hip. They stood in a striking pose with one hand on their hip and the other blocking out the sun. Jay didn’t even need to see turquoise skin to know it was Gillion. 

“Gillion!” She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled as loudly as she could. Lizzy stood next to her and did the same thing, their voices echoing across the sea. “Gillion!” Jay looked through the spyglass again, watching as Gillion looked towards her, squinting to make out her and Lizzy’s forms. He grinned, the expression visible easily through the spyglass, turned to call something to Chip, and jumped into the water. 

Though he had always been a very fast swimmer (having fins and a tail helped), Gillion must have been practicing, because he cleared the distance from The Albatross to the Coral Port in a matter of moments. He leapt out of the water, landing on the docks, crushing Jay in a full-bodied hug. 

“Jay!” He proclaimed, then pulled away to hold her at arm’s length. “It is good to see you!” 

“It’s good to see you too, Gill.” Jay gave him a second hug, this one gentler. Gillion looked different, though it certainly wasn’t a bad different. It had been almost a year since they had seen each other—it took two months to sail from Zero to All-Port, and everyone had been busy with different things for so long that a meetup hadn’t been able to be arranged. A letter from Chip had said that he and Gillion had been spending the year helping Zero recover from the lingering effects of its Navy possession, and Chip had been hanging out with Ollie a lot, acting as an older-brother-slash-father when the boy’s mother was busy. 

Now, after a year of working, Gillion had grown a bit more muscular, and there were little white scars on his hands and forearms. Jay was so used to seeing him in his plated armor that the clothes he wore now surprised her: he still wore his too-big trousers, which allowed room for the fins on his legs and had a hole in the back for his tail, but his shirt was cut in a more Oversea way, with a v-neck and no sleeves. Of course, there was a longsword across his back, because “Gillion Tidestrider, Champion of the Undersea” would never go without a weapon. 

“Hey, Fish-Boy.” Lizzy said, nodding towards him. “How’s life with the bastard?” Jay elbowed her, and Lizzy chuckled to herself.

“Chip is wonderful!” Gillion said. “I had not expected him to be so helpful in rebuilding the island, but he has been essential.”

“Just for the island?” Lizzy was still teasing, but Jay didn’t stop her this time. “Is he helpful for you?”
    “Extremely.” Gillion nodded solemnly, and there was a dusting of dark blue across his cheeks. Lizzy had managed to embarrass him. “I must thank you for convincing me to speak to him.” 

“No problem.” Lizzy shrugged. It was common knowledge among the friends that while Lizzy had been too nervous to ask Jay out, she had gotten Gillion to talk to Chip. It was ironic. 

“Hey, Lizzy!” Chip greeted, sailing up to the docks and waving. “It’s good to see you!” Alfonse, his joints creaking, put the anchor down and Chip walked out onto the dock, giving Gillion a kiss on the cheek that made the Triton blush even further. Lizzy gave Chip a salute and a nod, though Jay knew that a simple greeting like that was Lizzy’s version of a hug. 

“It’s been too long.” Jay said, stepping forward and giving Chip a tight hug. It wasn’t as powerful as Gillion’s had been, but Jay held on perhaps a bit longer than she should have; not seeing Chip or Gillion for a year had been harder than she’d expected. 

Chip looked different, too. He had more muscle, though he was still thin and wiry, and he had a scar across his cheekbone that looked as if it had been painful. There was a hint of stubble on his chin that Jay would tease him about later, and he’d even managed to grow a bit taller! 

“Caspian and Edyn are at the Porthole.” Lizzy said to Gillion. “I think Jay and the bastard have some catching up to do.”
    “Of course.” Gillion said with a nod. “Please, lead the way!” Lizzy did so, with Gillion visibly holding himself back from sprinting all the way to the Porthole, eager to see Edyn and Caspian, who would be eager to see him as well. That left Jay and Chip standing on the dock, looking at each other awkwardly. Neither one of them knew what to say.

“So, uh… I like the haircut.” Chip said, scratching at his face. Jay had cut her hair just a few days ago on an impulse, and she’d used a sword to do it, so the job was choppy and imperfect. Her hair for the most part stopped just above her shoulders, but pieces of it were longer and pieces were shorter. Jay liked it, and Lizzy had said it fit her, so she didn’t have any intention of cleaning it up. 

“Thanks.” Jay said. She pointed at Chip, and smiled a bit. “Your beard looks stupid.” Chip groaned, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not a beard, I just haven’t shaved.” He scratched at it more. “Maybe I will while I’m here.”
    “You should, you look like a scruffy dog.”

“Thanks.” Chip said dryly. “How have things been at All-Port? Everything you hoped for?” 

“It’s great!” Jay said, perking up. “Lizzy and I are helping businesses that the Navy hurt, and we’re trying to make All-Port safer.” 

“Good for you!” Chip congratulated her. “Gill and I are almost done helping Zero, but we’ll probably still stay there, since Ollie is there. He says hi, by the way.” Jay nodded, thinking back to the half-elven boy who had accidentally ended up on Marshall John’s ship, and subsequently became a part of Chip’s crew. His massive crush on Jay had been obvious to everyone but Gillion, though that was par for the course. 

“That’s sweet of him.” Jay said. “Follow me. I’d rather not talk where everyone can hear us.” She started walking, towards Rufus’ shop, where Lizzy and Jay had been allowed to live. It was a small room, one that had originally been used for storage, but they made it work, and when you only used one bed, it was easy to not take up a lot of space. 

Amber was behind the counter inside, meaning Rufus was most likely out on an errand. She dipped her head in greeting, and Jay waved. Amber didn’t seem to recognize Chip, and she didn’t say anything. Chip didn’t say anything to her either, instead staying quiet as Jay walked into the back room. 

Jay sat down on her and Lizzy’s bed, patting the space next to her so Chip would sit down. As soon as he did, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Chip froze, unsure of himself for a moment, but he returned the hug, and it felt so much like home that Jay wanted to cry. 

She pulled back and scrubbed a hand across her face. “It’s so good to see you.”
    “Clearly.” Chip said with a smirk. His expression softened. “It’s good to see you too, Jay. Honestly. I love Gill, but the crew feels incomplete without you there.”
    “Aw, you sap.” Jay poked his shoulder. “You said everything is okay on Zero, right?” 

“It is.” Chip nodded. “You should visit sometime.” 

“We should.” Jay agreed. “You haven’t had any problems with… him?” At this, Chip narrowed his eyes. The climax of Gillion’s deal with Niklaus had almost resulted in the deaths of the entire Albatross Crew, and Jay couldn’t imagine that Gillion had forgiven himself, or that Niklaus had truly left him alone. 

“None.” Chip said. “And if we have any, I’ll kick his ass before I let him anywhere near Gill.” 

“Good.” Jay said. “So,” she looked around, once again awkward, “what do you want to do?” 

“Nice transition.” Chip said dryly. “I’d like to go to the Porthole. See Caspian and Edyn.” 

“And Lizzy.” Jay reminded him. Chip sighed. 

“Yes, and Lizzy.” Jay nodded, satisfied, and stood up. 

“Let’s go, then.” 

Chapter Text

    All-Port was the biggest city above the waves Gillion had ever seen. He hadn’t even known humans could build cities this elaborate, much less out of wood that floated on the seas. It was a marvel, and Gillion was sure he was going to love exploring it later, but currently, two things were distracting him from the Hull of the World. 

    One: though he and his friends had successfully escaped from Admiral Ferin, they hadn’t done so without injury. Gillion had taken the most hits, a fact he was proud of, but it also meant he hadn’t fully healed yet. His shirt rubbing against his chest hurt the burns on his skin (he was thankful he didn’t have sleeves), and breathing heavily made his ribs creak from where Jay’s arrow had pierced him. Jay still felt awful for shooting him, but Gillion held no malice for her. It had been his choice to take his armor off, and he regretted nothing. 

    The second reason Gillion was distracted was a more lighthearted one: he was excited to see Caspian—and Lizzy, he supposed—again. They hadn’t seen each other since the attack on Geraldo. The only communication Gillion had gotten was one call on his conch shell, where Lizzy had unknowingly revealed that her ship had been crashed. Gillion hoped neither of them were in danger. 

    “Hey, bastard!” It seemed they were fine, because Lizzy was still well enough to shout at the top of her lungs to insult Chip. Chip whirled around, a grin on his face, one rivaled only by Gillion’s, though Jay looked excited as well. Gillion’s eyes widened as he saw what had become of the Crescent Moon. It was completely torn in half, with only the rear part of the boat left, and Caspian was in a lower deck, propelling the ship forward. Gillion didn’t wait for Chip to finish a snarky remark before he jumped into the water, gritting his teeth against his protesting muscles, and swam over to stand beside Caspian. 

    “It is good to see you, Caspian!” He said. 

    “You too, Gillion.” Caspian said in a breathless voice. He was sweating, and his arms shook as he moved them back and forth. “Could I get a little help?”
    “Of course!” Gillion rubbed his hands together, pulling droplets of water from the ocean in front of him and watching as they began to glow, forming strings of saltwater that clung to his fingers. Gillion glanced over at Caspian and mimicked his motions, shaping the water to turn into waves that would push the boat forward. It hurt, and Gillion worried he was going to tear open the stitches Chip had painstakingly sewn across his chest (from both Jay’s bow and other smaller injuries, scrapes and scratches that Chip had insisted were more than just scrapes and scratches), but if he did happen to tear the stitches, then he would just fix it later. Right now, Caspian had asked for his help, and Gillion was going to provide it. 

    The two of them propelled the Crescent Moon without speaking, since neither one wanted to risk losing concentration to have a conversation. Gillion could hear Lizzy and Chip yelling about something up above on The Albatross , and he thought Drey’s voice was intermingled between them. Hopefully nothing awful was going on. 

    They pushed the half-boat fully into the port and to the docks. Caspian looked far more exhausted than Gillion did, though Gillion was ashamed to admit that he was tired. He would be fine, his wounds were not that bad, even if he knew Chip and Jay would insist otherwise. They were always worrying about him, saying how he didn’t take good enough care of himself and he ignored his injuries. He didn’t ignore them if they were bad! 

    “Thanks.” Caspian said, wiping his forehead. Gillion stumbled away from the edge of the ship and sat down, pressing a hand to his chest and wincing. “I appreciate the help.”

    “Of course.” Gillion said with a nod. “How did this happen? Are you alright?”
    “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Caspian assured him. “We had a run-in with a rather… temperamental Navy Admiral who did not appreciate our lifestyle. And Lizzy called him a number of bad names, so I’m sure that didn’t help.” He looked Gillion up and down with an expression that reminded Gillion a lot of Edyn or Jay. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”
    “I am fine.” Gillion said. Caspian raised an eyebrow at him. “Truly!”

    “Alright.” Caspian said skeptically. He pointed up to the top of his ship. “Can you bring me something from the deck?”

    “Of course.” Gillion said, standing. “What is it?” 

    “My conch shell. I assume you know what it looks like?” Caspian tilted his head. Gillion nodded. “Excellent. Thank you.” Gillion jumped back into the water and grabbed onto a rope ladder that hung off the side of the ship, climbing up it and groaning. He’d definitely torn his stitches. He flung himself over the railing, landing on his hands and knees. He took a moment to catch his breath, hissing as his gills flared against his neck. His arms were trembling. Gillion was humiliated. He was the Champion of the Undersea, the Chosen One! An injury that had already half-healed should not be bothering him this much.

    Gillion forced himself to stand up, swallowing the blood he tasted in his mouth, and started looking around for Caspian’s shell. He assumed it looked similar to his, though since the conchs were customized to their holders, Caspian’s was probably a lighter blue, rather than the teal of Gillion’s. He thought it was strange that Caspian would just leave a magic item like that lying around, but it wasn’t his place to question him about it. 

    As hard as Gillion looked, Caspian’s conch shell was nowhere to be seen. He checked everywhere, even opening barrels and pushing around crates, but he couldn’t find it. 

    “Caspian!” Gillion leaned over the ship to look down, pushing back a wave of dizziness.

    “Yes?” Caspian called. 

    “I am sorry, but I cannot find it!”
    “That’s alright, we can look down here! Come back!” 

    “You got it!” Gillion turned and stared at the rope ladder, swallowing again. He really didn’t want to go back down it, he was worried his arms (or legs) would give out, but just jumping down off the side would probably hurt. He sighed, digging his fingernails into his arms and walking over to the ladder. He started climbing down slowly, gritting his teeth and grabbing the ladder so tightly it hurt his hands, not that he noticed it when it was painted against his burned arms and the hardly-healed arrow wound. 

    Looking down made him lightheaded, but Gillion feared if he didn’t, his feet would miss the rungs and he’d fall all the way down. 

    Worrying about that proved to not be a problem, because a particularly aggressive spike of pain shot through him, and Gillion barely managed not to cry out as his grip failed him and he splashed into the sea, vision tunneling. He thought he heard Caspian shouting his name, but the sound was muffled immediately by the water. Gillion turned around, blinking dumbly at the wisp of blood that now swirled in the water in front of him. He looked down at his chest. There was blood coming out from beneath his armor. Gillion coughed out bubbles.

    Something started pulling on him, yanking him upwards to the surface. Caspian looked down at him with a smile, though it was worried and thin. 

    Gillion’s head broke the surface, and Caspian swam him over to the Crescent Moon , where both of them climbed up onto the deck. Caspian immediately tore open a wooden crate, while Gillion just laid on the deck, breathing hard. 

    “You could have told me you were hurt, Gillion.” Caspian chided, walking back over and helping Gillion sit up. “Take your armor off.”
    “It is… nothing, Caspian.” Gillion said. “Truly.”

    “Don’t lie to me.” The tone of Caspian’s voice reminded Gillion a lot of Edyn, a comparison that made him homesick. Caspian undid the buckles of Gillion’s armor and pulled his chestplate off, tossing it to the side. “Skies above, that’s heavy.” He said. He looked back to Gillion, and his expression shifted to concern. “You tore your stitches out.” Caspian told him. 

“Apologies. I can fix them later—”

“No, I’ll fix them for you.” Caspian shoved a small red healing potion into Gillion’s hands. “Drink this. All of it.” He waited expectantly, and Gillion sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of this, so he drank the potion. It tasted overpoweringly sweet, but helped with his headache, and some of the pain in his chest lessened. “Much better. Wait here.” Caspian got up again, making sure Gillion could sit up on his own before digging through a crate and pulling something out. He came back holding a needle and a spool of thread. “Lizzy needs this a lot.” He said as an explanation. Gillion nodded. He could imagine that Lizzy would need stitches a lot, given the amount of fights she got into and her tendency to use her fists and scrape her knuckles. 

Caspian knelt down, pulling at Gillion’s shirt a bit so that it wasn’t in the way of the injury. He sucked in a sympathetic breath. 

“That doesn’t look good, my friend.” He said. “Apologies, this is going to hurt.”

“I will be fine.” Gillion said, a little harsher than he meant to. Caspian didn’t seem to notice, or at least, didn’t take offense at it. He squinted a bit and started stitching the wound as best he could. Arrow wounds were puncture wounds, which were near-impossible to stitch properly, but since part of it had already been healed by a healing potion in the Block, the shape had morphed to be easier for stitching. It was strangely convenient. It hurt, of course, but the prickling of the needle was next to nothing for someone who had been wounded as much as Gillion had. He sat completely still as Caspian worked, quiet save for an occasional groan or sharp inhale, for which Caspian apologized. 

“There.” Caspian sat back, tucking the spool and needle into the breast pocket of his vest. “I think that’ll do it.” 

“Excellent.” Gillion said. “Thank you, Caspian.” He moved to stand up, but Caspian put firm hands on his shoulders. 

“No, you have to stay here. You’re still injured, and I don’t want you to tear the stitches I just fixed.” 

“But—”
    “No buts.” Caspian interrupted. “Stay here. Anything you want to say to your friends, you can say when they come down here.”
    “But I cannot be useless!” Gillion protested. “I cannot just sit here and do nothing!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m the Chosen One! The Chosen One cannot take time to rest! I must do something to help.” He tried to stand up again, and Caspian let him, standing there with his arms crossed. 

“Gillion,” he began, “you need to rest. I know you’re the Chosen One. You’re very good at it.” He smiled a bit. “But you have to take it easy. You’ll be no use to anyone if you hurt yourself so badly you’re bedridden.” Gillion opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Caspian made a good point, as much as Gillion hated to admit it, and as much as his very soul rebelled against the idea of being idle. 

“I… I suppose you’re right.” He conceded. “I am sorry, Caspian, I did not wish to yell.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Gillion.” Caspian said. “Here. Sit back down, and I’ll go get your crewmates so they can know the situation.”

“Will they not be disappointed?” Gillion asked him. Whenever he’d tried to rest in the Undersea, the elders had always looked at him with disapproval in their wise faces, and they had insisted that a Chosen One had no right to rest for something as petty as physical pain. 

“If they are disappointed, they’re very poor crewmates.” Caspian said over his shoulder as he walked towards the edge of the ship. “Thank you for letting me help, Gillion.” Gillion blinked, caught off guard.

“You’re welcome, Caspian.” He said after a moment, dipping his head. Caspian smiled at him and then jumped down into the water, hardly making a splash with his graceful dive. Gillion waited, surprised he was able to do so without guilt, drumming his fingers on the deck. Pretzel turned her head to look up at him with inquisitive eyes. “I am alright, Pretzel.” Gillion said to her. She chirped happily, doing a spin inside her globe. “Yes, Caspian is a very good friend. I am happy to know him.” 

Chapter Text

    Even after sleeping for what he guessed was three days straight, Drey was still tired when he opened his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep immediately, but he also knew that Chip and Jay, and their friend who claimed to be Finn’s grandson, would want to speak with him now that he was awake. He sighed and sat up, wishing he could rub at his eye or adjust his eyepatch. Not having use of your arms seemed the most annoying when it prevented you from doing little things. 

    “Chip!” Drey winced at the shrill voice of a half-elf, turned away from him to yell above deck. “He’s awake!” It took only a moment for Chip to come bounding down the stairs, Jay and Gilligan—was that his name?—right behind him. Chip ran forward and hugged Drey almost painfully tightly, burying his face in the taller man’s chest. He pulled away right before the hug got uncomfortable, wiping his eyes and sniffing.

    “Hey.” Drey greeted, smiling crookedly. “What’s up?”
    “How are you?” Jay asked. 

    “Been better, been worse.”

    “Do you need healing?” Gilligan—that still didn’t sound right—stepped forward, and his hands started glowing. Drey shook his head. 

“Nah, I’m fine. Thanks, Tidestrider.” He said. 

“It was a good thought, Gill.” Chip said to him. Drey imagined himself snapping his fingers. Gillion! That was what his name was. There was one thing solved. “Oh, Drey, you haven’t met the rest of our crew yet. I’m not sure where Old Man Earl is, but this is Ollie!” He grabbed the half-elf, who had been hiding in a shadow by the stairs, and tugged him forward.

 “H-Hello, Mister Drey.” He stammered, nervously wringing his hands. Drey froze, staring at Ollie with shock on his face. This half-elf, who was probably Chip’s age or a little older, had the same nose and jaw as Captain Rose. There was no way the two were related, right? The ages didn’t match up. Rose’s child would be twelve now, if Drey’s sense of time was correct, and Ollie was clearly older than twelve. 

“Drey?” Chip’s voice pulled Drey out of his thoughts. “You alright?”
    “Yeah, I’m good.” Drey said. He looked back at Ollie, who shrunk away from him. “You look awfully familiar, man.”

“Oh, I’m not a… man.” Ollie said, looking everywhere but at Drey (or Jay, because as soon as he made eye contact with her he turned red). “I’m twelve.”

“Twelve?” Drey said incredulously. “You’re taller than Chip!”

“A cursed object sped up his aging.” Jay explained as Ollie stared intently at the floor. Drey paused in disbelief. So there was a chance. Ollie could be Rose’s son. 

“Kid,” Drey began, trying to work through the chaos of his thoughts to form a coherent sentence, “do you know anything about your dad?”
    “M-My dad?” Ollie repeated, confused. “Um, I know he died before I was born, and my mom said he was a sailor.” 

“Do you have any pictures of him?”
    “My mom has one she keeps on a necklace, but I’ve only seen it a few times.” 

“Chip, there’s a photo in my pocket.” Drey said. This was crazy! It was like the stars had aligned and dropped a piece of his past right in front of him, because there was no way that Ollie and Rose weren’t related. Chip rushed to get the photo, then held it up in front of Drey’s face. It was a picture of the Black Rose crew, and it was a photo Drey hadn’t seen since he’d lost use of his arms: Captain Rose was right in the middle, eyes wide with shock as Arlin grabbed him and lifted him up, a massive grin on his face. Finn was in the middle of talking, asking a thousand questions, and Drey was laughing at Captain Rose with his arms clenched around his middle. The picture had been taken mere moments after Rose had told the crew about his child. Drey had been laughing because Finn had asked what color the egg was.

Chip coughed as if disguising another sound. His eyes were wet. 

    “Hey, it’s okay.” Jay said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Chip nodded, though he didn’t look away from the picture. “Drey, why did you want us to see this?” Drey jerked his head towards Ollie. 

    “Show it to the kid.” Chip handed the photo to Ollie, looking as if he wanted to keep it forever. Ollie gasped upon taking it. 

    “This is my dad!” He said, pointing. “That’s him!” He stared at Drey. “Why do you have a picture of my dad?” 

    “He was my Captain.” Drey’s voice was hoarse, and he choked down the lump in his throat. Chip stared at him in complete shock. Jay stared at Ollie. Gillion looked between the four of them, trying to put pieces together. “The Captain of the Black Rose Pirates.”
    “A pirate?” Ollie breathed. “Like you!” He said to Chip. 

    “Is that really your dad?” Chip pointed at the picture, his hand trembling. 

    “It looks just like him.” Ollie said. “It’s him.” Chip laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. He stepped backwards and bumped into Gillion. 

    “Chip?” Gillion looked at him. “Are you alright?”

    “Gill, that’s his dad.” Chip said, as if the words were the greatest ones he’d ever said. “Ollie’s a Black Rose Pirate.”

    “Honorary.” Drey smirked. Ollie smiled, dipping his head and looking away. “Your dad would be proud of you, kid. Hangin’ out with pirates. You look a lot like him, you know.”
    “That’s what my mom always told me.” Ollie said. 

    “It sure is a small world.” Jay commented. “I’m related to a Black Rose Pirate, Chip and Gill are related to Black Rose Pirates, and so is Ollie! Next Old Man Earl is gonna say he was their cook or something.” Drey chuckled. 

    “Oliver, I am happy for you.” Gillion said gravely. “Being related to such a great man is a wonderful thing. It was destiny that we met.” Chip rolled his eyes. 

    “I hope I can live up to what he did.” Ollie said, starting to sound nervous again. “He seems like he was incredible, and I’m just… me.” 

    “You’re already living up to him, Ollie.” Chip put a hand on Ollie’s shoulder. “You’re a pirate! Well, mostly. And you’re doing all these things that he loved doing.” 

    “Really?”

    “Really.” Chip confirmed. “And even if you weren’t, you don’t have to try to be everything he was. I like you a lot just the way you are.”

    “As do I!” Gillion proclaimed, grinning. “Marshall John was right to recruit you as his apprentice!” Ollie blushed. 

    “You’re a lot braver than I would’ve been at your age.” Jay told him. Ollie’s face turned redder, which made Drey laugh at him. 

    “Th-Thanks.” He said. “I’m glad I know more about him.”

    “I’ve got some killer stories, you know.” Drey said. “How about a little storytelling? I promise, I won’t tell any embarrassing ones about Chip.”
    “Alright.” Jay said, sitting down. Gillion sat next to her, and Chip pulled Ollie down next to him. 

    “Awesome.” Drey said. “I guess I can tell the story about that photo first.” 

    “He looks so happy in it.” Ollie said, tracing the photo.

    “Yeah, he was. He had just told us he was gonna be a father.” Drey said. Ollie looked up at him, eyes widening. 

    “He told you about me?” 

    “Once he found out about you, that's all he would talk about.” Drey said wistfully. He chuckled. “Finn wanted to know what color the egg was.” Ollie giggled. Gillion quirked a confused eyebrow, as if he too had been wondering that, but said nothing. “But yeah. He told us about you, even though he’d never met you, and he was so excited. I hadn’t heard him ever sounding that excited, even about his crew.”
    “I don’t blame him.” Chip said, putting an arm around Ollie. “This kid’s pretty exciting.” 

    “I’m glad you knew him.” Ollie said, both to Chip and to Drey. “Even if I never did, you guys have stories, and that makes him feel a little more… real.” He coughed, the noise sounding suspiciously like he was trying not to cry. Jay reached over and ruffled his hair. 

    “Thanks, Drey.” Chip said in a quiet voice. Drey nodded, then stood up, leaning against the wall for a moment to catch his balance. He went above deck and left the three co-captains with Ollie. 

    “You can cry, Ollie.” Gillion said, sounding a bit like a hypocrite. “It is alright.” Ollie scrubbed furiously at his eyes, but after a moment, turned and hid his face in Chip’s shirt, shoulders beginning to shake. Chip held him, awkwardly because Ollie was still taller than he was, with Jay and Gillion offering their silent support. Both of them had lost fathers, one to destiny and one to cruelty, and so they met each other’s gazes with sympathy. 

Chapter Text

    “Are you sure this is safe?” Jay said, pulling her jacket tighter as she walked behind Lizzy through the alleyways of All-Port. There were pirates that looked a lot scarier than her crew did leaning against doorways, or brawling, or gambling. Normally, the slightly gritty chaos of pirates was something Jay liked, but not when she felt threatened. 

    “It’s fine, sunshine.” Lizzy said over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure nothing gets you. Besides, we’re almost there. I think you’ll like this.” 

    “Alright.” Jay muttered. She kept following Lizzy cautiously, praying that no one would recognize her, either from her wanted posters or due to her resemblance to the other Ferins. It hadn’t happened yet, in fact, Lizzy had been the only person to actually realize she used to be Navy, but that didn’t mean Jay felt any less nervous.  

    The further they walked, the grittier their surroundings became, and the shakier Jay’s hands threatened to be. She knew that if anything really did happen, Lizzy would protect her, and she could protect herself, but nevertheless, Jay wished she hadn’t decided to humor Lizzy on this trip to who-knows-where. For all she knew, Lizzy could have been playing the long game, and Jay was being lured into a trap. 

    Jay shook her head. That was ridiculous. Lizzy might not fully trust her, but she cared about Chip, as much as she hated others to know it, and Chip wanted Jay to stay alive. Lizzy wouldn’t dare endanger her. 

    “Okay, now you really gotta stay close to me.” Lizzy slowed down so that she was walking next to Jay. “I won’t let anything happen, but we need to be careful.” She grabbed Jay’s hand, a normally tender action being jerky and uncoordinated when it was Lizzy performing it. Her hand was sweating, almost as if she was nervous. Interesting. 

    “Hey, ladies!” Lizzy hastened her step upon hearing the beckoning call of some drunkard, dragging Jay along behind her, though Jay was certainly not going to protest. She was not some pathetic damsel to be lured in by alcohol-ridden words, and she didn’t know anyone who fell for such sentences. “Aw, come on!” The man kept talking. “Don’t just walk away! You’re far too pretty to disobey a man like me.” Lizzy stopped, turning around with fire in her eyes. 

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, tone dangerous. 

    “Well, pretty girls ain’t supposed to have brains!” The man said, foolishly continuing onwards with his ridiculous speech. “And you and your friend are mighty pretty.” Lizzy let go of Jay’s hand, striding forward and balling up her fist. 

    Jay saw the punch coming before it even hit the man’s face. He collapsed in a heap. Lizzy shook out her fist and walked back over to Jay. 

    “Let’s keep going.” She said, as if Jay was meant to just ignore what had just happened. “Quickly, sunshine.” Jay almost stumbled as Lizzy yanked her forward, holding her closer than was probably necessary. A few more inappropriate comments were thrown their direction, but no one was as forward as that man had been. 

    “Are you sure what we’re looking for is worth it?” 

    “It’s worth it.” Lizzy said with certainty.

    “Alright.” Jay said skeptically. 

    After another fifteen minutes of nerve-racking travel, Lizzy stopped outside a tavern with a sign so faded Jay couldn’t read its name. Its windows were scratched and blackened from smoke, and the entire building looked like it was on the verge of collapsing. Jay looked at Lizzy, skeptical. 

    “This is what you wanted to show me?” She said dryly. “If I sneezed on it, the whole thing would disintegrate.” Lizzy batted her arm.

“Quiet.” She said, clearly trying to tease, but she sounded so nervous that it was almost mean. Jay narrowed her eyes. “Just… follow me.” She pushed open the door, making a dented bell chime and announce her arrival as Jay walked in behind her. No one was in the tavern besides a strangely scrawny barkeeper who was wiping the bar down, despite the fact that it was so dirty a cloth wouldn’t do anything. He looked up at the two of them and smiled at Lizzy. 

“Upstairs to the right.” He said. 

“Thank you.” Lizzy grabbed a key from him as she passed, and Jay looked at her quizzically. 

“What are we doing here?” 

“Be patient!” Lizzy said, exasperated. “I promise, it’s nothing bad.” 

    “Whatever you say.” Jay followed Lizzy up stairs that creaked dangerously under her feet and into a room that, surprisingly, had a window without any cracks in it. There was a table in the center of the room, with two chairs and a burning candle in the center. There were two plates on the table, each one with an admittedly good-looking meal of meat and potatoes on it. Lizzy walked in first, and Jay stopped in the doorway, shocked. Lizzy looked like she was trembling as she pulled back a chair and sat down. “Lizzy… what’s all this?”

    “A meal.” Lizzy said, as if that wasn’t obvious. “For the two of us.”

    Jay crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as Lizzy’s coppery skin darkened with a blush and she sank down in her seat. Jay thought she knew what Lizzy’s plan had been with this, and part of her was secretly overjoyed. The rest of her was trying to keep the overjoyed part from having a bit too much fun, because Jay wanted to jump up and down and give Lizzy the tightest hug she could. 

    “Lizzy, come here.” Almost timidly, Lizzy stood up and walked over to Jay. She wasn’t making eye contact. Jay took her hand. “Did you do this as a date?”

    “I knew it was a stupid idea.” Lizzy tried to walk past her, but Jay didn’t let go. “Let me go, Ferin. I’ve already ruined things, don’t make me punch you.” 

    “It’s not stupid.” Jay said. “You haven’t ruined anything. I will admit, I didn’t expect this, but it’s not unwelcome. I think it’s sweet. I think you’re sweet.” Lizzy glanced at Jay, her face half hidden behind her curly hair. 

    “Then I’m praying to the gods that you won’t think this is stupid.” Before Jay had a chance to process what that was supposed to mean, Lizzy had pulled her in by the collar, and she was kissing her. Jay’s entire body froze, almost like it was electrified. Lizzy stepped back, wearing an expression that dared Jay to run out the door. 

    Jay did not cave to the dare. She wrapped both arms around Lizzy and pressed her lips to the other woman’s, closing her eyes and for a moment allowing herself to get lost in the feeling of holding Lizzy and kissing her. 

    When the two broke apart, they were wide-eyed and out of breath. 

    “Most of the time, I think people don’t go straight for the full kiss.” Lizzy teased. “But I’m not complaining.”

    “We’re going to have to tell the crew when we get back, you know.” Jay reminded her as the two of them sat down. 

    “I mean, we don’t have to.” Lizzy said. “Secret relationships can be fun.” 

    “True.”

Chapter Text

“I keep telling you, when someone shoots a gun at you, you dodge out of the way.” Drey said dryly, leaning over Captain Rose to wrap bandages around his chest. “You’re lucky Finn had a little bit of magic left, or you would have been in trouble.” Rose waved a dismissive hand. 

“I’m fine, Drey.” He said. “Don’t worry so much.” 

“Well, excuse me for worrying about my Captain.” Drey muttered, tying the bandages perhaps a bit tighter than was necessary. Rose grunted and glared at him. Drey shrugged innocently, though the grin on his face was anything but.

“Remind me why I let you on this ship?” 

“Because I’m the best sharpshooter you’ve ever seen.” Drey fired back, smug. Rose grumbled something completely incomprehensible, crossing his arms irritably. Drey’s tone sobered, and he spoke again. “You really need to be more careful, Rose. You’re the captain. A crew needs their captain.” 

“I know.” Rose said, exasperated. “I didn’t mean to make you worry that much.” 

“It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” Drey said. “That could have been really bad.”
    “It almost sounds like you’re concerned.” Rose teased. 

“I am concerned, alright?” Drey almost snapped. “I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I appreciate it.” Rose said solemnly. He pushed himself a bit away from Drey, to the very edge of the bed he was lying on, then patted the space next to him. “Lay down. You need to sleep just as much as I do.” Drey opened his mouth to protest, but the look on Rose’s face left no room for argument, and there was a part of Drey that wanted to agree with him. The two hadn’t gotten to spend a lot of time together, alone, in the past few weeks. He climbed onto the bed, trying his best not to jostle Rose or hurt him any further. 

“Rose, what are we going to do once we’re done with all this… pirate stuff?”

“Don’t think about that right now.” Rose said, voice soft. He reached over and grabbed Drey’s hand. “I’m not going to be done with it anytime soon.”
    “If you’re not, then I’m not.” 

“You sap.” Rose grinned, poking Drey’s ribs. Drey huffed a laugh. Rose moved a bit closer, angling himself so his head was resting on Drey’s chest. “I can hear your heart pounding.” Rose’s voice was almost a whisper. 

“I’m sure you can.” Was all Drey could think to respond with. 

“It’s nice.” Drey had no idea what to say to that, so he simply said nothing. Rose closed his eyes and exhaled contentedly, quickly falling asleep. Drey looked down at him fondly. There was something special about knowing that Rose felt safe enough around him to be this vulnerable. Even with all the walls one had to build in order to be a pirate, Rose broke down a few so that he and Drey could be like this, together. It was heartwarming. Drey needed to work a little harder on breaking down some of his own walls. There were a lot of things the crew didn’t know that Drey had never mustered up the courage to tell them. Maybe he never would. 

Chapter Text

    Having darkvision was a lot more useful when you were in a dark area, like the sewer tunnel Taxi was currently keeping watch in. His friends were asleep, most of them, and Taxi had nominated himself to be the watchman for the first half of the night, since Br’aad, Velrisa, and Mountain needed their sleep. 

    Sylnan didn’t need any sleep, because Sylnan was dead. Thinking about the dark-haired half-elf made Taxi’s throat start to close up, and he wasn’t even that close with Sylnan. It was scary to realize how fragile their little group—family, even—was. Taxi had never imagined anyone would die, and if someone was going to, he’d been expecting it to be himself, not Sylnan.  

    Taxi sighed, his tail flicking anxiously back and forth. He had no idea how their adventuring group was supposed to fix this problem. Sure, resurrection was possible, but it seemed very complicated. What if something went wrong? What if someone else died? Taxi wouldn’t be able to handle that happening. He didn’t think his friends would either. 

    A rustling of fabric coming from behind him pulled Taxi away from his worrying, and he turned to see Br’aad rolling over in his sleep, tattoos glowing with a dim purple light. In the quiet of the tunnels, Br’aad’s panicked breathing was painfully audible. 

    “Br’aad.” Taxi kept his voice quiet so he didn’t wake his friends as he crept over to Br’aad. “Hey, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Br’aad whined. Taxi wasn’t sure what to do. If he was having a nightmare, he didn’t like to be physically roused from it, it made him panic more. But that might not be the case for Br’aad, and they hadn’t traveled together long enough for Taxi to know what the best way to bring Br’aad out of a nightmare was. He seemed like a very physical person, always bumping shoulders with someone or hanging off Sylnan (or Mountain, to the dwarf’s chagrin). “I’m overthinking this.” Taxi muttered to himself. 

    Taxi gently shook Br’aad’s shoulder. The tattoos on his arms had started glowing, and Taxi realized that they were warm, too. Would they burn Br’aad if Taxi took too long? Taxi didn’t want to find out. He shook Br’aad again, harder this time, chewing nervously on his lip. 

    Br’aad jolted away, sitting up so fast he nearly knocked heads with Taxi. He gasped and scrambled backwards. 

    “Woah, hey, it’s alright.” Taxi said, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t armed. “You had a nightmare, Br’aad. Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.” Br’aad just stared at him, tattoos glowing, as if he didn’t understand a word of what Taxi was saying. Taxi desperately wished he knew Elvish, or that Sylnan was still around to help. 

    “T-Taxi?” Br’aad finally spoke, his voice soft and timid. It wasn’t a tone Br’aad often used, and it wasn’t one Taxi liked to hear. 

    “Yes, it’s me.” Taxi said. Br’aad’s lip trembled, and then he glanced past Taxi and focused on Sylnan’s body. 

    Br’aad suddenly pitched forward, pressing his hands to his face and sobbing. Taxi caught him purely out of reflex, but he chose to pull Br’aad into a hug all on his own. The half-elf was sobbing so violently that his entire body shook. He hadn’t even sounded this upset when Sylnan had died, but perhaps that was because the reality of his brother’s demise hadn’t completely set in until just now, when Br’aad had awoken to find himself comforted by someone other than his brother, because his brother was dead. 

    Taxi couldn’t find the right words to say, so he didn’t say anything. He held Br’aad as he cried, rubbing circles in Br’aad’s back with one hand and stroking his hair with the other. His guess about physical contact had been right, because Br’aad leaned into the touch like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He had been a lot more withdrawn since Sylnan’s death, understandably so, and he hadn’t given anyone so much as a fist bump since that fateful moment on the streets. 

    “Why d-did this have to h-happen to me, Taxi?” Br’aad said into Taxi’s fur, voice slightly muffled. 

    “I don’t know, Br’aad.” Taxi said honestly, though his heart broke to say it. “You don’t deserve it.”

    “Maybe I do.” 

    “No, Br’aad, you don’t.” Taxi said, hoping he sounded firm without being mean. “You don’t deserve any of this. You’re the most genuine, nicest person I’ve ever met. Nothing that’s happened to you was deserved.” Br’aad sniffled, shoulders trembling. He shifted slightly and wrapped his arms around Taxi, tangling his fingers in Taxi’s fur. It hurt a little, but Taxi wasn’t going to complain. 

    “We’re going to get Sylnan back, right?” Br’aad asked after a moment. Taxi blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected Br’aad to have any doubts; he had been the most confident about Sylnan’s revival. 

    “Of course we will.” Taxi told him. 

    “Okay.” Br’aad said. “Thank you, Taxi.”
    “Anytime.” Taxi kissed the top of Br’aad’s head, and heard the half-elf laugh quietly. Taxi’s watch still had a half hour left before he had to trade it off to Velrisa, so he remained exactly where he was, holding Br’aad and praying that they’d be able to revive Sylnan. He couldn’t stand to see Br’aad this upset. 

Chapter Text

    Gillion had trouble believing that what he was seeing was actually happening. His sister, alive and well and tangible in front of him, smiling with tears in her eyes. Gillion knew he was on the verge of tears himself. It had been far too long since he had so much as spoken with Edyn, and seeing her in person was almost too much. Everything on the Oversea was new and exciting, but also unfamiliar and difficult to understand. Caspian had been the only truly familiar thing Gillion had interacted with, and now Caspian had brought him to his sister. 

    “I… can hardly believe this.” Gillion struggled to put words together. “You’re here!”
    “I’m here.” Edyn said. “It’s wonderful to see you, Gillion.” She turned to Caspian, who was leaning on the bar with a lazy smile on his face. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing him here.” 

    “Of course!” Caspian exclaimed. “I’m glad I got to play a part in your reunion.” Edyn reached across the bar and grasped his hand firmly; Gillion wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Caspian sighed and leaned into Gillion’s side, a worryingly fluid and tired motion. 

    “Are you alright?” Gillion said, suddenly alarmed. “Is something wrong?” Edyn looked concerned as well; both Tidestriders wore identical expressions. 

    “Did you overwork yourself again?” Edyn crossed her arms and fixed Caspian with an accusatory look. 

    “No, I didn’t.” Caspian moved away from Gillion as if to prove a point. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.” 

    “You sailed a ship for four days, Caspian.” Gillion reminded him. “I know firsthand how tiring magic can be. Are you sure you’re alright?”

    “As sure as the oceans are blue.” Caspian rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m really just tired, I’ll sleep well and be fine.” 

    “You always do this.” Edyn rolled her eyes. “You and Gill both need to learn that you’re not Warforged. You have to stop pushing yourselves too hard. And don’t look at me like that, Gill, you know I’m right.” Gillion sighed. Edyn was completely right, he did have a tendency to do more than what his body could handle, and he never rested as much as he needed to. Chip and Jay had been helping him figure out how to relax, but a few months at sea didn’t compare to years of training and routines. 

    “Look, Edyn, I’m fine.” Caspian insisted. Edyn snorted. 

    “Alright.” She sounded smug. “Bring some of the water from outside in here.”
    “Well, it’s rather far away, don’t you think?” Caspian was avoiding Edyn’s request, it was obvious even to Gillion. 

    “Caspian, you need a break.” Gillion said before Edyn had a chance to say anything. “Please, if you won’t do it for me, or for Edyn, do it for the both of us together.”

    “That doesn’t make much sense.” Caspian said, amused. “You didn’t learn much arithmetic, did you, Gillion?”

    “Caspian.” Edyn said warningly. “You’re exhausted. Please, rest.” 

    “What if you need my help with something?” Caspian protested, beginning to sound a lot like Gillion. The look Edyn gave him was also one she had given to Gillion on multiple occasions, when this exact same series of events had happened in the past during Gillion’s training. Caspian was not going to get out of resting; Edyn had years of experience with someone who was arguably more stubborn than he was. Caspian sighed as he realized this and blew some of his hair out of his face. He almost looked… unkempt. Edyn waited expectantly for his agreement. “Fine.” Caspian grumbled, and Edyn nodded. 

    “Thank you. I know you don’t want to, but you won’t be much help to anyone if you’re too tired to walk straight or cast any spells.” Caspian nodded his head reluctantly. He saw the logic of Edyn’s words, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Gillion saw the logic as well, he just knew they didn’t apply to him specifically. He was the Champion of the Undersea, felled by no fiends as pathetic as fatigue! “Gill, why don’t you help Caspian up to the surface, and I’ll come by and visit as soon as I’m off work.”

    “Very well.” Gillion said. “It was wonderful to see you again, Edyn.” Edyn smiled sweetly at that, once again pulling at Gillion’s heart. He had missed her even more than he realized. Gillion turned to Caspian, who had stood up and was stretching his shoulders. “Shall we go?” Caspian responded by turning towards the exit and making his way out of Edyn’s tavern. 

    “Apologies, Gillion, for cutting your reunion short.”

    “No apology is necessary.” Gillion assured him. “You should not work yourself so hard.”
    “You’re one to talk.” Caspian raised an eyebrow. “You do the same thing!”
    “Caspian, my destiny has no room for rest.” Gillion replied smoothly. 

    “I think it does.” Caspian said. “Tell you what: I’ll rest, but you have to rest with me.” Gillion blinked, surprised, but Caspian kept on talking. “Both of us are going to take a good, much-deserved nap and then we’re going to meet up with the Captain and your friends, and your sister, to have some fun. If you say no, then I’m not resting.” 

    Gillion paused. He didn’t feel tired, nor did he think he needed to take a break, but if he didn’t, then Caspian wouldn’t, and Caspian definitely did need to rest. Gillion had been caught in a very well-laid-out trap.

    “Very well.” He conceded, noticing Caspian’s self-satisfied grin. “But only because you need the rest.” 

    “Of course, my friend.”

Chapter Text

    Since his discovery aboard Marshall John’s ship, Chip had wanted to take Ollie on some sort of adventure that was actually appropriate and safe for twelve-year-old half-elves. The Riptide Pirates’ landing at All-Port gave him the perfect opportunity. He’d spoken to Rufus already, and even a day later, his head still spun at the thought that even more of the Black Rose Crew was alive. Arlin just had to be, if Rufus was. They’d met with Edyn as well, Gillion’s admittedly-attractive sister, and Chip had never seen Gillion so happy before. 

    Now, the day after, Chip and Ollie were going on that adventure Chip had wanted for him so much. They were exploring All-Port, or rather, Chip was tugging Ollie along to some of the spots he’d seen yesterday. Ollie had come with them and met Rufus, and he now proudly wore his Fire Giant belt as he marched alongside Chip. 

    “Here, we should try this first!” Chip exclaimed, pointing to a booth he’d seen the previous day. It was run by a kindly-looking dwarven woman with thick blonde hair tied in tight curls. The booth itself advertised face-painting, and Chip had thought Ollie would like it because it was kind of like getting a tattoo, only not permanent, because Chip did not want Ollie to get a tattoo, but Ollie wanted to match the rest of the crew. 

    “Hello!” The woman said brightly, grinning. “What can I do for you?” 

    “Face paint!” Ollie exclaimed, turning red when the woman looked at him, slightly surprised. “Please.”
    “What would you like?” The woman asked. Chip put his hand on his chin to appear more mysterious as he thought; Ollie mimicked the pose. 

    “Skull and crossbones!” Ollie said after a moment. Chip gasped, pointing at him. 

    “That’s a great idea.” He said, deadly serious. 

    The woman chuckled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Alright, sit down and I’ll get right to it.” Chip and Ollie sat in the two chairs behind the booth, Ollie swinging his feet since they didn’t touch the ground. Chip didn’t find it quite as difficult to sit still, despite his tendency to fiddle with things. His tattoos had taken hours, and he’d hardly moved the entire time. It had been incredibly difficult—as soon as they’d been done, Chip had stood up and jumped up and down, flapping his arms and his hands to try and release all the nervous energy he’d been holding in. 

    In comparison, not moving for a few minutes while he got his face painted was nothing. Chip pretended he was a statue as he felt cool, tickling paint be swept across his face. His nose twitched at the smell. 

    Ollie wasn’t quite as still, and his skull-and-crossbones design ended up being a bit wobbly, with the bones not being as rigid as they were perhaps meant to be. Ollie couldn’t tell, and it wasn’t noticeable enough to warrant Chip bringing it up. 

    “There you go.” The woman stood back. “Three silver, please.” Chip handed her the coins, glad Gillion hadn’t yet found their silver stash and thrown it overboard. He grabbed Ollie’s hand again, and they merged back into the crowds of All-Port. 

    “What should we do now?” Chip asked him. 

    “Have you ever had ice cream?” Ollie said. Chip tilted his head, confused. He’d heard of ice cream, probably from Ollie, but he’d never tasted it before. “Oh my god, you’ve never had ice cream!” Ollie shrieked, sounding genuinely appalled. “We have to get you some ice cream!” He immediately took off, pulling Chip behind him like it was nothing on account of his belt. He suddenly stopped. “Have the other pirates ever had it?”
    “I don’t know, maybe Jay has.” Chip said. “Gill definitely hasn’t.”

    “Let’s go get them! We’re gonna get ice cream!” And just like that, they were off. Chip couldn’t have stopped Ollie even if he’d wanted to. 

    Chip couldn’t believe he’d never had ice cream before. It was absolutely delicious! Ollie had gotten everyone to come with them and find an ice cream store, which had been run by a very excitable water genasi who looked like they were Ollie’s age. Chip hadn’t asked, of course; it wasn’t his business. 

    There had been more flavors than Chip could count, but he’d found what he wanted relatively quickly: vanilla ice cream with chocolate, peanut butter, and caramel swirled in it. At Ollie’s insistence, he’d gotten it in what was called a waffle cone, and he had to admit, the cone was just as good as the ice cream itself. 

    Ollie had known exactly what he wanted: chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. A very long name for what was essentially vanilla with other ingredients mixed in, but Ollie had been practically bouncing as he waited for his ice cream. His also had a cone, but it was a different kind than Chip’s. Chip didn’t remember what it was called. 

    Jay had rather smugly told Chip that she had eaten ice cream before, and then ordered chocolate cherry with an unholy amount of sprinkles on the top. Chip had stolen a few, and she hadn’t even noticed! It was like an avalanche of sprinkles. Drey’s, which was lemon meringue, also had a lot of sprinkles on it, and he was somehow managing to eat the ice cream using his feet and a plastic spoon. It was simultaneously disgusting and extremely impressive. 

    Old Man Earl, after his worrying attack the previous day, had chosen to stay on the ship but demanded that they bring him some. Ollie had gotten an orange-flavored ice cream for him. Hopefully he’d like it. Alfonse had also stayed on the ship, because, being a Warforged, he didn’t need to eat. 

    Gillion hadn’t even known what ice cream was. Ollie and Jay had explained it to him, and after almost twenty minutes, Gillion had come to the conclusion that it was blended milk. Not quite right, but close enough. He hadn’t known what flavor to get, since there were so many, but he’d seen the word coral on one of the flavors and chosen that. In reality, it wasn’t coral flavored: it was vanilla with a strawberry swirl that was colored similarly. Gillion ate his slowly, biting into the ice cream rather than licking at it, continuously surprised by how cold it was. 

    Marshall John, Caspian, and Lizzy had come along too, even though Chip had tried to convince Lizzy not to. She had very politely flipped him off and marched over to buy herself a cone of dark chocolate ice cream. Caspian’s was mint chocolate chip, and John’s was peanut butter. 

    Ollie sighed, leaning his head against Chip’s shoulder as he finished his ice cream. Chip looked down at him with something that could only be described as fondness. 

    “Thanks for such a fun day, dad.” Ollie said, then went as red as Gillion’s ice cream. “I mean dude!” Chip wasn’t paying any attention. Ollie called him dad! “I did not!” Chip didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud. “I meant to say dude!”
    “Oh god, Chip has a son.” Lizzy deadpanned, crunching down on her waffle cone. Ollie groaned, burying his face in his hands. 

    “I can’t believe I just said that.” Caspian and Drey laughed. 

    “You’re even more like Arlin than I thought you were.” Drey told Chip. Chip looked at him, eyes widening. 

    “I have a son!” He shouted joyously, standing up and proclaiming his revelation to the skies. He flung ice cream onto Lizzy’s jacket by accident, and she looked up at him, venom and malice in her one eye. “Oh no. Lizzy, that wasn’t on purpose—”

    “I’m going to kill you!” Lizzy scrambled to her feet, ice cream forgotten on the curb as she started running after Chip, who sprinted like his life depended on it. “I’m gonna kill you, you bastard!” Chip screamed as he ran. 

    Caspian sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “I should probably make sure she doesn’t actually hurt him.” He said, saluting to the rest of the pirates. “I’ll be back shortly.”
    “I can’t believe I called Chip dad.” Ollie mumbled, voice muffled because he was still hiding in his hands. 

    “Don’t worry about it.” Jay said. “I think that’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” Gillion nodded solemnly. 

    “I’m so embarrassed.”    

    “Don’t worry about it, kid.” Drey repeated. “Like Jay said, you just made his day.”
    “We have to tell Earl!” Gillion gasped. “He missed a crucial moment in Oliver’s development! John, he has to know!” 

    “Let’s go!” John said, determination sparking in his eyes. The two were gone before anyone had a chance to stop them, leaving Drey, Jay, and a furiously blushing Ollie sitting on the curb eating ice cream. 

Chapter Text

Hello! First of all, the popularity these stories have garnered blows my mind. I had no idea this would take off so much, I mean, it’s in the top 10 kudo-ed works in this entire fandom! That’s insane to me, so thank you guys SO much for that. 

Secondly, and nobody panic, I will be closing requests TEMPORARILY. I no longer have easy access to a computer, so I will not be taking new requests. 

- requests will open again in mid to late august, when school starts up again

- if you have an idea you don’t want to forget, still feel free to comment it! I’ll get on it as soon as I get my computer again 

I won’t be posting much JRWI, if anything, for the next two-or-so months, but I have some things written about my own DND characters that I hope to post, so if you want to read those when they come out, I’d really appreciate it! You’re in no way obligated too, though :)

Thanks again for so much love on these stories, and I’ll see you in august! 

Chapter Text

Hello JRWI enjoyers! I have two quick things to say, so let’s get right to it!

1. I have a tumblr now, @octolingo-writes! Feel free to come say hi, but you absolutely don’t have to :)

2. REQUESTS ARE BACK OPEN! I have my computer for school, which means I can write consistently! Comment any requests you have back on chapter 1; go wild! I’m excited to get back to doing these :)

Quick PS, I will be doing Apotheosis requests, but in very specific circumstances I’ll specify on the requests chapter! 

Chapter Text

    Connor thought being drunk was the strangest feeling in the world. His entire body felt tingly, and he couldn’t tell if the swirling lights around the frat house were real or hallucinations. Even in his inebriated state, Connor knew there was a crucial clue to be found in the frat house, and he wanted to find it. He had to grip the stair-rail like a lifeline as he stumbled up the stairs, remembering that Aster had told him something about one of the doors upstairs needing to be investigated. 

    There were six doors, and Connor had no idea which one Aster had told him to go in. The first one was probably the right one. The door hiding something was the most important one, so of course it would be the first one! Things that came first were more important than things that came second. Connor staggered forward, reaching out a hand towards the door, but stopped as a tune wriggled into his mind. 

    He couldn’t place what song the tune might possibly be, but it was being played by a flute, and it sounded almost like it was trying to tell him something. Connor paused, tilting his head and trying to hear the flute over the electro music blaring through the frat house and the sounds of yelling from where Ryan was fighting downstairs. The longer he listened, the more Connor felt like he understood what the song was about. It was a theatrical tune, meant to accompany a dramatic action by the hero of a play. What was something dramatic he could do?

    He could start a fire! Connor excitedly looked around for anything with which to start a fire, but paused after a moment, his alcohol-slowed thoughts taking a moment to recalibrate. He lit things on fire a lot. It wouldn’t be particularly dramatic if he did it again. There had to be a better answer, one that would fit this quick-paced theater tune better. 

    He could punch Ryan and Aster. That would certainly be dramatic. Despite his magic being centered around destruction, Connor himself was not a violence or physically-inclined person when it came to resolving conflicts—that honor went to Ryan, floatball champion and fistfight extraordinaire. If Connor started a fight against his friends, he figured the tune would fit with his actions. 

    Connor clenched his fists and concentrated on walking back down the stairs without tripping over his feet, which were not moving the way he wanted them to. Gradually, the sounds of the frat house were overtaken by the flute tune, which now seemed to be accompanied by harmonies and descant melodies. It was as if the song was encouraging him, building dramatically alongside him. 

    At the bottom of the stairs, Ryan was triumphantly slamming the last challenger to the ground, leaving only him and Jack as the last people standing. There was a desperation in his eyes that was only partly hidden by a confident grin and stance. Aster was standing at the back door to the frat house, halfway out with a block of cheese in one hand. She was waving the cheese around and beckoning to a surprisingly large rat, trying to coax it outside. 

    “Ryan!” Connor proclaimed, pointing a hand at his blonde-haired friend. Ryan turned, ignoring Jack to look at Connor, confused. 

    “Connor?” He said. “What are you—” Connor punched him as hard as he could (not very hard, but he was doing his best), sliding a fist across the side of Ryan’s face. “Hey!” Ryan cracked his knuckles, and the part of Connor’s mind that wasn’t caught up in his theatrical performance started panicking. He should’ve gone for Aster first. 

    “What was that for?” Aster shouted from the doorway, her eyes widening. The rat squeaked, startled by the loud noise, and scurried into a hole in the wall. “No! Beewee, come on, I’m not going to hurt you!” 

    “Maybe he won’t, but I will!” Connor declared, feeling very sure of himself. Aster gasped, bringing up a hand to catch Connor’s fist moments before it would’ve hit her. Even so, her resistance barely stopped the attack, almost as if she had been expecting an animal shift to help her, and it hadn’t happened. Her powers did tend to malfunction. “Take that!” 

    “What’s up with you, man?” Ryan said angrily, reaching forward and grabbing Connor’s arms before he had a chance to go for Aster again. Connor slammed his elbows backwards as Ryan pulled on them, and while his left missed completely, his right elbow dug into Ryan’s stomach, making him bend over, air knocked from his lungs. 

    “Connor, quit it!” Aster shrieked, looking past the two boys at Jack, who was staring at the fight, completely dumbstruck. She couldn’t use her powers if he could see them. “Sorry Jack!” She held out her hand, heat filling her fingertips as a bolt of pure white light shot out and hit Jack in the face. 

    “My eyes, bro!” He yelled. “My eyes!” 

    “Sorry!” Aster said again. “Ryan, are you okay?”

    “Perfectly fine!” Ryan wheezed. He grabbed Connor’s forearm, using perhaps a bit more strength than was necessary just to keep his friend from moving around too much. “Quit beating us up, you idiot! We’re on the same side!” 

    “But I’m doing something dramatic!” Connor insisted, vaguely aware of how his words were slurring together. “The music told me to!” 

    “The music told you to?” Ryan repeated, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

    “You mean, like the music you mentioned at the big game?” Aster piped up. “That music!” 

    “Exactly!” Connor said. “That music.” 

    “Alright, well, sorry about this.” Connor had only a moment to look at Ryan, confusion on his face, before Ryan hit him in the back of the head just hard enough to knock him out. 

    “Ryan!” Aster yelped. “You can’t just do that!” 

    “He’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” Ryan said dismissively, throwing Connor’s unconscious body over his shoulder. “Was that rat important?”

    “That was Beewee, Ryan.” Aster tugged on a strand of her hair as if she was annoyed. 

    “Oh. Why?”

    “I don’t know, he’s involved in all this somehow. Just… go back to the Club Room with Connor, I’ll get Beewee and be gone in two shakes of a rat’s tail.” She chuckled to herself at the joke. Ryan just blinked at her for a moment before nodding and sprinting away from the frat house. Connor would’ve understood what she was referencing, if Ryan hadn’t knocked him out. 

    Luckily, Jack was still blinded—not permanently, as far as Aster knew—so Aster had some time to look for Beewee, and she still had the cheese! She crouched down, trying to look into the hole Beewee had gone into, and held out the cheese. 

    “Come on Beewee, it’s okay.” She said, not in a quiet voice (Beewee wouldn’t be able to hear her if she was quiet), but in a gentle voice. “Let’s get you back in your cage, and then we’ll go figure out what’s causing all this.”

Chapter Text

    There were few things in the world that were more precious than a soul. The Puppeteer had always believed this, and it was part of the reason he valued his job so much. Sure, some considered what they did disgusting and evil, but the Puppeteer thought of themself  as an artist, a creator of dolls and puppets that were so lifelike they were worthy of the spirits of once-living beings. 

    The only downside to their job was that the souls sometimes had stories to tell, and the Puppeteer didn’t always want to know the stories. A lot of the souls told him about extensive hardship and sorrow that brought tears to his eyes. He was not an emotional person by nature, but the souls he placed into vessels so often were. 

    Carefully, almost reverently, the Puppeteer picked up a glass jar that contained a softly glowing pink soul, small enough that it had to have come from an animal. He had a number of pre-made knitted bodies that the soul could go into, but he wanted to figure out which one would be perfect, or if he would need to make a custom one. He sensed he would need a custom one, as he often did. 

    They opened the jar and reached inside, cupping the soul in a crystalline palm. It hovered, beating like a heartbeat, and as they listened, they began to hear soft talking. 

    “Edyn, I cannot do this.” The Triton boy looked down at his hands, tears rolling down his face. “I am not fit to be the Champion of the Undersea.” He hiccuped. “I cannot fulfill their expectations.” 

    “Gill, hey.” A female Triton, smiling softly, reached out and wrapped her arms around Gillion, pulling him into a hug. “It’s alright. They’re expecting far more of you than they should. You’re doing everything you can.”
    “But I’m not.” Gillion repeated. “I failed, again.” He was holding a small stuffed animal, a pink creature that looked halfway between a frog and an octopus. The toy was worn, its stitches coming apart and one of its button eyes in danger of falling off. “All I can do is fail, Edyn.”
    “No, guppy, that’s not true.” Edyn said. She leaned back. “Here. I know I can’t be here all the time, so I got something you can remember me by.” She held out a glass globe, full of water with a small pink frog-octopus swimming around in it. Gillion gasped softly, his eyes widening. “She’s for you. What do you want to call her?”
    “For me?” Gillion whispered. Edyn nodded. Gillion took the globe, marvelling at its contents. The frogtopus looked up at him and chirped happily. “Pretzel.” Gillion said. The frogtopus did a flip and clapped two of its tentacles together. “Her name is Pretzel.” 

    The Puppeteer inhaled sharply as he jumped out of the memory, staring down at the soul in shock. It seemed to hum, a melodic tune drifting through the air around the Puppeteer’s ears. It sounded energetic, almost like some sort of sea shanty. 

    “Gill, come on!” A brown-haired human yelled, his voice shrill and almost boyish. “We’re here!” 

    “Excellent!” Gillion leapt to his feet, rattling Pretzel’s globe on his hip and knocking over a chessboard he had been using. The girl he’d been playing sighed, blowing her reddish bangs out of her eyes and rolling her shoulders. The two of them followed the boy, walking down off the pirate ship they had been on. Pretzel chirped and tapped on her globe, prompting Gillion to look down at her. “What is it, Pretzel?” Pretzel trilled sadly. “I know, this is all very new to both of us. But it is our destiny to succeed!” 

    This memory was much shorter, but felt just as significant as the one the Puppeteer had experienced before. A landmark in the travels of Gillion and Pretzel. The soul—Pretzel’s soul—flashed brighter for a moment, as if there was one last thing it wanted to say before it was placed into a vessel. The Puppeteer listened; he owed the lost soul that much. 

    Pretzel looked around, confused and afraid, as Gillion held her globe out towards a massive mirror and closed his eyes. Was he giving her away? No. Gillion would never do that. Pretzel was one of the most important things in his life, and she loved him, and he would never give her up willingly. 

    The mirror rippled, and a gray-skinned girl wearing a pig mask crawled out of its surface, giggling to herself. She reached forward and ripped the globe out of Gillion’s hands, ignoring how Pretzel squeaked and squealed for her to stop. Gillion didn’t so much as move a muscle. 

    “Oh, how sad.” The Puppeteer said to themself as the memory ended, staring down at the soul. “You think he abandoned you.” They looked around, focusing in on a soft pile of pink yarn and two black buttons. “I promise, I’m doing you a favor here. You’ll be appreciated. You’ll be one of my art pieces, and I never let anything bad happen to my art.” He placed Pretzel’s soul back into the jar, grabbing a pair of knife-like knitting needles and the pink yarn, getting to work on making a proper vessel for the soul to rest in. He put a considerable amount of work into all his dolls, but this one felt particularly important. He’d seen the comfort Pretzel had brought to Gillion, and felt the panic that she had experienced upon being taken. This vessel had to be perfect. 

Chapter Text

Trapped in a dark chamber of night and tar, Chip was absolutely, completely terrified. He couldn’t see past his hands in front of his face, but he could hear something moving around in the darkness that surrounded him, clicking and squishing and hissing. He prayed to whatever god cared about him that it wasn’t a spider. 

    “Hello?” Chip cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, not caring that the creature he was trapped with definitely knew where he was. “Is anyone there?” 

    “Chip…” A hoarse voice said, gravelly and rasping on Chip’s ears. “Help me…” The voice sounded like it was coming from behind, and Chip spun, taking off without a thought the moment he recognized the voice as Arlin’s. Monster or no monster, Chip had to save Arlin. He couldn’t live with knowing Arlin was in trouble and doing nothing. 

    His shoes became soaked in black liquid, chilling his legs and numbing his feet as he ran. Arlin’s voice continued to call to him, whispering urges and pleas that invaded Chip’s mind, filling his body with a sense of panic. He had to find Arlin, no matter the cost. 

    Chip slid on something slick, yelping as his feet went flying out from under him and he landed on his back, losing the air from his lungs in one fell swoop. He stayed on his back for a moment, gasping as he tried to force himself to breathe. Black ink was sticking to his clothes and his hair. He coughed and stood up, making a disgusted sound as he looked down at his dirtied clothes. 

    “Chip!” Arlin’s voice suddenly shouted, and then a hand wrapped tightly around Chip’s throat, grabbing hard enough to leave bruises. Arlin’s hulking form became visible, lit from behind by a purple light, and Chip saw with horror that black ichor poured down Arlin’s face, coming from his eyes and nose. Some of it sprayed onto Chip’s face as Arlin kept talking. “You betrayed me. You abandoned me. You left me in that horrible prison to die.” Chip tried to protest, to say that he had rescued Arlin, but he couldn’t find the oxygen to breathe, let alone speak. His vision was tunneling. 

    “Pity.” Said a different voice, sly and smooth, with an almost honey-like quality to it. Niklaus. Chip couldn’t see him, but he recognized the cadence nonetheless. “The pathetic boy trying to be a hero fails yet again. Enjoy your dreams.” Arlin grinned, what would have been a welcome expression looking wrong and broken, and he clenched his fist. Chip didn’t even get to hear his own neck snap. 

    Chip woke suddenly, hacking coughs immediately attacking him as he gasped for air, hardly able to breathe. His entire body hurt, but his throat and neck in particular burned with an agony he didn’t have words for. He was aware of hot tears rolling down his face, but they came second to his battle with his lungs. 

    “Hey, kid, breathe.” A pair of firm, warm hands placed themselves gently on Chip’s back. “You can do it.” Chip took one long, painful, shuddering breath in. “That’s it. Nice and slow.” He wiped the tears off his face and looked behind him, staring up into Arlin’s eyes. A jolt of terror lanced through him as he rememebered his nightmare, and he was sure Arlin saw it, because he took his hands away and backed up. 

    “A-Arlin.” Chip stammered, wincing at how his voice sounded. “Sorry.”

    “No worries.” Arlin smiled, and this time the expression was the most welcome thing Chip had ever seen. He felt tears bubble up again, and before Chip could say a thing, he was sobbing, his shoulders quaking as he cried, trying to muffle the noise so as to not wake Gillion and Jay, who were sleeping nearby. “Can I come closer?” Chip nodded, and as Arlin walked forward, Chip buried his face in the man’s chest. Arlin wrapped one arm around his back and put the other on his head. 

    “I s-sorry, I didn’t m-mean—”

    “It’s alright, really.” Arlin said, sitting down and pulling Chip a little closer. “I promise, I could never be disappointed or angry with you.” His voice darkened a bit. “No, my anger lies in the people who did this to you.” Chip looked up, sniffling. 

    “What?”

    “That Tiefling trickster, and the tiger demon that gave you these night terrors. Even Jay’s father, for hurting her so much.” He made a disbelieving sound. “We don’t even fully know what’s bothering Gill so much, but I suspect the Elders have something to do with it. Finn never liked them.” 

    “Yeah, t-they sound awful.” Chip agreed. 

    “The point is, kiddo, I would never do anything to hurt you. My problems are with those who hurt you. If I see Niklaus again, he’s going to wish he’d never crawled out of whatever hellhole he’s from.” Chip laughed quietly, wiping his eyes. 

    “Trust me, I’ve got the same idea.” He said, then coughed, muffling the sound in his elbow. 

    “Your throat looks pretty bad.” Arlin observed. 

    “What?”

    “The bruising.” He gestured. “The dream did that, didn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, but Chip nodded nonetheless. “Chip, we are going to get through this.” Arlin spoke with such conviction that Chip couldn’t help but believe him. “Together, and with Finn and Drey once we find them.” 

    “Okay.” Chip said, feeling a little like he was back on the Midnight Rose , talking with Arlin as if nothing had yet happened with the hole in the sea. Arlin hadn’t really changed, despite everything he’d gone through in the BLOCK. It was Chip who had changed, by finding new people to call a part of his crew. Though, the change wasn’t necessarily bad. 

Chapter Text

    The first time Gillion didn’t call him, Caspian thought nothing of it. It wasn’t far-fetched for Gillion to simply be busy, whether it was with a battle or something else; he had probably just forgotten. Caspian was sure he would call soon, and probably apologize profusely about his having forgotten to call previously. 

    The second time, Caspian was worried. Had Gillion been injured? Even if that was the case, Caspian felt like one of the other pirates would have called, just to inform him of what had happened. But he hadn’t heard from any Riptide Pirate in two weeks, now. A one time event wasn’t worth overthinking, but Gillion wouldn’t forget twice. 

    The third time Gillion missed their window, Caspian knew something was wrong. He stared at his sea blue conch shell, waiting for it to ring and for Gillion’s deep voice to drift from the shell’s mouth, but no such thing happened. The shell remained silent, and the pit in Caspian’s stomach grew larger, swallowing the meager amount of hope he’d still been clinging on to. Lizzie had been stressing about the radio silence from the Riptide Pirates even more than Caspian, but now that it had been three weeks without so much as a half-written letter, it was obvious that something very bad had happened. 

    Maybe Edyn knew. As soon as the thought entered Caspian’s mind he was grabbing the conch shell, lifting it up to his ear and waiting for Edyn’s voice to answer. He knew she wasn’t working, and he called so infrequently now that she would definitely pick it up. Hopefully. 

    “Hello? Caspian?” Edyn’s voice asked, and Caspian’s shoulders relaxed the instant she started talking. At least she was alright. 

    “Have you heard anything from Gillion lately?” He said, keeping his voice down so Lizzie wouldn’t hear him—they were both on the Crescent Moon , and while Caspian was above-deck and Lizzie was in her quarters, loud noises could still be heard through the wooden boards. 

    “No.” Edyn said, sounding alarmed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

    “That’s the problem, you see. I haven’t the faintest idea.” Caspian sighed. “He and I have a habit of calling once a week, and he’s missed the last three dates. At first, I thought he’d just forgotten, but—”

    “He wouldn’t forget three times in a row.” Edyn finished for him. 

    “Exactly.” Caspian nodded despite knowing Edyn couldn’t see the gesture. “Do you have any idea where he could be?” He heard Edyn hum as she thought, and then she drew in a sharp breath as she made some sort of realization. 

    “Oh no.” Her voice was barely audible through the conch shell, to the point where Caspian had to strain to listen. “Oh no, why did I tell Chip?” She sounded on the verge of panicking. 

    “Tell Chip what, Edyn?” Caspian furrowed his eyebrows. He knew Edyn was hiding things, it was glaringly obvious to someone as perceptive as Caspian was, but he hadn’t expected her secrets to be bad enough to cause Gillion to ignore her completely, if that was what had happened. “Tell Chip what?”

    “N-Nothing.” The lie was obvious, but Caspian let it slide. “Something I don’t want Gillion to know.”
    “Edyn, secrets are dangerous.” Caspian warned her. “You’ll lose far more friends through secrecy than candor.” 

    “He can’t know, Caspian.” Edyn insisted. “What I’m doing is… complicated, and Gill’s view of the world is black-and-white. He wouldn’t understand.” Caspian narrowed his eyes. What was Edyn hiding? It must be something truly horrible if she couldn’t even tell her own brother. Edyn took a deep breath and redirected their conversation. “As far as I know, they’re in the Feywild.” 

    “The Feywild?” Caspian said incredulously. “I thought that was a myth!” 

    “It’s very real. Chip contacted me about two weeks ago and claimed he was in some sort of magical, fey carnival.” Edyn explained. “He said he’d only been there for a few hours.”
    “Time is twisted.” Caspian realized. “Then, for Gillion, it’s probably only been a day or two at most.”

    “I would guess so.” 

    “Well, that is reassuring, I suppose.” Caspian said. “I had truly worried for him.” 

    “Me too.” Edyn said, trying to sound reassuring. “Caspian, will you tell me if you hear anything from him?”

    “Of course.” Caspian said. “Thank you, Edyn. Please, stay safe.” 

    “You too.” Edyn hung up. Caspian stared at the now-silent conch shell. His hands were trembling, almost too subtly for even him to notice. Something was very, very wrong. He hadn’t wanted to interrogate Edyn about her secrets, but now he regretted having chosen not to. The rumors of a spy working for the Navy lined up far too well to mean nothing, and while Caspian would never think Edyn would abandon her brother’s cause for the Navy, he also knew that people were unpredictable, and they couldn’t be trusted fully—not even his own Captain, who was so notorious for anger-fueled decisions and secret schemes. 

    All Caspian could do for now was hope that Gillion was handling himself. He had listened to tales of the Feywild, and he knew that it was a realm of trickery that lured people into deals they had no business taking. Gillion had already accepted a number of bad deals, and even with how he’d grown, Caspian still worried for him, trapped in the Feywild with Chip and Jay, assuming they were still together. 

    “Stop it.” Caspian said to himself. “Gillion is fine. He’s the Hero of the Undersea; he’s perfectly fine.” 

Chapter Text

    Ollie was frustrated. He had been a Riptide Pirate longer than anyone but Old Man Earl, and yet he wasn’t allowed to do anything! Now, he didn’t exactly love the idea of travelling onto an island of eternal darkness to find a curse-curing sorcerer, but Chip hadn’t even asked him if he wanted to go before leaving with Gillion and Jay. Ollie wanted Chip to get his curse removed so his nightmares could stop, but he also wanted to be included. It was hard to call himself a Riptide Pirate when all he ever did was sit on The Albatross and lose chess games to Alphonse. 

    After four hours of being continuously trapped in checkmate, Ollie was sick and tired of being left out. As Alphonse moved his bishop to complete the trap, Ollie pushed the entire chessboard, not caring that he knocked almost every piece onto the deck. He stood up angrily, trying to find words to voice what he wanted to say. Alphonse blinked at him, as if he was confused. 

    “Hey, what was that for?” Earl shouted, emerging from the hold just in time to see Ollie ruin the chess game. He swung his spoon back and forth in an effort to be menacing. “Don’t be a sore loser!” 

    “I’m sick of this!” Ollie’s voice cracked, and that only served to make him more upset. “I’m sick of being treated like a kid and left out of things! I’m just as much of a pirate as anybody else!” 

    “Woah, kid, calm down.” Drey said from where he was leaning against the rail of the ship, concern in his eye. 

    “No! You just did it again!” Ollie marched over to Drey, leaving Alphonse to silently pick up the chess pieces and rearrange them. “You called me a kid!” 

    “You are a kid.” Drey said carefully. 

    “I’m a pirate!” Ollie protested. “I don’t want to be left out just because I’m not as tall or as brave as everybody else!”
    “Oliver, that is not why you are not accompanying the Riptide Pirates onto Noctis.” Alphonse intoned, his deep voice emotionless. “Chip cares for you too much to risk endangering your wellbeing.”

    “I don’t want to be stuck here while they’re off doing all the exciting stuff, though.” Ollie said, frustrated. “They get to talk to wizards and save islands, and I’m stuck losing at chess to you.” He pointed at Alphonse. “You can’t let me win just once?”
    “I did not realize that was an option.” Alphonse said. Ollie groaned and pulled on his hair. 

    “Listen, ki—Ollie.” Drey said. “You’ve gotta realize that all three of those pirates are dealing with some really heavy stuff, and these missions are hard for them without having to worry about you on top of everything else. Trust me on this. Chip can’t imagine ever putting you in danger. If you got hurt he’d never forgive himself.”

    “He cares too much.” Earl grunted. 

    “But I wouldn’t get hurt!” Ollie insisted. “I’ve been training with Gill, I know how to fight!” 

    “I know you do.” Drey told him. “But you have to understand, every one of these little adventures runs the risk of one of them not making it back here, and none of them want that person to be you. They’ve already lost so many people.” He sounded a bit choked up, now. Ollie’s brows furrowed, both confused and concerned. “You can’t join that list.”
    “Then why won’t they just talk to me?” 

    “Often, people who experience traumas find it even more traumatic to speak about them.” Alphonse said. “Though the catharsis it can bring is worthwhile, the process is difficult and filled with pitfalls.” 

    “I just want to help them.” Ollie said helplessly. “I didn’t even realize they were going through that much! All I knew was that Jay’s father is an asshole!”

    “Swearing.” Alphonse warned. 

    Earl rolled his eyes. “Let it go, metal man.” 

    “It’s not our place to spill their secrets to you,” Drey began, “but I think you deserve to know a bit. I was… kind of like Chip’s uncle when he was little. You know about the Black Rose Pirates?” Ollie nodded; he had heard Chip tell stories about them before. “We were in the crew together. He was so little, maybe even scrawnier than you.” Ollie bristled at the jab, but said nothing for fear of discouraging Drey from talking. “He was so excited about being a pirate, sometimes he’d even try to pull up the anchor all by himself.” Drey’s face darkened a bit. “But that accursed whirlpool took all that away from him, and from the crew. He’s so desperate to make a crew that can be like the Black Rose Pirates again, and he can’t imagine losing another person close to him.” Drey looked Ollie straight in the eyes. “You are extremely close to him.” 

    Ollie swallowed nervously, realizing now how serious his situation was. He was acting like a child, whining and throwing a tantrum over a chess game, when Chip was confronting his past and trying to make something better out of it. 

    “Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Drey said, as if he knew what Ollie was thinking. “You didn’t know.”

    “I’ll talk about the spy.” Earl huffed. “She hasn’t told me much, but I know she had a sister. You can see it in their eyes; people who lose siblings. There’s a quality you don’t see anywhere else.” Earl sniffed, as if he was thinking of something. Ollie didn’t press him on what. “My guess, kid—and don’t you disagree, you are a kid—” Drey rolled his eye and muttered something. “Is that Jay is trying to protect you because she couldn’t protect her sister. The life of a pirate isn’t a safe one.” 

    “I know.” Ollie looked down at his feet. It wasn’t easy to forget nearly dying at the hands of goblins, or Earl stumbling back onto The Albatross with a stab wound barely healed in his stomach. “I just wish I could be there to help them.”
    “That is Gillion’s job.” Alphonse said. “The shield. The protector. The Champion of the Undersea has many faces, but the Hero’s is what he wears most often. Failure is not an option, and neither is weakness.” Ollie nodded. Alphonse’s words made sense—it was obvious to anyone that Gillion valued his physical strength over almost every other aspect of his life. “If he allowed you to accompany him and harm were to befall you, it would be a slight to who he is.” The bright, almost blinding light of Alphonse’s eyes dimmed a bit. “He tries too hard.” 

    “All of them do.” Drey said. “Oliver, I really am sorry you don’t feel as helpful as you want to feel, but you’re one of the most important people in these kids’ lives. They care about you.”

    “Remember, we never told you all this.” Earl said, pointing the spoon at Ollie and waiving it in his face. “This never happened.” 

    “Right.” Ollie nodded sharply. Drey smiled at him, and Alphonse put a cold metal hand on his shoulder. “Thanks.”

    “Anytime.” Drey said. “Now, you and Alphonse bring the chessboard over here. I want to see if I can beat metal-head.” Ollie rushed to grab the pieces, stuffing them in his pockets as Alphonse picked up the board and the barrel it sat on. As he handed the pieces to Alphonse, he looked over his shoulder at the island of Noctis. Chip, Jay, and Gillion were in there somewhere, maybe fighting for their lives, maybe speaking with the sorcerer. Ollie hoped they’d all come back safely. 

Chapter Text

“That was excellent, Caspian!” Gillion proclaimed, putting his sword back in its sheath and clapping Caspian on the back. “Your skills with the sword are remarkable!” Caspian chuckled and tucked some stray hairs behind one pale blue ear. 

    “Thank you, my friend.” He said. “I must confess, you performed quite well yourself. You looked almost magical with that sword in your hand. Very heroic, certainly.” He heard Lizzie snort from where she was leaning over the Crescent Moon’s railing, watching the clouds roll past, and made a mental note to freeze her coffee over later. The brilliant grin Gillion gave him in response made Caspian’s indignation lessen slightly, though: the self-declared “Champion of the Undersea” had a grin to rival even the sun itself. 

    “Is there anything else you would like to practice?” Gillion asked him, tilting his head almost like a puppy. It was cute. 

    “Well, my magic could always use some assistance, it never seems to work on you.” Caspian said, doing his best to convey what he meant through the tone of his voice. Most people fell for him within hours if he tried hard enough, using sweet words and sweeter expressions, but Gillion was either incredibly resilient or incredibly oblivious. 

    “Magic it is, then!” Gillion exclaimed. Lizzie buried a laugh in her elbow as Gillion pulled an orb of seawater from the ocean, manipulating it into various shapes. Caspian sighed, shot Lizzie a death-glare that was only a little bit genuine, and mirrored Gillion’s actions. Caspian was better with precision in his magic than Gillion, and it was obvious in the sinewy quality of Caspian’s spell versus Gillion’s choppier, jerkier movements. 

    “Here.” Caspian dropped his water back into the sea in such a way that a little bit of it splashed onto Lizzie’s hair. He smiled internally at her shriek of outrage. “You have to move more gently.” He stood behind Gillion and placed his hands on the Triton’s forearms, moving them back and forth in a motion reminiscent of rowing a boat. “Think of it like you are the water. You don’t command it, you are a part of it. You have to move like you’re the waves in the sea.” Gillion nodded, breathing slowly as he concentrated on Caspian’s instruction. Caspian was thankful Gillion couldn’t see his face, lest he notice the blue flush that was spreading across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. 

    “Is this better?” Gillion said, voice controlled and steady. Caspian blinked, startled out of a train of thought he preferred to not even think about, and looked at what Gillion was doing. It was better, certainly: more fluid, with less water escaping the confines of the spell. 

    “Much better.” Caspian said approvingly. Gillion smiled. “With a bit more practice, you’ll be just as good as me!”
    “Spectacular!” Gillion got excited and accidentally dropped his spell, splashing the deck and soaking his face. “Oh.”
    “Not to worry, my friend.” Caspian clapped him on the back. “We shall try again another day. Would you like to, perhaps, share a drink before we go our separate ways?”
    “Apologies, but I agreed to train young Oliver.” Gillion said, looking down guiltily. Caspian shrugged with feigned nonchalance. 

    “No problem, then.” He said. “Train him! He’s coming along quite nicely.”

    “He is!” Gillion said proudly. “Thank you for the magical assistance, my friend!” He bounded off the Crescent Moon and onto The Albatross, where he began gesturing wildly to Ollie. Caspian sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. 

    “‘Thank you for the magical assistance, my friend!’” Lizzie echoed, pitching her voice down in an imitation of Gillion’s own cadence. “Cas, he is denser than even Chip is.” 

    “I know.” Caspian said helplessly. “I’m dropping every hint I can think of!” 

    “Maybe calling him your friend is misleading.” Lizzie said, picking at one of her fingernails. “I’m going to get you back for splashing me, by the way.”
    “Oh, trust me, I know.” Caspian shuddered imagining all the possible pranks Lizzie could pull on him. She acted high-and-mighty, like a true captain, but she was far too willing to cause chaos than she wanted anyone to know. Maybe more than Chip was, though that would be impressively difficult. 

    “Look, buddy.” Lizzie took Caspian by the forearm and walked over to the railing. “If you really want this to go anywhere, you have to be more obvious. Subtlety might be your thing, but it’s not going to work for Gill.” She grinned then, a wicked and gleeful expression. She leaned in, close to Caspian’s face. “But it works pretty well for me.” With that, she tightened her grip on Caspian’s arm and threw him over the side of the ship. 

    Caspian surfaced, gasping and glaring at Lizzie even as she laughed so hard she bent double. He crossed his arms, kicking his feet to stay afloat, and thought about what Lizzie had just told him. Despite ending her statement by flipping him into the sea, she had a point. Gillion did not notice hidden meaning, or at least, he didn’t act like he did. Maybe Caspian would actually just have to say it, out loud, no dancing around the core of what he wanted to tell his Triton companion. 

    He chuckled to himself as Lizzie flung the rope ladder over the side of the Crescent Moon. He was supposed to be helping his captain plan for a war against the Navy, and here he was, internally debating whether or not to confess his feelings to Gillion. Well, if he didn’t do it soon, he might not ever have a chance to.

Chapter Text

    Miss Gilbert woke up with a dull throbbing at the base of her spine, and immediately knew that she was going to have to cancel her plans with Harlem and Jason. The three of them had planned to go out and get art supplies for a craft she was planning in class the next day, and then they were going to go to the park and eat lunch together. However, Miss Gilbert could already tell that she wasn’t going to be able to do that. Her pain was manageable now, but it only got worse as the day progressed. 

    She sighed and reached onto her bedside table to grab her phone, breathing slowly through clenched teeth. She took a moment before she opened her phone to look at her lockscreen; an image of herself, Harlem, and Jason taking a selfie. She and Jason were grinning, while Harlem was looking away, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. The picture made her smile. Miss Gilbert opened the ‘We’re Heroes!’ group chat and sent a quick message. 

    The Mighty Hexpert: Sorry, I can’t make our meeting today :(

Almost immediately there were responses, both from Jason and from Harlem. Miss Gilbert was surprised her TA was even awake. 

    Origami📜: Okay, no worries!

    Origami📜: Is everything okay? 

    Silhouette: is it a pain day

    Silhouette: do u want us to do anything 

    The Mighty Hexpert: No, that’s alright. I can manage by myself :) Thanks, though!

There were no more responses from either of her friends, and Miss Gilbert had a suspicion they had no intention of leaving her alone. Both of them had keys to her apartment, so she assumed they’d be showing up with a snack and something to do within the hour. They were almost exasperatingly sweet. 

    Miss Gilbert stood up, hissing in pain as her back flared. There was a brace in her closet, so she did her best to walk carefully to the closet doors, opening them and looking for the brace. It was in the very back of the closet, behind a box of boots she was planning to paint with stars, so she had to shove the box out of the way and go on her tiptoes to grab the back brace. It hurt, a lot. She really should’ve thought to put the brace in an easier-to-reach spot than the back of her closet. 

    After only a moment of straining, Miss Gilbert dropped back down onto her heels, the back brace clutched in one hand. It was a challenge to put it on alone, but she was used to doing so; the brace was secured around the base of her spine within a minute or two. She stood, trying to keep her breathing steady as possible. 

    She took a quick moment to try to tame her mess of curly hair, brush her teeth, and swallow a few ibuprofen before going into her kitchen. Miss Gilbert knew she should eat breakfast, but the idea of eating made her stomach twist. That happened a lot; thinking about eating when it was early didn’t agree with her. Instead, she filled a glass with water from her fridge and sat down on the couch, trying to sit in a way that didn’t hurt. There wasn’t really any position where that was true, but she did her best. 

    Her phone went off, and she glanced at it to see that Harlem had texted her. 

    The Best TA: hey what kind of ice cream do u like 

    Miss G: Hmm, that’s a hard question!

    Miss G: Superman, probably :D 

    The Best TA: oh nice i got u 

Miss Gilbert smiled to herself. Harlem was a lot nicer than he wanted anyone to know, but she had seen right through his rather… rough exterior within a few hours of meeting him. He was a loyal and considerate friend, and even though he looked at the world with a pessimistic point of view, he never tried to make Miss Gilbert or Jason feel bad for getting excited about things. 

    Jason!: Hey, Miss G? I’m trying to pick a movie and I’ve got it down to three choices

    [Jason! sent a picture]

    Jason!: Inside Out, Monsters Inc, or The Book of Life? 

    Jason!: I asked Harlem and he said “oh whatever one idc” so it’s up to you

    Miss G: The Book of Life sounds fun! I don’t think I’ve seen that one before :)

    Jason!: Awesome! Thanks! 

So, it was ice cream and a movie, then. Miss Gilbert looked over to her kitchen and wondered if she should make something for once the boys arrived, something that was perhaps healthier than ice cream, but she didn’t want to move and provoke her back, and while she was a good cook, Harlem was almost as good as she was—a fact that had shocked her, especially since Jason could hardly manage making macaroni and cheese from a box. 

    It only took another ten minutes before Harlem stepped in through the door, a ten minutes Miss Gilbert spent emailing her students about class tomorrow and the fact that they would need to wear clothes that could get paint on them. Harlem had two tubs of ice cream in a plastic bag that he set on the counter, and he’d even bought a small bottle of rainbow sprinkles. 

    “Hey, Miss G.” He said with a wave. “You doing alright?”

    “For now.” She replied. “Thanks for coming over! You really didn’t have to.”
    “Nah, I didn’t have anything better to do. I don’t have any tests or anything soon.” Harlem put the ice cream in the freezer; Miss Gilbert noticed that while one was superman, the other was golden vanilla, which just so happened to be Jason’s favorite flavor of ice cream. A bit bland, but Jason covered it in so many sprinkles (and hot fudge, if he could find it) that it didn’t really count as vanilla anymore. 

    “Alright, then thanks.” Miss Gilbert grinned at him, and Harlem returned the smile, albeit not as widely. “Jason’s bringing a movie.”
    “He texted me about it.” Harlem said. “Which one did you end up choosing?”

    “It’s a surprise.” She said mysteriously, making Harlem chuckle and roll his eyes. He sat down next to her, giving her a quick once-over to make sure she wasn’t hurting more than she’d said—it had happened a lot during the months directly after Darkstar’s defeat, but Miss Gilbert had learned that both Harlem and Jason saw through any facade she tried to put up, so it wasn’t worth misleading them. 

    The doorbell rang, and a muffled “It’s Jason!” came through the wood. 

    “Come in!” Miss Gilbert called, and Jason stepped into the apartment, putting the movie on the counter where Harlem’s ice cream had sat. He had a board game too, one called Happy Pigs , and two other movies that Miss Gilbert couldn’t see from where she was sitting. “Hey!”

    “Hello.” Jason smiled. He kicked his shoes off by the door, putting them side-by-side against the wall instead of leaving them haphazardly flung around like Harlem had, and brought the movies and board game over to Miss Gilbert’s coffee table. The game looked fun, with cartoonish artwork of a pig and a farmer on the front, and the other two movies were ones Miss Gilbert had heard of, but never seen: Coraline and Luca. 

    “You brought Coraline ?” Harlem raised an eyebrow. “That movie’s creepy!”

    “You’re afraid of Coraline ?” Jason fired back. “It’s animated.”

    “You don’t get it, man! The Beldam? She’s terrifying!”

    “Hang on, I haven’t seen it!” Miss Gilbert interrupted. “Don’t spoil it.”

    “Oh.” Harlem looked away. “Well, maybe we should watch it then.” 

    “Maybe we should.” Jason grinned. Harlem paled just slightly, but he didn’t make any other objections. Miss Gilbert shifted further down the couch to make room for Jason, prompting a wave of pain from her back. She tensed her shoulders and froze, waiting for it to die down, and finished moving so she was curled in the corner of the couch, rather than directly in the middle. Jason walked over to the DVD player and put in The Book of Life . Harlem retrieved the ice cream, an ice cream scoop from one of the kitchen drawers, and a few ceramic bowls from a cabinet. 

    Jason leaned forwards and grabbed the TV remote off the coffee table. “Alright, here we go.” The movie began to play, opening with a red-haired tour guide leading a group of delinquents to a museum. Miss Gilbert was immediately reminded of her own experiences with Jason and Harlem at the New Haven Museum of Heroes, and wondered if similar, super experiences would happen to this cast of characters. 

    Harlem handed her a bowl of ice cream topped with a liberal amount of sprinkles, though it couldn’t match up to the amount in Jason’s bowl. 

    “Thanks.” Miss Gilbert whispered. 

    “No problem.” Harlem whispered back. “Tell me if you need anything, alright?” He looked away and fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. Miss Gilbert nodded. Her back still hurt, and she knew it would only get worse as the day progressed, but for the time being, she was content to watch a movie with the two coolest people she knew. 

Chapter Text

    Chip loved these sorts of events. He’d done interviews and panels since he’d been a kid, about Ollie’s age, and they had always been one of his favorite parts of being an actor. It was great to hear what people had liked about the shows or movies he’d acted in, and events he got to do with his co-stars were even more enjoyable. 

    Because of this, the event Chip was currently at was one of the most fun things he had ever done as a result of the Black Rose movies. It was a panel hosted by a convention, one dedicated to all varieties of games and movies and TV shows, and the main draw for the convention itself had been “The cast of Riptide! ” Because of this, Chip and his friends were answering questions in front of a crowd made up of hundreds of people. He was thankful he wasn’t alone: Jay, Gillion, Lizzie, Caspian, Niklaus, and Ollie were present as well. Oliver, who had played Ollie while under the influence of Niklaus’ compass, was the only person expected to come who had been unable to. 

    Chip was sitting on a small couch, wedged between Gillion and Jay, with Ollie sitting at his feet. Niklaus had his own chair, and Caspian sat next to Lizzie on a second couch. It felt cozy, almost as if they were just hanging out as friends, rather than being interviewed. 

    “Well, first of all, thanks for agreeing to do this.” The interviewer said, smiling. “I’ve got a few questions for you, and then we’ll turn it over to the crowd!” The crowd in question cheered as the interviewer gestured towards them, their clapping almost thunderous in its intensity. “So, first question, and this is for you specifically, Chip: how has it felt to get to act alongside the cast of Black Rose? It’s been… what, ten years since you appeared in them?”

    “Yeah, I think so.” Chip held the microphone up to his face, though not close enough to cause feedback. He had learned that lesson very quickly; no one wanted to listen to microphone screeching. “With Drey especially, it’s been awesome. He was super cool when I was a kid, and even now I can say he’s still just as cool. He’s just so dedicated to his role.” Chip glanced at Lizzie, who was listening and nodding along. She had acted in Black Rose just like Chip, but her role had been much smaller. Regardless, as the two youngest people in the cast, they had been close friends. “And of course, it’s great to act with Elizabeth again. Even if she steals my props.”

    “Not as much as you steal mine.” Lizzie replied smoothly, prompting laughter from the audience. 

    “Well, then it sounds like both of you are living up to the pirates you play!” The interviewer said with a smile. “This second question is for all of you: were there any scenes you loved to do, or were there any that were particularly difficult to film?” The actors looked at each other for a moment, everyone silently figuring out who was going to answer first, and then Niklaus cleared his throat. Without his costume and makeup he hardly looked like the Tiefling he played in Riptide! , but he still sounded like him. 

    “Well, I haven’t been in too many scenes thus far.” He said. “But I like to think the ones I have been in have been… particularly significant.” He shifted in his chair. “I think my first scene will always be my favorite. The one with Gillion, you all know it.” He gestured out at the crowd. “It’s the first time I got to experiment with my character, and of course Gillion’s acting is brilliant.” The actor in question flushed at the praise, coppery skin darkening further. 

    “We love you Niklaus!” Yelled a man’s voice in the crowd, prompting more laughter. Niklaus chuckled. 

    “I think,” Jay began, glancing quickly at Niklaus to make sure she could answer, “I’ve loved every scene pretty much equally, but the scene from ‘Not Ferin Well’ was really hard. I just kept crying.” Chip nodded, remembering what Jay was talking about. Most people had praised Jay’s acting ability in that scene, but her tears had been completely genuine. Gillion had been crying too, though due to his feigned unconsciousness it hadn’t been obvious. 

    “It was a great scene, though.” Chip said. Jay smiled. “I’m still impressed you held it together enough to film it. I would’ve been bawling in your position.” He tapped his microphone a few times. “I loved getting to make the googly-eyes sail with Ollie.” The audience laughed, as did Ollie as they remembered what exactly had been on that sail. “No one saw what the finished product looked like until we were done.” 

    “I still haven’t seen you laugh that hard since.” Jay said. Chip grinned and Ollie’s face turned red. “Honestly, you’ve got the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old.”
    “Hey!” Chip protested. 

    “No, she’s right.” Lizzie said. “And I believe I’ll answer the question next. I love Elizabeth as a character, she’s awesome, but she’s difficult. I like to think I’m a lot like her outside of Riptide! , but it’s difficult to be so serious and no-nonsense all the time. I struggled a lot in the scene where I attacked Drey, just because I’ve known him for so long that it kind of felt like attacking my uncle, ironically.” She glanced at Jay. “I really liked getting to act with Jay, though. Our scene in the tavern is probably my favorite in the show, at least out of the scenes I’m in. No offense to Chip, of course.”

    “None taken.” Chip said dryly. The crowd laughed again. 

    “I liked getting to work with my brother!” Ollie piped up after a moment, talking about Oliver. “I still got to do the voice when he was playing me, so we worked together a lot to figure stuff out. He’s a really good actor!” The interviewer sighed and clasped a hand to his chest, and a few “aww’s” sounded from the audience. Chip ruffled Ollie’s hair. 

    “For me, it was the Grandberry Pirate’s reappearance at All-Port.” Caspian spoke, looking over at Lizzie as he did so. “I didn’t do anything in particular to make it my favorite, but it was the return to playing Caspian after weeks of nothing, and of course acting with Gillion is always a delight.” Gillion dipped his head graciously, then waited a moment to think before answering the question. 

    “Every scene I’ve been in has been incredible.” He said. “I cannot even begin to express my gratitude at being chosen to act in this show.” A few people in the audience cheered. “I loved meeting Edyn. We’d never met outside of Riptide! , but she really does feel like a sister to me. But honestly, I couldn’t choose from favorites. They’re all just so… incredible, really.” Chip patted him on the back with a grin. 

    The interviewer smiled at Gillion’s honest response before asking his third question. “This one’s a little less serious, but I think it’s just as important: the stunts. How much is real? Some of the stuff you guys do is crazy!”

“Well, most of my swimming is assisted by wires.” Caspian answered first. “Gillion’s too, though he’s stronger than I am. The swordfighting is real, though! No stunt doubles there.”
    “We had to be taught how to fight with swords.” Jay answered. “Some of us, at least. Chip’s really good.” Chip waved a hand dismissively. “No, you are!”
    “She’s right.” Gillion put in. “Your fighting requires acrobatics. Mine is just swinging a sword back and forth.”
    “You’re not half bad at that, either.” Lizzie said to Gillion. “My stunts are real, for the most part.” She answered. “The only thing I didn’t actually do was pull Chip’s pants down, unfortunately.” 

“Fortunately.” Chip corrected. Lizzie rolled her eyes—none of them were in costume, so she didn’t have to wear the eyepatch. The interviewer laughed, then spoke into the microphone once again. 

“I think it’s time to answer some questions from the fans!” He proclaimed. The roar of the audience’s cheering was almost deafening, and it filled Chip’s body with excited anticipation. “Raise your hand, and we’ll pass a microphone over to you! Try to limit your questions to only asking one or two actors, please.”

“Um, this one’s for Niklaus,” Niklaus adjusted in his seat and smiled, “how do you sit still long enough to get into makeup?”
    “I don’t, to be honest.” Niklaus said dryly. “It takes almost six hours, and we do it in two three-hour shifts. There’s an hour break where Jay gets hers done.” Jay nodded.

“Ollie!” Someone else called after a moment. “What was your audition like?”
    “Oh!” Ollie brightened. “Well, there were a ton of other kids all auditioning, so we had to wait in line, and then we had about fifteen minutes where we read lines and practiced with Chip, actually! Since he was already cast.” He took a breath, having just spoken so quickly he hadn’t needed more oxygen in the middle of his sentence. “The callbacks added in some basic acrobatics, and more practice with lines, and working off of things that we couldn’t actually see. Like Puddle!” 

“Puddle was a miracle of CGI.” Caspian put in. “I’m still shocked how well it turned out.”
    “Who’s the clumsiest?” The question was asked, and immediately, everyone pointed at Caspian, except for Caspian himself, who pointed at Chip. The crowd gasped and devolved into laughter almost immediately. 

“I’m not that clumsy!” Caspian sputtered, indignant. 

“We had to refilm the Paramount Tournament fight three times because you kept tripping during your duel with Gillion!” Lizzie retorted. “You broke seven glasses in your scene in the bar because you slid them across the counter too fast!” 

“And you broke your wrist falling off the Crescent Moon rigging.” Jay put in. Caspian sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. 

“Why did you point at me?” Chip said after a moment, rather defensively.

“With all due respect, Chip, I don’t think that needs explaining.” Niklaus said. Caspian smiled smugly, and Chip made a noise of fake offense. 

“Alright, I think we’ll take one more question and then have a quick break!” The interviewer said. Immediately, the crowd started screaming, raising their hands and jumping up and down in an attempt to be noticed. 

    “Is anything going to happen between Chip and Gillion?”

Chapter Text

    The first time it happened, Jay thought she was dreaming. Gillion wasn’t really coughing black ooze over the side of The Albatross , hacking wetly in the back of his throat. Jay was trapped in a nightmare. Any second now, she would wake up in a cold sweat, panicked beyond reason, but Gillion would be safe. Niklaus was cruel, but he wasn’t this terrible. This had to be a dream. 

    The longer Jay watched, the deeper the pit in her stomach grew, and the stronger her sense of horror became. This wasn’t a dream. She would’ve scared herself into waking up by now. Whatever was happening to Gillion, it was real. The epiphany hit Jay like a punch to the gut, stealing her breath and bringing tears to her eyes. She was running to Gillion before she even realized she was moving, and she grabbed his shoulders, helping him stay standing as he coughed violently. It was wrong to see the Champion of the Undersea in such condition. 

    “Apologies, Jay—” Gill wheezed, and a glob of ink that seemed almost alive splattered on the railing and slithered down the ship’s hull, disappearing into the sea. “I will be alright—in a moment—”

    “Don’t talk, Gill, just breathe.” Jay said quickly. 

    “I heard—Gill!” Chip came barrelling towards them, his face flushed. Ollie was standing next to him, rubbing at his eyes. “Ollie, go back inside.” Ollie was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at Gillion, unable to move with fear rooting him to the spot. “Go.” Chip shoved his shoulder, not quite roughly, and Ollie stumbled back belowdeck. 

    “I am alright.” Gillion straightened up, taking in a breath that squelched and rattled in his chest. “Truly.” His eyes were unfocused. 

    “Gill, hey.” Chip put his hands on his hips. “Don’t do that. You just hacked up… well, I’m not sure what it was, but we’ve seen it enough times to know it’s nothing good. Just take it easy for a few days, alright?” 

    Gillion sighed and wiped a hand across his mouth. “Very well.” 

    “Here.” Jay, slightly loosening her grip on Gillion’s arm but not releasing it, led him back belowdeck. In her concentration she missed the sound of Chip’s breath catching and the low cough that he buried in his fist. 

    Despite the childish wish Jay kept close to her heart, Gillion got worse. Instead of one bout of coughing that lasted only a few seconds, he would be attacked with fits that persisted for minutes and left him hoarse for hours afterwards. It got so severe that he had to limit his training to only a few repetitions of simple poses, rather than fully-acted faux battles. Jay hid her concern, but she knew it was obvious in how Chip stopped trying to coax her into pranks and in the timid way Ollie spoke when around her. She lashed out when she was angry and stressed. Just like her father. 

    Now, in the middle of the night, Jay was woken once again by Gillion coughing. She got up immediately, making out in the dim light the silhouette of Gillion kneeling on the floor, his back arched with pain. At least he’d managed to make it out of his barrel this time, instead of coughing into the water he was supposed to be breathing in and nearly suffocating himself. 

    Acting on autopilot, using reflexes she’d honed over weeks of doing this same thing, Jay climbed out of her hammock and went to Gillion, meager healing magic springing to her fingertips. Gillion didn’t even turn towards her. He probably didn’t have the strength to. Black ink had puddled on the wood before him and was sinking into the planks themselves. Gillion’s teeth were coated in it. 

    “Gill, breathe with your lungs.” She soothed, not wanting to use magic unless absolutely necessary. “I know it’s hard, but if you try to use your gills you’ll choke.” Gillion nodded, taking in a heaving breath. Jay heard it stick in his throat, and it tore another painful-sounding cough out of him. “There we go.” 

    “It’s getting worse, Jay.” Gillion rasped, spitting ooze from his mouth. “I can feel it.”
    “I know.” Jay said hopelessly. What else was there to say? “We’ll find some way to make this better.”

    “Will we?” Chip spoke, his voice cutting through the darkness of the hold. “We all know who’s doing this. He’s more powerful than we are. He—” Chip was cut off by a harsh sound that escaped his lips and made Jay’s heart stop beating. A cough. “Hang on—”

    “Chip.” Gillion said quietly, horrified. “You, too?” Jay walked forward, the green light of her magic illuminating the trail of tar dripping down Chip’s face. Chip stumbled backwards, one hand clapped over his mouth. The other he used to push Jay away from him. 

    “Help Gill.” His voice was wrong, slower and slurred, but the conviction was easy to hear. “He needs it more than me.” 

    “No.” Gillion retorted. “Perhaps you can still be saved.”

    “Gill—”

    “You need it—”

    “So do—”
    “Stop!” Jay yelled suddenly, the sounds of her friends bickering grating on her ears. “Stop.” As hard as she tried to stop them, tears were welling up in her eyes and making her throat hurt. “Don’t fight. Both of you are going to be fine.” She spat out the last word with a fierce determination she managed to scrape together, and the doubt in Gillion and Chip’s eyes made her want to scream, to swear, to tear her hair out. That was what her father would do. Jay didn’t do what her father would’ve done. 

    Instead, her knees gave out, and she fell to the ground sobbing. Chip and Gillion rushed to comfort her, but the sticky ooze on their hands only made her cry harder. She was going to lose the only two people who had ever seen her for who she wanted to be. There was nothing she could do. 

    The coughing had been bad enough, but when Jay had looked Gillion in the eyes and seen them change color and focus on something that wasn’t there, she knew that things were about to get indescribably worse. The change had been immediate, irises turning purple and sclera turning black, leaving purple rings floating in an obsidian sea. The obvious similarity to Niklaus made Jay sick.

    “Gill?” She waved her hand in front of his face, and Gillion blinked. He stared at her for a moment before jumping as if just noticing that she was standing in front of him. “You alright?”

    “Fine.” Gillion replied, a bit distantly. “I merely thought I saw something.” Jay inhaled sharply. Hallucinations? It couldn’t be. That was just too cruel. Jay opened her mouth to say more, to ask another question, but it was Chip who stopped her. His coughing wasn’t as bad as Gillion’s, probably because his deal with Niklaus had been made more recently, but he tended to shake, which could result in him injuring himself by hitting various objects. Ollie tried to hold him, but with the magical strength-building belt he wore, it was possible he would accidentally hurt Chip rather than help him. 

    And Ollie, poor Ollie. As Jay ran to Chip and pinned his arms down, she thought about the little boy that had wanted so badly to be a part of their crew. He was trying to cope with what was happening to his friends, but Jay knew from experience how difficult it was for a child to grasp such serious situations. He was still clinging to the hope that Gillion and Chip would get better, that their coughs would disappear and take the crescent tattoos along with them. He was hoping so hard, and his heart was going to break when he was forced to accept that they weren’t going to get better. 

    Jay hated it, but in some ways, Gillion’s disappearance was a blessing. It was tragic and upsetting to not know whether he was alive or dead, but a quick death was merciless compared to what Jay now had to help Chip through. At least now she only had to deal with one person hallucinating their worst fears, instead of two. Gillion’s hallucinations tended to end with him curled on the floor, gasping for breaths he couldn’t get and stammering insistences that he was a good Champion, a good Hero, the perfect Chosen One. Jay didn’t need to guess what he saw when Niklaus’ magic took over his mind. 

    Chip, on the other hand, acted erratically and dangerously. He’d tried to leap over the railing of The Albatross on multiple occasions, screaming about someone being taken from him. Gillion had been forced to stop him. He’d even attacked Jay. He hadn’t told her why, and Jay wasn’t going to make him say. 

    There was one good thing Jay had been able to find in this horrific realm-hopping adventure, and that was Goobleck. The creature was strange, overly excitable and innocent, but it had been able to help Chip with his coughing. Goobleck, through a method Jay quite frankly didn’t want to think about, had supposedly absorbed some of the ooze that had stuck itself in Chip’s lungs. It had lessened the coughing, though the hallucinations had not improved in the slightest. 

    “Jay.” Chip grabbed her arm, fingernails digging into her skin. His voice was shaking, and Jay didn’t need to look at him to know that his eyes had shifted colors. “Jay, help me.”
    “It’s not real, Chip.” Jay replied, rubbing his arm in an attempt to ground him. “I’m right here, I promise whatever you’re seeing isn’t real.” 

    “I know.” Chip said, swallowing. He jolted suddenly, a cry escaping his lips as he tried to pull forwards, away from Jay. Jay grabbed him. She wasn’t very strong, but Chip’s illness had weakened him. Tears slowly carved through the tracks of dirt on Chip’s face, and Jay could do nothing but watch as he struggled against something only he could see. “Jay, he’s leaving me—”

    “It’s not real, Chip.” Jay repeated. There wasn’t much else she could do. Chip turned to her, his eyes flickering between their true colors and Niklaus’, his lip trembling. Jay pulled him close, and that was all it took. Chip buried his head in Jay’s shoulder and cried. 

    Gillion was back, and it was one of the first times in a while Jay could remember being truly happy. Chip was crying, Ollie was crying, Gillion was crying, even Griffin looked a bit misty-eyed. Jay had cried so much immediately upon seeing him that she didn’t have any tears left. Gillion’s coughs didn’t seem better, his voice still rasped when he spoke. He still looked at things only he could see. But at least they were together, where no one could hurt them for just these few brief moments of respite. 

    Jay felt a tickling in her throat and turned away, panic clawing up alongside a tiny, almost unnoticeable cough. She wiped her lip with a trembling finger, praying to whichever beings were listening. 

    Her prayers weren’t answered. On the tip of her finger was a splotch of black ink, small and yet insurmountably powerful. 

Chapter Text

    “Oliver,” Gillion began, parrying a blow from the half-elven boy, “do you know anything about courtship?” Ollie stopped dead in his tracks, inhaling so quickly he made himself cough. Gillion tilted his head, confused. He hadn’t expected the question to be that startling.  

    “No! I’m twelve!” He exclaimed after a moment. “Is this about Caspian?” 

    “Am I really so obvious?” Gillion said, feeling his face turn just a shade of blue darker. He had thought he was being subtle, at least, subtle enough that Ollie wouldn’t notice. Clearly, he had miscalculated. 

    “Gillion, buddy, you’re about as clear as crystal.” Ollie said consolingly, putting his practice sword down on the deck. “Why did you want advice? I haven’t noticed anything going wrong.”
    “Not wrong, but not as I planned.” Gillion explained. “I am trying to seduce him,” Ollie covered a laugh with one hand, and Gillion let it slide, “through his own methods! By being cautious and strategic! But I do not think it is working.” He glanced over to the Crescent Moon , where Caspian and Lizzie were talking. “I’ve tried everything!”
    “Have you?” Ollie accused, crossing his arms and doing his best to impersonate a very exasperated Old Man Earl. It was relatively accurate. Gillion had to stop letting them spend so much time together or they would have two Earls, and that was one too many. “I’m not an expert, but you called him your friend.”
    “I did!” Gillion brightened. “Is that not customary?” 

    “Sure, but it’s for friends.” Ollie said. 

    “Caspian is my friend.” Gillion was confused. Was it not appropriate to address friends as such in the Oversea? 

    “But don’t you want him to be more than that?” Ollie pressed. Gillion nodded. “Then you can’t keep saying ‘friend’ like you’re totally happy with it. Try a different nickname! Does the Undersea have any sort of nicknames you can use?”

    “Seahorse is often used as a term of romantic endearment.” Gillion said. He had never heard anyone use the term, not even his own parents, but he knew that in theory it was common. The only Undersea term Gillion had ever heard used was “shark”, and it had been the Elders referring to the Navy. “Do you think that would show my intentions plainly?”

    “Well,” Ollie wrung his hands, “maybe don’t call him that out of nowhere. You’ve got to start small! Mom told me Dad used to give her things he’d found, like bracelets or little gemstones. Give Caspian a gift!” 

    “A gift.” Gillion said, pensive. “That is a wonderful idea! Oliver, you give excellent advice. Do you have any other ideas?” 

    “Just go with your instincts, Gill.” Ollie said. “You got this! You’re the Champion of the Undersea!” 

    “That I am!” Gillion proclaimed, striking a dramatic pose with his hands on his hips. “Thank you, Ollie!” He rushed forward, crushing Ollie in a powerful hug before bounding over to the Crescent Moon. Caspian was climbing up over the railing, soaking wet with an exasperated look on his face. Lizzie was grinning triumphantly at him. “Caspian.” Gillion said. 

    “Gillion.” Caspian replied, nodding. “What can I do for you?”
    Gillion started talking before he had a chance to second-guess himself. “I would like to go out with you.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting anxiously for Caspian’s response. Ollie had said to be less subtle, more forward, so that was what he was going to do. Hopefully he hadn’t just blown his chances. 

    “Alright.” Caspian’s pale blue skin darkened across his face. “Sure. Where and when?” Lizzie snorted, stepping back when Caspian glared at her. Gillion paused. He hadn’t expected the conversation to get this far. 

    “Tonight, in the crow’s nest.” He said, hoping Chip wouldn’t choose to keep watch in the crow’s nest tonight. He did that occasionally, claiming insomnia, but Gillion suspected he just wanted to sleep away from Earl’s thunderous snoring. 

    “Excellent.” Caspian took Gillion’s hand and kissed it. Gillion felt like he’d been electrocuted. “I’ll see you then.” There was a smug glint in Caspian’s eyes, and Gillion forced himself to walk away, moving as if pulled by strings rather than by his own volition. That had actually worked. Gillion had not expected that to work. 

    “So?” Ollie bounced excitedly on his heels and rubbed his hands together. “Did it work? What happened?” 

    “I believe Caspian just agreed to go out with me.” Gillion said, dumbfounded. Ollie gasped and clapped his hands. 

    “That’s awesome! Do you need my help with anything?” Gillion paused to think. He had a place, a time… what else did he need? He wasn’t well-versed in courtship, even Undersea courtship. This felt a bit like walking into an unfamiliar battlefield with a blindfold on. “Are you going to bring him anything?”

    “That I am.” Gillion nodded. He had taken up woodcarving with Chip’s help, finding that the repetitive motions helped him focus and helped train his dexterity, and he had a carving of a seashell he had been saving to give to Caspian. “A gift, and food.” Gillion’s heart stopped beating. “I don’t know how to cook.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Earl!” 

    “What? I’m not cooking for your boyfriend! Figure it out yourself!” 

Chapter Text

Being a superhero changed a lot of things. It made Jason feel braver, more confident in himself and more willing to do things he’d thought were reserved only for the best of the best. It helped him help others, and it let him explore new experiences. 

    One thing it did not do, however, was make him any less anxious of a driver. His knuckles were as white as his costume when he pulled into New Haven City Middle School’s parking lot and parked in front of the building. He hated driving. It made him so nervous, thinking about all the things that could potentially go wrong if he so much as blinked. At least he hadn’t had to ask Harlem to drive him, he reasoned. Jason’s nerves made him a more careful driver, but Harlem was the worst driver Jason had ever met. He drove like he was in a police chase. 

    Jason stepped out of his car, straightening his robes and standing before the doors, waiting only a moment for the woman in the office to unlock the doors for him. Walking down the tiled hallways of the school, Jason did his best to get into the mindset of Origami. Wearing the costume helped, but it was difficult to remember that he wasn’t an overly-excitable museum tour guide anymore, he was a serious superhero. Was this something superheroes normally did? Going to middle schools? Jason wasn’t sure, but Miss Gilbert had asked him to, so he’d accepted. 

    He stopped in front of a door labeled “Miss Gilbert’s Class!”, anxiously fiddling with the cuffs of his costume before stopping himself. Through a panel of glass in the door, he could see Miss Gilbert, clad in a purple dress spotted with stars, gesturing to a whiteboard and talking animatedly. Becoming a hero hadn’t changed her very much, other than she was perhaps a bit more confident when it came to standing up to angry parents. 

    Miss Gilbert turned, presumably to answer a child’s question, but she saw Jason standing behind the door and grinned, clapping her hands. She said something to her students, then ran over and opened the door. 

    “Come in!” She said brightly. Jason walked into the room, causing excited murmurs from the students. “Class, this is Origami! He’s going to be helping us with a craft today! So everyone, go get three pieces of construction paper from the back, whatever colors you want! I’ll pass out the markers and scissors.” As the class got up to move, most of them still staring at Jason in shock and awe, Miss Gilbert looked at Jason. “Give me just one second.” She flitted around the room like a bird, hopping from table to table and placing down boxes of washable markers and pairs of decorative craft scissors. Jason watched, amused. Miss Gilbert was truly in her element mingling with a group of loud, chaotic middle schoolers. 

    Miss Gilbert tapped a meter stick on her desk a few times to get the student’s attention once they’d returned to their seats, and they dutifully stopped talking, looking between her and Jason for instructions. 

    “Alright! You’re going to be making an art piece from the materials you have. No extra paper, no tape, no hole-punchers or yarn or anything else. I think you’ll have to be more creative this way.” She rubbed her hands together as if formulating a plan. “I’m about to give you a word, and you can make anything that has to do with that word: superhero.” Jason rolled his eyes. Of course that was the word. “You have thirty minutes! Make whatever you like, and feel free to ask questions!” 

    The class began work almost immediately, with grins and eager expressions on their faces. Clearly, Miss Gilbert was an excellent teacher if they were so quick to follow her instructions. Jason stayed near the front of the classroom, a bit unsure as to what to do. His job was touring student groups at the museum, but that was very different from actually being in a class of them. 

    “Mister Origami!” A spectacles girl raised her hand, and Jason rushed over, glancing at Miss Gilbert. She gave him a thumbs-up. “I have a question.” 

    “Alright.” Jason said. 

    “I was gonna just draw a statue, but that seems too obvious.” The girl explained, gesturing to where she had sketched out a surprisingly realistic statue on half of a piece of pink construction paper. “What do you think of being a superhero?” 

    “It’s… a lot, but I enjoy it.” Jason answered. “Helping people and getting to mean something to this city means a lot to me. And I love Silhouette and the Hexpert, of course.” Jason looked over his shoulder at Miss Gilbert, who was sitting with a boy and helping him come up with an idea for his art project. “It’s a good opportunity to be myself.” The girl nodded, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she started sketching a figure with a black marker on the pink paper’s other half. Jason squinted at it for a moment before realizing it was Harlem, arms crossed and stance confrontational. 

    “Origami!” A different voice called, a boy with curly hair and a gap between his teeth. Jason rushed away from the girl, nodding his acknowledgement of her call of gratitude. 

    “What’s up?” Jason asked the boy. He held up a piece of blue paper. 

    “Can you turn this into a lightning bolt?” He said. Jason nodded, reaching out a hand and moving his fingers, twisting the rectangular piece into a jagged, lightning bolt shape. The boy grinned. “Thanks!” Almost immediately, students flocked to Jason, holding up pieces of paper and asking for Jason to turn them into various shapes: a heart, a sword, a cape, a cube. It was overwhelming, but at least it wasn’t fighting a supervillain. 

    After twenty minutes of catering to the middle schooler’s wishes, Jason was called back over by the girl, and he was eager for the momentary distraction. How did Miss Gilbert do this all day? More importantly, how did Harlem? 

    “What do you think?” The girl gestured to her art project, which was three figures cut out of three different colors of paper: Harlem in pink, Miss Gilbert in green, and Jason in blue. The three of them were posed together as if readying for a photo, with stars cut from all three colors scattered across the table. Jason stared at the drawings in shock. 

    “That’s… awesome.” He said. “Really!” The girl grinned. “Wow.”

    “Jason!” Miss Gilbert waved him over, and Jason gave the girl a thumbs-up before joining his friend at the front of the room. “So? My class is pretty cool, huh?”

    “Yeah. I don’t remember middle school being this fun.”
    “That’s because you didn’t have me as a teacher.”
    Jason chuckled. “Probably true.”
    The door slammed open, and Harlem was standing in the doorway, sweating and panicked. “Miss G! I’m so sorry I’m late! My alarm didn’t go off!” Jason covered a laugh with his hand. “Jason? What are you doing here?”
    “Arts and crafts!” Miss Gilbert said brightly. “Do you want to do one?”

    “You should, Mister Harlem!” A boy piped up. 

    “Yeah, go for it!” A girl added. Harlem paused, looking between the students and his friends. 

    “Alright.”

Chapter Text

    For once, Caspian was having a calm day where he wasn’t actively running for his life or going through some grueling training regiment Elizabeth had set up for him. He didn’t dislike her, in fact, he thought she was an excellent Captain, but she just didn’t know when to quit. Caspian actually knew a number of people like that, Lizzie was just one. She just so happened to be the one that gave him orders, though. He didn’t have to listen to anything Gillion told him, for example. 

    He was in the middle of concentrating on a particularly difficult sketch, ink brush tapping against his chin, when Gillion stumbled into his quarters, blue skin pale and stance unsteady. There was blood running down his side and staining the deck from a wound in between two plates of his armor. He used one hand to catch himself on the edge of Caspian’s desk and smeared red across the wood. 

    “Gillion! What happened?” Caspian reached forward, healing magic sparkling across his fingertips. Gillion lurched backwards. 

    “A thug,” he said, chest heaving, “in an alley. Do not waste your magic—it will not work.” He coughed into his elbow. 

    “Okay, alright…” Caspian searched his quarters for anything useful. No magic? He knew how to perform physical medicine, bandages and stitches and the like, but it had been a while since he’d needed to do so on anything worse than a splinter. “Sit down.” He pulled the chair he’d been using closer to him, and Gillion all but collapsed into it. Caspian unbuckled the straps that held Gillion’s armor together and began working the metal pieces off him, throwing them haphazardly to the ground. Gillion hissed through gritted teeth at what Caspian assumed was the excruciating pain of having such an injury disturbed, but he didn’t make a sound. “There. Put pressure on it, will you?” Gillion nodded, clasping a hand to his side. His head was starting to droop forward as consciousness became harder to keep ahold of. “I know, I know my friend, just last a bit longer.” 

    Caspian rummaged through the wardrobe shoved up against one wall of his room, pulling out a roll of thick, cottony bandages that hadn’t been used since Lizzie had burned her arm due to a pistol misfire. A spool of strong thread and a silver needle followed suit. 

    “Apologies, my friend, but this is going to hurt.”

    “It will… not be worse than what… I have experienced before.” Gillion said between breaths. Caspian pursed his lips as he knelt down next to Gillion, inspecting the wound. It was deep but short—a clear stab wound, with torn flesh that suggested the blade had been serrated. Caspian’s heart twinged with sympathy.

    “Was the blade poisoned?” Caspian asked, looking up at Gillion, who shook his head. 

    “No.” He said. “I… checked.”
    “Excellent, thank you.” Caspian started the stitches, thankful that his hands were steady as he got to work. The last thing he wanted was to cause Gillion any more pain than absolutely necessary. Every time the needle poked its way through Gillion’s skin he twitched, drawing in a quick breath that made Caspian hesitate. It was slow work, meticulously sewing the wound shut, and Gillion was hardly coherent by the time Caspian finished, slumped in the chair, his fingernails digging crescents into his palms. “Gillion.” Caspian said gently. Gillion’s eyes opened, and they focused on Caspian’s face after a moment of struggle. “I’m going to bandage the wound. Can you sit up?”

    “Apologies.” Gillion made a sound almost like a pained whine as he pushed himself to sit up straight. 

    “It’s quite alright. Now, can you raise your arms? Slowly, I don’t want you to tear your stitches.” Gillion complied, and Caspian slowly took his shirt off—it had been torn by the attack and easily worked around for stitches, but it would get in the way of bandages. The shirt joined the armor pieces on the floor. “Thank you.” Caspian leaned forward, reaching to wrap the bandages securely around Gillion’s chest, trying to work efficiently without hurting his friend any further. 

    “Caspian… I do apologize for… interrupting your work.” Gillion said, voice heavy with exhaustion as Caspian tied off the bandages and stood back to admire his handiwork. 

    “No, it’s quite alright. I would rather pause my art than find you bleeding out somewhere in this gargantuan city.” Caspian assured him. Gillion smiled slightly, the expression lopsided but genuine. “Now. Does your crew know where you are?”

    “No.” Gillion looked down, his fins pinning to the sides of his head as his face flushed with embarrassment. “I did not wish for them to… worry about me.” Caspian said nothing, swallowing a comforting remark. It would only serve to make Gillion more distressed. “I know it is foolish, but I cannot shake the feeling that I am a burden.” 

    “You are far from it, my friend.” Caspian said, putting a hand on Gillion’s shoulder. “The fact that you came to me for help speaks volumes about your confidence.” Gillion looked at him, confused. “It is difficult to break away from what you’ve been taught, yes?”

    “Extremely.” Gillion said gravely. 

    “Then being willing to ask for help is an impressive feat. You’re strong, Gillion. And not just physically.” Gillion paused, a fin-shaped ear flicking. 

    “Oh.” He said, as if he had never considered such a thought. “Thank you, Caspian.” 

    “Of course, Gillion.” Caspian replied, almost whispered. He leaned in, a strange feeling coming over him as he pressed his lips to Gillion’s cheek in a chaste kiss. Gillion drew in a startled, short breath. “Apologies, that may have been a bit forward.” Caspian said, heat rising to his cheeks. 

    “N-No, that was… nice.” Gillion stammered. Caspian smiled. “Caspian, I… thank you, truly. For helping me.”

    “Again, it was no problem.” Caspian said. “I’m always happy to help. With anything.” He stood up. “Now, we should get you back to your crew before they work themselves into a frenzy looking for you.” He held out a hand, and Gillion took it, wincing as he stood, leaning just slightly on Caspian for support. Without his armor, he was surprisingly light—strong, to be sure, but not heavy. 

    Caspian and Gillion walked off the Crescent Moon slowly, Caspian trying to be mindful of Gillion’s injury. Gillion wouldn’t tell him if he irritated it, so Caspian just had to guess and be as gentle as possible. As they walked, Caspian thought. His one calm day, and it had been disturbed by an injured Triton with heavy armor, both physically and metaphorically. If Caspian wanted to get any closer to Gillion, which he did, he would have to work on getting Gillion to go without his armor more often. It wasn’t a crime to show weakness, even if Gillion thought it was. 

Chapter Text

    “Hey guys!” A brown-haired boy with a gap between his teeth waved at the camera, grinning widely. “It’s Ollie! This is my first day on the set of Riptide! , and I’m so excited!” He panned the camera around, showing a beautifully-developed set of two boats sitting amidst a massive green-screen room, with people holding microphones and lights meandering back and forth. “Look at this!” Ollie’s hand flung out to gesture at the boats. “Look how cool these are!” 

    “Ollie, are you recording?” A voice said, and the camera quickly jerked to Ollie’s chest, hiding the set. 

    “I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask first—”

    “No, it’s fine! Just make sure you get me in the shot too.” The camera moved back up, displaying Chip, one of the stars of Riptide! makeup had given him a scar on his lip and dark circles under his eyes, but he grinned as widely as Ollie. “Hey there! We’re about to film Ollie’s first scene.” He ruffled Ollie’s hair. “He’s such a good actor, you don’t even know.”
    “Who are you talking to?”
    “You from the future, of course!” Chip exclaimed. 

    “Alright, everybody get ready!” Director Grizzly yelled, clapping his hands together. 

    “Gotta go!” Ollie said to the camera. “Bye!” 

    “Day five of filming!” Ollie said into the camera, whispering. “Chip and I finished the flag, and now we get to see the other cast members react to it!”
    “They’re never gonna see this one coming.” Chip was sitting next to him, crouched underneath what looked like a table with a conspiratory look on his face. “Oh, they’re coming! Film it, film it!” The camera spun around so quickly Ollie nearly dropped it, poking up over the top of the table to focus in on Jay, Gillion, and Director Grizzly walking over to where the flag was, lying-face down. Grizzly was the one to turn it over, and immediately, laughter erupted into the room from him and Gillion, while a sound of outrage was heard from Jay. 

    “They put tits on the flag!” She exclaimed. “Chip!” She looked around, searching for the offending actor. “Why did you let Ollie put tits on the flag?” Ollie broke, unable to keep his laughter in any longer, his muffled giggles easily audible. The camera turned off right as his hiding place was discovered, cutting off Chip’s shriek in a burst of static. 

“Day twelve of filming Riptide! ” The camera turned back on, filming a mirror that showed Ollie’s reflection. He was sitting in a chair, trying not to move too much as the makeup crew got him ready for filming. “Today we’re filming a fight scene! I’m a little nervous, but hopefully I’ll do well!”

    “You’ll do amazing!” Gillion chimed in, and the camera moved for a moment to show him sitting in a chair, face half-blue and half-coppery-brown. He had to wear a number of prosthetics to make his costume work—fake nails, fake teeth, fake ears, fake gills—and none of them were on yet. The gills were sitting on the countertop in front of him, ready to be applied as soon as the coloring of his neck was finished. “You’re a fast learner, and we’ll all be ready to help you whenever you need it.” 

    “Thanks, Gill.” Ollie said, blushing. “Okay, I gotta go!” He said to the camera. “They’ve gotta finish doing all my freckles!” 

    “That was awesome!” Ollie practically squealed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He was sweating, making the fake blood on his face run ever so slightly, but no one seemed to mind. “I did it, I actually did it!” He jumped around, making the camera shake. 

    “Ollie!” Chip came running over. “Here, hand me the camera and show everyone your moves!” Chip took the camera without really waiting for Ollie’s response and waited, not unlike a parent filming their child. Ollie shuffled, a bit uncomfortable. With the camera angle changed, the details of Ollie’s costume became visible. His pants had stripes reminiscent of Chip’s, with a white shirt covered in fake blood—he had been attacked in the scene. There was a short knife strapped to his hip. “Go on!” 

    “Alright…” Ollie took out the knife, standing in an athletic stance. He lunged forward, jabbed the knife, then leapt back and spun on his heel to slash at a second invisible opponent. He ducked, bending backwards, then fell into a roll and leapt back up with his knife already moving to attack. By the time the maneuver finished, Ollie’s hands were shaking a bit. He looked at the camera sheepishly. 

    “Awesome!” Chip praised. He turned the camera around, away from Ollie. “Isn’t he so cool? I’m so proud of this kid, you don’t even know.” 

    “Chip!” Ollie said, face reddening. “You’re not supposed to get all mushy, it’s supposed to just be for fun!” He snatched the camera back. 

    “Aw, but this is fun!” 

    “Welcome back!” Ollie said to the camera, walking through the sets of Riptide! , around Roofus’ house and the captain’s quarters and Niklaus’ cottage. “I haven’t gotten to film lately, because I’ve just been doing voice work. But,” he adjusted the camera to focus on his face, “it’s my birthday today, and I’m going to surprise everyone! They don’t know I’m coming to the set.” He grinned. “I can’t wait to see the look on Chip’s face!” He snuck past the front of a house that had been used in Loffinlot, ducking around corners like a spy on a secret mission. 

    He almost tripped over some wires lying on the floor, stumbling forward and then frantically looking around to see if anyone had heard him. The studio was suspiciously silent; not even people with microphones or spotlights were walking around. Ollie didn’t seem to notice the peculiar absence. He continued onwards, towards the sound booth, turning the camera to catch all the different set pieces. It really was a beautiful set—the crew prided themselves on using green screens and computer effects as little as possible, meaning almost every set piece was real, down to the grain of the wood. 

    “Hello?” Ollie poked his head into the sound booth, which was dark and dead quiet. “Is anyone there?” 

    “Surprise!” Countless voices shouted at once, and the lights of the sound booth came on to reveal the entire cast of Riptide! , plus the sound and lights crews, standing up and cheering. “Happy birthday!” Chip ran out from the sea of people and wrapped Ollie in a tight hug, even going so far as to pick him up and swing him around. Ollie almost dropped the camera. 

    “What?” He said, voice muffled against Chip’s shoulder. 

    “It’s your birthday, right?” Chip pulled away.

    “Yeah, but—”

    “Happy birthday!” Gillion bounded over and pumped his fist in the air. “Chip wanted to surprise you.” 

    “How did you know I was here?” Ollie exclaimed. “I didn’t tell anyone!”

    “Lizzie had a hunch.” Jay put in, walking up. Lizzie, standing beside her, smirked. “Turns out she was right.” 

    “I often am.” Lizzie said smugly. 

    “We made you a cake!” Chip said, stepping in front of Lizzie and ignoring her noise of indignance. “Here, it’s your favorite!” He grabbed Ollie’s hand and pulled him forwards, revealing a skull-and-crossbones-shaped cake with white frosting. “Dig in!” There was a pause where Ollie merely stared at the cake in shock, his eyes wide, and then he looked at the camera. 

    “They made me a cake!” He said, as if it weren’t obvious. “I’ll be back, but I’m gonna eat this first! Bye!” 

Chapter Text

    The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and Chip was fighting a horde of pirate goblins. Just another day as a pirate, he supposed. His dual swords glinted in the sunlight as he ducked under an attack and slammed the sword’s hilt into the head of a goblin—he still wasn’t willing to kill them, even if Gillion and Jay had no such misgivings. Knocking them unconscious and leaving them on their ship was, in Chip’s opinion, a much better option than murder. 

    “Gill!” Chip shouted, exasperated and a bit horrified as Gillion nearly beheaded a goblin pirate. “Stop killing them!”
    “They are evil, Chip!” Gillion replied, cracking his fist across the face of a goblin that leapt for him. “I am doing my duty!” 

    “Well, maybe do it with a little less blood!” Chip yelled back. He kicked a goblin backwards, drove his sword through their forearm, and hit their face with his elbow. He heard bone break, and the goblin crumpled, knocked out. Even with the amount of goblins that had already been dispatched, they just kept coming. 

    “Help!” A shrill, boyish scream caught Chip’s attention and made his heart stop beating. Ollie had been shoved back against his ship’s wheel, blood smeared across his face from a split lip, and there were two goblins advancing on him, both wielding wicked-looking swords. “Help!” He screamed again, trying to scramble away from the goblins. 

    “Ollie!” Chip dashed towards him without even having to think about it, slashing through a rope and swinging over, landing with a force that hurt his ankles before breaking into a sprint. Steel flashed in the sky, swinging downwards, and Ollie shrieked, the sound agonized before breaking down into sobs. Chip, acting on rage and desperation, slit the throat of one goblin, then shoved the other one backwards and over the railing of the ship. Ollie was clutching at a slash on his stomach, blood pouring from the wound as he tried futilely to stop it. There were tears running down his face, and his breathing caught in his throat, making him cough. “Ollie, hey, you’re gonna be alright.” Chip knelt down next to him, speaking frantically. 

    “H-Hurts—” Ollie gasped. 

    “I know, I know it does, but you’ll be okay. Gill!” Chip raised his head for a moment. “Get over here, now!” He looked back down to Ollie, whose sobs were beginning to lessen. “Ollie, look at me.” Tear-filled blue eyes stared at him. “You are going to be okay. Just focus on breathing, alright? Breathe.”

    “It’s,” Ollie drew in a slow, shuddering breath, then coughed, “it’s really hard, Chip…”

    “I know, just hang in there.” Gillion appeared over Chip’s shoulder, leaning forward with bright blue healing magic glowing across his palms. The slash closed, drawing a hiss of pain from Ollie, and Gillion nodded. 

    “Stay here, Oliver.” He said. “Do not injure yourself further.”
    “O-Okay.” Ollie stammered. Gillion looked to Chip, giving a quick nod before throwing himself back into the fight. “Chip, I’m sorry, I—”
    “Don’t apologize.” Chip swallowed the lump in his throat. “Just… be careful, alright? I’ll be right back. He ruffled Ollie’s hair, plastered on a confident grin, and turned to rejoin the battle. His heart was still pounding, though now it wasn’t from the thrill of battle, it was from the fear of nearly losing someone important to him. He hadn’t known Ollie very long, but there was something about him that Chip felt connected to. A boy, new to the life of a pirate, timid but determined to help, that felt a lot like Chip had felt when he’d first joined the Black Rose. 

    Arlin would love Ollie, so Chip had to make sure he survived long enough to meet him. 

Chapter Text

After days of travel and hardly anything fun, Rumi had decided that she and her friends needed a break. It was just beginning to turn to night, the sun disappearing below the horizon and streaking fiery colors across a shattered sky, and while Thanatos helped Peter set up their tents, Rumi patrolled the edges of camp, lost in thought. There had to be something to do that wasn’t depressing or boring. Rumi’s initial idea had been to find a lake and go swimming, but they weren’t sure that Peter or Thanatos could swim—Thanatos would probably just sink. The mental image of him drifting into the depths, red eyes glowing like spotlights, made Rumi chuckle. 

    “I got it!” Peter said, awed at his own skill. Rumi turned around to see Peter kneeling in front of a small fire, warming his hands. Lizard crawled down his arm and wrapped around one of his fingers to soak up the heat. Peter giggled at him, making Rumi’s heart leap in their chest. Their feelings for Peter had appeared suddenly, and rather unexpectedly, but Rumi wouldn’t change it for the world. Peter needed people to care about him, and Rumi was glad to oblige. 

    “Add more kindling, Peter,” Thanatos told him, looming behind Peter like a shadowed guardian angel. “Keep the fire burning.”
    “Right.” Peter scrambled to his feet and looked around for sticks, running around and grabbing them with an almost frantic fervor. Rumi decided to help him, gathering a few thin twigs that admittedly wouldn’t burn very long. 

    Peter looked towards her, his eyes flashing with guilt. “Oh, sorry Rumi. I didn’t mean to make you help me.”

    “That’s quite alright, Peter,” Rumi assured him, nodding towards his collection of more substantial sticks. “You’ve found more than enough, I wanted to help.” 

    “Thanks,” Peter said, blushing. 

    “Of course.” Rumi nodded their head and tossed the sticks onto the fire. “Now, why don’t we all sit down? We really could use a break.” He sat down on a log next to Peter. Thanatos, neglecting a seat and opting for the forest floor, sat across from them. “What kinds of things do you do for fun?”

    “Train,” Thanatos said solemnly. “And study.”

    “Sort rocks.” Peter looked down, embarrassed. “Nothing normal people do.” 

    “Well, I think that sounds wonderful, Peter,” Rumi said, looking into Peter’s eyes with the most genuine expression she could muster. For a moment, he was lost in the depths of Peter’s eyes, the intelligence and the hurt hidden behind those chocolate-colored irises. Then Peter blinked, eyes flashing with divine fire, and Rumi came back to themselves. They coughed, clearing their throat despite it being unobstructed, and spoke. “I, for one, like to play music. Peter, Thanatos, do you have any experience singing?”

    “None,” Thanatos answered. “But I suppose I could try.”

    “I’ll… yeah, I’ll try.” Peter pushed his glasses up on his face and nodded. Rumi grinned, and forgoing the use of an instrument, slowly started to sing. It was a song he knew well, and while his voice trembled ever so slightly on the first note, he quickly fell into tune, closing his eyes and letting the song carry.

    “I’ll swim and sail on savage seas,” she gave a pause, “with ne’er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life, if you would marry me.

    “No scorching sun, nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey. If you will promise me your heart, and love me for eternity.” Hit with a wave of what could only be called recklessness, Rumi stood, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him up. She put one hand on Peter’s waist and the other on his shoulder and continued the song, walking Peter through the steps of a dance. 

    “My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me. But I’ve no need for mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me!” Thanatos started to tap his feet, creating a rhythm as Rumi sped up the pace of the song, relishing in the cool night air on her face and the feeling of Peter’s hand in hers. “But I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!” He laughed, a gleeful sound, and a rather startled laugh was drawn out of Peter. “To love and kiss, to sweetly hold, for the dancing and the dreaming! Through all life’s sorrows and delights, I’ll keep your laugh inside me. 

    “I’ll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning! I’d gladly ride the waves of white if you will marry me!” The song cut off abruptly, with Rumi’s chest heaving and Peter’s eyes wide, his pale face flushed pink. 

    “M-Marry?” He stammered. 

    “It’s just a song, Peter,” Rumi chuckled, releasing their hold on Peter, who looked a bit disappointed. “I’m not trying to pressure you into marrying me.”

    “Oh. Right.” Peter gave a soft smile. “You’re a great singer, Rumi.”

    “Indeed.” Thanatos nodded. “You have proper cadence and enunciation.”
    “Thanks, Thanatos.” Rumi said, bowing dramatically. The fire crackled as she sat back down, still beside Peter, euphoria coursing through their veins. They itched to do something, to leap up and laugh or shout to the skies, but they stayed seated and instead simply watched Peter as he began to tell Thanatos about an interesting rock he had found. It was a mundane topic, almost boring, but Rumi was just as invested as he would’ve been had the story been an epic of valor. Something about Peter drew her in like a moth to a flame, except Rumi knew she had no chance of burning in the light Peter emitted, no matter how much Peter himself worried about it. No, Rumi basked in Peter’s light, soaked it in as a plant did the sun, and she loved it. She loved Peter. 

Chapter Text

    It was dark and cold, as it often was in the Undersea, but while Gillion normally found comfort in the shadowed silence, he found no such solace now. He was lying on his back in the uncomfortably firm bed the Elders had given him, overcome with such pain he could hardly bring himself to breathe, let alone make any moves to get up for training. He had been subjected to a series of battle simulations the previous day and performed horrifically on all of them. He hadn’t been given any healing, and his own magic was still pathetic in its strength, so the cuts on his arms and bruises that covered him like paint on a canvas were still visible, and still agonizing. 

    Gillion blinked back tears as he lay in bed, feeling every bit the failure the Elders told him he was. Pretzel, his beloved frogtopus, sat by his head, occasionally making concerned sounds or trying to nudge him. Gillion didn’t even have the energy to tell her to stop, no matter how it burned when she prodded at a purple-black bruise. He’d long given up on going to training—he knew he had to, it was his responsibility to, but everything hurt . He was tired and upset and hurting and he wanted Edyn. 

    The realization fortified the lump in Gillion’s throat, and he choked back tears, stinging breaths hitching in a bruised and battered ribcage. He just wanted to go home, to see his sister and the friends he had tried to make before the Elders had taken him here to fulfill some prophetic, divine responsibility. He wanted to sit at a table in his small, cozy house, to eat that delicious roasted eel Edyn was so good at making, with its perfect grill marks and combination of seasonings, and he wanted to listen to Edyn tell him a story as he drifted off to bed, like she’d done when he’d been very small, and even a few times since then, before the Elders stopped letting her visit him. He didn’t even know if she’d tried to see him—the Elders never told him anything. 

    There were muffled voices talking through the door, and the barely contained rage in both of them made anxiety curl in Gillion’s stomach. He knew the Elders would be furious at him for neglecting his duties, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He clenched his jaw and blinked a few times, trying to stave off the hopelessness that constricted around him when he felt more tears slide down his face. He refused to lay in bed and await a punishment. He would stand up, leave his room, and he would find the Elders. He would face the punishment head-on, like the Champion of the Undersea was supposed to do. 

    “—care! He’s my brother, and I’m going to see him!” The door slammed open with such vigor that Pretzel jumped, hiding behind Gillion’s shoulder. Gillion turned his head to see the figure of Edyn walking into the room, the anger on her face crumbling almost immediately upon seeing her little brother lying rigidly in his bed. “Oh, guppy, what’s wrong?” She knelt down beside his bed, brushing her hand down his face. The familiarity of the motion was so good that Gillion started to cry. 

    What had been small, restrained tears turned to full-bodied sobs, and the pain that erupted from Gillion’s overworked muscles only made his cries increase. Edyn reacted quickly, sitting beside him and drawing him close to her, holding him against her chest and rocking back and forth slowly, murmuring softly to him. Gillion just kept crying, quaking in her arms with the force of his pent-up distress, unable to stop himself despite how humiliating it felt. 

    “Miss Tidestrider, you cannot be here.” The sound of an Elder’s voice sent a tremor of terror through Gillion’s body, and he froze, suddenly so afraid he couldn’t even cry. Gillion didn’t immediately recognize the voice, but he did recognize the tone: concealed disappointment and irritation. It was the tone Gillion was most often exposed to—a tone for prophetic screw-ups.

    “With all due respect, Elder Nautilus, you have no right to stop me,” Edyn replied, voice tight. “Gill is my brother, and I was raised to believe that you are supposed to look out for your siblings. You haven’t let me see him in weeks, so I think I’ve earned this.” Nautilus made a displeased sound, then sighed. 

    “You are permitted one hour with the Champion,” he said. “Then you will leave, willingly or not.” Edyn nodded, and Nautilus left in a shuffling of fabric and muttering of distasteful words. 

    “Hey, Gill, he’s gone. It’s alright,” Edyn whispered, one finger tracing across Gillion’s cheekbone—normally, the movement was to get hair out of his eyes, but Gillion had not been allowed to grow his hair out since beginning his training. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

    “E-Edyn,” Gillion’s voice trembled, and he hated himself for being so weak, “I want to go home.” He hiccuped, then coughed out a dry sob at the pain in his chest. “Please, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

    “Guppy, if I could get you out of here, I would,” Edyn told him. “The Elders would banish the both of us, and I can’t bear to take your home away from you.”

    “I do not know that the Undersea is my home,” Gillion admitted, tucking himself tighter against the warmth of Edyn, so much better than the frigid cold of his room. “Not anymore, after what has been done to me. I cannot be what the Elders want me to be, and they punish me because of it. And, even yet, I want more than anything else to be their Champion.” He looked up at Edyn, hoping she would understand. “I hate them, I hate their prophecy, but I cannot help how strongly I want to do as they say. It scares me.”

    “Gill, my precious little pearl, listen to me.” Edyn’s voice was solemn. “I just want you to be happy. It hurts to see you like this, and I wish I could feel the Elders to the sharks. But, it is your decision, if you want to stay or leave. You have a choice , Gill. You always have a choice.” Gillion sniffled. “I will always, always love you. No matter what you do. No matter what you decide, you are my baby brother.” 

    “Then…” Gillion took a deep breath, letting the sensation of Edyn rubbing his back and Pretzel clinging to his hand ground him, “then I want to keep trying. I do not know if I can be the Champion, but I would not wish this fate on anyone else. It has to be me.” 

    “Okay.” Edyn nodded, smiling. Her eyes were shining as if she were about to cry. “That’s okay.” She kissed the top of Gillion’s head, then gave Pretzel a scratch under her chin. The frogtopus made a contented trilling noise, and Edyn exhaled a shaky laugh. “I still have another hour before I have to go,” she said. “Can I tell you a story?”

    “Do you still remember the one about the Gold-Fish?” Gillion asked her. It was his favorite story for reasons even he wasn’t sure of, and Edyn told it beautifully, with hand motions and funny voices and even sound effects. 

    “Of course I do,” Edyn said with a smile. “It’s your favorite story, and I wouldn’t be a very good big sister if I forgot your favorite story.” 

    “You are an excellent big sister,” Gillion told her, “and I would never wish for anyone else. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.” 

    “Thanks, guppy.” Edyn poked Gillion’s nose, laughing again, the sound full of tears. “Now. The story begins in the depths of the Undersea, in a system of caverns…” Gillion allowed himself to get lost in the story, the pain of his body becoming a distant thing as he listened to Edyn. He had said he wanted to go home, but he was beginning to realize that his home wasn’t a place. His home was Edyn. 

Chapter Text

    “Where is the Sar Chasm?” Gillion asked, tilting his head in a motion reminiscent of a puppy. Chip sighed, running a hand across his face. He was trying to teach Gillion a new concept, but it wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped. Gillion was having trouble understanding that sarcasm, one word, was a way of speaking and not a literal bottomless pit. 

    “It’s not a physical thing, Gill, it’s not tangible,” Chip explained, exasperated. “It’s a way you talk where you say the opposite of what you mean for comedic effect.”

    “That sounds like lying, Chip.” Gillion crossed his arms. 

    “It’s not… lying, it’s meant to be funny!” Chip said defensively. Gillion’s wary and confused expression didn’t change a bit, and Chip sighed, carding a hand through his hair and wincing when it caught on tangles. He needed to brush it sometime. Maybe he could borrow Jay’s brush. “Listen. If Jay tried to cook and burned all the food, and I said ‘that looks tasty’, that would be sarcasm.” 

    Gillion furrowed his eyebrows. “I still do not understand. How is it amusing?” 

    “Well, it’s only funny if they know you’re kidding,” Chip said, moving his hands as he spoke. “Otherwise it’s just plain rude, but if they know it’s a joke, then they laugh along with it! I promise, it’s funny. It just takes some practice. Here, I’ll show you. Jay!” Jay looked over from where she was attempting to create a new gadget with Alphonse, though it was currently a pile of scraps. “Nice invention!” Jay rolled her eyes and ignored the remark. 

    “That seemed rude, Chip,” Gillion persisted, still lost. “How is ‘sarcasm’ different from petty insults?” 

    Chip sighed again, putting a hand on Gillion’s shoulder. “You’ll get it eventually.” Gillion nodded, albeit uncertainly. “Drake!” The fiery-skinned pirate captain turned from his conversation with Kai and Aga, grinning. “You ever played chess?”

    “Well, not really, but I will if you’re offering,” Drake replied smoothly, glancing over at Kai and wiggling his eyebrows. Aga hid a snort in her hand, and Kai rolled his eyes. “Hey, Gillion. Are you much of a chess player?”

    “I am not, but Pretzel here is,” Gillion said, looking proudly at the frogtopus curled on his shoulder. Pretzel chirped in confirmation, beaming at Gillion and Drake. 

    “When I beat Chip, how about you and I play a game?” 

    “Certainly!” Gillion said. Drake and Chip sat down to play, and as Gillion had suspected, Drake demolished Chip at their chess game in a mere four moves: the fastest he had ever seen anyone lose at chess. Chip stood up, disappointed, and Gillion put a consoling hand on his shoulder as he walked past him, feeling a strange sense of mischief bubbling in his stomach. 

    “Excellent game, Chip,” he said as sincerely as he could, though the mirthful grin on his face offset the candidness. 

    “Thanks, Gill—hey!” Chip shouted, eyes widening. “That was sarcasm!” 

    “Indeed it was!” Gillion said proudly. “I have found the Sar Chasm and explored its depths!” Pretzel gave an excited trill and drummed her tentacles on Gillion’s armor. 

    “Nice job, buddy!” Chip said. “Now, go beat Drake at chess. Knock him down a few pegs for me, will you?”
    “Of course,” Gillion said, still being sarcastic. He sat down, murmuring an instruction to Pretzel, and proceeded to lose chess in two moves instead of four. 

Chapter Text

    It was dark when Alastyr’s eyes snapped open, feeling a harsh ache crawling across his forearm. He sat up, muffling a groan by biting down on his lip, waiting for his half-elven eyes to adjust to the blackness of night that was lit only by the dying embers of a campfire. His friends were sleeping around the fire, Flynn curled in a ball, Kroe splayed out like a starfish, and Kasper on his back, arms crossed over his chest like some sort of vampire. 

    The ache suddenly worsened, becoming painful enough to make Alastyr whimper, blinking tears out of his eyes. He looked down at his arm, grimacing at the pulsing wave of scarlet flesh that lurked beneath his skin. He could feel it moving, pulling at muscles that weren’t meant to be pulled at, meandering around his veins and touching bone. The force pushed in on his arm, and Alastyr bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. A small, twisted part of him enjoyed the taste of it. 

    Alastyr stumbled to his feet, going to where Kasper was asleep and just managing to avoid falling to his knees in favor of sitting down. 

    “Kasper.” He shook Kasper’s shoulder with urgency. “Wake up, please.”

    “Alastyr?” Kasper blinked blearily at him, eyes unfocused both with sleep and the fact that he refused to wear his glasses, despite them being atop his head. Nevertheless, he recognized the fear on Alastyr’s face immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is it your arm again?” Alastyr nodded pitifully, and Kasper’s expression turned to one of sympathy. It wasn’t uncommon for the creature—parasite, really—that lived in Alastyr to hurt him, in fact it was more common for it to do so than to leave him alone, and Kasper was most often the one to help him through it. “Is it bad?” 

    “A little,” Alastyr whispered shamefully. 

    “Come here.” Kasper held his arms out, inviting Alastyr to move into a warm, comforting embrace. “You’re alright.”

    “I’m sorry.” Alastyr’s voice was mangled a bit by tears and something fleshy crawling up his throat. Fergus (such an innocent name) could sense Alastyr’s panic, and it knew that it was causing the emotion. There was a sick sense of delight living in Alastyr’s stomach. 

    “It’s okay, Alastyr, there’s no need to be sorry,” Kasper assured him. “I sleep too much anyways. Even if I didn’t, I’m always happy to help you. Just take deep breaths, okay? You’re safe, just keep breathing. It’ll pass.” Alastyr wanted to turn and hide his face in Kasper’s shirt, but breathing was already hard enough without a wall of fabric obscuring it. Instead, he grabbed tightly onto Kasper, trembling with pain and fear, and tried not to cry. 

    “Stop!” Kroe’s voice rang out through the camp, loud enough to make Alastyr flinch and Fergus screech, a grating noise that felt like driving a knife into Alastyr’s ears. He whimpered, and Kasper rubbed his back slowly. 

    “Kroe?” Kasper raised his voice only a bit, just enough so that it would carry to where Kroe had been sleeping. “Everything alright?”
    “Yes,” Kroe said after a moment, clearing his throat. “Nightmare. Sorry. Is Alastyr okay?” 

    “His arm’s acting up again,” Kasper said. 

    “Is there anything I can do?” Kroe tilted his head. 

    “I’m a little cold,” Alastyr admitted, embarrassed, “but I don’t want the f-fire. Fergus likes it.” Kasper held him closer, but Kasper wasn’t very warm for one reason or another. Alastyr’s own body warmth was being sucked away by the red, wriggling flesh that crawled through his muscles. 

    “Well, uh, maybe this could help.” Kroe walked over, taking a deep, nervous breath, and sat down, joining Kasper and Alastyr’s cobbled-together hug. In contrast to Kasper, Kroe was very warm, almost like a furnace, and Alastyr sighed, a sliver of relief breaking through his distress. “Is that better? Should I move?”

    “Better,” Alastyr mumbled. 

    “It’s alright by me,” Kasper said, tone teasing, “just remember my heart’s already taken.”
    “I know!” Kroe sputtered indignantly. Kasper chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating through Alastyr’s body, not entirely unpleasant. The two continued bickering back and forth, but Alastyr didn’t hear much more of the conversation. He felt safe, even with Fergus still trying to hurt him, and he managed to fall asleep with Kasper and Kroe keeping him safe. 

Chapter Text

    All-Port was just as wonderful as it had been the last time Gillion had visited, and he was getting so much more attention! He wasn’t wearing a cloak like he had the first time, which probably explained all the people who watched him as he walked through the streets, their eyes wide as they whispered to each other. Gillion did his best to greet each onlooker with a grin and a wave. 

    “Oh!” A shrill voice yelped suddenly, and Gillion stumbled over something strangely gelatinous. He looked down to see a small, maybe two-feet-tall creature made of purple ooze, with a pair of bright, glowing yellow eyes in the center of their face. The creature met Gillion’s eyes and a grin spread across its face like syrup. “Hello! Gillion Tidestrider, yes?”

    “Y-Yes,” Gillion answered, startled that they knew his name. “And you are?”
    “Goobleck!” Goobleck chirped. “Help Chip and Jay when Gillion gone!” That got Gillion’s attention. Neither Chip nor Jay had spoken much of what they had done when Gillion had been trapped in the pearl, but even with what they had said, they had never mentioned anything about a companion.  “And now Gillion back, so Goobleck gone!”

    “You accompanied Chip and Jay?” Gillion asked. Goobleck nodded its head furiously. “Well, thank you. I am glad they had someone to protect them in my absence.”
    “Goobleck protect very good! Jay very sad, but Goobleck try to help make Jay happy.” It grinned. Gillion’s heart twisted. Jay and Chip both had a tendency to bury their emotions—Gillion did too, not that he was willing to admit it to himself or anyone else—but Jay so often played the role of the smart, responsible one that she struggled when under intense pressure, especially if Chip was struggling too. 

    “I am sure you did a wonderful job,” Gillion told them. “What brings you to All-Port?”

    “Goobleck looking for adventure! For new friends,” Goobleck answered. “Want to learn about people not in Carnival!” It shifted its features to give it dramatic pointy ears, then a pair of horns, then a feline tail. “Goobleck seen many new friends!” 

    “All-Port is full of wonders,” Gillion agreed. “Are you certain you will be safe traversing it alone?” The people who were walking past the two of them stared at them, some with fear, some with awe, some with anger. 

    “Yes! Goobleck very strong, very good at fighting.” For emphasis, Goobleck shot out a snakelike arm—was it an arm? Gillion wasn’t sure—and punched the air next to Gillion’s ear, so quick that Gillion heard the wind whistle. “Goobleck very safe. Chip and Jay good fighters too, yes?”

    “Indeed, both of them are quite talented. I do appreciate you helping them, truly. I worried for them often while I was gone.”
    “Goobleck help because Chip and Jay friends!” Goobleck said cheerfully. The grin hadn’t fully left its face, nor had it grown any less excited. It seemed overjoyed that it was even having a conversation to begin with, and the fact that it was with someone it knew was all the better. “And Gillion friend to Chip and Jay, so friend to Goobleck.” 

    “I would be honored to be your friend,” Gillion said, smiling slightly. Goobleck’s grin widened almost to the point of splitting their face in half. “Is there anything else I can do for you? I feel as if I owe you something, for everything you have done for Chip and Jay.” 

    “Hmm…” Goobleck hummed, thinking about Gillion’s question. “Oh! Goobleck knows! Goobleck wants a bit of blood!” They reached out with another tendril and wrapped it around Gillion’s forearm. He felt a sharp pain, like a needle had been stuck into his skin, and the tendril retracted with a small bubble of blue Triton blood. “Thank you Gillion Tidestrider, Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep!” Before Gillion had a chance to say or do anything else, Goobleck was gone, leaving a cloud of dust and small puddle of purple goo in their wake. 

    How did Chip and Jay manage to find such a peculiar creature? 

Chapter Text

As their ship docked at Zero, Ollie’s excitement compounded. He’d been jittery all day, and now, finally getting to see his home up-close, the jittering turning into jumping up and down with joy and anticipation. It looked a little different than he remembered, a bit more battered, but he supposed that made sense, given how it had been the setting of a revolution. A part of him started to feel worried. What if something had happened to his mother?

“Let’s go!” Ollie said to the crew, tamping down his unease and replacing it with exuberance. “Is everyone ready?”
“We’re ready,” Jay said, amused as she slung a pack over her shoulder. Gillion gave a curt nod, and Chip cocked a grin. The rest of the crew was staying on the ship, mostly so they didn’t overwhelm the people of Zero too much, and they needed someone to watch the ship and keep it safe. 

“Then let us proceed!” Gillion pointed down the plank at the docks, and Ollie couldn’t agree more with his dramatic declaration. Ollie led the way, skipping down the plank. No one gasped in recognition of him, but they did point at Gillion, who was hard to forget, being a Triton. “Yes, hello! It is good to see you recovering,” Gillion said to a few gaping townsfolk. 

“Let’s keep moving, Gill,” Chip urged, taking Gillion’s hand to pull him away from the crowd threatening to form around him. Jay rolled her eyes, but the motion was good-natured, not exasperated. The crew really had come a long way from when they had first left Zero—even from when Ollie had first met them. 

“My house is down this way,” Ollie said, hastening his strides. He was finding it difficult not to break into an all-out sprint. He was just so excited! But, he also knew that if he sprinted, he’d be out of breath by the time he made it to his house, so he stuck to a brisk walk. It had been months since he’d been to Zero, but he still remembered every street with perfect clarity, and he found his house effortlessly. 

It looked different. There weren’t any flowers beneath the windows, and the door Ollie had painted with his mother had been replaced with an ordinary one. 

Ollie was suddenly afraid. 

“Everything okay?” Chip came up behind Ollie and put a hand on his shoulder. Ollie didn’t respond, too frozen by his worries to speak, and Chip seemed to realize this. He leaned close and looked Ollie in the eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, Ollie, alright? No matter what happens, you’ve got people in your corner.” He smiled reassuringly. Ollie could only manage an uneasy nod. 

He stepped up to the house—to his house, no matter how different it looked—and knocked on the door, then rocked back on his heels and waited for an agonizing moment. The door creaked open. 

The woman standing in the doorway was not Ollie’s mother. He’d never seen her before.

“Where’s my mom?” Ollie asked, his voice very small. “She used to live here.” The woman’s inquisitive expression crumbled into one of heartbreaking pity and sympathy. 

“Oh, honey…” she said, reaching out towards Ollie, who stepped backwards. Chip stood protectively next to him, not touching, just being present. “Your mother, she… a lot of Zero was damaged in the revolution. A lot of people were… hurt.”
“Is she hurt?” Ollie’s voice broke. “Or is she dead?” The woman looked away uncomfortably, and that was all the answer Ollie needed. His entire world stopped moving. Everything slowed to a crawl, so dramatically that air seemed to roar past Ollie’s ears. His vision was tunneling, his ears were ringing, and his eyes were burning as cries caught in his chest.

“Kid—” Chip’s hand on his shoulder broke Ollie out of that frozen state, and he snapped to the side, shoving Chip roughly out of the way as he took off running. He heard a crash behind him as Chip hit something; Ollie had pushed him with more force than he’d meant to, and he was wearing the giant’s belt. The realization that he might have just injured Chip forced another sob out of his mouth—they were coming quickly now, so quickly that he could hardly breathe.

Ollie wasn’t sure how he’d been running before his knees gave out and he crumpled to the ground, arms wrapped around himself so tightly it hurt. His throat felt like it had been ripped apart by hacking, harsh sobbing, but he couldn’t stop. He just stayed there, in the dirt, on the ground, crying his eyes out. His mom was dead. He was all alone. He was stuck on an island that didn’t feel like home anymore, without his mom.

“Ollie,” said Chip’s voice, slow and gentle. Ollie was filled with anger towards him almost immediately, so forcefully that it startled him. It was Chip’s fault that his mom was dead. He felt Chip’s arms wrap around him, trying to be comforting. The motion only served to make Ollie more upset. He screamed, breaking out of the embrace and scrambling backwards, vision so blurred by tears he couldn’t make out the expression on Chip’s face. 

“Th-This is y-y-your f-fault,” he got out, pointing an accusatory finger in Chip’s face. 

“I know,” Chip said quietly, sounding almost as broken as Ollie did. “I know it is, Ollie, and I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Ollie stood up, fury burning through him. “My mom is dead! All you have is an apology for me? That’s it?” Chip’s expression crumbled from sympathy to guilt immediately, so drastically that it almost looked like he’d used an illusion to do it. “Chip, I’m all—” Ollie’s breath hitched, “I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Gillion stepped up, his voice tight with tears that were shining on his cheeks. “Oliver, listen to me. You don’t have to forgive us. You don’t have to like us. But know that we are here, and that you are not alone.” He swallowed, fins pinning against his head in distress. “Please, do not try to bear this burden alone. Let us help you.” 

“Trust me, Ollie,” Jay said, wiping at her eyes. Everyone was crying now, it seemed. “It’s a good idea to get people in your corner. No one should have to lose someone they care about, but trying to handle it alone only makes it worse. Please, trust me on this one.” Ollie’s legs were shaking as he stood, threatening to give out under him. Grief, anger, and guilt seemed to crush him under their weight. 

He looked at his friends. Jay, lip trembling and eyes red. Gillion, face wet and fins flat. Chip, wearing the most distraught expression Ollie had ever seen him wear, with a scrape across his cheek and arm. 

Ollie collapsed again, and another wave of sobs hit him, this one tearing through him like gusts through a shredded sail, tears falling to the dirt path. 

“I n-need—” he gasped, crying and hacking, “I c-can’t—I c-can’t d-do this al-l-lone—”

“You are many things, Oliver, but alone is not one of them,” Gillion said fiercely, kneeling next to Ollie, not touching, just being present. Chip and Jay followed suit, and Ollie fell towards Chip, burying his face in his shoulder. Chip’s arms came around him slowly and gently, rubbing his back. 

“We’re here,” Jay said softly. “For whatever you need.” 

“We’ve got you, kid,” Chip told him. “We’ve got you.” Ollie just kept crying, unable to form words past the tears in his throat. He clung onto Chip like a drowning man to a tether, and Chip didn’t let go. 

Chapter Text

There was a special type of spine-chilling, heart-racing panic that came with watching your nightmares come to life. Jay’s dreams had never been kind to her, but they had at least been reasonable enough to stay in her head—until now, that is. Jay stood between her father and her friends, torn between choosing a life of freedom or a life of safety. John, the navy-marshall-turned-pirate, stood by Chip and Gillion, Drey’s useless arm slung around his shoulder. Her uncle looked old, far older than his years, but Jay still saw in him the soul of someone determined to do what they believed was right. 

“Come home, Jay,” her father said, looking directly at her. “Come back to your father. Don’t stay with these… with these heathens,” he spat out the word, “any longer. You need to be back with your family.”
“She’s got more family than you, Jayson,” Drey said, voice thick with pain and exhaustion. “She’s got me, and her mother. And her friends.”
“Friends?” Her father repeated incredulously. “Jay, you don’t mean to tell me you’ve actually come to care about these two.” 

“I didn’t say I did,” Jay said stiffly, avoiding looking at Chip or Gillion. “Drey said it.”

“But you do. You do care about them, somehow,” Jay’s father said, his eyes searching Jay’s face for some sort of clue. Jay kept her expression as neutral as she could make it despite the fear building within her, but her father still seemed to find something. His face darkened, and his eyes grew stormy. Jay stepped away subconsciously. “Jay, have you really fallen so far that you care about such filth?”
“Don’t…” Jay’s throat was dry, and she couldn’t form the words she wanted—to reprimand her father, to tell him not to call her friends filth. She was too scared to say anything more than a single word. 

“You know what needs to be done, Jay,” her father said, and Jay felt a chill run across her spine. “All of them are traitors to us and our cause. Your uncle most of all.” He glared fiercely at his brother. “Discipline them.” 

“Dad, I—”

“I’m not asking, Jay,” her father said coldly. “I am telling you to discipline them. And you are going to do as I say.” Her hands trembling, Jay reached for the gun at her hip. Her father was absolutely right; she was going to do as he said, because she feared what would happen if she didn’t. Her father had been a figure looming over her for her whole life. Life didn’t make sense if he wasn’t there, even if Jay had been able to find some shreds of joy in that incomprehensible life. She needed structure, and her father provided it, as much as she hated the fact. 

He would kill her friends if she didn’t listen. Maybe she could shoot and hit arms or legs. She was a good shot—she could do that! She had to do it. 

Jay leveled her gun and aimed for one of Drey’s useless, bruised arms. Gillion was tense, all coiled muscle, and Chip had a hand on his shoulder to keep him back. Jay prayed he stayed where he was. If he pushed Drey, she’d either hit a more vital area, or she’d hit Gillion. 

“Do it, Blue,” Drey said, “I can take it. It’s okay.” 

“You can come home with me, Jay, if you do this,” her father said. A portal opened up behind him. Gillion jerked forward, and Chip had to use both hands to keep him back. 

“No, Gill, don’t,” he said, pulling on his wrist. “Don’t. She has to make this choice.”
“I can’t just—”

“You have to,” Chip said, his face distressed and voice almost as desperate as Gillion’s. He looked at Jay, a silent plea in his eyes. Jay’s hands started to shake, so violently that the motion was visible. The gun’s mechanisms rattled at the movement. 

Jay tightened her finger around the trigger and fired the gun. 

Drey lurched forward, a blast of flame hitting his brother in the face and sending him flying backwards through the portal, which closed behind him with a quiet hissing sound.

The spell’s knockback shoved Drey to the side.

Jay’s bullet entered Drey’s chest just above his heart. 

Drey fell to his knees and then flat on his stomach. 

“Drey!” The word ripped itself from Jay’s throat in a desperate scream, and she ran forward, grabbing her uncle’s body and flipping him over, pressing both her hands to the bullet-wound and putting her entire weight, as meager as it was, into stopping the bleeding. Drey groaned, his head lolling backwards. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to apply pressure to the wound—can you move? Can you breathe?” Jay hardly even processed the words she was saying. All she really processed was her panic, and the warm blood welling up between her fingers. 

“I… I can’t… Jay—” Drey coughed, spraying blood into the air. Most of it fell back down and splattered across his face. 

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out of here, you’re gonna be fine—”

“Don’t lie to me, Blue,” Drey rasped. Beside him, Chip collapsed to his knees so hard there was a crack. He ignored the pain and grabbed Drey’s hand, squeezing it tightly despite knowing Drey couldn’t feel it. Gillion’s hands sparked weakly as he knelt next to Chip, with a meager burst of healing magic that did next to nothing. 

“I don’t have anything left,” Gillion said, tears springing to his eyes. “Jay, I can’t—”

“We both know I’m done, Jay,” Drey said, looking Jay fiercely in the eyes, blue meeting blue. “It’s okay.”
“You’re gonna be fine,” Jay said again, not sure what else to say. 

“You’re not listening to me,” Drey said firmly. “It’s okay, Blue. Really. It’s alright.” His voice was getting weaker, and the blood on Jay’s hands was slowing. 

“I c-can save you,” Jay whispered, beginning to cry. “I’ve g-gotta s-s-save you.” 

“You don’t,” Drey told her softly. He tilted his head to look at Chip and Gillion. “Both of you, you keep her safe, got it? Keep,” he coughed again, “keep her safe.” 

“I will, Drey,” Chip said, a sob escaping his lips. “I will.”
“Good,” Drey said, smiling ruefully. He looked back at Jay. “I love you, little niece. Follow your heart, not his. You’re a great pirate.” And with that, Drey fell terribly silent and horribly still. Jay, quivering, pulled her blood-soaked hands away from Drey’s chest. Chip looked at Jay, a storm of emotions in his eyes. He was furious at her for shooting him, but he also knew it hadn’t been her choice. 

“Guys,” Gillion began, sounding like he was dreading what he was about to say, “we have to move. Jay’s father is going to be back here soon, and we don’t want to be here when he is. John, take Drey.” John nodded and bent down, gingerly picking up Drey’s body, cradling it close to him. Chip grabbed Jay’s hand and pulled her up. Jay hardly reacted, shellshocked by what she had just done. All she did was turn and look at him, and Chip was struck by how young she looked—she looked like a traumatized little girl, not the daughter of a Navy Admiral. 

“Come on,” Chip said quietly. “Let’s go.” 

Chapter Text

The day after her brother left, Edyn’s thoughts were spinning in circles. He was safe. That was good. He was going after the Navy. That was bad. He was happy. That was good. His friends were criminals. That was bad. The girl with the ponytail was smart. That was good. The boy with the brown hair was head-over-heels infatuated with Edyn. That was very, very bad. Needless to say, Edyn had mixed feelings regarding her reunion with Gillion. 

It was late, late enough that the moon was beginning to descend back beneath the horizon, and Edyn hadn’t slept for even a moment. Most of her time had been spent reminiscing, thinking about how cute Gillion had been as a child, and how much she had missed him in the time after his banishment—banished! It hurt her heart to even think about the fate her poor brother had befallen. 

Though, perhaps it wasn’t all bad. The Undersea had not treated Gillion kindly. 

“Caspian?” Edyn held her conch shell up to her ear. She needed him to know, to really understand, how grateful she was for his help. Without him, she never would’ve met Gillion again. She probably would’ve come to believe that he was dead. 

“Edyn?” Caspian’s voice was heavy with sleep; he had probably been woken up by the conch shell. “What is it? Is something wrong?” 

“Thank you,” Edyn said. She felt like she was going to start crying. 

“Edyn, you’ve already thanked me enough—”

“No, I haven’t. I don’t think I ever could. Please, if there’s anything I could do for you, I’ll do it. You let me see my brother again.” Edyn sniffled and stubbornly scrubbed at her nose. “And his friends, even if they’re a bit… peculiar.” She laughed. 

“Yes, I can’t say I expected Chip to react that way,” Caspian said, a smile audible in his voice. “I’m sure he could be convinced to tone it down, if it’s bothering you.”

“No, it’s alright,” Edyn assured him, though she was surprised to find that she didn’t actually mind the terrible attempts at flirting. “It’s almost charming.” Caspian chuckled quietly. 

“Well, I’m sure Chip would be overjoyed to hear that, but perhaps for the sake of his ego we should keep it from him,” he replied, almost teased. 

“Maybe,” she agreed. “Thank you again, Caspian. I just… I wanted you to know.” 

“Of course,” Caspian said quietly. He hung up the call, leaving Edyn staring at the conch shell and thinking. Did she find Chip charming? No, of course not. She found him amusing, but nothing more. Certainly not charming. 

Then why had she said it? 

“Edyn!” Gillion sounded absolutely delighted when he answered Edyn’s call, and the joy in his voice brought a smile to Edyn’s face. “It is good to hear from you again. How are you?” 

“I’m good, guppy,” Edyn said. Gillion sounded as if it had been months since they had spoken, when in reality it had been two days. Edyn couldn’t even blame him; they’d been apart for far too long, and she was just as excited as he was. “Is everything going alright?” 

“Wonderful!” Gillion proclaimed, so loudly that Edyn actually moved the conch away from her ear. “Chip and Jay and I are sailing to an island called Noctis. I’m excited about what we might find there!”

“How are your friends?” Edyn asked, worrying more for Chip than for Jay. Jay could handle herself and her rambunctious crew with no issue; Chip could barely handle himself and his own impulsiveness—plus, he had been badly injured during the mission Edyn had sent him on, and while Edyn wasn’t completely sure what the wound’s side effects could be, she knew they weren’t anything good. 

“Excellent,” Gillion said. “Jay has been tinkering and building some new type of gadget lately, and Chip is teaching Ollie the ropes, literally!” Gillion’s voice lowered to a mutter. “I think I still need to learn those ropes.” Edyn chuckled quietly, both at the mental image of Chip trying to instruct such an excitable little kid, and trying to instruct her equally excitable little brother. She hadn’t met Ollie in person, but she had heard enough stories to imagine how Chip’s attempts were working out.

“Hey, is that Edyn?” Chip’s voice shouted, distorted and barely audible through the conch shell, as if he were yelling from one end of a tunnel to the other. 

“Yes!” Gillion shouted back. “Edyn, would you like to speak with Chip?” His voice was laced with something akin to begrudging politeness, but Edyn was sure it was just reluctance for not wanting to lose any moments with his sister. 

“Sure,” Edyn said, charmed. “Only for a few minutes, guppy, and then I’ll keep talking with you. Don’t worry.” She could almost picture Gillion nodding, ashamed, his fins drooping. Even after so much time, there were still flashes of the little boy she’d known before the Elders. 

“Alright,” Gillion muttered, and moments later there was a much different voice on the other end of the conch shell, talking so smoothly it was artificial.

“Hey, Edyn! How have you been?” The way Chip spoke, it sounded almost as if he had rehearsed exactly what he was going to say—the words were too carefully controlled to be genuine. 

“Fine, Chip, thank you,” she told him. It was impossible not to be at least slightly flattered by how Chip treated her, simply because she could pierce right through how suave he was acting and realize that he was trying to get Edyn to like him. He was an interesting character, not someone Edyn would have chosen as her brother’s friend, but he was also a surprisingly genuine person, once you managed to get past all the facades. “Gillion tells me you’ve been teaching Ollie about sailing.”

“Oh, yeah,” Chip said dismissively. “It’s nothing huge, just something I felt like doing. I could teach you about it sometime, if you’d like.” 

“I would like that,” Edyn said, smiling. She heard Chip make a choked noise on the other end of the conch; he hadn’t expected Edyn to actually agree. There was a brief moment of frantic whispers exchanged between Chip and a slightly higher voice Edyn assumed was Jay before Chip spoke again, back to wearing that suave, smart mask. 

“Next time I—we see you, then.”
“Next time,” Edyn agreed. 

“Alright, I’m back!” Gillion’s voice said, so suddenly Edyn jolted. “I just remembered I have a good story to tell you, about when I first met Caspian. So, Jay was an old lady, and…” Gillion went on, telling a dramatic story complete with sound effects and, no doubt, dramatic gestures Edyn couldn’t see. Edyn listened, happy to hear her brother’s voice, but also looking forward to having Chip teach her, for some reason. He was a strange, almost unnerving boy, but Edyn was intrigued by him. 

“Caspian, I have something to tell you.”

“Go right ahead. What is it?”

“You remember Chip’s flirting?”
“Calling it that gives him too much credit, but yes.”
“I think it worked.”

“Oh, sweet Leviathans, it did?”

“Apparently! Caspian, what do I do?”

“Call him and say so, I suppose.”
“Alright. Sure.” 

Chapter Text

Gillion had a very unusual reaction to seeing a creature of flesh and barbed tentacles emerge from a pitch-black, skeletal forest. Excitement flooded through his veins, and he tightened his grip on his sword, leaping forward at the beast without a moment’s hesitation, despite how Chip and Jay called out for him to stop. Finally, a truly evil beast! Its stench was just shy of nauseating—it was fully, completely, irrevocably despicable, and Gillion would savor tearing it apart. 

Lightning streaked out of the sky, grasping onto Gillion’s blade and then striking into the beast’s dark, leathery hide, filling the air with the smell of burning flesh as the beast screeched a cacophony of dissonant screams that made Gillion’s ears ring. He swung again, cutting into a tentacle, and dark red blood splattered up onto his arms. 

“What is that thing?” Chip’s shrill, panicked voice yelled. 

“Evil!” Gillion replied, delighted. “We must kill it!” 

“I don’t know if we can do that!” Jay shouted, ducking under a swinging tentacle and burying an arrow in the writhing appendage. “My attacks don’t seem to be working very well!” Indeed, the arrow seemed to get stuck only a few inches past the skin, and the creature hardly reacted to the injury. Chip shrieked as a tentacle snapped out towards him, narrowly missing his face. 

“Die, fiend!” Gillion proclaimed, burying his sword once again into the beast’s flesh, pushing it in all the way up to the hilt and then giving it a vicious, savage twist. The creature screamed again, and while Gillion was lost in the triumph of a successful attack, a tentacle came to wrap around his chest, squeezing and lifting him up into the air so suddenly he lost his grip on his sword. He grunted as sharp ridges and barbs dug into his unprotected arms and pressed against his armor, making it difficult to breathe.

“Gill!” An arrow whizzed past Gillion’s head, just barely missing the creature’s hulking form. “Dammit!” 

“Hang on, buddy, we’re coming!” Chip leapt towards the beast, digging his twin swords into its side and using them as climbing spikes, rapidly scaling the strange, fleshy body. He flipped backwards off its hide, landing neatly on two feet atop the tentacle currently attempting to strangle Gillion, then dug his blades into it and swept them side to side, like he was trying to cut through a particularly tough piece of meat. Gillion squirmed in the tentacle’s grip and tried to free himself, to no avail. 

“Close your eyes!” Gillion had only a moment to process the words and obey before he heard a deafening blast—Jay had thrown some sort of explosive, and there was an ear-piercing scream that meant it had hurt the beast significantly. Gillion was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, and for a split second, he couldn’t move from the shock of hitting the dirt and the struggle to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” Jay was leaning over him, pouring a quick burst of healing magic into his body. Gillion nodded, invigorated, and charged once again at the now-significantly-damaged beast, intending to grab his sword, pull it out, and then finish the job in one fell swoop. 

“Get away from that thing!” That was a new voice, breaking with fear, and a pale figure leapt down from a treetop, burying what looked like a blue-green pickaxe in the top of the monster’s body. With a powerful pull, the pickaxe came flying out of the monster, bringing with it strips of bruise-colored flesh and viscous red blood. The creature screamed in pain, but the figure was relentless, carving into their foe until it was nothing but a foul-smelling pile of meat. 

The figure leapt down and stormed towards Gillion, Chip, and Jay. “What were you thinking? You’re lucky you’re still alive!”

“Who are you?” Chip asked, voicing the obvious question. “Some kind of bounty hunter?” The figure shook their head—his head, Gillion now realized. Their rescuer was an overall thin, pale man, with unruly brown hair and smudged, cracked glasses. His clothes were unlike anything Gillion had ever seen: he appeared to be wearing a suit of armor made out of some blue-green metal, the same material his pickaxe was made of, and there were two glass bottles dangling from his hip, as well as a leather bag. 

“My name’s Charlie.” He took a wary step away from the pirates, rather than extending a hand in greeting. His eyes were fixed on Chip in particular—pale, drawn, sweating, sleep-deprived Chip. “Did one bite you?”
“What? No,” Chip said, just fast enough to be defensive. “I’m just tired.”
“You’re travelling with one of them?” Charlie accused Gillion and Jay, the venom in his voice on the word ‘them’ hinting at an untold story. 

“One of what?” Jay asked, eyes beginning to burn with anger. 

“An Infected!” Charlie exclaimed as if she was stupid. He gestured to Chip, the movement jagged and uncontrolled. “Look at him! He hasn’t got much time left, you should—”

“Do not speak of Chip that way,” Gillion interrupted, his voice low. He moved towards Charlie, who took another step back, this one fearful. “He is our friend, and he is not… infected with whatever you say he is. He is injured. We are taking him here, to Grimm, to heal him. He is not sick.” Charlie stared at Gillion, stared him dead in the eyes. Jay put a hand on the grip of her pistol. 

“Do you think Grimm has a cure?” Charlie’s voice was so quiet it was nearly a whisper, and there was a desperate hope hidden behind his eyes. “For the Infection?”

“Why not?” Jay shrugged, despite having no idea what this ‘Infection’ actually was. “He’s a powerful sorcerer. I imagine he has a cure for a lot of things.” Charlie looked at her, his hands flitting from his armor to his pickaxe to a patch on his shirtsleeve, a white square with two spots of red in the corners. 

“Can… Can I come with you?” As soon as the question was asked, Chip scoffed. 

“Are you serious? You accuse me of being some ‘infected’ freak, and now you want us to trust you? In the middle of this place?” He gestured around at the nightmarish forest. Charlie set his jaw and squared his shoulders. Even with the glasses, he was almost intimidating, especially with clotted blood splattered across his chest-plate and on the tip of his weapon. 

“Please,” he said simply. “I need to. For a friend.” 

“You’re travelling in front,” Jay said, poking at him with an arrow. “If something comes out of the forest, it’s getting you first.” Perhaps it was cruel of her to say such a thing, but everyone was tense, and Jay couldn’t ignore just how terrible Chip looked. They had to make a decision quickly and keep going—keeping Charlie away from Chip felt like a step in the right direction. 

“Thank you.” Charlie nodded his head quickly. “Which way?” Jay pointed, her excellent sense of direction coming in handy, and Charlie set off immediately, almost prowling forwards. When the Riptide Pirates started to follow him, the sound of Gillion stepping on a branch and breaking it made Charlie flinch, whipping around with his pickaxe flying to his hand. “Sorry,” he said upon realizing nothing was wrong, his tough facade falling away to a sheepish, bashful expression. “I’m just a little jumpy.” 

“No kidding,” Chip muttered. The group of four started towards Grimm’s village, now being led by a peculiar newcomer. Whatever Charlie’s story was, it was something Chip desperately wanted to know. He had an air about him that reminded Chip of himself, only younger, before he’d met Arlin—it was the air of someone with nothing, because everything he’d once had was ripped away. 

Chip had a feeling he was going to learn a lot about Charlie once they reached Grimm. Hopefully, the learning could happen after his life-threatening curse was destroyed. 

Chapter Text

“Alright, campers!” Jay put her hands on her hips and raised her voice, counting on her tone to win her the attention of the dozen children who had been put under her care. Sure enough, all of their heads snapped towards her, except for one little girl with a shock of cropped blue hair, who was too busy observing a sparrow hopping in the dirt. “Apple, hey, eyes over here.” Once she had made sure to have everyone’s attention, Jay continued speaking. 

“We’re going to go swimming today, so there are a few ground rules I need to set out. Unless you take the swimming test, you can’t go outside of the roped-in area. Anyone can take the test, but you only get one try, and if you fail then you have to stay inside the ropes. There will be campers from other cabins there, and feel free to make friends, but make sure that when we’re done you come back to me, alright? Don’t go running off with the wrong counselor. If you need anything, ask for it. It never hurts just to ask.”

One little girl raised her hand, and Jay knew what she was going to ask before she even said anything. 

“Is my brother going to be there?” 

“Yes, Pretzel, Gillion’s cabin will be there. But remember to try and make some friends, too! Don’t just hang out with Gillion the whole time.” Pretzel nodded, and Jay gave her a smile. She wasn’t sure what Pretzel’s real name was, or how she’d gotten such a unique nickname, but Gillion had never called her anything but Pretzel—nor had anyone else, to Jay’s knowledge. She would have worried that the little girl would suffer teasing for the name, but everyone knew she was Gillion’s sister, and Gillion had a reputation for being both very loyal to those he liked and very confrontational to those he didn’t. Anyone in his circle was essentially untouchable, except for Chip, who got himself into trouble regardless of his connection to Gillion—in fact, Gillion often got roped into the trouble alongside him.

Sometimes Jay felt like her fellow counselors were harder to corral than the campers. 

When they reached the lake—a small, sandy-shored body of water called Canella Lake—Jay made sure all of her campers were where they wanted to be before joining Chip and Gillion at the water’s edge. The three of them were to play lifeguard for the children outside of the ropes, while Caspian played lifeguard for inside the ropes and Lizzie judged the children taking the swimming test. She was just a tad too harsh with how she structured it, but at least it ensured only competent swimmers were allowed in the entire lake. Aslana, a camp counselor new to this year, was hanging out in the center of the lake, treading water and teaching the few children who were already there a few new strokes and tricks to do. 

“So,” Jay began as she sat down in a plastic lawn chair with cobwebs under its arms, “how are your campers? Anyone we need to be worried about?” 

“Br’aad’s cousin is in my cabin,” Chip said with the weariness of a forty-year-old single father. “The kid who calls himself Liveclock? We’ve only been here for two days and he’s already tried to eat a plastic fork, a button, and a pipe cleaner.” 

“Chip, you tried to eat a pipe cleaner when you were a camper here,” Jay deadpanned. She was rewarded with a snort of laughter from Gillion and an affronted look from Chip. 

“Sure, but I didn’t go for plastic too! It was just the pipe cleaner!” 

“I hate to say it, Chip, but that does not make it much better,” Gillion put in, sounding truly remorseful. Chip clasped a hand to his chest and leaned back theatrically. 

“I can’t believe this,” he said, pouring fake despair into his voice. “I’m being attacked by my best friends for eating a pipe cleaner.” 

“Just be thankful Lizzie isn’t here,” Jay said with a grin. “She’d be even worse than we are.” Chip shuddered at the mental image of Lizzie making fun of him for eating a pipe cleaner. It was something she would take a lot of joy in doing, that was for sure. “Gill, anything interesting in your cabin?” 

“There’s a boy from the Undersea District,” Gillion said. Jay and Chip looked at each other, shocked. Riptide Summer Camp was on the opposite side of Mana from the Undersea District, and very rarely did anyone from there turn up at the camp—for a while, it had just been Gillion. “His name is Guppy. He said Alastyr recommended the camp to him.” Gillion pointed out a dark-skinned boy sitting by the edge of the water, building a sand castle with one hand. His other arm was missing from the elbow down. Jay noticed with a smile that Pretzel had sat down next to him and started to help him build. The two were creating a sand-city.

“Well, I’m bored standing here.” Chip stood up, stretching and shaking his hands in an attempt to dispel some of his nervous energy. “Why don’t we hop in? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“With this group, you never want to ask that question,” Jay muttered, but she stood up as well, prompting Gillion to follow suit. She threw her shirt and shorts on the ground, adjusted her solid black bathing suit, and ran towards Lizzie on the dock, feet pounding on the wood. Chip and Gill’s shirts joined Jay’s in the sand, and the two of them dashed after her. “Hey, Lizzie!” Lizzie’s head jerked up, and she only had one moment to shriek before Jay barrelled into her, tackling her off her lawn chair and into the water alongside Jay. 

“You—” Lizzie’s yell was cut off by Chip landing on her and dunking her underwater—luckily, because she would’ve called Jay a name that wasn’t appropriate for children to hear.

“Gillion!” Pretzel chirped, ecstatic at her brother’s sudden appearance. Gillion surfaced, looking around, and his face split into a grin when he saw his sister. 

“Pretzel!” He said, swimming over to her. He was a bit clumsy when walking, but in the water Gillion moved as if he had fins and gills. “How is camp?” Pretzel started telling Gillion everything she’d been doing, and while a lot of it was the rambles of an excitable nine-year-old, Gillion listened intently as if she were telling him invaluable information. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Lizzie said indignantly as she grabbed onto the ladder beside the dock and started climbing out of the lake, preparing to judge a few more kids on the swim test. Jay grinned at her. Chip stuck his tongue out. 

“Oh, lighten up!” Caspian shouted. Lizzie raised a hand, intending to flip him the bird, then looked at the campers, all of whom were watching with eager anticipation. She lowered her hand. 

“Hey, Jay,” Chip said, and Jay turned to look at him. “Duck!” Without any further warning, Chip splashed Jay as vigorously as he could. Jay made a noise of indignation, ducking beneath the water and kicking forward, grabbing Chip’s leg with one hand. He screamed loud enough that she could hear it below the water. “Cheater!” He said as Jay surfaced. 

“You splashed me first,” Jay said primly. “I was retaliating.”
“Yeah, well don’t do it by grabbing me!”
“Make me,” Jay challenged. Chip grinned maniacally and ducked beneath the water. Jay laughed, swimming further away, and the two of them began a riveting game of aquatic tag. Gillion eventually got dragged into the game, leaving Pretzel to play with her newfound friend Apple (funny, two girls with food nicknames), and Jay got to, for a moment, revel in how fun it was to just play a game at a summer camp.

Chapter Text

Peter Sqloint was an unlucky, pathetic man, and so it was no surprise when he woke up one morning with a stuffy nose and mucus clogging his throat. He covered his eyes with one hand as he sat up, using the other hand to feel blindly for his glasses and shove them on his face. With the world now in focus, Peter took in the form of Rumi, curled on their side, still sleeping. As graceful as they were while awake, when asleep they looked like a different person, hair in disarray, not to mention their thunderous snores. Thanatos was sitting against a tree, looking outwards at the hillsides. Peter still hadn’t figured out how he slept, if he even needed sleep. 

“Good morning,” Thanatos greeted, nodding his head in Peter’s direction. 

“Morning,” Peter mumbled, then sneezed violently into his elbow. Thanatos scrutinized him, and Peter did his best not to shrink under the harsh red gaze. 

“Are you ill?” Thanatos asked after a moment’s consideration. 

“Only a little,” Peter said. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll be fine.” He glanced at Rumi, still asleep. There was a chance he would get her sick, but Rumi seemed so above things like sickness that Peter didn’t give the worry much thought. He sniffled again, grimacing at the feeling of so much mucus in his nose, and wiped his sleeve across his face. 

“Very well,” Thanatos said. “Tell me, if you need anything.”
“I will,” Peter said with a smile, lying through his teeth. He didn’t need anything he couldn’t get himself, and even if had, he wouldn’t have asked Thanatos for it. He swallowed the thickness in his throat, wincing at the pain and discomfort of the sensation, and started picking around the campsite for any wood to use for kindling. Maybe it was just one of those colds that always felt worse when you woke up but went away as the day went on—if Peter was lucky, that’s all it was, but he’d already stated that luck was not one of his chief traits. 

It was not, in fact, one of those colds that always felt worse when you woke up but went away as the day went on. By the time they stopped to eat lunch, Peter felt at least five times worse than he had when he’d woken up. He was a little hurt that neither Thanatos nor Rumi had commented on it, but maybe they just hadn’t wanted to pry. Peter hoped that was why.

“Peter,” Rumi began as she poked at the beginnings of a fire, “are you alright? You’ve been very quiet today.” 

“I’m fine,” Peter answered, sneakily wiping his nose on his sleeve. Lizard made a disapproving chirp and looked pointedly at Peter, who ignored the look. Rumi hummed, giving Peter a skeptical look, and continued to tend to their fire. Peter sat down next to it, thankful for the meager warmth and how it soothed his feverish shivering, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them tightly in an attempt to conserve what little body heat he had left. 

The fire grew slowly, and Peter did his best to conceal his shivers and sniffles as it did so. Thanatos provided food—something he’d caught in the forest, though Peter wasn’t actually sure what it was supposed to be—and soon, the smell of roasting meat circled through their camp. Peter was hungry, but the smell only served to make him feel nauseated. He let Rumi and Thanatos pick their shares of lunch first, and stealthily fed part of his own share to Lizard as Thanatos and Rumi made awkward conversation. 

“Is everyone ready to keep moving?” Thanatos asked, standing up. Rumi nodded, rising next to him and brushing the dirt off their elegant clothes. 

“Yeah,” Peter said reluctantly, pushing himself to his feet. His stomach constricted painfully, twisting itself into knots, and Peter felt the sting of bile rising in the back of his throat. He groaned, trying to keep the sound quiet. 

Evidently, he didn’t keep it quiet enough, because Rumi walked over to him, putting their hand on his back, concerned. The uncomfortable heat of the contact and the way it rubbed Peter’s shirt on his back made his skin crawl; he staggered away from the touch.

That turned out to be a very, very bad idea. The lurching movement upset Peter’s already irritated stomach, and he vomited all his lunch, and what meager food he’d eaten for breakfast, onto the dirt right in front of Thanatos.

“Oh, Peter,” Rumi said softly, “why didn’t you tell us you were sick?”
“He informed me,” Thanatos put in unhelpfully as Peter sank to his knees, face burning with shame and mouth burning with acid, “though he said it was not a significant problem.” Rumi sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said miserably, wrapping his arms around himself in a poor imitation of a hug. Lizard whined and nibbled at his ear. “I didn’t want to bother anybody.”
“You’re not a bother, Peter,” Rumi said to him, kneeling down, “not to me, or Thanatos, or anybody else. I wish you would’ve said something, but I’m not upset that you didn’t.” They looked up at Thanatos. “Why don’t we stay here a little longer, to let Peter catch his breath?”
“I’m fine, I can keep going—”

“Well, in that case, I think I’m feeling a bit faint,” Rumi said smugly. “So we’re staying here for a bit anyway.” Peter sniffled and wiped his nose again. His throat hurt. And his stomach. And his head. And his ears. 

Everything hurt, actually. Peter swallowed his tears. Now was not the time to start crying, not when Rumi was already fretting over him. Lizard made another mournful sound, leaning his head into Peter’s cheek. 

“Very well.” Thanatos nodded and sat back down with a loud clanking of armor. “Peter. Try to rest so your strength can rebuild.” 

“Drink this.” Rumi handed Peter some water, and he took it gratefully, washing the rancid taste out of his mouth. He didn’t drink any of it, only swished it and spit it out—he didn’t trust himself to keep it down. Rumi wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “You’ll be just fine, just take it easy, alright?”

“Okay,” Peter whispered. He felt like he was going to start crying again. 

If he did, if tears started to roll down his cheeks and Rumi wiped them away with a tender hand, well, that was between the two of them.

Chapter Text

The camp was dark, with the dying embers of a fire providing only a meager amount of light with which to see by, glimmering on the edges of Velrisa’s armor and Mountain’s sword. Sylnan was awake, his half-elven eyes peering into the darkness to watch for threats, while his friends slept quietly.

Well, mostly quietly. Br’aad had been suffering from an affliction the past few days, something that was affecting his breathing, and Sylnan could hear him struggle to take in air even as he slept. It was like his lungs were thick, full of mucus or something similar, and no matter how hard she tried, Velrisa couldn’t get it to go away. Taxi’s offerings of tea and other soothing drinks hadn’t helped either. Sylnan was beginning to get worried, really, truly worried, because it seemed to be getting worse. Br’aad had been having so much trouble breathing that they’d had to cut their travelling distance in half to accommodate him. 

Sylnan sighed, running a hand through his hair and chewing at his lip. He was nervous about Br’aad—who wouldn’t be?—but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He’d tried praying to Katherine three times over, and the only time she’d even responded was to tell Sylnan she couldn’t do anything, that Br’aad’s ailment was something disconnected from anything she could influence. 

If even a goddess couldn’t save Br’aad, who could? Sylnan just had to hope that Br’aad pulled through on his own. 

A harsh, hacking cough brought Sylnan quickly out of his thoughts and back to the real world, where Br’aad was awake and coughing violently into his hands. Sylnan knelt next to him, putting a hand on his back to support him—he couldn’t do anything about the coughs themselves; all he could do was provide meager comfort. Listening to his baby brother struggle to breathe made his heart twist itself into knots. 

“Come on, Br’aad, breathe,” Sylnan murmured. Br’aad took a shaking, gasping breath, hands clutching at his neck, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Sylnan heard something sticking in the back of his throat, and winced in sympathy. “Breathe, bud, you can do it.” Br’aad nodded, eyes screwed shut in concentration as he struggled to take in air. He gave one harsh cough, spitting something… writhing into his hand, and then fell against Sylnan’s chest, trembling. “Better?”
“Better,” Br’aad whispered. He looked at the thing in his hand. It appeared to be a small black clump, moving back and forth as if alive. It looked to be made of thick paint or ink, and left liquidy trails of darkness on the pale skin of Br’aad’s palm as it slid off, splattered on the ground, and disappeared into cracks in the stone. “Sylnan, what’s happening to me?”
“I don’t know, Br’aad, but we’ll get through it together.” Sylnan put his hand on Br’aad’s hair and gently carded his fingers through it. The motions served to calm the both of them enough for Br’aad to slip back into an uneasy sleep, still leaning on Sylnan’s chest. 

Sylnan took a deep breath, not moving his hand off Br’aad’s head. Every time the coughing came, Sylnan felt like he was closer and closer to losing his brother, and he didn’t know what he would do if that happened. Br’aad had been able to get through losing Sylnan, because Br’aad was far stronger than Sylnan would ever be. Sylnan knew he wouldn’t be able to get through losing Br’aad. 

“What are we gonna do, Jay?” Chip asked, voice low as he looked at Jay, flickering firelight shining in his eyes. “It’s getting worse.”
“I know it is,” Jay said with a sigh, reaching out and brushing a bit of sweat-covered hair off of Gillion’s forehead. He’d been coughing a lot recently, and it had progressed a lot farther than she ever could’ve imagined it would. She knew it was Niklaus’ fault—black ooze seeping out from under gills and between teeth was his calling card. There wasn’t anyone else who could be causing Gillion’s affliction. Before, when similar things had happened to others, the only solution had been death. 

Jay refused to entertain that possibility now. Gillion wouldn’t die. He couldn’t.

Gillion groaned, shifting around, and Jay put her hand on his forehead, attempting to soothe him. Chip murmured a quiet reassurance, but neither one of their efforts did anything. After a moment, Gillion’s chest convulsed, and he started coughing. His eyes were only halfway open; he wasn’t even fully awake. His hands hovered around his mouth as the coughs ripped through him, making black tar stick to his fingers. It started to flow down his neck from his gills, and the coughs became frantic, panicked gasps for air as Gillion realized that one of his ways of breathing was being obstructed. 

“No, buddy, use your lungs,” Chip urged as Jay helped to hold Gillion’s shoulders steady, “remember to use your lungs! Don’t use your gills. Use your lungs, Gill, come on.” Gillion choked, entire body shaking, wet struggles for breath filling the hold of The Albatross. Jay thanked whatever gods were listening that no one else had woken up. 

Neither Chip nor Jay could help Gillion remember to breathe—all they could do was coax him gently, speaking softly and kindly, and pray that Gillion would find his way. It was clear he was panicking, coughing and choking and shaking like he was being tossed in a storm, but his glazed eyes had a stubbornness burning in them. He wasn’t going to give up, not now. 

After what felt like hours but was probably only an agonizing thirty seconds, Gillion inhaled desperately, air rushing through his mouth instead of the gills flaring on the sides of his neck. He coughed again, this one rough and burning, and spat a mouthful of Niklaus’ ink onto the wooden panels. 

“I am sorry,” his voice was raw with pain and tears. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“We were already awake,” Jay said gently, cupping Gillion’s cheek with one hand and using her thumb to wipe tears out of his eyes. When she pulled her hand away, black ooze stuck to her hand. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
“How are you feeling?” Chip asked quietly. Gillion blinked, eyes struggling to focus on Chip’s face. 

“Bad,” he said hoarsely. “Things hurt.”
“Anything we can do?” Jay said. 

“I don’t believe so,” Gillion said with a sigh. “At this rate, the only thing to do is cut off the serpent’s head. One of us has to die.” 

“Well, it won’t be you,” Chip said darkly, eyes burning. “Niklaus is going instead.” Jay neglected to point out that they had no idea where Niklaus was; Chip knew it just as well as she did. Neither one of them were willing to admit it out loud—admitting it would be admitting a weakness, and one that could easily cost Gillion his life. Gillion needed to believe that his friends knew what they were doing, or Jay worried he’d struggle to find reasons to keep fighting against Niklaus’ terrible curse. 

“Go back to sleep, Gill,” Jay murmured, easing Gillion back down, helping him get comfortable. Almost immediately, fatigue appeared to physically overcome him. His entire body sagged, and his eyes slid shut, fins falling limp against the sides of his head. Chip grabbed a dirtied, black-smeared towel from next to Gillion’s bed and used it to clean the ink from his neck and face. 

“We should go to bed too,” he whispered to Jay. “I’ll take the first watch. I’ll wake you up this time, I promise.” 

“You better,” Jay warned. As she laid down and tried to go to sleep, all she could focus on was the wheezing, rasping sounds of Gillion fighting to breathe. She didn’t sleep at all, and Chip never came to get her for second watch. 

Chapter Text

Never in his entire life had Gillion seen anything as fascinating and delightful as Pretzel, his bright pink frogtopus. Granted, his entire life was only eleven years long, but he’d seen a lot in those eleven years from clownfish to tiger sharks, and Pretzel was by far the best thing ever. She’d been a gift from Edyn, and Edyn had clearly known what would make her brother happy, because Gillion was absolutely infatuated with her. 

The Elders had given Gillion the day off from training, citing that he needed his rest, and so Gillion had chosen to spend the entire day outside in the training grounds, playing with Pretzel. He was sitting cross-legged in the sand, watching as Pretzel swam around, drawing pictures with streams of bubbles. She made a heart, then a clam, and then a third shape that Gillion thought was supposed to be a fish, but he wasn’t sure. 

“Here, Pretzel, watch this,” he instructed, using his finger to sketch in the sand. Finn had taught him that drawings were one of the best ways of teaching, and while Gillion didn’t have a particular talent for visual art, he still enjoyed creating it. He drew a round body, four stubby tentacles, and two large round eyes. “It’s you!” Pretzel chirped approvingly at him, swimming over to nuzzle his cheek. Gillion scratched the top of her head, which he’d learned was her favorite spot to be scratched. 

“Chosen One!” The voice of an Elder said, and Gillion whipped around, heart pounding in his chest. Pretzel hid behind his head and growled. “Your lunch is prepared; go and eat and then return to your room. Don’t waste time standing around out here if you’re not going to train.” The Elder’s face was stony and unmoving. Gillion wouldn’t be able to get him to change his mind. 

Gillion sighed, standing up and nodding to the Elder, being sure to keep his head down as he passed the imposing figure. Pretzel made a disappointed noise. 

“That’s alright, Pretzel,” Gillion assured her, “we’ll eat and then we can go somewhere else.” Pretzel nodded, eyes mournful, and perched herself on Gillion’s shoulder as he made his way to the small, quiet room where he ate every meal—the Elders didn’t want him to waste time talking during meals, so they put him in a place without any other people. It had been lonely, until Pretzel had come along. 

He wasted a little bit of time talking, now, because Pretzel was a very good listener. 

The small, round stone table in the room had a plate of fish wrapped up in kelp. Gillion wrinkled his nose in distaste as he sat down. He loved kelp, normally, but the Elders had no idea how to cook it properly, and it always ended up being too stringy to be enjoyable. Plus, they overcooked the fish every time, until it was like eating rocks. Pretzel twisted her tentacles, disgusted by the food. 

“I know,” Gillion said, poking at the fish with a thick-handled fork. “It is… less than ideal. But at least they feed me. I never have to worry about going hungry, as long as I do everything right.” Pretzel made a skeptical, unimpressed sound and sat on the table, watching as Gillion picked at his meal. 

The Elder had told him, rather rudely, that Gillion had to go back to his room after he ate. Gillion’s reasoning was that if he wasn’t spotted out of his room, then it didn’t really matter where he went. There were plenty of places he could go where no one would bother him. The library was one such place, and so as soon as Gillion finished eating, he and Pretzel snuck through the hallways, staying out of sight until they reached the library.

Gillion made a beeline for his favorite section of the expansive space—stories and legends. The Elders didn’t approve of him reading fiction, certainly not when he could be reading encyclopedias and manuals and the like, but Gillion loved the worlds legends created, and, though it was a deep weakness to admit, the stories reminded him of his grandfather, Finn, who had left the Undersea and renounced his own family (at least, that was what the Elders had said). 

“Where is it, where is it… aha!” Gillion pulled a torn book off the shelf. It had covers made from shells and pages of impossibly thin squid skin, with letters so old they were almost unreadable. The cover was engraved with the words Leviathans: Ancient Gods, and the book was full of tales of the Leviathans and their power. Gillion had been taught all about the Leviathans in his studies, as difficult as they had been, but he always preferred to read about things on his own time, at his own pace. These small study sessions were one of the only reasons he could keep up with his tutors at all. 

Gillion opened the book and began reading, Pretzel curled on his shoulder, her cool head nestling into the crook of his neck. Her presence comforted him. When Edyn wasn’t around, which she almost never was, Pretzel served as a way for Gillion to remember her, and remember that even though she struggled to see Gillion in person, she always cared about him. 

After about a half hour of reading, the exhaustion of weeks of training without respite caught up to Gillion, and he found himself on the verge of falling asleep. He put the book back in its spot and yawned, rubbing at his eyes. The Elders didn’t like it when he didn’t sleep in his bed; they didn’t like not knowing where he was, but Gillion was so tired. He didn’t think he had the energy to get back to his room. 

“Pretzel?” He asked, and she looked up at him. “Wake me if one of them is coming, alright?” She chirped, nodding her head, and Gillion smiled at her. “Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the bookshelves and closed his eyes. Pretzel nuzzled his cheek—a gesture Edyn had shown her to do—and sat on Gillion’s knee, watching the aisles for any hints of the Elders while Gillion slept. 

Gillion was the Chosen One, the Hero of the Deep, but even heroes needed protecting, no matter what the Elders said. Pretzel was his protector. 

Chapter Text

Ollie sighed and rested his head on the balcony of Ensa’s house, looking out over the ocean as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be worrying about Gillion; Chip had told him not to worry, but he just couldn’t help it. He was prone to worrying, he always had been, and even with all the confidence he’d gained sailing with Chip, not all of his old self had been remade. 

Besides, in this particular situation, Ollie thought he deserved to worry a little bit. Gillion was cursed, the same nightmare curse Ollie had watched Chip go through earlier, only Gillion’s seemed far worse. Ollie would never forget the visceral, sobbing screams that had echoed through Ensa’s house that morning. There was a very real chance that Gillion died before he even reached… wherever Jay was taking him, and the thought made Ollie’s throat close up. 

“Hey, kid.” Ollie whipped around to see Drey coming onto the balcony, a lazy smile on his face. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Ollie said, looking away. “I’m worried about Gillion.”

“Me too,” Drey admitted, “but Gill wouldn’t want us to worry about him. He’ll pull through, just like he always does. Besides, Jay and Chip won’t let him kick the bucket. They’d rather jump off a cliff than lose him.”

“Jay could jump off a cliff any time she wants,” Ollie pointed out, “she’s got magic wings.”

“She does,” Drey agreed, a note of pride in his voice. “They’re really something.” 

“Do you have magic wings, Mister Drey?”
“Nah.” Drey shook his head. “I used to, before the BLOCK, but you need arms to make ‘em work, and…” he trailed off, glancing down at his arms, bound in their slings against his chest. 

“Maybe Ensa and I could make you some!” Ollie chirped, excited. “Y’know, out of metal and stuff! We could do it before Jay gets back, and then you could surprise her with them!” He grinned up at Drey, eyes shining, worries shoved to the back of his mind at least for the time being. Drey’s smile turned more genuine.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he said. “But you should get some sleep first. I’ll talk to Ensa about it tonight, and you can get to work tomorrow.”
“Okay!” Ollie scrambled to his bed, eager to fall asleep so he could wake up and get to work. “Goodnight, Mister Drey!”

“G’night, kid,” Drey said, nodding as he left the room. As soon as he closed the door, he leaned against it and sighed with relief. The crew had been talking all day of ways to distract Ollie from what was going on, and Drey had been elected to take the first stab at it. It seemed like he’d succeeded, and this wing-invention project would probably take nearly a week to complete, so Ollie would be busy for a while. 

It wouldn’t distract Drey in the slightest, though. It was times like these he wished he had a cigarette and a hand that could hold one. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Ensa said, looking over her blueprints with a critical eye, “you think I made the feathers too short?” 

“Yeah,” Ollie said, pointing. “Jay’s were longer, and Drey’s taller and heavier than she is, so his need to be even longer! And maybe a little wider too.” Ensa squinted down at the drawings, chewing on her lip, and then reached down to make an alteration to the blueprint. 

“I think you’re right,” she conceded. “How’s that look?”
“Better!” Ollie said gleefully. “Now we just need lots of metal, and we can get to work! I’ll get Griffin to come with! He knows lots about metal.” Ollie grinned, almost manically, as he ran off to find Griffin and drag him into this insane plan. Ensa smiled as she watched him run away. She hardly knew the crew, but it was obvious that everyone cared for Ollie a lot, even the gruff and seemingly stone-hearted Griffin. 

She was worried about what would happen if Chip and his friends didn’t come back. 

“Three hundred gold? Too much. Sell it for one-fifty.” There was a hard glint in Griffin’s eye as he stared down the shopkeeper. Ollie watched the exchange with rapt attention. He’d never seen anyone haggle so well before! The fact that Griffin was nearly twice the size of the shopkeeper was certainly helping. 

“Sir, I—”

“Listen. We need that metal,” Griffin interrupted. He gestured at Ollie. “It’s for the kid. Are you really gonna make me pay that much to get something for a kid?” The shopkeeper looked at Ollie, who, seeing the expectant look Griffin gave him, did his best to look innocent and hopeful. He heard Griffin snort under his breath. The shopkeeper paused, then sighed heavily. 

“I’ll sell it for two-twenty-five. No less,” they said, rubbing their face. 

“Deal.” Griffin slammed a bag of coins down on the table and crossed his arms, waiting for the shopkeeper to go and get the sheets of metal—it was a beautiful copper color, picked out by Ollie, with veins of gold running through it. Griffin’s keen eye had noticed the unusual strength and flexibility of the material, as well as its unreasonably high price. 

“Thanks, Griffin,” Ollie said, grinning up at Griffin.

“No problem,” Griffin said tersely. He had to admit, it was impossible not to have a soft spot for Ollie, even if the rest of the Riptide crew drove him insane. When the captains had left, Griffin had nearly abandoned the crew; he was sick and tired of being left behind, but he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of leaving Ollie, so he’d stuck around. 

Seeing the way Ollie smiled at him now, he thought it had been worth it. 

“Alright, the first test of the ‘Ferin Feathers 3000’ is happening! Let’s see if this works.” Ensa bent forward to strap the wings to Drey’s back, tightening leather bands around his chest. “Drey, sorry about this, but you’ve gotta bite down on this to make ‘em move.” She held up a metal-and-leather mouthpiece. Drey raised an eyebrow. “It was the kid’s idea. I wanted to put the mechanisms in your boots, but he said that was too far away.”

“Well, no time like the present,” Drey said. He opened his mouth, and Ensa shoved the mouthpiece between his teeth. As soon as he put even the slightest amount of pressure on it, the metal wings unfurled behind him, clanking and scraping together. The sudden increase of weight and wingspan nearly made Drey lose his balance, but thankfully, he’d had a lot of practice with keeping himself from falling over, and he managed to stay upright. He looked at Ollie, who was watching with anxious anticipation, then bit down on the mouthpiece. 

The wings gave a mighty flap, and Drey was shocked to feel his feet leave the ground—so shocked, in fact, that the mouthpiece fell onto the ground. Just as quickly as they’d unfurled, the wings retracted, and Drey fell the meager three feet he’d flown. This time he couldn’t keep his balance; he stumbled and fell backwards, grunting. 

“Mister Drey!” Ollie rushed over to him, helping him sit up. It was easy to forget the kid had a Giant’s belt of strength, but he picked up Drey and righted him like it was nothing. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, kid,” Drey said. “Maybe we put something in the boots instead of in my mouth, though.”
“That’s what Ensa said,” Ollie told him, “but I wanted to try something different.” His face fell. “I’m sorry it didn’t work.”
“It’s alright,” Drey assured him. “We can just try again! Jay isn’t back yet, so we’ve got time.” In fact, it had been six days since Jay had left with Chip and the half-conscious Gillion. The tension among the crew was growing thicker every hour, though no one had actually brought up the elephant in the room yet—at least, not with Ollie or his mother within earshot. 

“Griffin?” Ollie asked, turning to the large man, who had watched Drey’s maiden flight with the clockwork wings. “Could you help me make some boots?”
“Sure,” Griffin said with a shrug. 

“I’ll do the wiring,” Ensa volunteered. “That okay with you?”

“That’s a great idea!” Ollie said. It was funny, how this group had decided to let a twelve-year-old lead them in the absence of their captains. Then again, Ollie had been in the crew longer than any of them had, and had known the captains the longest (besides maybe Drey, but his memories of before the BLOCK were fuzzy at best, even the ones of Jay and Ava). 

Then again, watching Ollie talk to Griffin and Ensa about his plans for the “Ferin Feathers 3001”, Drey noticed that he certainly spoke like a captain—like Chip, specifically. Both of them had the same excited, scatterbrained way of speaking. 

Gods above, Drey hoped they all came back safely. 

Chapter Text

When she woke up with smoke in her nose and fire heating her skin, Jay assumed at first she was having a nightmare. It happened a lot, fire-based nightmares, and as terrible as this was, it wouldn’t be the worst nightmare she’d ever had. She sat up, looking around, seeing the burning walls of Ensa’s house all around her, red and orange flames covering everything and a sheet of black smoke gathering in the rafters. It stung Jay’s lungs terribly. 

This wasn’t a nightmare. She could never actually smell smoke in her nightmares. This was very real. 

Jay ran out of bed, cupping her hands around her mouth and screaming for her friends. “Chip! Gillion! Ollie, Drey, can anyone hear me! Ensa!” 

“Jay!” A deep voice boomed back, and Gillion came leaping through a wall of flame, his skin burned and sweat pouring down his face. He looked almost like he was steaming, and all of his magic was going towards summoning water and dumping it on the flames. It did next to nothing, but next to nothing was better than absolutely nothing. “You have to get out of here!”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Chip has gotten everyone out but you, Ensa, and Finn! I am getting Finn and Ensa! You have to go!”

“I’ll get Ensa!” Jay retorted. Gillion looked at her, eyes wild and unbelieving. 

“Jay, you could be hurt!”
“Gill, you’re already hurt! Let me do this!” There was no time to be arguing, not with the house burning around them, and Gillion clearly knew it. He looked at Jay, internal conflict clear on his face, then wrapped her in a tight, brief hug. 

“Be careful,” he murmured into her hair, and then he was gone, diving over a blazing fallen beam and running off in search of his grandfather. Jay coughed harshly into her elbow, smoke already beginning to scrape at her lungs. She didn’t know where Ensa would be, but her laboratory was a good guess—inventors never slept, Jay knew that well. She covered her face with her arms and ran through a flickering wall of flames, the fire licking at her clothes but failing to find purchase. Jay was reminded, uncomfortably, of her father and her sun-based nightmare of a few weeks prior. 

“Ensa!” Jay shouted. “Ensa, can you hear me!” 

“Help!” A voice screamed back, raw before devolving into a fit of coughs that were lost under the crackling of the fire. Jay ran towards the voice, finding Ensa sitting not in her laboratory, but in a secluded corner, a piece of flaming rafter pinning her legs to the ground. Jay cursed her minimal strength as she grabbed at the wood, screaming at the pain of burning that raced through her hands, and, by some miracle, hefted the wood off Ensa. “Thank you—” Ensa tried to say, but she coughed more firmly into her hands, gasping for air. 

“Don’t talk,” Jay commanded, picking up Ensa and running not towards the door, which she saw was blocked by embers and debris, but towards a shattered window. There were scraps of black fabric on the glass that suggested Gillion had jumped through it. 

The only problem, Jay realized frantically as he lungs started to truly struggle, was that she couldn’t jump through a window while holding Ensa. 

“Jay, Jay, give her here!” Jay had never been so happy to hear Chip’s voice as she was in that moment. He appeared in the window, reaching, and Jay rushed to hand Ensa over to him. He took her, wincing sympathetically at the blood and burns that stained her trousers, then backed up to give Jay adequate room to jump. Jay took a deep breath that turned into a wheeze, wiped her hand across her forehead, and leapt through the window. She felt glass scrape into her shoulder and forearm as she tried to protect her face, but the next thing she felt was blessedly cool grass and dirt on her burned, agonized hands. 

“Holy—Jay, get away from there!” Ollie’s shrill voice yelled, and hands suddenly grabbed her, pulling her further away from the window. She watched in shock as the house shuddered and began to crumble inwards. 

“Where’s Gillion?” She asked Ollie and Chip desperately. 

“I’ve got him,” Griffin announced gruffly, carrying an unconscious Finn Tidestrider under one arm and supporting a barely-conscious Gillion Tidestrider with the other. Gillion smiled weakly at Jay and Chip, and when Griffin deposited him roughly next to Jay, he reached out and healed her hands and the glass scratches immediately. 

“You need to heal, too, Gill—”

“Not yet,” Gillion interrupted Chip, stubbornness sparking in his eyes, and reached out towards Ensa. He concentrated, and the wounds on her legs closed. Gillion’s eyes lost a bit of their bright blue coloring and became duller; he was exhausted and without magic. He fell backwards on the grass, taking rasping breaths, and now it was Jay’s turn to repay the favor and heal him. She didn’t have much in the way of healing magic, but she had enough so that Gillion didn’t look a moment away from dying anymore. 

“What happened?” Ensa asked hoarsely. 

“We’re not sure,” Chip answered. “None of the crew has any idea, they all just woke up to the house on fire. We thought it was the crime gang, at first, but Griffin’s pretty sure he took care of them.”

“I did take care of them,” Griffin said darkly. Jay was suddenly very thankful Griffin was a part of her crew and not her enemy. 

“I think I know who it was,” Drey said, scowling. Jay looked to him, asking a silent question, and he jerked his head behind her. Dread pooling in her stomach, Jay turned and looked. 

Her father was standing there, arms crossed, a disapproving expression on his face. His eyes burned with arcane flame. 

“Dad?” Jay said, dumbstruck. “You did this?” 

“I warned you, Jay,” her father said. “I warned you what would happen if you continued to associate with this… scum.” His eyes came to rest on Chip and Gillion, who moved to stand protectively on either side of Jay, who stood as well and drew herself up to her full height. She could hear how Chip’s breaths were hoarse, made rough by smoke, and how Gillion’s gills flared futilely on the sides of his neck. Neither of them were going to make it out if they started this fight. None of the crew would. Jay couldn’t imagine a world without them. “Once, I may have given you a second chance. Now, you have already thrown away that chance. Come with me now. You will go to the BLOCK prison, and I will leave your friends alone. Refuse, and all of you will die.” He stared at Jay intensely. “All of you.” 

“Not a chance,” Chip sneered. 

“We will never let you take her from us,” Gillion agreed. He drew his sword, and that motion alone seemed to take herculean effort. “Never.” Jay swallowed a lump that had begun forming in her throat. 

“Brother, you’ve gotta stop.” Drey took a step forward, pleading. “You’ve gotta let her make her own choices. She’s not your pawn to move around to wherever you want her to be. If this is the life she’s chosen, you gotta respect that.”
“Respect?” Jayson gave a short bark of a laugh. “You’re speaking to me of respect? You, the brother who ran away to go become a criminal? Drey, I have nothing but disgust for you and your vile friends.” He narrowed his eyes at Jay. “You could do so much better than a life with these miscreants.”
“Could I?” Jay challenged, angry on behalf of her friends. “Here, I have people I trust and people who trust me. I have people I love,” she took Chip and Gillion’s hands and squeezed them, “and people who love me. What you want me to be isn’t who I am, Dad. I’m not Navy. I never will be. But just because I’m a pirate doesn’t make me a bad person! We’ve helped more people than you ever have. In the first few weeks we spent together, we saved this island from oppression. Gillion sacrificed his freedom to save a town we hardly knew. Chip was willing to sacrifice his life to save people he hardly knew. Both of them fought against you, Dad, when you tried to force me to do something I didn’t want to do. They’ve done more for me than you ever have. I would do anything for them, Dad. Anything. Even if it means I have to tell you no.”
“I am your father,” Jayson said between gritted teeth. “You don’t get to tell me no.”
“That’s not how being a father works,” Chip put in, glaring. “Fathers are supposed to support their kids, above all else. Even if they don’t end up how you wanted them to be. You’re supposed to be there for her.”
“I cannot support a criminal and the bastards she calls friends.” Jayson stared at Jay, his eyes piercing into the very depths of her soul. “Ava would be disappointed in you.” Jay opened her mouth to respond, but the words died in her throat. 

Regardless, Gillion beat her to it. 

“You are wrong,” he said, nearly growling. “Sisters love their siblings too much to be disappointed in them. Jay is doing what she believes in, and she’s doing it brilliantly. What could possibly be disappointing about destiny fulfilled? If Ava were here,” Gillion turned to Jay, now speaking to her instead of Jayson, “I fully believe she would cheer for you.” Jay felt like she was going to cry. Her lip trembled, and it took an immense amount of effort to keep from breaking down right then and there. 

“Jayson, please,” Drey said quietly, words nearly lost beneath the now-dying flames. “Just leave it alone. You’ve gotta let her spread her wings.” Jayson looked between Drey, Chip, and Gillion, searching their faces for any hint of weakness. None of them provided him with a single opening, and finally, his expression came to rest on Jay. Her instincts were screaming at her to look away, to apologize, to swear that she could do better, but Chip and Gillion held her hands tightly and silently urged her to keep her head held high.

That was exactly what she did. Jay took a deep breath and looked her father dead in the eyes, unwavering. For one moment that could have lasted hours, the two of them stood, locked on one another, neither one of them budging. 

And then Jayson sighed. 

“If I ever see you again,” he said venomously, “I will kill you.” He spun on his heel and leapt, flames bursting out from around him, and flew into the sky so fast he looked almost like a star. 

As soon as he was gone, Jay’s knees gave out. Her entire body was shaking, and the lump in her throat she’d tried so hard to repress was back in full force. Gillion and Chip knelt next to her, and Chip wordlessly opened his arms. Jay fell into him, sobbing, and she felt Gillion’s cool touch on her head as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, words choked by tears, burying her face in Chip’s shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Chip said easily, as if what he had just done had been second nature and not something that had completely changed Jay’s life for the better. 

“It was the simplest choice I have ever made,” Gillion told her, and that only served to make Jay cry harder. Gillion, who dealt with his internal struggles between right and wrong so often, was certain that helping Jay had been a good decision, one that he could be proud of. 

“I love you guys,” Jay said, and even that didn’t begin to cover the depths of what she was actually feeling. “More than anything in the entire world.” There was so much more she could have said, but Chip and Gillion seemed to understand her meaning—they always did. They knew her better than anyone ever had, even Ava. 

Jay knew for certain now that she wasn’t having a nightmare. She dreamed of facing her father often, but he always won. Chip and Gillion abandoned her, and Jay was always forced to rejoin her ‘real’ family in the Navy. 

That hadn’t happened. It couldn’t be a dream—it was far too good to be something she had simply made up. 

“You did good, Blue,” Drey said proudly. “Well done. You’ve picked some good people.” No, she hadn’t picked good people. It hadn’t been a choice. Jay had miraculously managed to find the best, most wonderfully kind people that could possibly exist, and they’d decided that out of everyone in the world, they wanted to be with her, the messed up daughter of one of the most feared people on the seas. It had been their choice to join her. 

She was luckier than she knew how to put into words. 

With the ruins of Ensa’s house behind her and the people she cared about at her sides, Jay cried. She cried for Ava, for a life she’d run away from, for the life she could now never return to, but now it was a life she didn’t ever want to return to. Her place was here, with the people she loved and the people she would do anything for. 

She’d finally found her place. And sure, it was among pirates, but Jay couldn’t care less. Pirates or not, this was her family. This was where she belonged. 

Chapter Text

Never had Chip felt so conflicted over a decision than he did right now, sailing across the Black Sea with his crew. On one hand, he was relieved beyond words that they’d decided to come with him, and excited to find Arlin. On the other hand, though, he was terrified that he was leading himself, and more importantly, his crew, into a death trap. And maybe he wouldn’t even find Arlin.

No, he would. That wasn’t a road Chip could let himself go down. For now, he was in the Black Sea, with his crew, and no one was hurt or dying. It was Chip’s job to make sure it stayed that way. 

Chip sighed, looking out once again over the eerily still, midnight waters. The air had no breeze, and yet it felt frigid, but also stifling in the way only humid air could be. Everything about the Black Sea felt wrong. He was immensely thankful for the tough hull of their ship and the oars that had been stored below deck—Chip, Gillion, Griffin, and Queen were operating them while Jay stood at the front and gave occasional directions. Chip was also thankful for her navigational skills. 

As they rowed in dead silence, Chip tried to breathe through his mouth. The air smelled musty and stale and nearly rancid, like food that had been left to rot and then decomposed to next-to-nothing. It smelled like old, forgotten death. Chip really hoped he and his crew weren’t about to join those ranks. 

“Chip!” Jay yelled from the bow. “I see something, like a body!” Chip glanced at Griffin, who stared back passively, and then he got up from his oar and jogged over to Jay. Hopefully the ship would keep moving in his absence; Chip did not want to be stationary in such a vile place. Jay handed Chip her spyglass and directed him where to look. “Over there, do you see it?”

Chip squinted and peered through the spyglass, and sure enough, there was something floating in the water. It was vaguely humanoid and covered in thick black ooze that bubbled around it in the water like oil, and as the body slowly turned over, Chip caught a glimpse of faded blue-on-gray. 

Immediately, Chip thought of Arlin’s gray skin and blue wave tattoos. He nearly dropped the spyglass out of sheer shock, fumbling it and shoving it back into Jay’s hands. 

“It could be Arlin,” he said, frantic. “We have to get it! Gill!” Gillion raised his head and tilted it to the side curiously. “Get over here!” Gillion left his oar, and now Chip felt The Albatross slowly come to a stop. It was a problem to be dealt with later. “Can you get that body onto our ship with your magic?” Gillion leaned over the railing, trying to gauge the distance, then nodded and held out a hand. Glowing blue magic, strikingly bright against the grayscale of the Black Sea, curled and ran down his forearm, swirling around his fingers. The body lit up with similar watery swirls, like a little blue beacon, and then there was a whooshing sound so quiet it would’ve been inaudible if not for the perfect silence of the Black Sea. 

The body appeared on the deck. Chip rushed to it immediately, using his hands to pull and push at the black ink. It reacted almost like molten metal, heavier than it looked and burning as he pushed it, but he managed to shove it to the deck, where it sat in a foul pile. 

Chip found himself looking at the unconscious body of Arlin James. His vision tunneled so violently he lost his balance, and he felt himself falling to his knees, hands clutching at Arlin’s shoulders and face. Arlin wasn’t moving, and the contact from Chip didn’t make him wake up. Chip couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, because he himself was gasping for breath. 

Gillion knelt down next to Arlin, and though he’d never met him, he clearly grasped the significance of the moment. He said nothing, only put a hand on Arlin’s chest, closed his eyes in concentration, and cast a healing spell so powerful it made even Chip feel a bit reinvigorated. 

Slowly, agonizingly, Arlin’s eyes cracked open. He made direct eye contact with Chip, and Chip suddenly felt like he was falling, pitching into an endless abyss with no hope of escaping. 

“Arlin?” He said hoarsely, already on the verge of tears. 

“Who…” Arlin’s voice was raw and gravelly, as if he hadn’t spoken in years, and as he looked at Chip, there was no recognition on his face. “Who are you?” 

“I’m… do you not remember me?” Chip trailed off, unable to believe what he was hearing. Arlin didn’t know him? It couldn’t be true. 

“This is Chip,” Jay said, stepping forward, putting her hand on Chip’s shoulder, taking charge when Chip was too shocked to do anything. “You remember Chip, don’t you?”
“Chip?” Arlin repeated, speaking slowly and deliberately, like he was trying to remember how to speak. He looked away from Jay and then back to Chip, studying his face. “Chip,” he said, and then his face broke out into a wide, warm smile. “Chip! My boy.” He opened his arms, and Chip fell into the embrace without another word. 

“Arlin—” immediately, it was difficult to speak. There were tears already pouring down Chip’s face, and a lump in his throat so big it was like trying to swallow a mountain. “Oh Gods, Arlin, you’re alive—”
“I’m alive,” Arlin confirmed, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. Chip sobbed into his shoulder, feeling like the boy he’d been on the Black Rose. He hadn’t felt like that boy in years. Chip turned his head, making eye contact with Gillion and Jay, both of whom were looking proudly at him, smiles on their faces. 

Thank you, he mouthed at them, and they nodded. 

Chip buried his face in Arlin’s shoulder, his entire body warm with relief and gratitude and nostalgia. He’d finally found his family—his first family, and now he had both. The family that had raised him, introduced him to the life he now loved, and the family that had cared for him, kept him safe on his quest. 

He had both, and despite the dangers of the Black Sea, Chip felt safe, loved, and happy. 

Chapter Text

In theory, Chip could understand why people would live in the Undersea. It was pretty, it was unique, you didn’t have to worry about getting sunburned or shot or mauled by bears—which was perhaps an irrational fear when one was a pirate, but it was possible! However, actually being underwater, Chip couldn’t believe anyone would ever choose to live at the bottom of the freezing, salty ocean. Granted, he was a human. He wasn’t built to be underwater for more than a minute. 

Thanks to a potion made from Gillion’s coral crown, though, Chip could be underwater for upwards of an hour, though he’d already realized he would rather be breathing air than seawater. He wasn’t even sure of the mechanics of the potion, how Gillion’s crown had given him the ability to breathe as if he had gills, but he had a feeling he didn’t really want to know how it worked. Knowing that it worked was enough. 

Jay appeared to share a similar stance, looking both amazed and uncomfortable, occasionally reaching out to touch the waterlogged wood of the shipwreck they were walking within. Gillion kept sniffling as if he were trying not to cry. From what Chip knew of his life in the Undersea, it hadn’t sounded fun, but he missed it fiercely regardless. Chip supposed that homesickness would be even stronger when the Undersea was so different from the Surface, so he couldn’t fault Gillion. 

Chip was at the back of the group, and even with how Tastrius would occasionally look back to check on him, it was easy to get distracted and fall behind the rest of the group—not on purpose, of course, but he couldn’t help it! There were just too many interesting things to look at, as unsettling as some of them were. Chip did not like the feeling of making intense, long-lasting eye contact with a fish, but it had happened multiple times now. 

Currently, though, what caught Chip’s eye wasn’t a fish, at least, not technically. It was a jellyfish, floating innocently amongst the flotsam of the wreck, its soft, purple-white bell and tentacles reminiscent of that sugar-spun candy Chip so desperately wanted to try. 

Now, Chip wasn’t stupid. He knew jellyfish could sting you. Gillion had likened it to a powerful static shock, painful and paralyzing. It hadn’t sounded pleasant when he’d described it, but the jellyfish Chip was looking at was tiny, with a bell hardly bigger than his fist. In Chip’s experience, smaller creatures made for smaller wounds. The sting would hardly hurt, surely, and he was very curious what touching a jellyfish would feel like. 

Glancing ahead once to make sure Tastrius wasn’t looking at him, Chip reached out and poked the jellyfish’s bell. He jerked his hand away as quickly as he could, but the sudden movement caused a current just powerful enough to lift one of the jellyfish’s tentacles up to where it brushed lightly against his wrist. 

Pain darted up Chip’s arm, stinging and hot, and he tried to clench his fist, to open his mouth to scream, maybe even to cry, but he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t breathe, either. 

The realization hit him quickly, and he started panicking. Chip used every ounce of his strength to try and force his lungs to expand, but nothing happened. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t cry out for help, either. Out of the corner of Chip’s eye, Tastrius went around a bend and became hidden behind a set of planks. 

He was going to drown, alone and in the darkness of the bottom of the ocean. Chip’s mind went to Arlin and Finn, who he’d never be able to rescue. It went to Drey, who he’d only just managed to get back. The sea had stolen his family from him, and now it was coming to steal him away, too. 

Chip’s vision was starting to turn black around the edges. His nostrils flared, trying to take in even a single breath, but it was nearly impossible. 

Until…. until it wasn’t. Slowly but surely, Chip regained use of his limbs, and, more importantly, his lungs. The black in his vision receded, and he gasped, tears springing to his eyes at the pain that still lingered in his forearm. He took a step back, chest heaving, and held up a weak but heartfelt middle finger to the unassuming—perhaps even unaware—jellyfish. 

“Chip!” Gillion’s voice said, and he came swimming back around the corner with more grace than he’d ever had on land. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Chip answered, relieved that his voice cooperated. “Just looking at some of the wildlife, that’s all.” He glared at the jellyfish. 

“Be careful, Chip,” Gillion said gravely, grabbing Chip’s hand and pulling him away from the jellyfish. “Those are particularly dangerous, with particularly potent stings. Take extra care to not get stung.”
“You got it,” Chip said dryly. It was a little late for that, but Gillion didn’t need to know. Chip glanced down at his arm and grimaced at the ugly pink rash that was developing across his skin. He hid his arm behind his back. 

“I found him!” Gillion proclaimed as he rejoined Tastrius and Jay. “He was observing a jellyfish.”

“Be careful, those things hurt,” Jay said. Chip rolled his eyes, and she smirked at him. He got the sense that she knew he’d already failed to heed her or Gillion’s advice. Chip took a deep breath and pushed all thoughts of the Black Sea from his mind. He was alive, if a bit banged up, and that was what mattered. 

Chapter Text

By way of a unanimous vote, the Riptide Pirates had decided that for a day, they weren’t going to do anything but relax. They were sailing to All-Port to go to the Black Sea, and they knew that the Sea wouldn’t provide opportunities to decompress. It had been decided that they needed time to calm down before the Sea, and today was that day. The only one reluctant to take a day off had been Gillion, as per usual, but it hadn’t taken much for Chip and Jay to convince him that he needed the break as much as they did. 

And gods above, did they need a break. Since the Feywild, which Chip thought had been at least a month ago, they’d been running at full-speed, no time to stop. Gillion’s disappearance and subsequent freeing, the journey to All-Port and the RAFT attack, Gillion being afflicted with the same nightmare curse Chip had suffered under, saying goodbye to Ollie, racing to save Gillion’s life, seeing Jay’s mother, and then (unfortunately) seeing Jay’s father. There hadn’t been a moment to breathe in weeks. 

Chip intended to make the most of his day of relaxation. He was lying on his back on the upper deck, a blanket beneath him and his eyes closed, face tilted up towards the warm sun. Jay had decided to do the same thing, while Gillion had fashioned a sort of miniature pool out of ice on the main deck and filled it with seawater before leaping in, drenching poor Griffin, who had then decided to retreat below deck and work on upgrades for his mechanical arm. Pretzel had been given free reign of the pool, and she was delighting in blowing bubbles and twirling around. Gillion, of course, praised her loudly for it. Drey and Finn were sitting beneath the shade of The Albatross’ central sail, sharing a quiet, mostly one-sided conversation. Earl was in the process of making juice with Queen’s help, though their help consisted of providing music to go along with what Earl was doing, rather than actually providing assistance. Earl had yet to voice any complaints about it. 

“This is nice,” Chip said to Jay, stating the obvious. “We really should do this more often.”
“Believe me, I’ve been thinking that for months,” Jay replied. She sat up, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Gill! Have room for two more?”

“Of course!” Gillion shouted back, grinning widely. 

“Jay,” Chip said warningly as she turned to him with a mischievous expression, “Jay, don’t you dare—Jay!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him upright, running towards Gillion’s maybe-probably-definitely freezing pool, paying no mind to Chip’s protesting shrieks. Chip knew he could break out of her grip if he really, really wanted to; he was stronger than she was, but it was their fun day to goof around and do what they wanted, and if Jay wanted him to get in the pool, then he would get in the pool. 

Nevertheless, he played the part of the terrified co-captain perfectly. Jay shoved him forwards as they reached the pool, and Chip made a show of stumbling forward, then tipping face first into the water—which, as he’d suspected, was freezing cold, though it wasn’t particularly deep, only going up to just above his hips. Chip stood up, sputtering, teeth already beginning to chatter. 

“Welcome!” Gillion exclaimed. Pretzel, sitting with just her eyes poking above the water, waved at Chip with a curled pink tentacle. Jay stripped her boots and jacket off before stepping into the pool. Chip realized he hadn’t taken his shoes off and proceeded to do so, grumbling. They were going to take forever to dry, and then they’d have salt crystals all over them. It was going to be a big mess. Maybe he could make Jay help him clean them. 

“Gill, this is freezing,” Jay said, her eyes wide as she realized just how cold the water was. Gillion just blinked at her, uncomprehending. Of course the water wouldn’t be cold to him, he was from the bottom of the ocean! “Hang on, will the ice melt?”
“Not for another,” Gillion paused to think, “thirty-six minutes.”

“Perfect.” Jay smiled, then looked at Chip innocently. “Do you think you could conjure us up some heat? Make the water warmer?” 

“I don’t know if it works that way, but I could try,” Chip said with a shrug. “I am not going to make a bonfire on the deck, though.” He’d already learned his lesson with that one. His shirt had smelled like smoke for days afterwards. 

Concentrating, Chip tried to force his flaming magic into his hands. His palms began to glow red, like metal in a furnace, and he plunged his hands into the water. Almost immediately, warmth radiated outwards, making the surface of the pool steam. Pretzel was the first to feel the change as she swam around Chip’s wrists, and she made a content purring sound. Chip grinned as he felt the water heat up. It was exciting to discover new ways to use his magic. 

“Much better,” Jay said, sitting in the water so it went to her chin. “Thank you.”
“I do not think it was particularly cold before,” Gillion said, “but this is more comfortable, I agree. Pretzel, what do you think?” Pretzel responded by nudging Chip’s arm with the top of her head. “That is quite the compliment,” Gillion told Chip gravely. 

“Well, I’m flattered,” Chip said to Pretzel, chuckling slightly. Being complimented by a frogtopus was a new experience. As he lowered himself down into the water, Chip felt the warmth ease his sore muscles, scraps, and bruises. The life of a pirate was far from painless, even with Chip’s talent for evading attacks. Gillion and Jay seemed similarly at ease, with Jay leaning her head back against the ice wall of the pool and Gillion having moved so that his entire head was underwater, eyes closed, gills opening and closing on the sides of his neck. 

Chip sighed, closing his eyes again. He hadn’t realized how badly he and the other pirates had needed this break until it had been given to him, but now, he wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

In thirty-six (probably thirty-four, by now) minutes, the ice pool would melt. Chip was determined to enjoy it as much as possible until that happened. 

“Pretzel,” he whispered, and the frogtopus in question perked up, crawling onto Chip’s forearm. She tilted her head and made a trilling sound. “I have an idea.” He leaned in and quietly informed Pretzel of his plan. Her beady dark eyes sparkled with glee as she dipped back into the water, inhaling as much of it as she could hold. Chip picked her up and held her over Jay’s face. 

Pretzel proceeded to spit a stream of seawater at her. 

Jay’s eyes shot open immediately and she straightened, wiping water out of her eyes and glaring at Chip. 

“Payback,” Chip teased, “for dumping me in here.”
“Oh, you’re on,” Jay said, and Chip suddenly remembered that Jay had a fierce competitive streak. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. She splashed Chip with both hands, completely drenching his face. Gillion, confused, sat up and lifted his face out of the water. 

“A splash war?” He asked, eyes glinting in almost the exact same way as Pretzel’s had mere moments before. Gillion raised a hand, and a ball of seawater flew out from the ocean and towards his hand, forming into an ice shovel as it reached him. “This is much more effective for such a battle,” he said, voice low and conspiratory. 

“Alliance?” Chip asked immediately, looking sideways at Jay. 

“Alliance,” Jay replied. 

The fabled ‘Riptide Pirate Splash War’ got made into a song, courtesy of Queen, mere hours later, after the entire upper and main decks (and some of the lower decks) had been completely soaked in seawater. Chip and Jay put up a valiant fight, but when Finn joined the battle on the side of his grandson, they knew they had lost. 

Neither one of them could bring themselves to care, not when they saw how much fun Gillion was having using his magic for something playful, rather than something violent. They’d all needed the break more than they’d realized. 

Chapter Text

Being on an airship was, in Br’aad’s opinion, one of the coolest things ever. Granted, he hadn’t grown up with access to very many “cool things”, but airships were definitely his number one. He wished he could travel on it forever. The feeling of wind blowing on his face, the lack of rancid city smells, the brightness of the sun, the beautiful, soft clouds, all of it was incredible. 

With Mountain downstairs claiming seasickness—airsickness?—and Velrisa joining him, Br’aad was free to do whatever he wanted above deck. Sylnan normally would’ve chided him for going so close to the railings, but Sylnan… wasn’t himself, putting it simply, and Taxi didn’t feel it was his place to tell Br’aad what to do.

And so, a grin on his face, Br’aad was having fun climbing on the railing, putting one foot in front of the other, arms splayed out to his sides like a tightrope walker in a circus. He’d seen such a performer once, in the Wharf, a thin human woman stepping on a string between two buildings, and he’d been enamored with the act. Now, he got to do it himself! Granted, the stakes were a little higher, seeing as if he fell he was going down thousands of stories instead of three, but he was being careful, and the wind was gentle. 

“Br’aad,” Taxi began, moving closer to the railing, tail flicking back and forth, “are you sure that’s safe?” Even if he wouldn’t outright tell Br’aad to climb down, it was clear he was worried nonetheless. 

“It’s fine!” Br’aad assured him, though he kept his eyes firmly ahead, not willing to risk turning to look at Taxi and losing his balance. “Trust me, Taxi, I’m very good at this.”

“If you fall, you’ll die,” Taxi reminded him. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea. At least… I know!” He perked up. “You could do it on the horizontal part of the mast!” He pointed up, at the beam of wood from which the sail was hanging. “Then, at least, if you fall you’ll land on the deck. That’s a better idea, right?” His ears flattened against his head with anxiousness. 

Br’aad spared a moment to glance at where Taxi was pointing. It did make more sense, he had to admit, even if it didn’t have quite as much of a thrill. 

Br’aad was many things, including a little foolish, but he wasn’t outright stupid. 

“Alright,” he conceded, crouching on the railing and grabbing it, slowly climbing over and back onto the deck.

His foot slipped. Abruptly, Br’aad felt himself tumbling backwards, hands scrambling for something to grab onto and finding nothing but smooth wood that tore at his fingernails as he tried desperately to keep himself from falling. He couldn’t stop it. This was it, he was going to die, disappear beneath the cottony clouds below him and smash to pieces on the ground—

Taxi grabbed him by the forearm, claws digging into his skin and pulling at him. Br’aad screamed as his fall suddenly stopped, then reached up and grasped onto Taxi’s arm. Taxi was straining to pull him up, and Br’aad did everything he could to make the job easier, pushing against the side of the airship with his feet and using one hand to grab the railing once it got within reach. 

Slowly, agonizingly, Taxi heaved Br’aad up over the railing. Br’aad collapsed immediately, all the joy of the day gone and replaced with pure, unadulterated panic. Tears were already building in his eyes, and they spilled over when he felt Taxi’s arms wrap around him, fur soft and comforting. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I hurt your arm.”
“It’s ok-kay—” Br’aad said through sobs, burying his face in Taxi’s chest. “I’m so sor-ry, I didn’t m-mean to fall—”
“I know you didn’t,” Taxi told him. “You’re okay, now, it’s okay.” Br’aad sniffled, pulling away and wiping his face. His arm hurt both from being nearly pulled out of his socket and front Taxi’s claws drawing scarlet lines down it, and he winced at the sight of the injury. “Here, let’s go below deck and get that wrapped up.” Taxi stood and offered a hand to Br’aad, who took it and used it to stand. He looked up at the crow’s nest, where Sylnan was currently hiding out. His brother apparently hadn’t noticed his near death experience, because he didn’t say a single word, or even look over the side of the crow’s nest. Br’aad would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt a little, that Sylnan seemed to care so little about him now. Whatever curse was afflicting him, Br’aad was going to find a way to stop it. 

Carefully, Taxi making sure Br’aad was keeping pace with him, the two of them went below deck, walking past Mountain and Velrisa’s rooms. The muffled sounds of swearing came from Mountain’s, and murmured prayers from Velrisa’s. Taxi and Br’aad went to Taxi’s room, and he opened a chest sitting against the wall, removing a roll of cottony white bandages. 

“Here,” Taxi whispered, “hold out your arm.” Br’aad did so obediently, almost in shock from what had just happened to him, and Taxi gingerly wrapped the scratches, more carefully than even Velrisa did. Br’aad just watched, focusing on taking deep breaths and calming himself down. “Is that better?” Taxi looked at Br’aad expectantly. His hands shook as he finished the wrapping. 

“Better,” Br’aad echoed, pulling his arm to his chest. “I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

“I believe you,” Taxi said with just the slightest hint of a laugh. Without warning, he caught Br’aad in a tight hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I don’t want to lose you, Br’aad. Neither does Sylnan, or Velrisa, or Mountain.”
“I know,” Br’aad said. He swallowed and blinked back tears. “Taxi, I have a question.”
“Yeah?” 

“Can… can we make a cake? I think I need to do something away from the railing.” Br’aad wrung his hands, refusing to look Taxi directly in the eyes. It felt like such a ridiculous thing to ask for, making a cake on an airship after nearly dying, but now that he’d asked he couldn’t take it back. 

Taxi smiled at him. “Of course we can make a cake. In fact, I’d love to make a cake with you.” Br’aad mirrored his expression, some of his characteristic mirth returning to his eyes. “What flavor were you thinking?” 

Chapter Text

The first thing Aster realized when she opened her eyes was that regardless of whether or not they were actually open, she couldn’t see anything. Wherever she was, because she wasn’t entirely sure, it was completely and utterly pitch-black. It was like she’d been eaten by some sort of darkness monster and was living in its stomach. The air was cold and smelled slightly musty, like moth-eaten fabric, and as she took a cautious step forward she heard tile click under her shoes. 

Concentrating, Aster cupped her hands in front of her face and conjured a glow beneath her skin, like a candle when covered by someone’s hand. The glow brightened to a bright white, and then seemed to crawl out of her hands, forming a small ball of light in her palms. She held it up, letting the light illuminate her surroundings, revealing faded wallpaper and the interior of an old, uninhabited kitchen. 

Aster let out a small, terrified squeak. This was terrifying!

“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” A lanky figure stepped out from the shadow of the refrigerator, waving their hand. The darkness dissipated, seeming to bleed into the figure’s feet, and Aster saw she was standing in front of a young man, probably a few years older than her, with tanned skin and cherry-blossom-pink hair. Where Aster wore light colors and swishing fabrics, the newcomer wore tight black leathers and heavy boots. “I forgot not everyone enjoys the darkness as much as me.” He smiled crookedly. There was sweat beading on his forehead; maybe he didn’t enjoy the darkness much at all. 

“Who’re you?” Aster asked, afraid. 

“The name’s Harlem Shade,” Harlem stuck out a hand, and Aster uncertainly shook it. “Do you have any idea where we are?” 

“No,” Aster answered. “Do you?”
“Not a clue,” Harlem said. He looked around at the house. “It’s almost like we’re in some sort of haunted house.” Aster shivered. 

“We should try to find other people,” she said. “Maybe Connor or Ryan can help us.” Seeing the quizzical look Harlem gave her, she elaborated, “they’re my friends. I was with them before I ended up here.” 

“Alright,” Harlem said. “Then how do you suppose we get out of here?” 

“There’s a door there!” Aster pointed at it, a white-painted door where half the paint was beginning to peel off. Harlem tried the doorknob and found that it was, unfortunately, locked. “Well, maybe we can find a key,” Aster guessed, trying to stay positive. She was a little—well, a lot—freaked out by their creepy environment and the fact that she didn’t know where her friends were. Harlem nodded in agreement and began rummaging through drawers in search of a key. Aster followed suit, but before they found anything, a blur of blonde hair and red fabric smashed through the door. 

“Aster!” Ryan said, scrambling to his feet, wood chips falling off his shoulders. A blonde man in a flowing white coat looked through the broken door, confused, but his eyes brightened when he saw Harlem.
“Ryan!” Aster threw herself at Ryan and hugged him tightly. “Are you alright? What were you thinking?”

“I’m fine,” Ryan assured her. “Who’s this?” He pointed to Harlem, but the other blonde man answered for him. 

“Harlem!” He reached for a hug, but Harlem reflexively stepped away. The man’s face fell, and he stuck out his hand for an awkward handshake. “I’m Jason,” he said to Aster as Harlem shook his hand. “We work together.” He looked at Harlem. “Have you seen Miss G?”
“No,” Harlem answered, “and she’s got one more friend she’s looking for too.” He jabbed a thumb at Aster. “Jason, was there anything interesting in your room?”
“Room?” Jason looked confused. “We had access to almost the entire house, except for what I’m guessing was the way out.” 

“Oh, well you should have led with that!” Harlem said in mock exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. “Maybe I can get us out of… wherever this is.” He left the kitchen in a flurry of studded leather, and Jason was quick to follow him, leaving Aster and Ryan standing in the kitchen, uncertain of what to do. 

“Have… you looked through everything?” Ryan asked awkwardly. 

“No, but I don’t feel like there’s anything else to find,” Aster said. “It’s just a kitchen.”
“I dunno, maybe there’s some snacks. I’m pretty hungry.” Ryan glanced at Aster to gauge her reaction, which was an amused chuckle and permissive motion. Ryan immediately started rooting through cupboards and drawers with a sort of reckless abandon. Aster watched, giggling to herself. Of course Ryan’s chief concern would be with food. 

Aster busied herself double-checking every cupboard for anything interesting, listening to the sounds of Harlem and Jason examining the rest of the house. Where were they? She couldn’t quite remember what had landed her in this strange house, and she’d certainly never seen Jason and Harlem before, and they’d never seen her or Ryan. Maybe they were from different cities, maybe even worlds, but that still didn’t explain how they’d come to be here, wherever that was. 

Maybe it was one of those things that was better left unknown. As long as she found Connor and the three of them got out safely, Aster didn’t particularly care what had happened to land them here. She’d had her fill of crazy magic and unexplained occurrences. 

Just as that thought entered her mind, Aster discovered that what she thought she’d “had her fill of” was irrelevant, because the kitchen ceiling suddenly turned into ash. Two figures fell from the second floor, landing in a heap on the tile floor. 

“Oh goodness, are you alright?” A woman with curly red hair stood up, not even bothering to brush the ashes off her peculiar suit of starshine-sparkled armor and instead reaching out a hand to the brown-haired boy in a familiar yellow shirt who was lying on his back, eyes screwed shut in pain. 

“I’m fine,” Connor groaned, taking the woman’s hand and standing up, covered in ash. He was grimacing, but the grimace turned into a delighted grin upon seeing Aster. “Hey!” He cheered, running forward and going to hug her, then freezing uncertainly. 

“Hi Connor,” Aster said, smiling just as brightly, giving him a tight hug. “I’m Aster,” she introduced herself to the woman, who waved at her. 

“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Dana Gilbert, but you can just call me Miss G. You haven’t seen a pink-haired man and a guy in a cool white coat anywhere, have you?”
“They’re in there,” Aster said, pointing to the other room. 

“Thank you!” Miss G dashed away, leaving Aster, Ryan, and Connor standing in an awkward circle in the middle of the ash-covered kitchen. 

“Did you… kill the ceiling?” Ryan asked after a moment, directing the question at Connor, whose embarrassed wince and refusal to make eye contact answered it without needing words. “Nice, man.” Ryan offered him a fist bump, which Connor accepted half-heartedly. 

“What happened to us?” He said. 

“We have no idea,” Aster said regretfully. She’d really been hoping Connor would know where they were, because he did tend to have the most weird, fantastical knowledge. “There’s no myth you know about a magic house people get randomly dropped into?”

“Not really, no,” Connor said. “Maybe… maybe it’s like some sort of cosmic escape room, y’know?” When Aster and Ryan only blinked at him, not following where he was going, he elaborated. “Maybe some creature put us in here, and the only way to get back to our world is to find out how to get out of the house. Like an escape room, but we’re escaping an alternate dimension.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Aster said while Ryan said simultaneously, “that makes total sense, man!” They looked at each other, and Aster thought for a moment. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing she’d ever heard of, and not much stranger than a theater kid with a magical ability to control rats. 

“Sure, it’s an alternate dimension,” she conceded. “We still don’t know how to get out.” 

“Aster!” Harlem’s voice yelled, and she turned to see him and Jason running back down the stairs. Jason was holding a golden key on a chain. “Miss G!” Harlem didn’t seem like the type of guy to smile, but his lips tilted upwards when he saw Miss Gilbert, and Jason outright grinned. “We found the key,” Harlem said, pointing at Jason, who dangled said key from its chain triumphantly. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Aster said, Ryan and Connor nodding emphatically behind her. 

“This was… weird,” Jason said as he worked at the latch, struggling to fit the key into the keyhole and turn it. It seemed like a normal lock, but Aster had struggled to open normal keyholes before. “It was nice meeting you guys, though. If I ever see you again, Ryan, we’ll have to play floatball together.” Ryan grinned and crossed his arms.

“Be safe!” Miss Gilbert chirped at them as Jason swung the door open, revealing a glowing portal of golden and white light. She stepped through it without a second thought despite Harlem’s noise of protest, and he and Jason quickly followed behind. 

“Together?” Aster asked, holding out her hands. 

“Together,” Connor and Ryan answered, taking them. The three of them leapt into the door, leaving behind the strange house. 

Aster woke up in a sweat on her bed, in her house, the moon silver and glowing outside. She sat up, opened her phone, and immediately texted Ryan and Connor. 

Aster💚: guys? 

connor: did you have that weird dream too?

RYan: Yea

Aster💚: That was… weird. 

connor: understatement

RYan: Do you think it was real

Aster💚: I don’t know

connor: me neither, but I hope so

connor: miss G was nice :) 

Aster💚: Yeah, Harlem was pretty cool too

RYan: I kinda wish I played floatball w Jason 

connor: well maybe we’ll have that dream again?

Aster💚: That would be awesome :D!

Aster💚: See you guys at school tomorrow :) goodnight!

connor: gn!

RYan: Night!

Chapter Text

Campfires at Aster’s house had become tradition for the trio, even though they had dorms to live in on campus. There was just something about sitting around the crackling flames on a cool night, talking about nothing in particular and cracking jokes that weren’t particularly funny. Tonight was one of those perfectly cool nights where the fire was pleasantly warm, but the air wasn’t so cold that being away from it was miserable. Aster, Ryan, and Connor were sitting in chairs around the fire, Aster wrapped in both the blanket she’d grabbed for herself and the one meant for Connor, who was sitting a little too close to the fire for fabric to be safe. 

Connor was telling a story, something about folklore, hands moving to illustrate his points as he spoke with an almost animated quality to his tone. He always got so excited when he was telling stories, and even if Ryan wasn’t fully following everything he was saying, it was nice to listen to him. 

Where Ryan was confused, Aster was enraptured, leaning forward with her hair dangerously close to the fire, listening intently. She always seemed so genuine in everything she did—telling stories, listening to them, even just interacting with her friends in general. Who she was around them was a true reflection of who she was all the time. 

Ryan couldn’t say the same about himself, and the knowledge of it sat cold and uncomfortable on his shoulders. He hadn’t realized until Connor and Aster had brought it up, but he had a habit of putting on masks when he was around different people—his teachers, the J-Crew, the theater kids, and even his friends. He felt like he was playing a part no matter where he went or who he hung out with, and he wasn’t sure who he really was, if there even was someone beneath the acting. If he wasn’t a floatball player, Ryan could’ve made it as an actor, for sure. The thought was funny in a twisted way. 

Connor finished his story with a dramatic flourish, and Aster gasped, eyes wide. Ryan startled back to reality and scrambled to react how Connor would want him to.

“Woah, dude…” he said, mind racing to remember how he acted around these particular people. Use big words? No, that was for teachers. Make a sports reference? No, that was for the J-Crew. “That was crazy.” He settled for something neutral, hoping it was how he was meant to react. Judging by the amused chuckle Connor gave him in response, he’d picked the right identity. The relief that hit him was embarrassingly powerful. 

“What about you, Ryan?” Aster asked, shifting in her seat and tilting her head. “Got any good stories since the last time we did this? You went out of town for a floatball game, right? How did that go?”
“Good,” Ryan answered, looking everywhere except at Aster’s face. “We lost, but it’s fine, ‘cause Johnny and I totally wailed on one of their players, this skinny lookin’ guy—” Ryan cut himself off as he saw how Connor and Aster’s expressions were changing. Aster was trying to seem engaged, but it was clear she didn’t like what he was saying, and Connor was outright grimacing. “Sorry,” Ryan muttered as he looked down at his feet. 

“Ryan, I asked—”
“I know you did, alright?” Ryan snapped at Connor. “I know you asked me not to, and I’m sorry I messed up.”
“I wasn’t—”
“It’s hard, okay?” Now that the words were leaving his mouth, it was difficult to get them to stop, even though he didn’t like what he was revealing. “I can’t keep track of who I’m supposed to be when, so of course I’m going to mess up, alright? It’s hard!” To his horror, there were tears brewing in the back of his throat; he shut up and crossed his arms, glaring at nothing in particular with the futile hope that it would stop him from breaking down completely. 

“Ryan…” Aster nervously wrung her hands, “is this about what you said before? About how you didn’t know who you were?” 

“So what if it is?” Ryan mumbled, kicking at the dirt. “It’s hard to keep track of how I’m supposed to act when.” 

“You shouldn’t have to be someone different just for us, man,” Connor said, “or for the J-Crew, or your… sports guys, but maybe that’s just the J-Crew again.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. Listen,” he rushed back into rambling, “the point is, you should be able to be yourself wherever you are.”
“I don’t know who I am, Connor,” Ryan got out through clenched teeth. It was a humiliating thing to admit. “I don’t know which version of me is the real one.”
“Which one do you like the most?” Aster asked. 

“What?” Ryan looked up at her. 

“Which one do you like the most?” Aster repeated. “Which ‘version of you’ makes you feel the happiest, the most content?” Ryan paused for a moment, staring at Aster in shock. Stupidly, he’d never considered that before. He hadn’t felt like it mattered which mask fit best—what mattered was if other people thought it fit. But, now that he did think about it, there was one persona that was always easier to slip into and more comfortable to wear, and that was who he was around Aster and Connor. 

“I like who I am around you guys,” Ryan murmured. “At least, more than I like the other… the other ones.”

“Then be that guy, Ryan,” Connor said encouragingly, smiling. “If this is who feels the best, try to be him more often.” He held up a hand as Ryan opened his mouth to argue. “I’m not saying you have to do it all the time, at least not at first. Just try to be this version of you more than the other ones. It’s not gonna come easy, but we’ll be right here with you.”
“Exactly.” Aster nodded. She opened her arms, blankets thrown to the ground haphazardly. “Group hug?” 

“Group hug,” Ryan and Connor agreed, Ryan with a trepidation that stood out starkly against Connor’s eager anticipation. Aster tightly embraced the two of them, and Ryan felt both her and Connor’s arms around him. He swallowed his tears and buried his head in Aster’s shoulder, her dark hair tickling his nose. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” Aster interrupted. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Ryan.” The hug ended a moment later, and Aster then grinned widely. “Who wants to make s’mores?” 

Chapter Text

While Thanatos didn’t mind extended periods of travel, he could tell that the same could not be said for Peter and Rumi. His metallic joints needed occasional upkeep, but he didn’t tire at the same rate as “normal people” did, not that he’d consider Peter or Rumi to be “normal”. They’d been travelling non-stop since the defeat of the Blight of Faith, and had been venturing through thick forests for nearly a week. The journey was taking a visible toll on Peter, and Thanatos suspected it was taking an invisible one on Rumi, who would rather die than admit something was wrong. 

So, on the morning of the sixth day, Thanatos took matters into his own hands. He woke up before Peter and Rumi, as he always did, since he really didn’t require sleep. Sunlight had only just begun to stream through the trees when Thanatos regained consciousness, and he took a few experimental steps forward, reintroducing himself to the feeling of walking—it always seemed slightly more difficult just after waking up, as if his joints didn’t quite remember how to bend and move. 

Rumi was asleep lying on their back, one hand up by their head and the other resting on their stomach, looking for all intents and purposes like a model posing for a painting. Peter, on the other hand, was lying on his side, face smashed into his pillow and sleeping bag bunched in such a way around him that he looked almost like a caterpillar. 

When the two woke up, whenever that happened, they would need to eat. Normally Thanatos killed whatever he could find in the forest and then cooked it over a fire, but Peter had expressed discomfort before at eating animals, and Rumi had mentioned that something as charred as what Thanatos made tended to taste “not… ideal”, as she’d put it. 

He could do something else. The thought hit Thanatos rather suddenly, and it surprised him in its intensity. He hadn’t expected to care for either Peter or Rumi when he’d first met them, but he’d noticed more and more that he was coming to like both of them, and he wanted them both to like him. With Peter, it was easy. Thanatos had always looked down on weakness in people, but everything Peter perceived as a weakness in himself Thanatos saw as a strength. His sensitivity meant he could mediate arguments between Thanatos and Rumi, and even his weakness in letting Exandroth control him meant that slaying the gods was considerably easier, even if Peter and Rumi both disliked the archangel. 

Thanatos struggled, though, with his feelings towards Rumi. Had they met under any other circumstances, Thanatos was certain he would have killed them. But, Peter had been there, and he had stood between Thanatos and Rumi with a plea for peace, and both of them had listened to him. Rumi’s motivation behind killing the gods differed from Thanatos’, that much was obvious, but they were valuable in a fight. Thanatos didn’t want them to die, at least not yet. They weren’t a god, and if Thanatos could help it, they’d never become one. 

Peter sniffled and rolled over in his sleep, reminding Thanatos that he had a mission to complete before his two companions awoke. If he wasn’t going to hunt, then he had to forage for something. Unfortunately, Thanatos did not know much of anything about what plants were and weren’t edible. Fortunately, he did know that edible plants grew underground. 

Without further ado, Thanatos chose a random cluster of plants growing at the base of a nearby tree and stomped over to them, bending down and sticking a metal hand into the earth up to his wrist. He scooped the plants out by the roots and examined his findings. He was rewarded with a few small white bulbs that, if he brushed the dirt off them, looked perfectly edible.

Thanatos spent the next fifteen minutes digging up every nearby piece of vegetation, no matter how big or small it was. He collected a formidable pile of various bulbs and roots, anything from twisted black strings to bulbous tubers. He was in the middle of putting his findings on a flat rock to serve as a plate when Peter sneezed so hard he woke himself up. 

“Thanatos?” He said, wiping at his nose and reaching for his glasses. He still squinted even after he put them on. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing breakfast,” Thanatos answered without looking, too focused on properly arranging a cluster of small, round brown bulbs in a pile so that none of them rolled off the rock. “You said you did not like to eat animals, correct?” 

“Yeah, but—”

“I have prepared a meal made entirely from the fruits of the earth,” Thanatos interrupted, now turning around and revealing his spoils to Peter, who looked at them, blinked, blinked again, and then looked at Thanatos. 

“Thank you,” he said, slightly uneasily but mostly sincere. 

“You are welcome,” Thanatos replied smoothly. “We are a group, and I believe groups are supposed to try and help one another.”
“Yeah,” Peter agreed, moving forward and picking up what Thanatos thought was a small onion. He brushed a bit of dirt off it and glanced at Thanatos, who waited expectantly. Peter gulped, then ate the onion in one bite. He fought to keep his face neutral, and offered Thanatos a weak smile. “Great.”

“I do not know how to prepare food, it seems,” Thanatos told him. 

“No, that’s alright,” Peter said. “Lizard can help me cook them. Thanks for gathering them, though!” In response, Lizard crawled down Peter’s forearm, opening its mouth. A beam of white, celestial fire shot from its throat, cooking some of the tubers Thanatos had dug up. 

“What’s going on?” Rumi, who had awoken without Peter or Thanatos realizing, walked over to the two of them, crouching down next to Peter and looking quizzically at the rock and its vegetarian wares. 

“Thanatos found breakfast for us,” Peter said. Rumi looked at Thanatos in surprise. 

“You did?” He asked, eyebrows raising. Thanatos nodded curtly. “Well, thank you, Thanatos. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I… feel it was deserved,” Thanatos answered after a moment, slightly uncomfortable. Emotions were not something he was used to. “Since you have often been the ones to heal me in battle, I believe it necessary to repay the favor.”
“Consider your debt repaid,” Rumi said, taking a cooked root from Peter and eating it. Thanatos couldn’t accurately gauge what they thought of it on account of how good they were at schooling their features, but he hoped they liked it. 

“There wasn’t a debt in the first place,” Peter added, eating two more onions. They didn’t seem like they tasted much better than they had before, but at least Lizard’s fire had made them easier to chew. “We’re a team. It’s our job to keep you alive, so that you can help keep us alive.” 

“Exactly,” Rumi said. “You’re the brawn of the operation, I’m the brains, and Peter is the heart.” Peter’s face turned red as he grabbed another miscellaneous vegetable from the rock. “Thank you again, Thanatos, for doing this.”
“Of course,” Thanatos said gravely. “Apologies if it is not as good as it could be.”
“Just because it isn’t perfect doesn’t mean it isn’t valuable,” Peter replied cheerily, with a pointed glance towards Rumi that went unnoticed. 

They spent the morning in the forest, finishing the last of Thanatos’ admittedly less-than-great breakfast without complaint. Peter and Rumi still seemed tired when they set off, but they didn’t seem quite as discouraged. Thanatos took it as a win.

Chapter Text

As a co-captain of the Riptide Pirates, Chip made it his business to know how his crew was doing, and do what he could to help if there was anything that needed help. When Earl wanted someone to try a new juice concoction he’d worked up, Chip was the first one to drink it. When Gryffon needed some help with his arm… well, Jay typically took priority there, but Chip was willing to help regardless. 

Now, Chip’s captain responsibilities were being directed towards Queen in particular. They were nearly six hours into sailing on the Black Sea. Chip would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about what could happen to them—hell, Jay had nearly drowned in the Sea, and would’ve if not for Gillion’s quick thinking and sheer luck. Chip was beginning to think he may have made a mistake in letting his crew come with him, but all of them had been vehement in their desire to join him, co-captains included. 

While he wanted to check back on Jay and Gillion, to ensure they were doing alright (Gillion in particular looked vaguely ill, probably because of the amount of corrupted magic that permeated the air), Chip’s current focus was Queen, the newest addition to the Riptide Pirates and also perhaps its most mysterious addition. Chip knew next to nothing about Queen, which could mostly be attributed to the fact that Queen knew next to nothing about themselves. Chip didn’t have memory problems, though he supposed he wouldn’t realize it even if he did, so he couldn’t personally relate to Queen’s struggles, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to help. 

Chip had ventured below-deck to make sure none of The Albatross’ hull had been damaged, and instead of broken wood, what he’d been met with was broken words and the broken sound of Queen’s voice. They were facing away from the stairs, arms wrapped around themselves, and they clearly hadn’t heard Chip as he descended to the hold. Their shoulders shook just slightly, as if they were crying, and Chip caught the occasional fragment of a half-sentence. 

“Hey,” Chip said softly, trying not to startle her. It didn’t work completely, because Queen jumped at the sound of his voice, spinning around and frantically rubbing at her face. It smeared her makeup in black and red streaks across her cheeks. “What’s going on?” He sat down in front of her, mimicking her pose with his legs crossed. 

“I… it’s nothing, lalala ,” Queen answered, not making eye contact. 

“It’s clearly not ‘nothing’,” Chip pressed. “Look, I’m not gonna make you talk to me, but if you want to talk to someone, I’m right here. No one else is around, no one else will hear you, and I won’t say anything to anybody unless you want me to.” He waited patiently for Queen to think. She chewed on her lip, glancing at Chip’s face for a split second before looking away again. 

“I… I do not know why I am here, lalala ,” they said. “I can hardly, la , help in a fight, and I—” their voice hitched, and they struggled to speak their next words, “I don’t, lala, even remember who, la , who I am.” There were tears welling in Queen’s eyes as they finished speaking. 

“You’re here because… well, I guess you’re here because of me,” Chip said awkwardly, realizing it was true. “We wouldn’t be in this Sea if it wasn’t for me. But you’re on this ship because Gillion, Jay, and I saw something in you and we wanted to get to know you better.”

“I don’t know myself, lala ,” Queen said urgently, as if it were some terrible truth Chip needed to understand. “How can you know me?”

“Your past doesn’t define you,” Chip said, reaching out and putting his hand on Queen’s knee. They tensed for a moment, but they didn’t push Chip off, and his touch stayed respectfully light. “Just because you don’t know who you were, then, doesn’t mean you don’t know who you are, now.” 

“But—”

“Jay was in the Navy before this,” Chip went on, intending to prove a point. “Does that make her Navy now? Gillion was trained to destroy humans, but does he kill people left and right? Hell, Earl had a wife, and now he’s sailing with us instead! No one here is going to judge you because of your past, no matter how detailed or blank it is.” Queen’s lip started to tremble. “And, even if you weren’t a huge help in a fight, we’d still want you around.”
“Why?” Queen looked at Chip with desperation, wanting more than anything to hear Chip’s response and yet simultaneously fearing what it would be. 

“Because…” Chip trailed off, searching for the right words, “because you’re a member of the Riptide Pirates, and we look out for each other. I’m gonna look out for you, Queen, because it’s the right thing to do, and I like you, goddammit! I want you to be happy and I’m gonna do what I can to make that happen.” There was an anxious pause where Queen didn’t say anything, and Chip worried he had made a grave mistake. 

“ Lalala, you mean that?” Queen asked. 

“Of course I do,” Chip said. “I’m trying to lie less.” He smiled half-heartedly, knowing the expression fell flat, but Queen didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her long, opalescent hair tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze. Chip viciously berated his sinuses and hoped he didn’t. 

“Chip, I’m scared, la ,” Queen mumbled, voice thick. “I don’t want to die here, lalala , and I don’t want to live the rest of my life not knowing who I am. But, la , I’m terrified of who I was. What if I’m not doing, lala, what I was meant to do?”

“Queen, you’re doing exactly what you were meant to do.” Chip said, pulling away from Queen so he could look them directly in the eyes, smudged makeup and all. “It’s like Gillion always says: it’s your destiny.” Queen smiled slightly, wiping at their eyes. Their face looked like it had soot streaked all across it, but Chip couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Thank you, lalala ,” they said. “Really.”

“Anytime,” Chip said with another smile, this one more easygoing and like the expression he tried to wear when possible. Queen returned it, albeit a bit shakier. “If you need anything, even if it’s just a listening ear, tell one of us. If you don’t want to tell Gill or Jay, tell me. I’ll always be here to listen.” 

“Alright.” Queen nodded. “Good-bye, Chip.” Chip stood up and brushed nonexistent dirt off his pants—his hands had to do something, they couldn’t just sit at his sides and stay motionless. 

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he said to her. “Again, if you need—”
“If I need anything, la, I will tell you,” Queen interrupted, though it was a gentle interruption rather than a rude one. 

“Good.” Chip gave a curt nod, a mimicry of how most captains acted towards their crew, and went slowly above deck. Gillion and Jay were sitting next to each other, heads bowed in a hushed conversation. Chip walked over to join them, and he knew even with the dangers of the Black Sea that everything was going to be okay—for him, for Queen, and for his friends.

Chapter Text

Out of all the things to be causing whatever laughing curse Loffinlot was afflicted with, Chpi had not expected a Tiefling gardener. He supposed it was possible the Tiefling wasn’t the cause, but the guy just looked evil. He was wearing black fabrics that swished when he moved and had golden adornments covering his entire body, including dangling from his horns, and the sly smile he gave Chip, Jay, Gillion, and Julian as they approached was nothing short of villainous. 

There was a strong sense of cognitive dissonance in Chip’s mind as he looked at the Tiefling, smiling, because he was also standing in a carefully-curated garden of flowers. Chip was no botanist, but there were a few he recognized: red dahlias, snapdragons, and rhododendrons. Captain Rose had been fascinated with plants, as had Finn, so Chip had learned many of them and their meanings when he’d been a boy. He couldn’t remember any specific meanings now, confronted with this strange sight, but he figured they didn’t mean anything good. 

“Are you the evil responsible for these peoples’ ailments?” Gillion demanded, drawing his longsword before anyone could do anything else. 

“Well, aren’t you polite,” the Tiefling replied smoothly, seeming largely unbothered by the sword now pointed towards him. “Their problems are not my doing.” He ran his hands along the tops of the snapdragons. “If you’re going to threaten me, you may as well get on with it.”

“You lie, creature,” Gillion all-but-snarled, walking forward with a dark expression on his face. Chip and Jay glanced at each other, Chip seeing his own worry reflected on Jay’s face. They hadn’t been sailing with Gillion for very long, but his fixation on destroying what he deemed ‘evil’ had been apparent almost immediately. The Tiefling didn’t look strong, but looks could be—and often were—deceiving. Just because Gillion was new to the group didn’t mean Chip wanted him to die, even if he disagreed with some of his philosophy. “Why have you hurt these people? Answer me.” Lightning sparked in Gillion’s eyes and across the corals on his head. 

“Listen,” the Tiefling said, fiddling with the petals of one of his scarlet dahlias. “You interrupt my gardening, rather rudely, might I add, and threaten me with a sword, and now you want information from me? Surely we can talk about this, can’t we?” 

“What is there to talk about?” Gillion took another step forward. Chip resisted the urge to grab him and pull him away; it wasn’t his responsibility. 

“Well, don’t you want to know what’s really going on here?” The Tiefling gestured around at the strange meadow the crew had found themselves in. “If you kill me, you won’t be able to get any knowledge at all.” Despite how close Gillion was getting, he didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. “I played a part in this, yes, but killing me won’t stop it.” This gave Gillion pause. He was still obviously furious, but his need to help Loffinlot fought internally with his need to destroy the evil standing in front of him. 

“What do we need to do?” Chip spoke up, and the Tiefling’s eyes slid over to look at him. Chip tried not to shiver under the piercing gaze. 

“Well, I’d love to talk about it,” he said slowly, words almost flowing like water out of his mouth, “if one of you would follow me into my cabin.” Chip nearly laughed right then and there. The Tiefling wasn’t even close to subtlety. Then again, if he was trying to convince Gillion of something, subtlety was not the way to go. 

There was a brief pause filled with only the Tiefling’s unsettling gaze. Chip swallowed nervously. He didn’t want the people of Loffinlot to live with their curse, but he also wanted nothing to do with the Tiefling. Like he’d told Gillion earlier—it wasn’t his problem. He had more important goals. He had more important people waiting for him. 

Unfortunately, Gillion hadn’t understood Chip’s meaning then, and he certainly didn’t understand it now. He took a slower, more solemn step forwards, bowing his head, though his hand still rested on his sword. 

“I will take this burden,” he said gravely. 

“Excellent.” The Tiefling’s face split into a fanged grin. “If you would follow me.” He held out his hand as if waiting for Gillion to take it, which he of course did not do. The Tiefling withdrew his hand, tail swishing back and forth and knocking pollen off the rhododendrons that grew around his ankles, and then led Gillion into the cabin. 

Chip sat down, put his head in his hands, and swallowed the dread in his stomach.

Chapter Text

Chip prided himself on being incredibly observant, and so he noticed quickly that something was up with Jay. She seemed more nervous than usual, quicker to deflect questions and more timid when it came to inserting herself in conversations. She got a faraway look in her eyes whenever Chip tried to talk to her, like she was having some sort of internal debate, but even Chip’s intuition couldn’t tell him what it was. Gillion hadn’t brought it up to Chip or Jay, which meant he hadn’t noticed, so Chip had decided to, for the time being, keep his observations to himself. 

Besides, he had other things to think about. After leaving Desire Island, it had become immediately apparent that the strange Tiefling Gillion had encountered on Loffinlot had more influence than just that small island. The compass Chip now had in his possession shared the Tiefling’s colors and initials, not to mention the fact that both the Empress and the Mayor had bled a strange black ooze before their respective ends—or what would have been the Mayor’s end, had Gillion not stepped up to help him. Clearly there was more going on than Chip was able to figure out on his own, but he needed both Jay and Gillion’s advice in uncovering further secrets, and Jay was too preoccupied with whatever was going on inside her head to help him. 

Their third day of sailing saw the crew sitting below-deck, eating fish Gillion had caught and drinking juice Earl had made. Ollie was above-deck, listening to some sort of “crucial lecture” from Earl, so it was just Chip, Gillion, and Jay sitting in a circle, making meaningless conversation while they ate. Chip kept glancing at Jay, trying to gauge how she was feeling. She kept looking at both Gillion and Chip, quickly finding focus elsewhere if Chip tried to make eye contact with her. She wasn’t eating so much as moving food around on her plate, and her fingers drummed nervously on her knee. 

“I have something to tell you guys,” she blurted after a few seconds of awkward silence. Chip looked up at her expectantly, and Gillion jolted at the sudden sound, but waited with a similar amount of anticipation. To Chip’s surprise, Jay’s lip was trembling, and she looked like she was trying not to cry. 

“Are you alright?” Gillion asked, now picking up on the signs that something was going on. “Are you injured?” His hands started to glow blue, but Jay stopped him. 

“No, I’m not injured,” she answered, swallowing and taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. It’s just… I…” she wrung her hands, glancing around, trying to find something to look at that wasn’t Chip or Gillion. 

“Hey, take your time,” Chip said softly. “No rush.”

“I know.” Jay nodded. She looked down at her hands in her lap, rubbing her palms with her fingers. Gillion glanced at Chip, concerned, but he did his best to look reassuring. Something was wrong, or at least Jay perceived it to be that way, but Chip didn’t want Gillion to start swinging his sword around in search of an intangible threat. 

Jay yanked on her ponytail, hard, then blinked a few times to clear tears from her eyes. They were starting to trail down her face. 

“I’m trans,” she said. 

“That’s it?” The words were out before Chip could stop them. 

“What?” Jay shrunk back, hurt in her eyes as if she were expecting a reprimand. 

“Jay, I thought you were gonna tell us you were a skeleton or two raccoons in a trench coat or something,” Chip went on. Jay rolled her eyes and wiped tears off her face, and Chip moved closer to her, putting his hand on her knee. “I don’t care that you’re trans.”

“What does that mean?” Gillion asked, brows furrowed. “Is it an occupation?” 

“No, Gill,” Jay began, “it means… it means I wasn’t born in a girl’s body.”
“Ah. This is another human word, then, for your strange human parts.” Gillion nodded as if he understood, but it was safe to assume he’d only gotten a piece of it. “I still do not quite understand how your bodies become stuck in these forms.”
“We’re born one way or the other, or at least most of us are,” Chip explained. “Jay being trans doesn’t make her any less of a woman.”
“Of course it doesn’t!” Gillion looked scandalized. “Jay, you are a woman, regardless of your… confusing human anatomy.” 

“Thanks, Gill,” Jay said with a smile. “Does the Undersea not have… people like me?”
“We are much more fluid in our perception of gender, if you’d pardon the pun,” Gillion answered. “If a Triton declares themselves male, it does not matter how they were born or raised, or how they have presented themselves previously. There is no distinction between ‘born male’ and ‘chosen male’, I suppose. It’s just ‘male’. Or a blend of male and female, or a lack of either. We just don’t have terms for it.” 

“That’s… actually really nice,” Chip said after a moment’s consideration. 

“Are you still okay with us calling you Gill?” Jay asked. “And using he/him pronouns?”
“For now,” Gillion answered. “I was not given ample opportunity to explore in the Undersea, but now is not the time either. It is your time, Jay!” He grinned widely. “Have you told your family about this?”
“They know,” Jay said, now sounding a bit bitter, “but not all of them accept it. My parents do, and my uncle. My grandma doesn’t.” 

“Well, your grandma’s stupid,” Chip said confidently. “If I ever see her, I’ll punch her.”

“Good luck with that.” Jay’s voice was skeptical, but it was clear she appreciated Chip’s meaning regardless. She took a deep, shaky breath and rubbed at her face again. “Thanks, guys.”

“Of course.” Gillion opened his arms, and Jay all-but leapt towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, which thankfully wasn’t covered by his armor at the moment. Chip hugged Jay from behind, and he felt her trembling in the embrace. 

“We’ve got you, Sureshot,” he said quietly, almost more for himself than for her. “If anyone, and I mean anyone, ever gives you a hard time about this, you let us know.”
“Yes,” Gillion agreed. “We will protect you.”

“I know.” Jay’s voice was muffled, but her conviction was easily audible. The three of them stayed in the embrace for a few minutes longer, sharing in the comfort of one another’s company, and even after they broke away to finish their lunch, they made sure to keep an eye on Jay for the rest of the day and afterwards.

  Chip noticed that over the next few days, Jay seemed far more confident and sure of herself. She didn’t avoid conversations quite as much, she fidgeted more openly if she fidgeted at all, and when their ship was attacked by goblins, her hands didn’t shake as she drew her bow to its full strength. She was Jay Ferin, their very own Sureshot, and they’d look out for her no matter what.

Chapter Text

Every morning, Peter woke up just as the sun was rising. There were people who would’ve complained about always waking so early, but Peter wasn’t prone to complaining, and besides, he had a very good reason to love being awake early—Elena slept in, so Peter always had a chance to make them breakfast before they woke up. Elena was many things, but they were not a particularly talented cook. 

Peter woke up with his arms around Elena’s waist, face pressed into her back, entire body radiating with a comfortable warmth that was half his own and half from the angelic power that now lay dormant inside of him. Peter still didn’t particularly like that power, but he and Elena had talked about it enough that he accepted its existence and acknowledged that it had its uses, like keeping him and Elena warm when autumn turned to winter, like it was now. Carefully, not wanting to wake Elena by accident, Peter pulled away from her, kissing her gently on the back of her neck as he did so. She didn’t move; she slept like a rock and it took a lot to rouse her. 

The wooden floors were cold against Peter’s feet, and he pulled on a pair of thick socks as he moved through the house, starting to heat a ceramic mug of coffee over a flat ludite stone. There were no curtains drawn over the windows, and so Peter could see clearly the snow that now dusted the ground, covering the grass and trees in a thin, soft layer of white. There was frost curling and fanning up the outside of the windows. While the coffee was heating, Peter got to work on breakfast. Elena had never claimed a favorite food, saying anything Peter made was delicious, but Peter had seen how their face lit up when something sweet was presented to them.

Lucky for Elena, Peter had memorized a blueberry muffin recipe, and all the ingredients necessary for the recipe were in the house. He got to work immediately, humming quietly to himself as he made the batter, taking occasional sips from his now-warm mug of black coffee. Elena preferred hers with cream, and Peter prepared a second mug for when she woke up, though there was no telling when that would be. 

It turned out to be about fifteen minutes later, just as Peter was pulling the muffins out of the oven and letting them cool on a rack on the countertop. He didn’t hear them coming, so the sensation of arms wrapping around his waist and a chin resting on his shoulder startled him just slightly, and he jumped. Elena chuckled quietly, their voice lowered with sleep. 

“Sorry,” she said, a smile audible in her voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, that’s okay,” Peter said, turning to her and kissing her cheek. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” they replied, now noticing the coffee and muffins. “Did you make this for us?”
“I made it for you,” Peter corrected. “I already had my coffee, and I know you like it when I bake things.”
“I like you, Peter. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing.” A blush dusted Peter’s cheeks. No matter how many times Elena did it, he would never get used to her unending compliments, and the pure sincerity of them. Before Elena and Thanatos, Peter hadn’t really been noticed by anyone, let alone complimented, and now, Elena went out of her way to make sure Peter knew how valued he was. It was foreign territory for Peter, but he wanted to explore and map all of it. “Thank you for breakfast.” Elena grabbed a muffin and smiled at Peter. There were some people who claimed Elena’s white eyes were emotionless and dead-looking, but Peter disagreed. He could see the sparkle of the person he’d fallen in love with in those eyes, no matter their color. 

“It’s snowy outside,” Peter informed Elena as he sat down next to them. It was obvious, the snow was visible, but Peter felt the need to say something regardless. The reappearance of the sky was something he was still getting used to, and precipitation even more so. Rain and snow were reminders that things were back to the way they should be. 

“It is,” Elena agreed, looking outside. “You’re not too cold, are you? I meant to check the house for drafts before the snow hit.”
“I’m fine,” Peter said brightly. “I’m with you.” Now it was Elena’s turn to blush, their ashen skin turning a darker, sooty color. However, as if to disprove Peter’s claim, a cold wind pierced through the window, wiggling its way beneath the windowsill, and shivered across Peter’s back. Even with his celestial heat, he still got cold—being a god couldn’t fix everything about him. 

“Here.” Elena stood up, offering her hand. “Why don’t we go back to bed? We don’t have to do anything today. Let’s just lay down and keep warm.” It was an incredibly tempting offer, and the more Peter thought about how comfortable and warm it would be, the more he wanted to accept.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, taking Elena’s hand in his. The two returned to their bedroom, Peter lying down first and then Elena lying down next to him with their head on his chest. He played idly with their hair and looked down at their face, marvelling at it. Thankfully, Elena’s eyes were closed, so they didn’t see the foolish, lovestruck grin that spread across Peter’s face as he stared at his spouse. 

He still couldn’t believe he was married to her. Before meeting Thanatos and Elena, Peter had been convinced he would never have any friends, let alone a partner, but he’d made a lifelong friend in Thanatos and found the other piece of his heart in Elena. Even with everything that they’d gone through on their quest to destroy the gods, Peter still felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

Outside, snow started falling again, not that Peter noticed. Elena slowly slipped back into sleep, breathing evening out and body relaxing into Peter’s, and Peter wrapped his arm around their shoulders. Eventually they’d have to get back up, but for now, they could enjoy the quiet, snow-dusted morning together, and Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

The night after his resurrection—gods above, wasn’t that a beginning—Sylnan knew something was wrong with his brother. It would have been reasonable, of course, for Sylnan to check on Br’aad the following morning. He was exhausted, entire body weak and slightly shaky from the atrophy of being dead for over a week, and his thoughts were struggling to focus on anything that had happened in the past twelve hours. He’d been resurrected, watched Ugarth die, watched his little brother kill his father, saw Katherine, who was also dead and a goddess, and then ended up at this inn, lying on his back and staring silently up at the ceiling. 

In short, he had every reason to talk to Br’aad tomorrow. 

Sylnan chose to ignore all those reasons, because Br’aad was his brother, and if something or someone was hurting him, it was Sylnan’s responsibility to find out who or what, and to do something about it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was sleeping now anyways. Sylnan sat up with a sigh, walking to the door and pulling on his boots. He was wearing sleep-clothes, baggy linens that were soft and easy to move in, but the only shoes he owned were his soft, broken-in leather boots, and the wooden floors were too cold to walk on barefoot. 

Sylnan remembered where Br’aad’s room was, and he quietly made his way there, knowing that even something as simple as a creaking board had the potential to wake people up. Sylnan himself slept lightly enough that creaks and natural sounds could wake him, and it seemed like Taxi was similar. However, Sylnan had spent years perfecting moving in silence. No shakiness or weak limbs could take that away from him. 

Br’aad’s room was at the end of the hall, positioned at the tavern’s corner in such a way so that it had two windows rather than one. Sylnan knocked on the door, two quick taps. 

“Br’aad?” He asked quietly, voice hoarse with disuse. After a moment, the door opened, and there stood Sylnan’s little brother, wearing a long tunic that went down to his knees, golden hair in disarray and hanging limply on his shoulders, eyes dull, purple tattoos seemingly brighter than ever. “Hey,” Sylnan said, almost startled by Br’aad’s appearance. 

“Hi,” Br’aad replied softly, staring at Sylnan, unblinking, as if he didn’t want to look away for even a second. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just…” Sylnan wrung his hands nervously, “wanted to talk.” 

“Right now?” Br’aad tilted his head, confused. “Sylnan, it’s the middle of the night.” 

“I know.” Sylnan tried not to chew his lip to shreds while he waited for Br’aad’s response. He didn’t want to bother Br’aad too much, but he was also almost certain something was wrong, and he wanted to know what it was so he could help. He’d left Br’aad alone for over a week. It was time to step up and do his job as a brother. 

A traitorous part of his conscience reminded him of how he’d pushed Br’aad away for years. Sylnan ignored it. 

“Okay,” Br’aad said, sounding almost uneasy as he stepped out of the doorway and let Sylnan enter. Sylnan tried not to feel guilty; he would never want his brother to be uneasy around him, but this conversation needed to happen. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Are you okay?” Sylnan blurted before he could get cold feet and stop himself. Br’aad’s expression instantly became guarded, and Sylnan knew he’d hit a nerve. “You seemed… freaked out, I guess, after the Wand of Wonder malfunctioned.”
“I almost killed Velrisa and Mountain,” Br’aad deadpanned. “I have a reason to be ‘freaked out.’” He scratched at the tattoos on his arms. 

“I know, I just…” Sylnan trailed off, realizing he wasn’t sure where to go in the conversation. He and Br’aad had only just reconnected a few weeks ago, and then Sylnan’s untimely demise had destroyed the small relationship they’d been rebuilding. It was like he was talking to a stranger, rather than his own brother. It was painful, Sylnan realized, to look at Br’aad and to not know how to talk to him. 

“Well, if that’s all you wanted to say,” Br’aad glanced away from Sylnan, looking out the window at the silver crescent of the moon, “you can leave.” 

“No, I—” Sylnan cut himself off with a frustrated sigh, carding his fingers through his hair and wishing he had a way to tie it out of his face. “Br’aad, something’s wrong. With us.” He licked his lips, lamenting how difficult it was to speak. “I don’t know what I did, but—”

“You don’t know?” Br’aad interrupted, raising an incredulous eyebrow. His tattoos sparked purple for a moment. “Sylnan, you died, that’s what happened. You put yourself in front of me and saved me and then you died—”
“Well what was I supposed to do?” Sylnan said, stepping forward. “Let you die? I don’t regret what I did, not one bit, but I wish we weren’t so… disconnected.”

“And who’s fault is that?” To Sylnan’s horror and surprise, there were angry tears sparkling in Br’aad’s eyes. “You pushed me away! When I needed you the most, you left me. It’s your fault we’re like this, not mine.” His voice broke, and he put a hand over his mouth to swallow a sob. “Even… even if I’m the one who got magic first, you’re still the one who ran.”
“Of course I ran!” Sylnan protested. “What else was there to do? We’re not magic, Br’aad, it’s not what we do. I don’t know how magic works.”
“You should have been there for me!” It came out as a shriek, full of so much desperation the words were heavy, and Br’aad shoved Sylnan in the chest. A bolt of purple lightning connected the distance between them before Br’aad’s hands even could. Sylnan’s muscles spasmed, and his legs gave out, arms barely managing to catch himself before he slammed his forehead into the floor. His entire body was shaking visibly now, fatigue mixed with magical electricity, and his ears were ringing so loudly he couldn’t hear if Br’aad was trying to talk to him.