The place Elisya had been looking for was dark, full of ever-shifting walls and pathways that made no sense. It was easy to get lost here in this labyrinth, and that had been exactly the intention of the person who had made it. But Elisya knew the way. She let her instincts guide her.
At length her footsteps led her to a door that seemed to appear in the wall in front of her out of nowhere. Elisya pushed it open and fearlessly stepped into the shadows inside.
The form that awaited her was ever-shifting. One second they were a small child, the next an old man without hair or teeth, then a noblewoman in shimmering fabrics, then a force of nature, only faintly humanoid. Elisya was unfazed. Changing shapes and faces was part of this spirit's nature.
"What," they said, the pitch of their voice changing along with their appearance, "are you doing here?"
Elisya smiled, stepping close to them even as they turned into a whipping tornado, the wind pulling at her hair and garments. "Like you probably guessed," she said, "I am here to talk to you."
The tornado disappeared. Where it had been circling and swirling there now stood a half-grown youth dressed in rags and covered in dirt.
"Talk?" Fate repeated, pausing their endless transformations for a brief moment. "Why would you want to talk to the spirit who was exiled?"
"To ask for your help." Elisya opened her arms, holding the spirit's gaze even as they shifted into a hooded, cloaked figure. "Why else should I go through the trouble of seeking you out?"
"Help, you say." Now a pregnant woman. "And the others can't do anything to help you?"
"They have never been willing. But you I never asked before."
An elderly butler. "For good reason, I think."
"Will you not hear me out?"
"What would be the point? I'm banished from the circles of the world. And even if I wasn't, I would never care about it again. Not after what they did."
Elisya set her jaw. She had guessed as much. But still she kept pushing.
"You are banished," she said. "But your powers are not."
Before her eyes the human-shaped flame paused in its dancing and flickering.
"What," Fate asked, "are you getting at?"
Elisya extended her hand, her fingertips almost brushing the flames.
"Frankly, Fate—no, Unmeya, as you used to be called." The burning orange cast reflections in her eyes. "I want to borrow your powers to restore peace on earth."
~ ~ ~
It was almost noon, and Saryana had been pacing the guest-room of their inn all morning.
"He's been gone for hours," she said under her breath, glancing hopefully towards the door whenever she heard footsteps, only to slump in disappointment when the sound passed it by. "What in the world is he doing?"
Evariel sat on the windowsill, staring out into the city. "I can't see him either," he said. "Maybe he's still in the palace somewhere."
"Oh, I'm sure he is," Saryana replied irritably. "The question is just if he's alive."
"It's Aithal," Evariel shot back. "This is his kingdom. He'll know what he's doing."
He didn't look like he expected that to work, but Saryana took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right," she said. "I've known him for all these years, I should believe in him."
She sat down, but her eyes continued to flit towards the door whenever she heard a sound.
~ ~ ~
"Commander."
Champion looked up from the telescope she had used to observe the city. All seemed peaceful so far. No one had spotted them yet.
"All fighters are in position," her right-hand man said, striding up to her. "We are ready to begin the takeover."
Champion checked the time. All according to plan.
"Good," she said, rising from her knees. "All forces, enter stage two."
If things went on as planned, by sunset the city would be under their flag.
~ ~ ~
Soon afterwards a boat set sail from the coast and circled the city to look like it was approaching the havens from the east. It looked perfectly innocuous, a plain fisher-boat bearing no flag, operated by figures in gray garments that didn't show their faces. It landed at a free dock, and the figures went off board. No one seemed to pay them much heed.
Evariel was still sitting at the window, but now he had stopped staring into the city and taken to watching the coast instead. The havens were lively, but in a way they were boring. Nothing special seemed to happen. The Elodians were going about their life as usual. Outside of the inner city the impending civil war had yet to affect them.
At first he noticed nothing unusual about the fisher-boat landing at the havens. Yet more people coming and going, even if this was a bit of an odd time for fishers to return. And without fish on board, too. Not that he knew much about it. He hadn't grown up around any oceans after all.
His eyes roamed on, and then suddenly they stopped. Flitted back to the figures emerging from the ship. Something about them seemed familiar. He squinted his eyes.
Gray cloaks. Plain, simple, of ordinary fabric made by human hands. Was it the cloaks that looked familiar? He might have seen them before, but they were so unremarkable that he doubted he would have remembered them.
But then what—
Evariel froze. Suddenly he understood what had seemed familiar about this group of strangers. It wasn't their garments.
It was the way they moved.
"Colorless," he burst out, leaping from the windowsill to run towards his companions. "Everyone! The Colorless are here!"
Edmian grew ghostly pale. Jolette stood in front of him as if to shield him. Saryana's hand sought the hilt of her sword, closing around it as if searching security.
"Where?" she asked.
"At the havens."
"How many?"
"I didn't count them. They're heading into the city."
Saryana's eyes moved wildly. Then understanding dawned on her face, and then, barely a second later, utter blank-minded horror.
"They're taking it over," she said. "They're using the empty throne to try and take over the country. If they're headed for the palace—" She shook her head, cutting herself off. "A plan," she muttered. "We need to stop them! Is there a map of this city somewhere?"
With hasty strides she marched out of the guest-room to search for the innkeeper. A moment later her head popped back in. "Nobody leaves the house," she said, suddenly sounding perfectly cool-headed, a commander heading into battle. "Evariel, keep watching them. I want every detail."
Evariel couldn't help it; he saluted in the manner of elvish soldiers. "Yes, General."
"Zamrod, you help me with the map," Saryana added. "Jolette, Edmian, find a hiding place. They might come looking for you."
The three nodded. Zamrod rose and followed her out of the room. Jolette began to scramble and look around the furniture and the doors. Evariel turned back to the window. The gray figures had left the havens. He jumped to his feet to look into the city again when something caught his eye. A distant shape, far out of human sight. No...more of them?
Leaping out of the room, he climbed the stairs to press his face against the window on the highest floor. Sure enough, there were several shapes, all at the same distance but in different directions, almost as if encircling the city. It could be a coincidence. But Evariel didn't feel like believing in coincidences right now.
Rushing down the stairs, he crashed through the rooms, looking for Saryana. He found them back in the guest-room, bending over a map. With them was a broad, kind-faced Elodian man who looked very frightened.
"Saryana, bad news!" Evariel exclaimed. "There are more ships out there. Humans can't see them, but they're all around the city." He made a sweeping gesture. "It's not just the one boat."
"Why am I not surprised," Saryana said grimly. "That adds to it," she continued, addressing the innkeeper. "What's the fastest way to sound the alarm?"
"There are bell-towers all around," the innkeeper answered. "There is one nearby, I can show you the way."
"Good. Then—"
"But," the man added, "no one will ring the bell."
The others gaped at him. Saryana frowned. "What—"
"Ever since the Queen went missing the old guards began to leave. It's the Crown Prince's task to pay them and recruit new ones, but now that he's gone..."
"Then one of us needs to ring the bell! Is that possible?"
"The towers are locked—"
"I can climb it."
They all turned. The voice that had spoken belonged to none other than Jolette, who had suddenly emerged in the doorway of the room.
There was no trace of doubt in Saryana's answer. "No."
"Why not?" Jolette burst out. "It won't take long. They probably won't even notice me." Her fists were clenched as she spoke, her eyes aglow with an urgency Evariel understood too well. "And I know how to climb. Really well!"
"I'm not letting you go anywhere by yourself."
"Then innkeeper will show me the way, right? So I won't be by myself!"
"The innkeeper will not be able to protect you against a small army of Colorless soldiers." Saryana's tone tolerated no protest. "You are not going. Someone else is going."
Jolette clenched her jaw. Her fists tightened. Evariel clenched his hands too. He understood her sentiment, knew it so well from all these years, no, decades of being called too young, too inexperienced, too weak to do anything, to be listened to, to matter at all. And he hated that another person had to go through it as well.
"But who?" he spoke up, making the others blink in surprise. "You can't go yourself, you're the mastermind. Master Zamrod needs to help you with the maps and strategies. Edmian's out anyway. And I need to stay on the lookout, right?"
Jolette gave him a look of such utter gratitude that Evariel's heart seemed to swell to twice its usual size. Saryana, meanwhile, visibly squirmed. He had hit a good point, Evariel knew.
"Maybe the innkeeper can send someone," she said.
"Jolette's a good climber, I've seen it myself," Evariel countered. "And she's escaped from the Colorless a few times before, right?"
"That was—"
"I'm not a baby!" Jolette snapped. "I just climb up there, ring the bell, and then get back here. They won't even have made it here by the time I'm back!"
Saryana took a deep breath. Clearly she was struggling with herself.
"Fine," she said heavily, sounding like she loathed every word she spoke. "Stay close to the innkeeper. Don't take any detours. If you don't come back at once, you'll be in so much trouble, young lady."
Jolette's face lit up. "Got it!" she exclaimed. "Let's go!"
With an almost dangerous smile she followed the innkeeper out of the room.
~ ~ ~
Finally, a way to be useful.
Jolette's heart was pounding as she followed the innkeeper through the streets, covered by an Elodian cloak to avoid standing out, but it wasn't out of fear. Instead she was excited. All this time of feeling useless, powerless, and now, finally, something she could do. A way in which she, too, could protect someone instead of always being protected.
"Here," the innkeeper said at one corner, pointing onto a small square, on which a masoned tower stood. "The bell is at the very top."
Jolette nodded and slipped out into the square. No one paid any attention to her. With quickening steps she approached the tower, set her foot against it and began to climb.
From the corner of her eye she caught a shadow moving. Not walking normally, but running, darting directly towards her.
Grasping her knife in her pocket, she turned around, searching for ways to escape.
She came face to face with a cloaked figure, dressed in similar garments as herself. Not a Colorless soldier; this figure was too small. A child or young teenager, shorter than she was, thin and—
Her thoughts froze mid-observation as her eyes fell onto the face under the hood.
"You!" she hissed, grabbing Edmian by the collar and yanking him closer to the wall. "What are you doing here?"
Edmian gave a start, but he didn't break her gaze, his wide eyes eerily bright in the shadow of the tower. "I followed you," he said. "Should I not have?"
Jolette's grip tightened on his shoulders. Her excitement and confidence were dissipating before her eyes. This was supposed to be her mission. Her chance to be a hero. She didn't need a chaperone. She didn't need anyone to look after her. And she definitely didn't need Edmian tagging after her worrying!
"Stupid," she snapped, struggling to keep her voice low. "You should be hiding back at the inn! Are you trying to get yourself captured? Go back!"
She expected him to listen. At least she hoped he would listen. But Edmian didn't. He stood his ground. In his eyes lay a bluish hue that did not come from a reflection of the sky.
"Saryana was right," he said. "You shouldn't go alone. Letting you go here while I hide back there and do nothing...I..." He paused, struggling for the right word, but refusing to break eye contact. "I don't...like it."
This was wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
She should be the one trying to protect him. Not the other way around. She didn't need protection. Certainly not from Edmian. And this was about climbing. She had always been the best climber in the village. And he? All he knew about climbing he had learned from her!
"Who do you think you are?"
This time Edmian did flinch back. He broke eye contact, fear and pain flashing across his face. The more sensible part of Jolette realized she should stop, that she had said something that opened old wounds. The rest of her didn't care anymore. She had had enough. Enough. Enough.
"Stop acting like you're some big hero who can protect me!" she burst out, her whole body shaking with frustration and fury. "You can't do anything! All you do is get people in trouble! What's the point in you running after me when you're totally useless anyway?"
Edmian lowered his head. His arms hung limply at his sides. Under Jolette's grip his shoulders were shaking. "I'm sorry," he said softly, frantically, like a mantra. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry."
Suddenly Jolette's brain caught up to her mouth. She stared at the shaking figure in front of her, at the boy she had promised to protect, her friend.
What was she saying? What was she doing? How could she say such horrible things to him when he had already heard them too much from the Colorless People?
She opened her mouth to apologize, but the words were stuck in her throat. It was pointless now, she knew. There was no way she could take all that back and make him believe her. Not when he had already been more inclined to believe this version anyway.
This time she might just have ruined it for good.
Letting go of Edmian's shoulders, she turned away and began to climb up the tower. This was an emergency, she reminded herself. She could always be a kid and wallow in her messy, miserable feelings later.
She was barely up a few steps when a tug on her sleeve stopped her. Jolette froze, motionlessly glued to the wall like a spider.
"Thank you," Edmian said in a quiet, shaky voice.
She swallowed. "What for?"
"Putting up with me anyway."
Jolette didn't answer. She only leaped up the tower walls while struggling to see through the tears in her eyes.