Katerin was content with her quiet life of studying the arcane, and wanted for nothing in her life. She had friends, family, and plenty to do.
But life has a way of changing people--a way of pushing them to do things far outside their comfort and ex...
Graiden's expression was confounded, and he looked as if trying to find what to say. Each one sported wounds close to the severity of the others. Whatever magic it was that held them must have broken when Arnet and Byron died. "Well, I'm sure I'm not the only one glad to see you. What happened when you were taken?"
One Uhma'zarhin shrugged. "I do not know. There was a flash of light, and then we stood in ash covered halls. We thought we'd gotten separated from you in the maze, at first. But we could not find you."
Graiden frowned, and nodded to them. "Sit. I can at least see to a few of your wounds."
After everyone could stand to stay on their feet, and the majority of the Uhma'zarhins' wounds had been healed or bandaged, Graiden handed Katerin a scroll. "This can get us home, if you can manage it," he said, giving her a worried look.
She studied the scroll with her nose scrunched up. "I can manage." She took a deep breath, and began the chant, preparing the spell with one final glance towards Fykes. She was not really sure if she could, but with the people all around her, this was no time to say otherwise. They had followed her here, after all.
Auglier carried Fykes easily in his arms, and Brazen hefted Ho'ryian as gently as he could, though neither Fykes nor Ho'ryian would awaken, they were breathing, and whole.
Graiden paused, clambered up to Byron's body, and carried his limp form back down to the sands. More than one curious look fell on him, especially from Juen'tal, but nobody dared try to tell him he should do anything different, and their stares faded away as he stood rigid.
Katerin finished crafting the circle in the dirt and gathered them all together around her. She thought of O'siaris. Focused on the streets, the gate, and the inn. Her stomach swooped and her vision left her as her spell spun them away from the spire and everything within it.
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Fykes did not wake for two days, during both of which Katerin stayed by his side, nursing her own wounds and fretting—only getting small pieces of news whenever Brazen brought them to her. Most concerning Ho'ryian's own recovery. He was already awake and racking up quite a bill in food and drink. He was fully human now—shorter and much more vulnerable—but he had not lost his presence, and many of the inn's patrons already adored him.
Graiden and Arjiah both assured her that Fykes would be okay. Though neither knew what happened to him. They tried to convince her to come away from his side, but she refused every attempt. Sulea was recovering, but Katerin had much to think about before she opened that particular door.
Even Ho'ryian came to visit her. Thanking both Katerin and Fykes for saving his life, he knew he owed them, but held no memory of his capture, torture, or the fight in the spire. He had no memory of anything, in fact, save for his home, and what he did there. He was as naive and innocent as Brazen and in some ways, just as foreign.
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When Fykes awoke he found Katerin asleep over a thick book, with her boots still on. His laughter woke her, as he took in the scene.
She blinked owlishly, hugging him tightly as tears streamed her cheeks. "Gods, I was so worried," she said, stepping back to look him over.
"How long was I out?" he asked, watching her face, as he internally shook away the haze of his dreams, and the flashes of violent memory.
"Too long." She chewed on her lip. "Fykes, what happened? You were fine and then... and then you wouldn't wake up. Arjiah tried to heal you, Graiden looked you over. He even sent a few others, to check on you."
His eyes met her and he smiled, sadness in his eyes. "Is Ho'ryian alright? And... and everyone else?"
"Everyone is here." She squeezed his hand. "And Ho'ryian's downstairs... he doesn't remember anything at all." Her face fell. "Well, he remembers you. Said you saved him, and he must thank you."
Fykes nodded, "If he's okay, then there's nothing to worry about."
She stared at him, with that same look she gave him when she knew he was hiding something. "Stay here. I'll bring you breakfast," she said, standing and leaving the room with a slight limp in her step.
Fykes sighed. His shoulders were sore and his head ached. He knew there would be consequences for what he had done, but he would pay them when they were due. He chuckled, scrubbing his hand across his face. He had had wings for a few seconds, and had given them up in an instant.
His mother was not going to be pleased with him, at all. But he supposed the wrath of one celestial being was worth the life of another, whether she thought so or not. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the inn as his dreams slipped away and memories of the Spire returned.
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